#Ya'll Hear Something; [CRACK]

[spaced-out-muses]

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[alygator77]

ᰔᩚ motherhood and matrimony I ch 6 ᰔᩚ

ꨄ︎ pairing. au ceo! satoru gojo x single mom secretary fem! reader

ꨄ summary. satoru gojo, the arrogant and irresistible heir to a billion-dollar corporation and the son of your boss, the ceo... but when satoru’s father dies unexpectedly, his inheritance hinges on a stipulation: he must marry and have a child, but the child doesn't necessarily have to be his, right? together, you strike a deal: a fake marriage that promises financial stability for you and corporate control for him. as the lines between business and emotion blur, you must decide if your partnership is purely contractual or if it could evolve into something real.

ꨄ︎ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, fake marriage, slow burn, smut, fluff, bit of angst, reader is single mom who recently broke off her engagement, satoru being a cute step dad, naoya is your crappy ex, some triggers of domestic abuse (emotional abuse but it can be a bit suggestive/interpreted as physical, from naoya not satoru) » 【note, this chapter contains explicit sexual content (dry humping, grinding)】

ꨄ words: 14.4k

ꨄ a/n. hello my lovelies!! :) life has been a roller coaster to say the least, but i'm so excited to share this chapter with ya'll. i'll see you at the bottom with my thoughts ♡

ꨄ taglist: closed (ao3)

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ch 6 // drenched in truth

The gala was a night that promised perfection, elegance and ease…but the storm on the horizon had other plans for you.

As murmurs of conversation hum throughout the grand ballroom, it’s easy to forget the world outside—that is, until you hear the first distant rumble of thunder.

Before you know it, the once clear starry evening, slowly gives way to ominous clouds gathering the horizon, with the first raindrops of the evening arriving barely noticed beneath the layers of music and chatter—tapping against the expansive windows like an impatient guest requesting entry.

But the gentle taps soon evolve into a steady, insistent drumming, making the rain’s presence impossible to ignore as the water streams down the glass windows in rivulets—distorting the view outside and making the world beyond seem distant and blurred.

It’s getting late…

You subtly glance down at your phone to check the time, and as the screen illuminates, a picture of you and Haru at the park flashes across the display. What a bright and sunny memory—completely different from the now impossible to ignore presence of this unforgiving rain.

As the storm outside grows, your thoughts immediately shift to Haru. Is she okay?

The last time there was such a storm, Haru had been terrified of the thunder—each crack making her small frame shake, eyes filled with tears and voice trembling as she whispered mama, seeking comfort in your embrace.

Is the nanny capable of soothing her?

The sudden concern that she might be scared and inconsolable gnaws at you, making it hard to focus on anything else as you navigate the crowd, exchanging pleasantries with people whose names you’ll forget by morning.

The opulence of the gala, the sparkling chandeliers, the elegant music—it all feels suffocating, a gilded cage keeping you from where you truly need to be. Home. That’s where you should be, holding Haru close, comforting her through the storm, not trapped in this endless sea of strangers and small talk.

You glance at Satoru beside you—a picture of calm, hand resting in his pocket as he engages in light-hearted conversation with a group of guests, smiling and laughing. It’s all so natural, so effortless as their chatter seems to exist in a world far removed from the storm—both outside and within you.

As you stand there, nodding along to the conversation without truly listening, your eyes begin to drift across the room and you notice a few other couples discreetly making their way towards the exit, coats draped over their arms—if only you could do the same.

You find yourself fidgeting with the hem of your dress—you really want to go home.

Glancing up at Satoru again, you wait for a brief lull in his conversation where the chatter dies down just enough for you to discreetly speak to him without interrupting.

Once the opportunity arises with the laughter fading and the conversation shifting to another topic, you seize your moment. Leaning in close to Satoru, your shoulder brushes against his arm as you softly whisper under your breath.

“Hey… it’s getting late and with this storm, maybe we should think about heading out soon?”

Your words are careful, quiet, meant to blend into the background noise of the gala so that no one else notices your request, and Satoru’s gaze flickers to you, his expression softening as he takes in your concern. But then he sighs quietly, his hand gently brushing against your arm, a small gesture of reassurance.

“I know,” he murmurs, “but there’s just one more obligation I have to fulfill for the event—a quick thank-you speech to the sponsors. I promise, we’ll leave right after that.”

He begins to turn back to the conversation, the group’s voices already beginning to rise again, but just as he starts to pull away, a low rumble of thunder reverberates through the room, and your gaze instinctively flickers to the windows, where the rain beats against the glass with increasing ferocity, the relentless sheets of water streaking down like tears.

Without thinking, your hand reaches out, lightly touching Satoru’s arm—a small, almost hesitant gesture. As your fingers brush against the fabric of his sleeve, your subtle plea for his attention makes him pause and turn back towards you, concern flickering in his eyes.

“Satoru…I’m really worried about Haru,” you confess, keeping your voice low to avoid drawing the attention of those around you. “She hates storms… she’s terrified of thunder.”

Before you can say more, he shifts slightly, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you gently into his side. You are met immediately with the warmth of his body, the subtle scent of his cologne and the steady rhythm of his breath. His hand moves in slow, comforting motions up and down your arm, as if trying to transfer some of his calm to you.

He tilts his chin down towards you and he speaks in a low gentle murmur, meant only for you.

“Haru has the nanny. She’s safe. I’ll make sure she’s okay, and this won’t take long—I’ll be quick, I promise.”

His words, paired with the comforting rhythm of his hand, are meant to ease your worries, to reassure you that everything will be alright, but for some reason they land with a dull thud in your chest.

You know Haru has the nanny…but you can’t shake the feeling that it might not be enough for her. You’ve been Haru’s rock throughout everything—Naoya was never there for her, and she hasn’t had anyone else.

“I know, but…” you glance towards the windows again as another rumble of thunder reverberates through the room. “Haru gets so scared. Last time, she cried for hours and couldn’t sleep without me.”

Satoru’s eyes flicker between you and the group of guests nearby, a momentary glance that betrays the tug-of-war happening within him.

“I get it. I do,” his tone is still gentle but with an edge of urgency now. His eyes lock onto yours, pleading for understanding even as they flit once more to the gathering around you. “This is important, though. I made a commitment to be here, and it’s crucial that I see it through. But I’ll make it quick, I promise. We’ll leave as soon as I’m done, and we’ll be home before you know it.”

A mix of frustration and helplessness begin to bubble through you as you watch his gaze. There is a sense of sincerity, yet it feels divided—part of him here with you, with another part already back in the spotlight, where the murmurs of the gala grow louder.

You know he’s committed to the cause, that his presence here holds weight—it’s not that you don’t understand—it’s just that… does that really matter right now when Haru might need you?

“Alright…” you say reluctantly, the word heavy on your tongue. “Just… don’t take too long, please.”

ꨄ︎

Perhaps this storm isn’t just weather—it’s a harbinger.

Your attention shifts between watching Satoru on stage, giving his speech to the sponsors, to the large windows lining the ballroom. Outside the once vibrant red carpet is now a sodden strip of fabric, abandoned to the elements.

The storm has worsened, intensifying with each passing minute, and with it, your sense of dread. Your fingers tap idly against the polished surface of the round dinner table as the wind howls like it wants to be let in, the rain lashing against the glass with a ferocity that seems malevolent.

You try to focus on Satoru’s words, but a movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention. A man, tall and imposing with raven hair, weaves his way through the crowd, his presence almost too casual for an event like this. He’s dressed well enough to blend in, but there’s something about him—something in the way he carries himself, the scar upon his lips—he feels out of place.

He's somewhat…intimidating—like a predator stalking its prey.

Once the man approaches your table, you stiffen slightly, instinctively pulling your shawl tighter around your shoulders. He’s close now, close enough that you can make out the sharpness in his features, the cold glint in his eyes.

But…why is there an air of familiarity about him? You can’t quite place it. He stops just short of your chair, a smile curling his lips, though is doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Mind if I sit?” he asks—and he doesn’t wait for your answer before pulling out the chair beside you.

Caught off guard, you nod slowly.

“Sure…”

Settling into the seat with a casual ease there's a small, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. A subtle tension radiates from him as his gaze flickers to you.

“Enjoying the event?” he asks, voice smooth, almost too smooth, like oil on water.

Great. This is really not what you need right now. It’s hard enough playing your part when you have Satoru’s support, but now, you’re by yourself. What if you slip up and say something wrong?

Unease bubbles inside you, making it difficult to muster more than a faint smile upon your lips.

“Yes, it’s been lovely,” you nod politely.

“Mm… quite the storm out there though,” he comments. “But then again, a little chaos never hurt anyone, right?”

His tone sends a cool shiver down your spine. This guy gives you the creeps, but you force a polite smile, unsure of what to make of him.

“I suppose not…”

He leans back in his chair, his gaze shifting to Satoru on stage before flicking back to you.

“You must be proud, seeing him up there,” he remarks. “It’s not every day you get to stand beside someone so… influential.”

His words, though innocuous on the surface, feel laden with meaning—like there’s something he’s not saying, something he’s implying, and you feel a chill that has nothing to do with the storm outside.

Who is this man, and why does he seem so familiar?

He leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

“It’s important to keep an eye on those you care about, wouldn’t you agree? Sometimes… things aren’t always as they seem.”

The statement hangs in the air, heavy with implication, but before you can respond, he straightens up, his gaze flickering to the stage again where Satoru is now wrapping up his speech. The unsettling smile returns to his face—a smile that carries a shadow passing over his expression.

“Well, I won’t keep you,” he stands from the chair. “Enjoy the rest of your evening,” and he turns on his heel, disappearing back into the crowd as quickly as he appeared.

But the chill he leaves behind lingers, gnawing at the edges of your mind.

Weird…what a creep.

You shake off the lingering sense of unease as Satoru beings to step down from the podium, exchanging pleasantries and goodbyes with a few lingering guests.

His eyes flicker to you, and then towards the window, catching a glimpse of lightning as it illuminates the darkened sky, and for just a second, you notice a shift in his expression as he takes in the worsening weather.

Excusing himself from the crowd, Satoru steps to the side discreetly with practiced ease and pulls out his phone. You watch as he dials, his back turned slightly from the attendees, and although you can’t hear his words, you know what he’s doing—a rush of relief washes over you as you realize he’s calling the driver to come pick you up.

Finally.

The thought of being on your way home, of holding Haru close and reassuring her, makes the wait almost unbearable.

Satoru’s conversation is brief, but you watch it with growing anticipation, and once he slips his phone back into his pocket, he meets your gaze from across the room again.

Wait…there is something in his expression…an unease that wasn’t there before. Concern.

He weaves through the crowd with purposeful strides, and your heart sinks—it slowly becomes more apparent that something isn’t right, and the chatter in the ballroom grows quiet as guests murmur about the worsening weather.

Once Satoru reaches you, he doesn’t speak immediately. Instead, he pulls out the seat beside you, flipping it around so that the back of the chair presses against his chest as he sits, arms folded across the top of it. The movement is casual in appearance, but the way his fingers tighten around the wood, his knuckles whitening just slightly, betrays the calm facade he’s trying to maintain.

“So…” he leans in a little closer, voice low, almost reluctant. “We’ve got a bit of a situation.”

“What’s wrong?” anxiety builds inside you.

He hesitates, just for a moment, his eyes flicking to the side as if searching for the right words, before meeting your gaze head-on.

“There’s been an accident on the main road leading out of the city… it’s caused a major blockage, and with all this rain, the roads are practically flooded. My driver’s stuck on the other side and won’t be able to reach us for hours… maybe not until morning.”

Oh, you see red.

The storm outside suddenly feels like a mirror to the one brewing inside you—fierce, relentless, and impossible to contain.

If only you had left sooner, if only Satoru hadn’t insisted on staying for that last part of the gala—if only he had understood the urgency you felt—you wouldn’t be in this mess.

And now, Haru is alone at home, frightened and vulnerable, and you’re stuck here, trapped by circumstances beyond your control.

The thought makes your blood boil.

“So, what do we do?” The words escape your lips with a sharpness that even you didn’t anticipate, cutting through the air like a knife.

Satoru’s eyes widen and he runs a hand through his hair, a rare display of uncertainty flickering across his usually composed demeanor. His eyes shift away from you, scanning the room as if searching for a solution hidden in the lavish surroundings.

“…let me figure this out. Wait here,” he murmurs as he pushes back his chair and stands.

Watching his tall frame cut through the crowd, suddenly the sound of the rain beating against the glass now seems almost accusatory—a relentless reminder of this absurd situation you are now stuck in.

This night suddenly feels like it’s teetering on the edge of disaster—the thin veneer of control slipping from you with each passing second. But there are faces around you, and although they blur into a sea of indifference and hallow chatters, you are acutely aware that people are still watching.

You take a deep breath attempting to calm your frustration. There must be something Satoru can do. He has money and power—there must be some sort of solution he can find to this. Haru needs you.

Suddenly, you catch sight of Satoru weaving his way back towards you, his stride purposeful and his expression carrying a hint of relief. For a brief moment, hope flutters in your chest—perhaps he’s found a way out of this mess.

When he reaches you, he shoves his hands into his pockets, leans in slightly and speaks with a sense of accomplishment.

“So… good news. I spoke with the event coordinator. Given the circumstances, the hotel has offered us one of their VIP suites for the night. It’s just upstairs, fully equipped with everything we need until the roads clear up.”

Yeah…that’s not the solution you wanted.

A suite? He wants you to stay overnight? When Haru is at home, probably terrified, clinging to her blankets with wide, tear-filled eyes? Does he really think that’s what you wanted to hear?

“That’s considerate of them, but what about Haru?”

The words escape your lips before you can temper them, clipped and laced with the sharp edge of your rising aggravation. As they slice through the air, the flicker of surprise that crosses Satoru’s face is immediate.

Fuck.

You’re still in public, at this stupid gala. You have to stay composed; you can’t afford to lose control—not here.

Your eyes scan the room for any prying eyes, anyone who might have caught the slight outburst. It doesn’t seem like anyone noticed… thankfully. The last thing you need is for your moment of panic to become another piece of gossip for the night.

Taking a long deep breath, you attempt to regain some semblance of composure, but as you lower your voice, the tension still coils tight in your words.

“She’s back home, we can’t just leave her alone.”

“But she’s not alone,” he counters, tone firm but gentle. “Haru’s in good hands with the nanny, she’s safe. I’ll make sure everything is handled. I’ll compensate the nanny for staying overnight with Haru.”

He is clearly not on the same page as you—he doesn’t understand. Safe? Maybe. But comforted? No. Compensation won’t calm Haru’s fears; money can’t replace the warmth and reassurance of her mother’s arms when she’s trembling in fear.

But you can’t say that here—you don’t trust yourself to soften the words, not with the eyes of the gala on you, prying, ready to dissect any sign of discord between you and Satoru. So instead, you grasp for something, anything—another solution, another way out of this mess.

“Isn’t there something else we can do? Another route we can take?” you press, the desperation seeping through despite your efforts to keep it contained.

Satoru’s shoulders tense ever so slightly, a subtle shift that only someone who knows him as well as you do would notice. There is a flicker of frustration in his eyes as they narrow, and you watch him take a moment to briefly weigh his words.

“Y/n this is the best solution I can come up with,” there’s an undercurrent of firmness that brooks no argument. “It’s not safe for us to leave right now. The roads are flooded, and I can’t risk us getting caught out there.”

For a moment, the two of you are locked in a silent standoff, each of you grappling with the weight of the situation, the reality pressing down like the storm outside. He’s right—you know he is—but that doesn’t make the situation any easier to swallow. The knowledge sits heavy in your chest, a bitter pill that refuses to go down smoothly.

Why couldn’t Satoru just listen to you when you suggested you leave early?

The thought fuels your frustration simmering just beneath the surface. You should have been more persistent. But now, here you are, trapped in this gilded cage while your daughter is home, scared and needing you.

Satoru exhales softly, the tension in his shoulders easing and the hard edges of his demeanor softening just slightly as he steps closer to you—he’s trying to bridge the growing chasm between you.

His hand reaches out, and you want to pull back, but you are in public, you can’t. There’s a softness in his touch, a quiet desperation to connect, but you can feel the gap widening under the weight of everything left unsaid.

He tilts his head, caressing your hand as his gaze searches yours.

“It’s just one night,” he murmurs, and there’s a tenderness there, an unspoken plea for you to understand, to see that he’s trying to make the best of a bad situation. But to you, the words feel hollow, like they’re echoing in a void that’s too vast to bridge with simple reassurances. “We’ll be back first thing in the morning before Haru even wakes up.”

But will she be okay?

The question burns in your throat but you keep it to yourself—it wouldn’t come out nice anyway.

You are trapped—trapped by the storm, trapped by this situation, trapped by the need to maintain this perfect, unblemished image for everyone around you.

So instead, you force a tight-lipped smile, one that doesn’t reach your eyes. It’s the best you can manage, a fragile mask to hide the storm inside.

“Guess we don’t have a choice….”

“I know…we’ll get through this though. Just one night,” he echoes, as if saying it again will make it more true, but the repetition feels like an empty promise.

You nod, the motion stiff and reluctant.

“I understand,” the words taste like ash. “Let’s go upstairs then,” you rise from your seat, not waiting for him to respond.

ꨄ︎

As the elevator doors slide open with a quiet ding, you step inside with clipped precision, your movements sharp and purposeful. The elevator is empty—thank God.

The last thing you need right now is to plaster on a fake smile and pretend that everything is fine when you’re anything but. You don’t have the energy to pretend—not in front of strangers, and certainly not in front of Satoru.

You barely acknowledge him as he steps in behind you, your focus narrowing on the glowing buttons as you swiftly press the number for your floor. Once the door closes with a soft thud, instinctively, you gravitate to the far side of the elevator, creating as much distance between you and Satoru as the small space allows.

There’s a brief pause as Satoru hesitates, his eyes flickering over to you before he pulls out his phone, and the soft glow of the screen casts a muted light over his features, highlighting the tension in his brow.

As the elevator hums quietly, beginning its ascent, you catch sight of Satoru dialing the nanny’s number from the corner of your eye, lifting the phone to his ear.

“Hey, listen… there’s been a situation with the roads—they’re flooded, and we won’t be able to make it back tonight. Can you stay with Haru until morning?”

He pauses, listening intently to the nanny’s response, and although you can’t make out her words, you see the way Satoru's brow furrows, the lines of tension etching themselves deeper into his features.

The muffled sound of the nanny’s voice filters through the phone, indistinct and far away—until another sound reaches your ears, clear and unmistakable.

Haru.

Her small, trembling voice carries through the phone, quivering with fear as she calls for you, confirming the gnawing dread that had been eating away at you all night. You were right, of course, but there’s no satisfaction in that—not when your daughter is scared and crying for you, and you’re trapped miles away, helpless to do anything about it.

Satoru’s jaw tightens. “Haru’s okay, right?” tone softer now, almost hesitant.

There’s a pause, a heavy silence that stretches out as Satoru listens, and you watch as something in his posture shifts—his shoulders slump ever so slightly, a small, almost imperceptible movement, but enough to tell you that the news isn’t good. He closes his eyes for a moment, exhaling quietly.

“Tell her that her Mama will be home in the morning… and I’ll make sure everything’s okay. Just... stay with her, please.”

Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Satoru fixes his gaze on the floor, unable—or perhaps unwilling—to meet your eyes. He offers no words of comfort, no apology. And you, in turn, make no effort to break the silence either.

Maybe it’s for the best—because right now, the storm raging inside you is just as fierce as the one outside, and you’re not sure you can contain it much longer. The lid holding down your frustration is teetering dangerously on the edge, threatening to spill over, and as the pressure builds, your emotions coil tight like a spring ready to snap.

If you open your mouth now, the floodgates will burst.

So, you’ll wait—you’ll discuss this with Satoru when you’re more level-headed. Right now, all you want to do is crawl into bed—away from Satoru, away from this night, away from everything that feels so suffocatingly wrong.

The silence stretches on, thick and unbearable, and once the elevator finally reaches your floor with a soft chime, without a word, you step out, your heels clicking against the polished floor, with Satoru following a step behind—silent and distant, the space between you feeling wider than ever.

ꨄ︎

The moment you step into the VIP suite, the first thing that strikes you is the sheer size of the room—it’s more like a luxurious apartment than a mere hotel room. The high ceilings are adorned with intricate chandeliers, rich furnishings and artwork that probably costs more than what your entire apartment had cost.

The floor-to-ceiling windows offer a breathtaking view of the city below, and there is a beautiful patio overlooking the city with the lights twinkling against the stormy backdrop, but instead of feeling awe, it’s only a reminder of how trapped you are.

In the common room, a plush, oversized sofa commands the space, flanked by elegant armchairs and a coffee table that looks more like a piece of art than something meant for everyday use. You set your purse and shawl down on the polished surface and begin to explore the room.

Your gaze wanders to a nearby dining area, where a table is set for two, the fine china and crystal glasses gleaming under the soft light. Beyond that, a sleek bar catches your eye, stocked with an assortment of premium spirits. At the center, a bottle of champagne chills in a gleaming silver bucket, waiting to be uncorked—a celebration you’re far from feeling.

Curious, you open the first door you come across, but it’s just a closet. Moving onto the next, you’re half-expecting to find a bedroom, but instead, the door reveals a marble-clad bathroom, which is more of a private spa than anything else, with a deep soaking tub and a rain shower that beckons with promises of relaxation.

Finally, you reach the last door, and as you push it open, your breath catches in your throat. The bedroom is vast, with high ceilings and draped curtains, but amidst all the space, the luxury, the sheer grandeur…

There is only one bed.

It’s massive, adorned in rich, inviting linens that seem to promise the best sleep of your life. The headboard is a work of art, appearing as if it was carved by hand, its craftsmanship impeccable. But despite all its luxury, one glaring fact stands out—it’s a single bed.

A bed meant for two.

You stop in your tracks, staring at the bed in disbelief. Your mind races, trying to make sense of the situation. Did you miss a door? Could there be another bedroom somewhere in the suite?

Without thinking, you begin to backtrack, your footsteps hurried and purposeful. You retrace your steps through the suite, opening doors you’ve already been through, peering inside with a growing sense of urgency.

The bathroom—no, just the spa-like marble bath and rain shower. The closet—no, just storage. The living area—no, just the oversized sofa and elegant chairs. The dining area—no, just the table set for two and the sleek bar.

Where’s the other bedroom? There has to be another one, right? How can a suite this big, only have one bed?

Is this a cruel joke? A final twist of the knife in an already unbearable night? Is the universe pushing you further out of your comfort zone, testing the limits of your patience, your composure, and your control?

Your movements grow more frantic as you circle back, convinced you must have overlooked something, anything. But there’s nothing else. It’s just that one, luxurious bed, waiting for the two of you.

Scanning the suite one last time, you notice Satoru sitting nonchalantly on the plush couch, leaning back with one arm draped casually over the back of the sofa. He loosens his tie as he tilts his head, watching you with a mixture of confusion and mild amusement.

“What are you looking for?”

You stop dead in your tracks, your breath hitching as you stare at him in disbelief.

“There’s only one bed.”

Perhaps vocalizing the absurdity of this precarious situation might somehow conjure a second bed out of thin air.

Oh, you wish.

Satoru blinks and raises an eyebrow. Without a word, he slowly rises from the couch and walks towards the bedroom. Once he steps inside, he takes in the sight of the massive bed and the luxurious linens—staring at it for a moment as the situation sits in.

Then, he turns to you, with an exaggerated shrug.

“Huh. Looks like the hotel’s playing matchmaker tonight.”

…

You narrow your eyes at him, not speaking, letting the flicker of annoyance smolder into a flame. The corners of your mouth tighten, and your arms cross defensively over your chest.

Satoru matches your silence, watching you with an unreadable expression, and then he shrugs again, the movement casual, almost dismissive.

“What?” carrying a note of faux innocence. “They probably figured we wouldn’t mind getting cozy. We are husband and wife, after all. Of course they wouldn’t think we’d need separate beds.”

He’s not making this any better for you right now…

You shake your head, rubbing your eyes in exasperation as if trying to rub away the absurdity of the situation. It’s all too much—the storm, the delay, the night that refuses to end. You can feel the weight of it pressing down on you, and each word from Satoru just seems to add another layer to the frustration.

“Wow…this is unbelievable,” you huff.

“Mm, you know what they say, nothing like sharing a bed to break the tension,” Satoru quips, plopping down at the edge of the bed as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He bounces slightly, testing the mattress, and glances up at you with a glint in his eye. “Well, I suppose this is where we’re supposed to start arguing over who gets the left side?”

…

Is he serious right now?

You can hardly believe it—the casualness of his demeanor, the way he seems completely unconcerned about the reality of this situation. It is almost infuriating.

“This is not happening…I am not sharing a bed with you,” you say, more to yourself than to him, a whispered mix of disbelief and determination. You cross your arms tightly over your chest.

But Satoru just leans back on his hands, completely unbothered, his relaxed posture a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside you. Tilting his head slightly, he flashes you an easy grin.

“Hey, it could be worse,” he says with a nonchalant shrug, patting the space beside him. “At least it’s a king-size. I mean, we could practically build a wall down the middle if you want.”

You stare at him, incredulous.

How can he be so flippant about this? So completely unconcerned, so utterly unaffected by everything that’s happened tonight?

Every word that comes out of his mouth further makes your patience slip through your fingers.

“…are you serious right now?” there is a tremble in your voice as you attempt to keep your frustration in check, but it’s a losing battle.

“Yup,” he shrugs, completely unfazed. “Looks like it’s just you, me, and this king-sized dilemma.”

Wow. You’re standing in the middle of a situation that has gone from bad to worse, and he’s making jokes? The disbelief turns into something hotter, something sharper, as you feel the last remnants of your composure start to crumble.

“Are you kidding me, Satoru?” you snap and the frustration you’ve been holding back all night finally spills over. “You are absolutely unbelievable. This isn’t funny! None of this is fucking funny! We’re stuck here, and you’re making jokes?”

The playful smirk that had been dancing on Satoru's lips vanishes instantly, replaced by a look of irritation. He leans forward, fixing you with a hard stare, and the lightheartedness drains from his posture as his elbows rest on his knees.

“Oh, okay, I’m sorry,” he retorts, a sharp edge to his voice. “Y’know, I was just trying to lighten the mood. Didn’t realize you were going to blow up at me for trying to make the best out of a bad situation.”

“Lighten the mood?” you echo, your voice rising in disbelief. “Do you really think that’s what I need right now?”

A scoff escapes your lips as all your frustration bubbles to the surface. The weight of everything finally presses down on you, and his indifference feels like a slap in the face.

You can’t even look at him right now.

With a dismissive shake of your head, you turn away, briskly stepping towards the living room.

“You just don’t get it, do you?” you mutter under your breath, the words more to yourself than to him, but loud enough that you know he can hear.

“What don’t I get?” Satoru challenges, his voice growing sharper as he pushes off the bed and follows after you. His footsteps are clipped as he closes the distance between you, not willing to let the conversation drop. “What don’t I get, y/n? Tell me.”

You whirl around to face him, your heart pounding in your chest, the tension crackling like electricity.

“Satoru—Haru needs me, and we’re stuck here, miles away, in some fancy hotel suite. But you don’t even care.”

The accusation slips out and you can no longer hide the mix of anger and hurt that laces your voice. Satoru’s eyes narrow, his jaw clenching as he tries to rein in his own frustration.

“You think I don’t care?” his voice is sharp, insistent, almost incredulous as he steps closer. “You think I’m not worried about Haru too? y/n we literally had this conversation in the limo earlier. Jesus, just because I don’t show my emotions like you it doesn’t mean I don’t care. I hate this situation just as much as you do, but it’s not like I can control the weather or the roads!”

The intensity of his words strikes you, but the anger simmering beneath your skin refuses to let you back down.

“Yeah, well, if you really cared, we would have left as soon as the storm started, like I wanted! Then we wouldn’t even be in this situation!” your trembling voice increases an octave and you throw your hands up in exasperation. “But no—you had to stay for that last part of the gala, didn’t you?”

Satoru’s reaction is immediate. He runs a hand through his hair, the movement rough and frustrated while a bitter laugh escapes his lips, one that sends a chill down your spine. His eyes flash with something darker as he glares at you.

“Oh, so now it’s my fault that we’re stuck here? Because I stayed for the speech? I had obligations, y/n! I couldn’t just leave!”

“Obligations?” the word drips with sarcasm as it leaves your lips, your voice thick with disbelief and a touch of something more, something wounded. You narrow your eyes and the anger within flares hotter as you shoot a glare back at him. “We could’ve left earlier, but instead you just had to be the perfect ‘Satoru Gojo.’ Your precious image, your obligations—everything always comes first, doesn’t it?”

A flash of anger sparks within the depths of Satoru’s eyes, and his voice drops lower, more measured, with an edge that makes your heart jump.

“You knew what you were signing up for,” the words are clipped and his tone is cold and biting. “I told you there would be expectations, that there would be obligations that came with this agreement. Don’t act like this is some surprise to you.”

His words hit their mark, the truth in them sinking in like a stone dropping into a deep well. The realization settles over you, heavy and cold.

Oh…this truly is just a business arrangement, nothing more.

This is…what you agreed to…isn’t it?

For a brief moment, you had almost forgotten that this marriage—this life you’ve been trying to build—wasn’t real. It was never based on love or trust or any of the things you’d once dreamed of. It has always been a contract, an arrangement, and you were just another piece in the game he was playing.

You feel the sharp, unmistakable sting of hurt, a wound that cuts deeper than you anticipated. And with that hurt comes regret—regret for allowing yourself to believe, even for a second, that he might be willing to take a leap of faith for you, for Haru.

You should have known better.

He’s Satoru Gojo, after all, the man who holds his obligations and his image above everything else. The man who never allows himself to be vulnerable, to be anything other than perfect in the eyes of the world.

“So that’s it, then?” the words slip out with a quiet tremor, your voice breaking slightly under the crushing weight of your emotions “You’ll always put your commitments first, no matter what? No matter how it affects us? No matter how it affects Haru?”

For the briefest of moments, Satoru’s expression softens, a flicker of regret passing through his eyes, as if he’s momentarily aware of the pain his words have caused.

You can feel the tears burning at the back of your eyes, but you blink them away, refusing to let them fall. You won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his words have cut you, how deeply the reminder of your place in his life stings.

Instead, you draw in a shaky breath, steeling yourself, and forcing your voice to steady. It takes every ounce of strength you have to keep your composure, to keep from breaking in front of him.

“It’s always about your image…isn’t it?” you whisper, the words barely audible, but they carry the weight of your realization, heavy and bitter. “I thought… maybe just once, you’d be willing to choose something else. Someone else. Guess I was wrong.”

The silence that follows is suffocating, thick with the tension that has built up between you. Satoru opens his mouth to respond, his expression shifting as if he’s searching for the right words, but you’ve already had enough. The frustration, the anger, the hurt—it’s all too much, too overwhelming, and honestly, you don’t think you can take the weight of his inevitable rejection right now.

Before he can say anything, before he can shatter whatever fragile composure you have left, you turn on your heel and stride towards the suite’s balcony.

ꨄ︎

The moment you step out onto the balcony, the cold night air wraps around you, but you welcome its icy embrace, and as the heavy door slides shut behind you with a dull thud, it seals off any lingering warmth from the hotel suite, leaving you alone with the elements.

The balcony, partially sheltered by a gazebo, offers little protection from the fierce wind driving the rain sideways. But as the droplets hit your skin, cold and sharp, you don’t flinch. Instead, you let the rain wash over you, soaking into your dress and chilling you to the bone, as if the cold might somehow numb the emotional turmoil raging inside you.

Gripping the railing, you stare out at the city below, the wind whipping around you, tugging at your dress as the storm batters you from all sides. But the physical discomfort barely registers—it's nothing compared to the storm brewing within. Because now, the anger that had fueled your argument with Satoru begins to ebb, giving way to a deep, aching sadness that you can no longer hold back.

You sink down onto one of the chairs, ignoring the fact that the cushion is already soaked through. The wet fabric clings to your skin as you huddle there, pulling your knees up to your chest, and as you take in the downpour, you allow the rain to mingle with the tears that finally begin to slip down your cheeks.

If only the howling wind was loud enough to drown the thoughts swirling in your mind.

But it’s not.

The first thing you hear is Naoya’s words, echoing in your ears. His cruel taunts, sharp and insidious, have haunted you ever since your encounter at the coffee shop—a seed of doubt planted deep within you.

And now, those seeds have taken root, growing in the shadows of your heart, feeding off your insecurities until they’ve become impossible to ignore. Maybe he was right all along… you don’t belong beside Satoru. This life you agreed to—this carefully crafted facade—it has always been a deal, nothing more. A deal struck for reasons that now seem distant and blurred.

And then there’s Satoru.

The man you’ve grown closer to, despite everything. The man who, on occasion, looks at you with a softness that seems almost out of place, a trust that makes your heart ache under the weight of your own secrets… and your own growing feelings. But tonight, you saw the bitter reality of who he truly is—a reality that you’ve always known, yet somehow tried to push aside. It’s a reality that places duty and obligation above all else, that keeps his heart locked away behind walls you know you’ll never breach.

You understand it, you really do. But understanding doesn’t make it any easier to bear. It doesn’t make the hurt go away.

You think about Haru—your sweet, innocent child, who’s at home right now, likely scared and alone, flinching with every crash of thunder.

The thought of her, small and frightened, tugs at your heart, and the guilt twists inside you, sharper than any blade. It cuts through your defenses until all that remains is the raw, unrelenting pain of a mother’s worry, a mother’s fear. You should be there with her, holding her close, whispering reassurances that everything is going to be okay, that the storm will pass.

But you’re not.

You’re here, drenched on a balcony, struggling to hold yourself together while everything around you falls apart. And that reality—knowing you’ve left her to face the storm alone—makes the tears fall harder now.

They stream down your face, mixing with the rain, until you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. The sobs come, wracking your body with their intensity, as you bury your face in your hands, your shoulders shaking with the force of your grief.

It’s all too much—the pressure, the expectations, the lies, the fear.

And then there’s the love.

The love that’s beginning to bloom for Satoru, despite the circumstances…and it only makes it more complicated, more painful. It’s a love that you know you shouldn’t feel, that you’re terrified to acknowledge—and it wraps itself around your heart like a thorny vine, beautiful yet painful, tightening its grip with every passing day.

And your worries never end—the contract, the obligations, the appearances you have to maintain. This agreement that had once seemed so clear, so necessary, but now feels like a chain around your neck, binding you to a life that’s growing more and more suffocating by the day.

You didn’t sign up for this, not really.

You didn’t sign up for the way your heart had started to beat in sync with Satoru’s, for the way his touch lingers on your skin long after he’s gone, or the way his voice is capable of soothing the deepest parts of your soul.

But here you are—trapped, ensnared by duty and honor, by a love that’s growing despite the walls you’ve tried to build around it. A love for a man who might never fully understand the depth of the sacrifice you’re making.

A man who will never love you back the way you wish he would, or put you first.

You continue to cry as the storm proceeds to rage against you, both inside and out—but you hope that maybe this rain will wash away some of the pain, some of the doubts, some of the fear.

Ah… but you know better. Because once this storm passes, the reality of your situation will still be there, waiting for you.

The contract, the expectations, the life you’ve chosen, and the choices you must make—none of it will disappear, no matter how much you wish it could. And despite how much you long to rid yourself of this burden, the love you’re beginning to feel for Satoru…that too, will remain, complicating everything in ways you’re not sure you’re ready to face.

The sound of the sliding door opening barely registers in your mind, lost in the cacophony of the storm as you remain huddled on the chair, lost in your thoughts. You don’t look up, not even when you sense his presence behind you—the presence of that familiar warmth, one that has the potential to cut through the cold that’s seeped into your bones.

Why is he here? You can’t bear it.

He stands there for a moment, silently taking in the sight of you curled up on the chair, small and vulnerable against the fury of the storm, and then, with a resolve that seems almost fragile, he steps forward.

The rain immediately begins to soak through his clothes, just as it did yours, and slowly, he kneels beside you, his movements careful, almost hesitant, as if he’s afraid that any sudden motion might shatter what little composure you have left.

“y/n,” he says softly, voice almost lost in the storm, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

You can’t bring yourself to respond—the words are trapped in your throat, tangled in the rush of emotions his apology stirs within you. Confusion, sorrow, a desperate yearning for things to be different—they all swirl within you, too intense, too raw to process.

The pain is overwhelming, and right now, you can’t even bring yourself to look at him. You’re terrified of what you might see in his eyes. What would you feel if you looked at him now?

You’re too scared to find out.

Satoru seems to sense your hesitation, your fear. His hand reaches out, and you feel the gentle pressure of his fingers on your shoulder, tentative and light, as if he’s afraid you might pull away. But you don’t. There’s a warmth in his touch, something that defies the cold rain soaking through both of you—a warmth that, despite everything, makes you want to lean into it, to draw strength from it.

“y/n, please…” his voice drops quieter, almost pleading. “Look at me.”

His request hangs in the air, and for a moment, you feel as if time has stopped.

Why is this so hard? Why can’t you accept that this is nothing more than a contract, an arrangement born out of necessity rather than love?

His touch fills you with a bittersweetness that is almost unbearable—a longing that you know is not realistic, that you know you shouldn’t entertain. But the plea in his voice, the vulnerability you hear in those simple words, chips away at your resolve.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, you lift your tear-streaked face to meet his gaze. The rain has flattened his usually neat hair against his forehead, and his clothes are drenched, clinging to him, but it’s his eyes that hold you captive. Because once your eyes finally connect, the world around you seems to fade into the background, the storm reduced to a distant hum.

His usually composed, confident expression is different now—eyes, softened by regret, vulnerability, and that same softness that has been tearing you apart since the moment he became deeply intertwined in your life.

It's that same softness you’ve tried to ignore, that you’ve convinced yourself was nothing more than an illusion, but that still holds an undeniable power over you.

“I’m sorry…” he repeats, voice trembling with an underlying thickness, as if he’s struggling to keep his emotions in check. “I didn’t mean for it to be like this. I never wanted to make you feel like Haru doesn’t matter to me, like you don’t matter.”

Your head shakes almost involuntarily, tears continuing to fall, mingling with the rain. Denial wraps around your heart like a protective shield, reminding you that this man doesn’t love you, that you cannot—will not—get your hopes up. You’ve been down this road before, and you know better than to believe in things that aren’t real.

But Satoru’s eyes soften even more as he reads the pain in your expression, and without a word, his other hand comes up to cup your cheek. His touch is warm against your cold, rain-soaked skin, and he gently brushes away the tears that mingle with the rain on your face—a touch so tender that it almost breaks you all over again.

“I really fucked up tonight…” he sighs, his breath hitching slightly as the words escape him. “I’m so sorry for that. Please�� let me make things right.”

You can feel the conflict within you, your heart warring with your mind, urging you to push him away, to protect yourself from the pain that seems inevitable. You can’t afford to give yourself hope—not when the risk of being shattered again looms so large, so close.

“Look… I’m really not good at this. I’m not used to… letting people in,” he admits, his voice faltering slightly as he grapples with his own vulnerability and inadequacy. “But with you, I want to try. That’s why…”

He pauses, taking a deep breath, the sound shaky as he gathers the courage to say what’s weighing on his heart.

“I need you to know that everything I said during the interview tonight… it wasn’t just for show. I wasn’t saying what I thought people wanted to hear.”

Your breath catches at his words and your heart pounds furiously within your chest. The weight of his words and the sincerity in his eyes makes it impossible to look away.

“Those were my real feelings, y/n. When they asked me what drew me to you… I meant every word.”

Your body begins to tremble, a shuddering wave of emotion crashing over you like the relentless storm around you, threatening to pull you under. The tears begin welling up again and you feel yourself unraveling at the seams.

“Don’t do this, Satoru,” you plead, voice cracking with the weight of your fear. You bring your hands up instinctively, as if to shield yourself from the intensity of his words, to create some distance between you. “Don’t say these things… I can’t… I can’t handle being hurt again.”

For a moment, Satoru hesitates, his eyes searching yours, but then, with a gentle yet determined motion, he takes your trembling hands into his own and the warmth of his touch seeps into your cold skin. Slowly, he lowers your hands onto your lap, his grip firm but tender.

“No, let me say this,” he insists, his voice steadying, becoming more resolute, though it’s still laced with a gentleness. “You deserve to hear it. You deserve to know how I really feel.”

His thumb begins to stroke the back of your hand and his gaze softens as he searches your face. There is an earnest tenderness within the depths of his expression, and it makes your heart ache.

“You’ve brought something into my life that I didn’t even know I was missing,” Satoru continues, “You’ve made me feel… grounded, in a way that I’ve never felt before.”

There is a raw honesty in his eyes, one that begins to erode the walls you’ve built around your heart. You feel your resolve crumbling, piece by piece, as his words chip away at the fear and doubt that has kept you from fully opening up to him.

“I’m not perfect,” his voice wavers slightly and his hand tightens around yours, seeking reassurance even as he offers it. “Far from it… but you’ve made me realize that’s okay. And now, because of you, I want to do better, to be better… not just for you, but for Haru too. And for myself.”

What is he saying?

Your breath hitches, a small, involuntary gasp escaping your lips as you process his words.

“I’m… confused,” you whisper, your mind racing to catch up with your heart. “Isn’t this… just a contract?”

“Yeah…well…” a wry smile tugs at the corner of his lips, though his eyes remain serious. “Guess I broke the clause, huh? So much for no emotional entanglements…”

Your breath catches again, this time in realization.

Wait… he feels the same way? This is really happening?

The realization hits you like a wave—the truth of it crashing over you, leaving you breathless, and you can’t stop the fresh surge of tears from falling down your face.

Satoru’s brow furrows with worry, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features as he watches you cry. Leaning in closer, he rests his forehead gently against yours. His eyes search yours, desperate for some kind of response, some kind of reassurance that his words have reached you, that he hasn’t misread the situation.

“Please… don’t cry,” he whispers with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. He closes his eyes, breath warm as it fans across your face, and his hand, still holding yours, gives a gentle squeeze, as if to remind you that he’s here, that he’s not going anywhere.

“I… I want to believe you, Satoru,” you manage, voice trembling with the weight of your fears and doubts. “Believe everything you’re saying, but I’m so scared. What if I’m not enough? I don’t think I could survive that kind of heartbreak again…”

Satoru’s eyes open slowly, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

“You are enough, y/n. You’ve always been enough.”

There is a firmness in his resolve, as if he’s trying to engrave the words into your very being.

His free hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away another tear that had escaped.

“And honestly… I’m scared too.” His voice drops even lower, almost a whisper now. “Trust is something I’ve never given lightly. But with you… I want to trust. I need to trust. And… I need you to trust me too.”

Trust—there’s that word again.

It lingers in the air between you, heavy with meaning, with all the complexities and the promises it holds.

Trust—It’s such a simple word, yet it carries the weight of a thousand unsaid things, a thousand fears, a thousand hopes. It’s the foundation of everything, isn’t it? The one thing you’ve always struggled with, the one thing that has kept you from fully letting go, from fully giving yourself to him—or to anyone, for that matter.

Trust—It’s what you’ve been afraid to place in someone else’s hands, for fear that they might not handle it with care. And why would they? After everything you’ve been through, after all the disappointments, the betrayals, the moments when you’ve been left to pick up the pieces of your shattered heart, why would you ever trust again?

But… maybe trust isn’t about being certain, about knowing for sure that everything will turn out alright. Maybe… it’s about taking that leap of faith, about being willing to risk the hurt because the potential for something real, something meaningful, is worth it.

You look at him, really look at him—his usually confident demeanor is stripped away, leaving only the man beneath, exposed and uncertain, yet somehow more real than you’ve ever seen him.

This is… Satoru.

In that moment, something shifts within you.

Ah… perhaps trust isn’t something you just give; it’s something you build, together, piece by piece, moment by moment. And maybe… as terrifying as it is, you’re ready to start building that with him.

The realization hits you like a warm rush, spreading through your chest and making your heart ache in a way that’s both painful and beautiful. You want to tell him, to find the words that will let him know that you want this too. But the emotions are too overwhelming, too all-consuming, and you find yourself at a loss, unable to articulate the flood of feelings coursing through you.

So instead, you do the only thing you can—you decide to show him.

Your hands move on their own, driven by an urgency you can’t contain. Grasping the collar of his shirt, your fingers curl into the wet fabric, pulling him closer with a force that leaves no room for hesitation. The distance between you disappears in one desperate, crashing motion as you bring your lips to his.

It’s a fierce kiss, filled with a force that’s as much an admission as it is an apology—an admission of your own feelings, of the vulnerabilities you’ve tried so hard to hide, and an apology for every moment you’ve tried to protect yourself by pushing him away.

The intensity of your need is met by Satoru’s immediate response, his arms wrapping around you with a fervency that matches the storm raging around you, pulling you flush against him as if he’s afraid you might slip away.

The rain soaks through your clothes, but all you can focus on is the heat of his skin, the way his mouth moves against yours with a need that’s as insistent as it is consuming. You swallow the low, desperate moan that escapes from him, the sound vibrating through you, sending a shiver down your spine.

God, you wanted this.

His tongue grazes your lower lip, seeking entry, and without hesitation, you part your lips for him, allowing him to deepen the kiss even further, kissing you as though you’re the very air he needs to breathe. Once his tongue meets yours, the sensation is electric, sending sparks of pleasure through your entire body.

God, he wanted this.

He’s losing himself in the kiss, like he’s been holding back for far too long, and now that he’s tasted you, he can’t get enough. And you let him, wrapping your legs around him and allowing him to lift you up with ease as you thread your fingers through his damp hair. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t falter, as he carries you toward the balcony door, sure and driven by a need that can no longer be contained.

With a swift motion, he presses you against the glass door. The cold rain continues to hammer down, but you’re barely aware of it—there is a fire that seems to burn hotter with every second your lips remain locked, and you are lost in the sensation of his hands gripping into the plush of your thighs, holding you firmly in place.

“Satoru…” you gasp between kisses, and the sound of your breathless voice drives him further into the depths of his desire.

“Fuck… could get used to hearing you say m’ name like that,” he groans, mouth dropping to your neck, lips tracing the line of your jaw before pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your throat.

You arch your back and tilt your head, allowing him access, but the sudden sensation of his hips pressing against your core causes a whimper to escape your lips.

Fuck. You now realize just how much he wanted this. The hardness pressed against you is unmistakable and that alone heightens your own desire, making a tingling heat begin to pool in between your legs.

Your hands slide down his back, nails digging slightly into his skin beneath the wet fabric of his shirt, and you press your hips forward, seeking more of that friction, and he responds with a low growl rumbling from deep within his chest as he begins to grind against you.

“Fucking hell…” he rasps, voice thick with desperation, “you have no idea,” he whimpers, breath hitching as his lips brush against your ear, “no fucking idea…” he grinds harder, with renewed intensity, “how much I’ve wanted this…” his eyes flutter shut, lost in the sensation, “how much I want you…”

Every nerve ignites as an intense heat courses through you.

Fuck. This is bad. This is really bad.

You’re losing any trace of reasoning; you’re lacking any semblance of control. How can you think straight when he talks to you like that? When he touches you like this?

You can’t. It’s impossible.

This is moving really fast, and every coherent thought is slipping away, replaced by the overwhelming need for him, the need to feel every inch of him against you, inside you. You’re losing yourself in the way his body moves against yours, in the way his voice trembles with need.

“Satoru… I—” you start, but the words catch in your throat, choked off by that delicious sensation of him shifting his hips, pressing harder against you in just that right spot. “I can’t… fuck. I can’t think when you’re like this…”

“Don’t think,” he murmurs against your skin. “Just feel… let me take care of you…”

And then he’s kissing you again, his mouth claiming yours with a hunger that makes your head spin. Oh, fuck it, you don’t care. You don’t care about anything else in this moment.

In one swift motion, without breaking the kiss, he carries you away from the rain, and into the warmth of the suite. His steps are quick and determined until he reaches the bedroom, and once he sets you down your feet barely touch the floor before his hands are on you again.

The urgency in his touch is undeniable, frantic as his hands begin to work at the wet fabric of your dress, peeling it away with determination.

Oh god, this is really moving fast.

The realization hits you like a wave, but it’s quickly drowned out by the sight of him shrugging off his shirt, letting it fall to the floor. And once you catch sight of his toned muscles, the way they flex beneath his skin, how can you think straight?

You can’t.

Your hands move instinctively, reaching for him, running over his chest, savoring the warmth, the strength beneath your fingertips, and his hands are equally on you, exploring your body with a reverence while his mouth moves against yours with fervor.

“You’re so fucking pretty, so beautiful…” he breaks the kiss, “I can’t get enough of you…” and then his mouth is on yours again, desperate and hungry, leaving you breathless.

He guides you towards the bed, and once the back of your knees hit the edge of it, he gives you a gentle but insistent push. His body follows and once the mattress dips slightly under your combined weight, you’re suddenly hyperaware of everything—the way his hands are sliding down your sides, the way his lips are tracing a path from your collarbone to the swell of your breasts, the way he settles between your legs.

This is moving way…way too fast.

You need a moment to think, but your mind is constantly drowned out by the feel of his body against yours.

“Satoru…” you murmur against his lips, “Please I—” But before you can finish, he’s kissing you again, his mouth claiming yours with a fierceness that makes your heart skip a beat.

Your breath hitches as he begins to rock his hips against your clothed core, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through you while you gasp into his mouth. Before you realize what you’re doing, your legs are wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer, deepening the connection between you.

Damnit, that delicious friction is all-consuming, and you can’t stop yourself from arching into him.

“Ever since that night at the gala…” he murmurs against your skin, his lips trailing down the curve of your neck, “After we kissed, I haven’t been able to think about anything else… anyone else… just you.”

His words send a shiver down your spine. Fucking hell, he’s not making this easy. The way his breath hitches as he presses kisses along your collarbone, it’s clear he’s barely holding on to his own control. And you? You’re already starting to lose yours.

Fuck, he will ruin you.

“All I could think about was how it felt to kiss you… how much I wanted to do it again… how much I wanted more…” his breath hot against your skin as his hands grip your hips, pulling you even closer.

“I can’t… I need… oh god…” the words slip out, a desperate plea mixed with a moan as the sensation of him rolling his length against that sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs becomes almost unbearable.

Fuck… the pleasure is so intense, so overwhelming, that your vision blurs, your world narrowing to nothing but the feel of him, the heat of his body, the way he’s moving against you.

You’re seeing stars.

“What is it?” he whispers against the shell of your ear, and oh he sounds so fucking undone by you, as if he’s on the verge of losing control. “Tell me… tell me what you need baby.”

His words are like gasoline on the fire burning inside you. Damnit, you need him. But you also need time to process everything that is happening. As much as you want to give in, as much as your body is screaming for more of him, a tiny voice in the back of your mind is telling you to slow down, to think.

There is still so much that has been left unsaid…things you need to get off your chest.

“Satoru…” you whisper, your voice shaky as you thread your fingers through his hair, gently pulling him back just enough to look into his eyes. His gaze is intense, dark with desire, and it takes every ounce of your self-control not to lose yourself in it. “Can we… can we take it slow?”

His body stills, and for a moment, the intensity in his eyes softens. He’s still breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling, but he nods slowly, as if he’s trying to rein in his own overwhelming need.

He leans in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, his hands sliding from your hips to cradle your face gently. The kiss is different now, less urgent but still filled with an undeniable passion that leaves you breathless. It’s a slow burn, a simmering heat that makes your skin tingle as his lips move tenderly against yours, savoring every moment.

The kiss tapers off naturally, his lips lingering on yours as if he’s reluctant to let go. When he finally pulls back, he doesn’t move far, his nose brushing against yours in a tender nuzzle that makes you smile.

“Yeah… okay…” he breathes out, voice rough and tinged with longing. “We can slow down… whatever you need…”

His fingers trace the line of your jaw, moving to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch light, almost reverent.

“Sorry it’s just…” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your lower lip before leaning in to press a soft kiss to your temple, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth. Each kiss is gentle. He pulls back slightly, his lips ghosting over yours as he whispers, “You don’t know what you do to me…”

Your heart swells at his words, and you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. “I think I’m starting to figure it out,” you softly chuckle.

Satoru mirrors your smile and lets out a soft laugh.

“Well... it’s about damn time you caught on.”

He plops down beside you, pulling you into his arms with an ease that makes your heart flutter. as if being this close to you is the most natural thing in the world. He buries his face into the nape of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply, a content hum leaving his lips as he wraps himself around you, tangling his legs with yours and pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. The warmth of his body seeps into yours, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against you.

“Was starting to think I’d have to spell it out for you,” he murmurs, breath fanning your skin, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

A light and airy laugh escapes your lips as you become engrossed in his warmth.

 “Well, I mean... you’ve always been a bit of a mystery,” you tease, your fingers tracing idle patterns on the back of his hand where it rests against your stomach.

“Hmm, a mystery, huh?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, sending a ripple of warmth through you. “Maybe… but I think you’ve always had the key, even if you didn’t know it.”

You turn slightly in his arms, bringing a hand up to gently run your fingers through his hair, the soft strands slipping through your fingers like silk as you gaze into his eyes. Your heart swells at the way he leans into your touch, as if he savors each trace of you, and there’s a tenderness in the way his eyes hold yours.

And then, his lips curl into a wry smile, mischief dancing in his eyes.

“Mm… told you you’d fall for my charm. Though I will say, you were a tough one to crack.”

You try to fight the smile threatening to break free as a warmth spreads across your face. It’s crazy to think this man was once the bane of your very existence.

“Tch…you have a way of growing on people, y’know that?” The grin on his face widens at your admission, making the heat in your own face intensify. You huff, rolling your eyes as you nudge him lightly with your elbow. “You’re like a persistent, overly confident weed.”

Satoru laughs. “A weed, huh? That’s a new one,” he sounds mock-offended, though his smirk tells you he’s anything but. His hand shifts, trailing up and down your arm tenderly as his fingers lightly brush your skin. “Mmm let's see…I think I’m more like a rare, exotic flower.”

“Oh please,” you scoff, eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’re more like those persistent kind of weeds that pops up in the cracks of the sidewalk, no matter how many times you try to get rid of them.”

“Persistent, huh? Well I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment,” his tone softens as his hand trails down your arm, the warmth of his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake until his fingers find yours, threading them together as he interlocks your hands in a gentle, but secure grasp.

“Guess I’ll just have to keep growing on you until you can’t imagine your life without me,” he murmurs—thumb gently stroking the back of your hand—and your breath hitches at the sincerity in his words.

Satoru treats you like a treasure, something to be cherished and protected.

How did you get so lucky?

He’s everything Naoya isn’t—everything you’ve ever wanted but were too afraid to hope for.

But even as the realization crosses your mind, a pang of guilt twists in your chest. You’ve been keeping something from him, something important, something that could change everything. Naoya’s scheme, his attempts to ruin Satoru’s reputation… it’s been eating away at you, gnawing at your conscience every time Satoru looks at you with those warm, trusting eyes.

But the thought terrifies you—what if it changes everything? What if it drives a wedge between you?

You need to tell him. He deserves to know.

No secrets.

You can’t keep hiding the truth. Not if you want to move forward, not if you want to build something real with him.

“Hey,” you begin softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you pull back slightly to look into his eyes. The tenderness in his gaze gives you the strength to continue. “There’s something I need to tell you… something important.”

Satoru’s expression shifts immediately from the seriousness of your tone, his brow knitting together in concern as his eyes dim.

“What is it?”

Oh fuck. This is it. No backing down now.

You take a deep breath, and though your heart pounds in your chest, Satoru’s gentle grip tightens on your hand, offering you the silent support to continue.

“It’s about Naoya…” you begin, voice trembling slightly as you hesitantly hold his gaze.

The tension in Satoru's face is subtle but unmistakable. You briefly catch sight of his jaw tightening, a muscle jumping beneath the skin at the mere mention of Naoya’s name. Swallowing hard, your throat constricts with effort as you struggle to find the right words.

“There’s… something I’ve been keeping from you… and I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I was scared. I didn’t know what to do.”

Satoru’s eyes widen just a fraction, his brows drawing together slightly in concern, but he remains silent—he doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t demand an explanation. Instead, he watches you intently, his gaze locked onto yours, a silent encouragement to continue.

But that intensity in his focus only makes your heart pound harder in your chest, each beat a drum of anxiety.

Here goes nothing.

“He’s been… blackmailing me,” you confess, eyes falling to the side, unable to hold his gaze. “He’s trying to ruin your reputation, to drag your name through the mud…and if I don’t do what he says…”

The words die on your lips as you trail off.

Fuck this is overwhelming.

This entire night has been a rollercoaster, and you’re reaching the breaking point of your own emotional endurance. You expect Satoru to say something, but the silence that follows is deafening.

Each beat of your heart is like a hammer in your chest, and your mind is racing with a thousand different fears.

Is he angry? Is he waiting for you to look at him? Is this it? Is this the moment everything falls apart?

Summoning every ounce of courage you have left, you will yourself to look up, to meet Satoru’s eyes. And yes, there’s anger simmering in the depths of his gaze, a dangerous edge to it, but there’s something else too—something softer.

“What will happen if you don’t do what he says?” he asks, voice gentle yet firm. His thumb brushes soothing circles on the back of your hand with a tenderness, urging you to continue. “What exactly is he threatening you with?”

You take a deep, shaky breath, feeling the lump in your throat swell as you struggle to push the words out.

“He’s trying to take Haru away from me… he’s threatening to file for full custody if I don’t cooperate.”

The impact of your words is immediate—Satoru’s entire demeanor changing in an instant.

His expression hardens, the fury in his eyes flaring to life, unmistakable and searing, and his entire body tenses beside you. A shiver rakes down your spine when you hear the low and dangerous promise slip through his lips.  

“He’s going to regret this.”

Before you can even process his words, he pulls you onto his chest, wrapping his arms around you with a fierce protectiveness that catches you off guard. It is almost startling how the gentle way he holds you is juxtaposed with the anger simmering just beneath the surface, and as his fingers begin to thread through your hair while he cradles you close to him, you feel he is shielding you from the very world that threatens to tear you apart.

“He’s not taking Haru from you,” Satoru vows, voice unwavering, a promise etched in steel. “Not over my dead body.”

Ah…the conviction in his voice—the words you needed to hear—it is your breaking point. Finally, everything crashes down on you. The fear, the guilt, the overwhelming relief that you’re no longer carrying this burden alone—it all hits you at once, and you can’t hold back the quiet sob that escapes your lips.

Satoru tightens his hold on you, one hand gently stroking your hair, the other trailing up and down your trembling frame as he whispers reassurances.

“Hey, it’s okay… we’re going to get through this.”

His heartbeat is a steady and comforting rhythm beneath your ear. You nod weakly as a shaky breath escapes your lips, the sound muffled against his chest, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head, lips lingering for a moment.

“When did this all begin?” he whispers, fingers gently massaging your scalp.

“Two days ago…” you murmur, “right before you agreed to watch Haru for me.”

There’s a moment of silence, a brief pause as Satoru processes your words. You feel the subtle hitch in his breath, the soft exhale that follows as he tries to contain the emotions swirling inside him. He pulls back just enough to look at you, and your heart drops at his expression.

“y/n…” he breathes out, low and thick with emotion as his jaw clenches with tension. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

The ache in your chest is unbearable, and the tears begin to prick at your eyes again. Unable to face the underlying look of his own disappointment, you instinctively look away.

“I was scared and confused… I didn’t think you felt the same way about me,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. “And I kept thinking about our contract…about your condition…”

Satoru’s body softens underneath you as he gently tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze, and what you find there isn’t disappointment, but understanding—a deep, unwavering understanding that cuts through your doubts like a beacon of light in the darkness.

“y/n, there is no contract when it comes to how I feel about you,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing away a lingering tear that slipped down your cheek. “That contract… it was just a piece of paper. Besides, it’s void now because I broke the clause.” His lips curve into a soft, reassuring smile. “What I feel for you… it’s real. And it’s not something that can be defined by a contract.”

His words are like a balm to your wounded heart, soothing the fear that had been gnawing at you.

Why did you doubt him so much? Is it because this is a love you have only hoped for? But now it’s real—it’s yours.

A shaky exhale escapes your lips as you rest your forehead against his.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice trembling. “I should have told you sooner.”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Satoru soothes, his hands moving up to cradle your face. “I understand why you were scared. But we’re in this together, okay? Naoya’s not going to win.”

His hands gently tilt your face upwards, and before you can respond, he leans in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. His lips move slowly, languidly against yours, savoring the moment, and you melt into the kiss, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath your fingertips.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours once more, and you linger there in the aftermath, letting the warmth of his breath fan across your lips, the closeness between you wrapping around you like a cocoon. A content sigh escapes your lips as the tension from everything slowly ebbs away, and you lower yourself onto his chest as Satoru’s fingers gently trail up and down your back.

Finally, everything has been laid bare. No secrets. Just the two of you, connected in a way that feels unbreakable.

But then, Satoru shifts slightly beneath you, “You’re shivering,” he murmurs, voice laced with concern as his hand moves to gently rub your arm, trying to warm you up. “We were out in the rain for too long…”

You hadn’t even noticed—your focus had been so consumed by everything else. Now that the adrenaline of the moment has begun to fade, you realize how cold you are, and how you’re both still in your underwear. The chill from the rain has started to seep into your bones.

“You should take a warm bath, get comfortable,” Satoru suggests, loving but insistent as he brushes a few stray strands of wet hair away from your face, tucking them gently behind your ear. “It’s been a long day, and we have to wake up early to get home to Haru. You can go first. Go on, I’ll wait for you here.”

You nod, reluctantly pulling away from the warmth of his embrace as you make your way to the bathroom.

The hot water feels like a balm against your chilled skin, and you take your time, letting the warmth seep into your bones and soothe the lingering tension in your muscles. It’s a quiet, reflective moment—an opportunity to process everything that’s happened. As the steam rises around you, you feel the weight of the day slowly lift from your shoulders.

After finishing your bath, you slip into the comfortable pajamas the hotel provided and find yourself wrapped up cozily under the blankets in the bed, waiting for Satoru as he takes his turn getting cleaned up next. The room is quiet—the rain outside has finally settled down as the once insistent pattering is now reduced to a soft, comforting drum against the window. You let your eyes drift closed for a moment, savoring the tranquility and the subtle scent of Satoru that lingers on the pillow beside you.

Tonight, has been exhausting—so much has happened, and it’s a lot to take in.

When Satoru finally emerges from the bathroom, he is dressed in the comfortable hotel linens, hair slightly damp and tousled. He flashes you a tender smile, one that makes your heart skip a beat, and you can’t help but smile back, warmth spreading through you.

But instead of joining you in the bed as you would expect, you watch with growing curiosity as he makes his way towards the closet. Propping yourself up on your elbow, you tilt your head slightly, your brows knitting together in confusion.

“What are you doing?” you observe him gather extra blankets and pillows, tucking them under his arm.

Satoru glances over his shoulder, offering you a small, almost apologetic smile.

“I’m, uh… gonna sleep on the couch tonight,” he says casually, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You blink, taken aback by his words, and a frown tugs at your lips.

“Why? You don’t have to do that. The bed’s big enough for both of us.”

He hesitates, as if weighing his words carefully.

“Y/n,” he begins, low and rough, “Believe me, I really want to,” he lets out a sigh and scratches the back of his head. “You have… too much of an effect on me. I meant it when I said we could take things slow, but if I’m lying next to you, I don’t know if I can control myself.”

His admission sends a warm flush to your face, your heart skipping a beat at the honesty in his words. You see the tension in his shoulders, the way he’s struggling to do what he thinks is right, even though it’s clearly not what he wants.

“Satoru…” you begin, your voice softening as you start to sit up, but he shakes his head gently, cutting you off before you can say more.

“If you want to take it slow, it’s probably for the best I give us some space to figure things out without making it harder than it already is.”

Damnit, he is too cute for his own good.

For a moment, you’re tempted to tell him to stay, to ignore the rules you’ve set for yourself, to just give in to the pull between you. The warmth of his presence, the comfort of his touch—it’s all so inviting. But you can also see how much he’s trying to do right by you, to honor your wishes, even if it means sacrificing what he wants.

“Okay,” you say softly, your teeth gently grazing your bottom lip as you consider your next words, “but just know that although I want to go slow, it doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t mind… doing things with you.”

Satoru lets out a groan, closing his eyes briefly as if battling with himself.

“You’re not making this easy, you know that?”

“Mm… never said I would,” you challenge, a playful glint flickering in your eyes as a crooked grin tugs at your lips.

He chuckles, tinged with both amusement and exasperation.

“I swear you’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters, shaking his head slightly, but the smile that accompanies his words is soft, filled with affection.

The two of you share a quiet laugh, soft and intimate, like a shared secret. As the laughter fades, a comfortable silence settles over you both. His gaze locks with yours, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. The intensity in his eyes, the way they darken with something deeper, makes your breath hitch.

“Goodnight, Satoru,” you murmur as you settle yourself back into the pillows.

“Goodnight, y/n,” his smile widens as his gaze lingers on you for a moment longer before he turns to leave the room. “If you need anything,” he adds, pausing at the door, “you know where to find me.”

As the door softly clicks shut behind him, you’re left alone in the dimly lit room—left to your thoughts.

Tomorrow holds so much for the both of you—decisions to be made, obstacles to overcome, and a new chapter in your lives to navigate together.

For the first time in what feels like forever, you don’t feel alone. The burden isn’t yours to carry anymore. The thought brings a sense of peace, a calm that wraps around you as you pull the blankets closer, cocooning yourself in their warmth.

There’s still so much left unresolved, and the threat of Naoya looms large. But tonight, as you drift off to sleep, all you can think about is the way Satoru looked at you, the promise in his eyes that you’ll face whatever comes next together.

And somehow, that alone makes everything seem a little less daunting.

hi hi, thank you all so much for your kind words with this fic and for sticking around. this chapter was a lot for me to write, and i really kept second guessing it tbh. i think bc it's such a pivotal point in the story and it's pretty emotional, so i really wanna thank my lovely beta readers for helping me 💕 (@strychnynegirl & @gojoslefttoenail) hmm... who is this mysterious man that approached y/n at the gala? 🤔 i wonder if you guys can take a guess based on the description 😉 also of COURSE there is only ✨one bed✨ how can there NOT be? 🤭 i had a lot of fun writing their steamy kiss 😩 as much as i wanted them to do more i also wanna reiterate how much the slow burn in this story means to me. idk, with everything going on in y/n's life it didn't feel right for her to be like "cool lets fuck." especially since she still needed to tell satoru the truth, plus she is a mom with a kid and has been through a really shitty relationship. trust isn't something that just POOF appears yk? thanks for all your kind words and for reading!! school has been picking up for me, so again my updates will likely be longer in between. love you all 🥹 -aly 💕 → onto the next chapter ꨄ

taglist :

@geniejunn @fortunatelyfurrygiver @rosso-seta @acowboykisser @mikyapixie

@shokosbunny @fire-child-kira @aluvrina @laviefantasie @kurookinnie

@poopypipi @painted-hills @stillserene @mira-lol @k-kkiana

@sebastianlover @blueberrysungie @kalulakunundrum @doireallyhavetonamthis @lingophilospher

@ichikanu @artist1936 @christianacj27 @watermelon-online @jkbangtan7

@angelina7890 @aruraa @han11dh @jonesmelodys @k1ttybean

@a-trashbag @jotarohat @khaleesihavilliard @tsukistopglazer @elliesndg

@maskedpacific @that-redheadd @lovelyartemisa @eolivy

@valleydoli @voids-universe @sukunadckrider @aishies-stuff

@saccharine-nectarine @ilianasau @pinksaiyans

[sparkbeast20]

Seven deadly sins meets Seven rulers

This is my second attempt of remaking this OM x WHB crossover fic. I'll make no promises, if I feel like making more of this crossover, I'll just post it.

Note: This will be rated 16+, there will be mention of sex and both MCs sex life with they're respective devils/demons. OM MC will stick with game default name which is Yuki, and WHB will be named Raon both are GN.

Yuki POV

It was suppose to be a normal day, you were asked to join in to that day's student council to discuss something about a thing that Satan and Belphegor found in a weird shop, of course you knew that the reason those two found the strange item in the first place is because they were planning something against Lucifer.

Levi was with you, as the two of you arrive at the student council room. As soon as you open the door, both of you stopped in your tracks when you saw Barbatos sitting limply on his chair as Diavolo, Lucifer and Satan shielding him, while the rest stared at the floating object in the center of the room, all in their demon forms. Levi instinctively shifted and hid you behind him.

The object which was a strange scroll glow a bring light, as it open itself up, and soon a ominous voice speak, which you notice cause Levi and the rest of the brothers flinch, as if they knew the voice.

It spoke in a language that you weren't familiar, but judging from the reaction of your seven lovers, it something that struck a nerve.

And soon the scroll suddenly changed form, ripping from the center, revealing a light portal.

Diavolo, quickly acted and picked up Barbatos and ordered all of you to-

"RUN!!!"

You quickly move, but Mammon was faster. Hell you didn't realize that he quickly dashed towards you and picked you up. Beel picked Belphie, and Asmo picked Satan. And along side Lucifer and Diavolo flew out of the room, with you in Mammon's arms and Levi ran as fast he can.

Soon the portal ripped wider, and soon a voice soon can be hear.

And in a slip second a person was threw out from the portal and landed in the table of the room.

They groan in pain, and was calling out names. Then suddenly the portal violently ripped farther as if someone is tearing it from the inside.

Two massive black clawed hands tore the portal wider. And soon a swarm of flies flew out of the portal followed by five other figures and hand that was holding the portal open shrink and turn into pale hands and the figure jumped out of the portal and landed next to the first person that came out of the portal.

"Ow! That hurt!!" The first figure, who has purple hair and seem smaller compare to the other six with them. But as soon as the purple hair human stood up and dusted themselves off, the swarm of flies flew next to them and quickly formed into a tall blonde tan man, wearing a black crop top, ripped jeans and a green long over coat, that has "Sex, drugs, and Feed" on it. However what stands out is his one horn, that resembled a unicorn horn and his eyes, are green and a bit of yellow, with his pupils having the roman numerals VI VI VI

He quickly stood next to the human, and slide his arms over their shoulders. He smiled and quickly started sniffing the area.

"Oh~ there's some good food here"

When all that was happening, Lucifer, Mammon and Satan peak from the hall way through the crack of the door.

"Ya'll feel that ri-right" Mammon nervously whispered, with Levi, Asmo and Beel nodding in agreement. While you held Levi and Mammon's hands

Mammon gasped when he saw one of them, a man wearing a black kimono fell back as if he passed out, however the tallest one of them all quickly caught that fallen man and fling in on his shoulder.

For whatever reason, both Mammon and Belphie feel nervous about those two specifically.

"What are we suppose to do-"

"K̷̠͂̃͗͐n̸̫͉̹͌̀̀͑ͅe̶͇͕͆̍ě̴̺͉̿̿̚l̴̡̙̞̣̔,̴͚̄̆̓̄́ ̶̪̬̟͒̓̀ḣ̶̯̩̟̻̏̆ë̶̱̦͈̲̲́̈́͗͝ ̶̧̤̱̱͌͠w̸̢͓̲̞̳̎̒͠h̴̨̢̪͖͚̄̒ö̶̝̳̻̤́ ̵̟̙̐̔͠ͅͅw̴̡̡͓̭̌̍͜ȁ̷͇̹l̵͚̰͎̱̺̔̉k̵̨̨̬̙̙̓ş̵̗̗͎̲͛͗̽̉̿ ̴̛͓͈̄̽̿ỏ̷̬͙͉̱͇n̴͍̦̐ ̶͓̬͛̃͘ẗ̴̛̼̣́͗͝h̶̛̥͎̐̈́̚e̷̥͉̬̜̗͂̌̉ ̴͎̖̰̊ģ̷̳̤͔̿̈̆̒̕r̶̨̡̼͓̯͛o̵̓̑͋̃̃͜ͅữ̸̭̼́̄̒n̸͔͖͂d̴̢̯͋͗̅̚͝"

All of a sudden, you, six of the brothers and Barbatos as if by force was pushed to the ground, Levi and Asmo groan in pain. As if there was a strong weight pressing you down the ground.

Diavolo and Lucifer was shock by the sudden power and as quickly, Diavolo used his magic to open the door. Clearly knows that the "visitors" were the cost of this attack.

But in a instant, Diavolo was smack by a golden fist. lunching him across the hall and through a wall.

"My- Ugh... MY LORD!!!" Barbatos scream in agony, calling out to Diavolo.

"Tsk... Ya'll are noisy bunch." You slowly turn your head even with the pressure of the force crushing you, saw the man... with slit back hair, wearing a black kimono and a black halo over his head, click his tongue in annoyance. You shook when you saw his eyes, sliver however his left eye has two pupils giving off a strange unnerving feeling when you stare into them.

"Mm~ My, my~ what a wonderful bunch. I can't wait to have a taste of all of them... especially the one small human among the demons." Said the one wearing only a toga, but even then his red eyes, with his left eye has black sclera. Stare right at you.

You started to tremble... what is this feeling... You thought.

These beings... Are something else.

Raon POV

"There goes Asmodeus, making things weird for everyone in the room" You thought to yourself, as he was making creepy comments to these people... Wait are these humans? Like sure the shortest among them is clearly human... but the rest of them... have tails and wings and... Horns?!?! They might be devils of this world.

As other kings groan, or rolled their eyes at Asmodeus' comment. You thought back what happened before you and the seven sins got here.

You where aiding them with the fight against the angels, and the Seraphim. When all of the sudden a dimensional rift opened and sucked you in, Beelzebub acted quick and jumped into the rift followed by the other kings and that it. Now you're here. In a strange place with Lucifer using his power to make these poor people pushed down the ground, Mammon slapped one of them into a wall, and Belphegor and Asmodeus intimidating them.

"Guys... I think they ain't no harm... So..." You lean out and looked at Lucifer... "Lucifer, no one can beat you, so maybe... cancel the Order?" You try to appease Lucifer. After years spending time with them. You've learn how to stop them from going to far.

Lucifer looks at you and nodded and with a snap of his finger, his order was cancelled.

You looked back and watch as all of the people gasped and yelled in relief as they pushed themselves off the ground. The dark green hair demon? Quickly stood up and rushed over to the big bulky demon that Mammon slapped into the wall.

Next you notice that the demon with wings, and black hair looks at Lucifer with a shock expression.

"You're... Lucifer?" He spoke. With a slight anger and frustration in his voice.

"Eh? Got a problem with that?" Satan spoke, irritated at senses this demon's anger. You quickly pry away from Beelzebub and rushed over to Satan grabbing his arm and digging your nails into his skin, he chuckled and glance at you, and you sticked your tongue out at him in a playful manner.

This works a bit, until you can senses Leviathan glaring at you from behind. He grabbed you by the back of the neck and pulled you to him and he hid you behind him.

And Satan didn't like that. He started ripping Leviathan a new one, but Leviathan just started arguing with him

"Hehehe. Come on... Satan and Leviathan can't fight here-"

"SHUT UP BEELZEBUB!!!"

"Wait a fucking minute!!!!" You and six of the kings, cause of course Belphegor is asleep on Mammon's shoulder. Turn to the white hair demon with tan skin. "Lucifer?!?! Satan!?!? Leviathan!?!!? Beelzebub!?!?!" He screamed out their names and point at each of them as if there something wrong.

"Yes, as side from my Master Raon" Mammon laugh and gestures at you making you blush and flustered causing you to hide behind Leviathan. "We, are the seven deadly sins. The kings of hell"

Satan snarl at them, Leviathan glare at them, Beelzebub playfully salute at them, Mammon stood proud with his chest puff up, Lucifer looks away, Asmodeus winked at them, and Belphegor is sleeping and snoring.

The seven demons stood there in shock and confuse.

All the while you turn and looked at the human with them. It seems that you sensed something about them. Something that reminds you of Seraphim.

Its so hard writing for all the characters here. I'll still write more, but it would depend on my mood and motivation.

Honestly I like the idea of the Seven sins meeting the Brothers. And their MCs interacting with each other. But I do want to write a fight scene with them first :3

If there’s grammar or spelling error, please let me know and don’t be shy to leave a comment or reblogging with cute tags. I just love to see you guys thoughts on this :3

[ann1-wr1tes]

Leon Kennedy NSFW Alphabet

Dynamics: RE4! Leon Kennedy x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Spicy Alphabet

Warnings: Adult themes, obviously smut

A/N: Hey Leon simps...hope ya'll enjoy! Also if anyone wants to request any other characters for an alphabet, let me know!

-----

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

-Leon is very good at aftercare. He always makes sure that you are comfy and well cared for. He'll run you both a warm shower and he honestly just likes to take his time, washing your body and making sure you are well cared for and clean. His favorite part is when he finally gets to lay back in bed with you and relax as you drift off to sleep.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

-Leon loves your whole body honestly. If he had to pick one thing he'd probably say your hands. He likes to hold them and kiss them and its just something that's so grounding to him when he's fucking you and he intertwines his fingers with yours.

-On himself I think he'd be particularly proud of arms. He knows he's got some muscle on them and it just makes him feel strong.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

-Leon would probably prefer something simple like your stomach if not inside a condom. If he has to pull out, he doesn't like making too big of a mess so your stomach will do.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

-He's always wanted to wake you up with a little surprise. Whether that be waking you up with head, fingering you, or fucking you awake. Its just something about how pretty you look when you're sleeping next to him and you have your ass pressed against his dick...

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

-Since this is taking place around RE!4 he doesn't have a lot of experience. Of course he's not nearly as clueless as he was in RE!2 but he's too busy to have that much experience under his belt. Luckily he's a quick learner.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

-He likes it simple. Missionary or maybe Doggy-style. Missionary is just perfect, he can gauge all your reactions and see how you feel when he looks at your face and its just perfect. Doggy-style is nice when he presses his chest against your back and he gets to be as close to you as possible. His arms would be wrapped around your waist as he rolls his hips into yours.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

-Not too goofy but he may crack a few horrible jokes here or there. He wants to keep the mood light and not too serious.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

-Not too messy, not completely bare. Given his line of work and very limited amount of time he has at home, I think he tries his best to stay as well groomed as possible but he leaves a little bit and has a nice happy trail.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

-In the moment he an get very sucked up into all the emotions and the feelings that happen during sex. His life is hard and he rarely ever gets to take the time to unwind so sometimes it can be emotional for him and he just wants to show you how appreciative he is.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

-Oh absolutely. When he's off on the other side of the world, away from you he's got to have some way to relieve stress. Its not that frequent but he does it often enough late at night when he's thinking of you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

-Definitely has a praise kink. He wants to hear how good he is doing for you, how good he is making you feel, and if you happen to tell him how strong he is or how handsome he looks then he might just cum right then and there...

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

-Usually at home in bed, but there have been a few instances where he has enjoyed some shower sex. You two just wanted to spend some time together after he got home from a mission and he couldn't help himself when he saw soap running down your skin and your pretty body standing there in front of him.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

-Just you in general. He loves everything about you and god does he think you're hot. You barely even have to do anything to get him hard. You could probably give him a few good kisses and he'd start to get heated.l

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

-No guns, no knives, and I don't think he'd be huge into choking. Anything that could hurt you is a definite no for him. I also don't think he'd into the whole "daddy" thing..it kinda just weirds him out-

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

-He prefers giving. Its one of his ways he likes to show you how much he loves and appreciates you. Just having you lay back and spread your legs is one of his favorite things.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

-Steady. Not too fast, not too slow. He likes to get the job done but not rush it too much. Of course if you want it rougher/faster he'd be happy to oblige and there are moments when he's feeling more emotional or soft so he'll be a bit softer and slow then.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

-He doesn't mind them. Sometimes he'll get a call for work and he'll have to leave soon but he wants to fuck you on last time before he goes. I feel like it'd be a common thing between you too.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

-He's neutral on taking risks. He's pretty much down for anything you'd like to try, so long as its within reason. But if you want to experiment then he's more than happy to give it a try with you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

-Leon has good stamina but the poor boy is tried most of the time. I think he'd be able to give you a good few long rounds before passing out lmao-

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

-He doesn't own any toys himself but if you had some and wanted to use them he'd be happy to. I think he'd be more eager to use them on you but if you convince him you'd probably be able to use a vibrator on him or maybe a cock ring-

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

-Doesn't tease at all. He's very giving and generous while having sex and he loves to make you feel good.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

-Not too loud but not quiet. I'd say he's somewhere in the middle. He'll let out a few good groans and maybe some moans if you get him feeling really good.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

-He loves it when you wear his clothes. Whether that be an oversized shirt or his jacket, its just something about seeing you in his clothes that gets him going.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

-Definitely a grower. Leon when he's soft is a good 6.5 inches and when he's hard, he gets to a whole 7.5 inches. When hard his dick tilts slightly to the left but has one of two prominent veins running up his shaft.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

-Pretty high honestly. He's always pent up from his job and stressed so one of the best ways he can relieve himself it by fucking you. Plus he just loves you and can't seem to get enough of you so his sex drive is decently high.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

-He tries to stay up long enough for you to fall asleep first but sometimes he's just so worn out that he either falls asleep with you or a little before you.

[jazeswhbhaven]

A Successful Hunt in Heaven | React | Spoilers | Prologue

LETS GO YA'LL

First, let me say that this is completely different than Levi's Torture story and when I get a chance to read the rest of this???? I'm pretty sure it's gonna be a 10...

Cause let's jump in???

We start with the fact that MC is standing in front of a throne, everything is in white and angels are calling them Gabriel.

I was like???? AYO ARE WE GABRIEL???

It seems, that we are indeed Gabriel....

it's so good to see our angry bae again, even if he's cussin' us out

not that he can help it, we are literally Gabriel right now. but why the fuck are we????

SO it's flashback time and we're in Gehenna after a big battle. Three kings Mammon/Levi/Beel came to help out and the results were victorious.

Mammon is so that guy because if I were watching him lifting buildings with ease all day, I would. Lemonade in hand like those ladies watching the lifeguard at the pool.

So the kings are talking amongst themselves about Satan reacting to Mammon's saying of "how Gehenna is his so ofc he's gonna help" and Beel saying that Satan would headbutt him with his horns if he heard him and it's surprising that he didn't (foreshadowing??)

Mammon just loves to call his boyfriend small huh? Lol

We know Beel, you like to spy on us. Next you're gonna be randomly showing up when we're showering or something and be like HEY JUST CHECKING UP ON YOUUUUU.

My stinka boo. <3

Anyways....

Leviathan, give me one reason why I shouldn't box with you right now. One good reason other than the fact that I can't fight demons 💀

I ain't payin' you nary a cent back.

But yeah everyone starts to depart though, since the job is done and it's time for the devils of Gehenna to relax and chill!

I'm crying because I like how Levi and Beel's dynamic here is still "Ugh my dumbass best friend that annoys me sometimes" because He was getting onto Beel for being careless and making Bael work too much and Beel was like "Awh but you're closer to me :(((((" and Levi is like "Nah you got 6 other kings" skskskkskskksks And then he drags him away here? I love them your honor, their dynamic makes me crack up each time.

BUT now that this is over and done with we're at the PUB GETTIN' DRUNK LETS GET IT

Even Ppyong comments that he hasn't had a drink in a while and Sitri is over here yappin' about tea and how long it takes to brew compared to just pouring alcohol and throwing it in your mouth. Then a funny thing with Leraye happens...

I can hear him in my head and it's hilarious. Because Leraye why you sayin' it like this? lmaoooo

After being chided that he was being too damn loud in his ear and some other interactions from the other nobles, it's then realized that Satan actually hasn't been around in a while. No one has seen him in a couple days and I'm just like....wait ya'll just been doing whatever and not concerned that your King is literally not around for over 48 hours? o k

We then get Belial/Jjyu busting in the pub and saying there's an emergency meeting to talk about Satan's disappearance. Turns out Zagan and Belial noticed that Satan has been gone for a quite a while, Zagan being the first to notice and so he called the meeting. During this time when everyone is thinking of what's happening and what's going on, with MC thinking more about the "how this happened" rather than the "how can we fix this"??? There's a solution right outside the door.....

BUT FIRST

Paimon is so real because if a bead can shut up Jjyu it really does give us a reality check on how small he is lmao

ALSO POINTING WEAPONS AT THE DOOR? ITS ON SIGHT?

Oh.

oh.

That's my cat daddy right there.

I'm so happy we get to have Ronove content ya'll. And so randomly too. I wonder if we will get other Abaddon devils as a cameo in the other cards??? Hopefully? MAYBE?

So the nobles are wondering who called him there, and it turns out Zagan did.

And he was trying to say that from the beginning but since Ppyong wasn't looking at him, he couldn't translate. To which Astaroth is like "Just speak tho." LMAO

Anyways,

It seems the Abaddon devils love the thrill of danger. Dantalian also seems to love that to where he will literally put himself in harms way. But I mean I guess the devils there are just built different as they keep saying anyways.

So in order to save Satan though, someone has to go undercover as an angel. Problem with that is devils are unable to lie so if they were caught they would immediately just give up and admit they were sneaking in. But MC....

LOL this dialogue had me like??? OMG p l s. First...this is actually for once something I'd say, more in a joking sense even though this is clearly a serious moment.

I also love how Sitri was like "okay but the only thing you know how to do is lie, MC" and I was like...thanks Sitri thank you so much for your support you have no idea how much it means to me /s

But he's right, MC doesn't know how to do anything else which at this point damn we still don't know how to fight with magic or something??? Anything??

Thank you for letting us know this information Ronove. You are a treasure.

So, we end up seeing Ronove's power in action btw. How it works is that he says the words, and they work as long as he doesn't swallow.

R o n o v e

I do not need to know how you were eating food with your butt. Thank you sir. (why did I go there? Because it's a joke that's been done already in another media lmao so if you know you know) Honestly though if not his butt then probably made another hole somewhere or he ate through his dick who the fuck knows this is Hell and he's from Abaddon, anything could go.

He's so hot I'm crying. Like...I'm trying to imagine what a wet voice is and it's making me shiver in a bad/good way.

So his power is in action, he says "you will be an angel" and he pretty much spits in in MC's mouth and mixes it up and tells you to swallow. (reference my thirst post with him saying to swallow it)

So, there's no specifics to his powers. It works, but not the in way anyone would expect. This type of theme in most stories always ends up bad in some shape or form when the words are vague or broad. So yeah MC was an angel alright.....

So we were back in Heaven, and now we understand that MC is possessing Gabriel's body. I wonder if he's aware that's happening and he's internally screaming or if he's just kinda unable to do anything about it and is unconscious the entire time?

It's believable surface wise because everyone is falling for it, even Satan who was cursing and spitting on MC/Gabriel to point where they had to gag him.

Ngl, I'd have a hard time being into this "roleplay" too because he legit doesn't know it's MC so he hates them. It's kind of like a revenge mirror thing from Gabe's christmas card (i still have to do a react on that btw)

THIS????? FACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Gabriel needs to make those faces more.

But the entire time MC was pretending to be Gabriel I was like "GURL FOCUS" because they kept getting distracted by Satan looking fine as fuck in those restraints and that gag in his mouth. Which I mean??? EYAH but we're here to do mission rescue. But now we about to do some

Mission I'm going to fuck Satan as the angel he hates. And I'm so anticipating that Satan is going to react and sort of like it....SO YEAH YEAH YEAH INDIRECT WAY OF CXC

I did not originally ship any of the angels with any of the Kings or Nobles butttttt after I get my hands on the rest of this card story I'll be a believer.

Funny thing though is that I did in fact get the artifact for that discounted 250 pull they give us each time and it clearly is a reference to the key from Hellraiser which is one of my favorite Horror films~

we have such sights to show you

Okay but crossover of Kings as each of the different Cenobites when? Cause I need it.

[evilminji]

Ya'll know our BELOVED? Little Baby Man?

The noodliest ghosty boy?

What if he WAS Baby? It wouldn't be the first time Danny's enemies plotting gave him offspring. Only this time it's not a clone! It's a proper GHOST baby. Like Lunch Box.

Who's the other parent I hear you ask?

Pretty human-centric view point there buddy, to assume Ghosts NEED two participants to make an offspring. OR are limited to two! Just cause Lunch Lady And Boxie are a couple doesn't mean that's the standard!

We lack data here! ASSUME NOTHING. *sciences harder in your direction*

*awkward cough*

*shuffles notes*

ANYWAY! The child! All it would really take is one(1) VERY poorly timed ambush attack. Imagine if you will, a cell. How does it multiply? While not even close, the simplistic images ARE pretty good as an explanation!

But isn't that just an ecto-clone? You say?

Close!

But THOSE? Are hollow bags of GOO!

No CORE! *slaps the chalkboard behind me*

However! If you wanted, say, a precious bundle off joy? Well, nothing can come from perfect void! You must contribute the building blocks of LIFE! And what are those, my students, in ghost biology??!

Two vital pieces! The Ectoplasm aaaaaaand? That's RIGHT!

The CORE!

A critical and ever vital part of ghost biological function.

Which, like every OTHER part of the body, is malleable. One could, say, make it smaller. Create part of a proto core. OR, should one be ALONE in this process, a FULL protocol.

Upon which, ectoplasm latches, builds, develops and grows. Becomes its own soul.

Now! Do Not mistake me! There is a WILDLY vast difference between the formation of a core and a shattered core. Between willing life and untimely second death. It is not, and never WILL be, easy to create the soul of a child. Tampering with your core is PAINFUL, dangerous, and leaves you WILDLY vulnerable.

There is a REASON Neverborn are so precious.

Buuuuut..... *pulls out a book labeled "Curses Though The Ages"* we must ALSO consider the famed Fenton Luck(tm).

Consider! Where would be the "safest" place to practice making clones of yourself? A place that's wide open. No one wearing white likely to take pot shots at you while your attention is divided in multiple places at once. No parents blowing up the basement at a delicate moment and leaving you trying to hide that extra arm for a week...

Maybe you forget... oh yeah... OTHER GHOSTS.

So there Danny floats. In the Zone. DISTRACTED. His core HUGE from all that recently Royal business as it tries to digest it. Feeling bloated. Trying to work off some energy, as it were. Then who should come along? Why, the universes BEST HUNTER of course! To say *gun powering up noise* :) HI :)

Like buddies DO.

Danny doesn't see him.

Danny is mid-split.

At his limit, honestly. Already made as many copies as he usually can. Is trying for ooooone moooooore..... when...

PAIN. Something cracks.

He loses concentration. Tries to curl in on himself.

Both 1.5 of him tries. He loses hold of the "clone's" Ecto. Somethings free floating leaving his chest along with it. Behind him, Skulker is freaking out. That was MEANT to be on opening volley. A gentle little "hey, come fight me". That crack sounded SERIOUS.

Danny can't breathe. It's like the portal all over again. He curls tighter and tighter. Feels the crown, which was not THERE until this moment, press down tight and gripping onto his head. Thrumming. And then... something feels like a muscle releasing.

His core is... smaller? He'd been watching its progress, it couldn't have digest so fast... how did it lose so much... mass...

Danny feels all the blood drain from his face.

He nearly died.

Again.

His... his soul... WHERE IS HIS SOUL?? That's a piece of him! A part of his SOU-!

He spins around... only to meet the eyes off a blearly blinking, noodlish, cartoon like gremlin with his color scheme. Who's floating along like they're in zero-g. Just... drifting in a slow circle.

They yawn at him with a mouth full of teeny tiny baby fangs. Then chirp.

That's his Son. He doesn't know how, he doesn't know WHY, but he somehow instinctively... just... KNOWS?

They blep.

Danny looks a Skulker. His eyes hold MURDER.

"You're paying child support."

"......yes sir."

@hdgnj @stealingyourbones

[noodlewritez]

can you please do something for sub! dave lizewski? possibly including a mommy kink? like maybe she finds out his kickass and he apologizes (like the one scene) and then smut? or you can do whatever else you want

I didn't mean to scare you...

Pairings: Fem!reader X Dave Lizewski

warnings: smut (EVERYONE IS 18+), mommy kink, femdom, swearing, he's kinda gross but ya'll already knew that.

A/N: YESSSS! I need more requests like this oml! Also, I am so sorry this took so long to whip up but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!!♡

It had been a few months since the internet and Myspace all started to get overtaken by the popularity of Kick-ass, the world’s new superhero, which, yeah. It was a little weird that you could approach him in any stray alley you wandered into. You kinda liked it. The way his voice cracked in that clip all over the news got you hotter than you would've liked to admit...

You sat in art class, mostly just using the period to talk to your friends while lazily sketching in one of your notepads so you wouldn't get in trouble. "He is so hot! Oh, my lord, i would hit that." You exclaimed to your best friend, Dave and his little 'group' of friends (if you could call them that). Marty exchanged a smirk with Todd and snickered. Dave chuckled and looked at you, a little longer than he had before. “I-Really? Him?” He asks, almost nervously.

“Automatic yes.” The conversation ended when the bell rang deafeningly as he quickly gathered his books and comics and whisked himself off to biology class while you stared him down, taking your time to get up as you would ditch the next class.

That night, you're playing on your computer, with your headphones on, letting the blaring music take over your brain for the thoughtless task you were performing when you see a person next to your window on your roof and your heart spikes. You get up slowly, not wanting to alarm them and you grab your knife your parents gave you for self defense. You then hear a knock on the glass.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion then open the window to reveal Kick-ass, the city's superhero. Your eyes widen as you back away purely in shock. "Kick-ass?!" You shout. He motions for you to be quiet as he climbs into your bedroom.

"Y/N...I...I have to tell you..." He pauses, looking down. He takes his mask off, revealing Dave Lizewski...The school nerd...? You shoot him a confused look. "Dave?!" You exclaim. His look turns to worry.

You get up, grabbing his hands. "You should've told me sooner..."You look up to him. "I always thought Kick-ass was hot and now he's even hotter." You smirk up to him. His eyes widen. You get up, grabbing his hands. "You should've told me sooner..."You look up to him. "I always thought Kick-ass was hot and now he's even hotter." You smirk up to him. His eyes widen. "I don't want this ruin our friendship..." He blushes. You kiss him in a hurry before he can say anything more.

You make your way down to his neck, leaving hickeys and nipping at the sensitive skin that hadn't been touched before. "Fuck, Y/N...!" He cries as your teeth catch onto a particularly sensitive spot. Your lips curve into a mischievous smirk as you push him down onto your bed, climbing over him and pinning him to the bed.

You like that?" You ask teasingly, gently dragging your knee over his painfully obvious boner. He inhales sharply and throws his head against the sheets. "Fuuuuck!" He moans while you throw your leg over his, sitting directly on his hard cock, teasing and dry-humping him through the green fabric that held him prisoner. "You like to be cock teased, hmm?"

"Fuck, please, mommy...Just fucking put it in." He pants as he watches your waist torment him further. "Say please.." You weren't gonna make him beg any further, while you would've loved that, your sopping heat was just getting more and more soaked as you grinded against his 7 inch, red, violently stiff cock.

"Please....Please, mommy, please put it in.." He mewls as he bucks his hips into yours. He sits up, unzipping his suit, leaving it to you to tear if off of him, throwing it off somewhere in your room.

You slam him back onto the bed, pinning him by his biceps. You sink yourself down onto his angry, red cock. He sucks a breath in and once again, throws his head back, his curls bouncing against the bed. He lets something like a groan and whimper slip past those cracked, cold lips, his fingers interlocking yours. You sit still while he holds onto your hand, his nails digging into the back of your hand. "Shit, you're so fucking big, Dave..."

"God...Fuck, quit squeezing me...Gonna run out of air here." He jokes, letting an airy chuckle out again. You chuckle back and lean down, your chest touching his, getting right in his ear. "We're just getting started, baby." You whisper. "Can I move..?" You lick up the side of his ear and the bite down harshly at the top. "He whimpers again and nods.

You slam down onto him and he grunts, taking your rough manner with such grace. "Fuck, Y/N...Fuck!" His voice cracks as you roughly slam down on him repeatedly, milking him of every drop he has to offer you. He sits up, sloppily kissing you, silencing his whimpers. His brows furrow as he can feel himself get close. He breaks away, roughly grabbing your hips. "I- I can't... I'm gonna cum, I'm sorry..." He mumbles against your lips. You can't help but smile at how cute he was, apologizing for cumming too quickly when in realty you thought it was cute. Tears form in his eyes as he pumps his seed into you. He cries as he falls back, exhausted, his eyes closing.

[jarofstyles]

Illicit - 7

Heyyy... How ya'll doing :-) We got a fun part in store...

Check out our Patreon for early access to the next few parts and 100+ exclusive writings!

Illicit Masterlist

WC- 3.6k

Warnings- blackmail, stalking, angst, vengeful H... Buckle up

-----------

They got a call about a week later - just not the call they were expecting. 

It was Niall, telling him to check his texts for the links he sent. 

CHEATING SCANDAL- Harry Styles with Mystery Woman

Is Our ‘It Couple’ Calling It Quits? Photos Point Towards A Torrid Affair

Katherine Brant Heartbroken- Sources Tell All!

Lip Locked and Illicit- Styles & Brant Are No More?

Who Is Harry Styles’ Mystery Woman? Read Here For More!

The headlines themselves didn’t bother him, no. He had already assumed she would go to the press to whine about the fact he cheated, despite there being no actual relationship to be seen- they’d never even properly kissed. He knew she would be bitter and angry and of course, out to try and get what she thought of as revenge. But what he hadn’t expected was the level of insane she actually was. 

Photos taken inside his home- inside his office, taken from what would have had to have been the closet, caught Y/N in his lap, in his shirt. His finger was curled under her chin and they were locked in a kiss, his other hand under the shirt. There was no mistaking who it was, considering he had been to the side to welcome her into his lap. His telltale signs of it being him, from his tattooed forearm to his hair and prominent nose, all of it outed him. 

And her. 

Harry was silently fuming as Y/N sat next to him, her body trembling slightly. There was no one who could blame her. It was violating, the photos. An intimate moment between the two of them, a tender moment of love ruined by the fact that someone had been there without being invited. Someone who had taken photos and god knew what else of them was some sort of  blackmail? Something to prove a point? He didn’t know. All he was positive about was the fact that he was going to ruin this girl’s life. 

“H-How did she even get inside?” Y/N’s voice cracked slightly as she looked at him with swollen eyes. Her tears had been silent, shocked at the level of violation she felt. Of course, she knew it was traditionally wrong to steal someone’s man- but he had pursued her. He had been the one to tell her about the contract, and rightfully so, didn’t break any technical rules. But now their plans of how they’d announced they’d come out as a couple were ruined, and she knew that her phone was more than likely blowing up upstairs in his bedroom. He’d called the police, waiting for both them and his lawyer to show up with his jaw tight, his tense arm around her trying his best to comfort her- but he was stuck in his own mind. 

“I don’t know, but I intend to find out.” He mumbled, staring at the wall. They’d barely managed to get dressed and be presentable, Harry in just a button up and his trousers with his hair in its natural state, and she was still reeling. It had been the worst way to wake up, hearing Harry bark on the phone and feel the tension rolling off of him in waves. She was used to his tenderness, his soft hours. It was unsettling to hear that first thing in the morning. Usually, he left business things until he was ready- which was why she knew from his tone, his posture and his face that the thing he was upset about was most definitely serious. “I will make sure the security in this building gets to a whole other level of clearance passes- or we move. This is unacceptable. But Brant isn’t answering me.” 

Harry felt like if he clenched his jaw any harder that his teeth would shatter. His spine was straight and his touch on her not as soothing as he’d like, but his mind was going a mile a minute. He was fuming, so angry that he felt lightheaded. How had she managed to bypass security again? 

One thing to know about Harry was that he hated when things didn’t go his way. It brought out the absolute worst in him in ways he wasn’t necessarily proud of. The man knew it, he knew more than anything he wasn’t a good person to be around, but he wasn’t going to leave and let Y/N wallow in this alone. Internally he was upset even more so, because if he had just dissolved the contract as soon as he met her, none of this would have happened. As usual, he was greedy and wanted to have his cake and eat it too, but it had never backfired this badly before. Granted, he never usually dealt with women so desperate for social notoriety as Katherine, but still.  

This was his fault and he knew it. 

Guilt wasn’t an emotion he knew much of. Not one he dealt with often, anyways. He was very analytical, logical and some would even say diabolical. He wasn’t one to say sorry, he wasn’t one to dwell on things, but all he could think about was the fact this was avoidable and he was just selfish. His selfishness hadn’t really affected him in this sort of way before. His stomach hurt, seeing her swollen eyes and sad expression on her beautiful face. While he hadn’t published the photos himself, it tore him to bits to know this was avoidable.

“I’m…” He paused, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry, baby.” Turning to look at her, he tried to shake off some of his anger. “I’m gonna fix this. I promise.” It was a weak response to the situation but he was lost as to what to do to make her feel better at this moment. Harry was a man of action, not a man of words. He was quiet and didn’t talk to many people for a reason. Y/N was his best friend, the one he felt he could communicate with the best, but his tongue was tied and searching for the correct words to say. 

Y/N stayed quiet for a moment, looking at her lap. It was hard to tell what she was thinking when he couldn’t see her eyes. “Can I just ask… why did you keep it going?” She asked, voice quiet. It shook a little bit, pouring salt in the gaping wound. “Like, what were you really gaining out of it? You’re already one of the wealthiest men in one of the wealthiest families. What did this contract have over you?” 

This was something he was asking himself now, but the answer he could come up with wasn’t one he liked. It was selfishness and since meeting Y/N, he had tried his best- or at least he thought so- to be selfless and giving towards her. Apparently, that hadn’t been good enough. His hand grabbed her own, frowning slightly when she flinched before bringing her knuckles up to his mouth to give her hand apologetic kisses. How he was going to fix this sort of thing, he didn’t know. “I… It was pride.” He admitted, albeit hesitantly. “I was happy that I’d won the bid over everyone else, initially. I like getting what I want, even more what other people want. I figured that It couldn’t hurt. Let her use my name, get people off my back for being an ‘eternal bachelor’, all of that. I didn’t like her and didn’t act like a boyfriend, I knew I was not obligated to be monogamous or faithful to her.. But you changed it all.” He let out a breath, speaking against her knuckles. 

“Just pride?” Y/N laughed sadly. It twinged his stomach, but she was right to be disappointed in him. 

“I’ve never lied to you, and I don’t plan on starting now. She became the last thing on my mind when I met you. I knew… almost immediately that I wanted something serious. I’d never felt that way in my life, and you were all I could focus on. She was like an annoying fly that buzzed in but my focus was on you. It was an oversight. I know I should have just ended it then and gave up the contract. It was childish, but you’ve got to understand that I’m not a nice person, Y/N. I’ve never thought about considering someone else’s feelings until you. Being nice in my position gets you nowhere but fucked over.” His brows wrinkled together as he felt her hand drop from his grip, placed back on her lap. 

“I know you aren’t nice, Harry, and I know that I’m the exception to the rule but… you always say you never want me hurt.” Taking a quivering breath, she avoided looking at him. “Don’t you know how much it hurt to see someone else be referred to as your girlfriend? Seeing her flaunt you around and lie, take time away from us because she thought she had the right to have you?” Her throat felt tight as she felt him shift on the couch to face her properly. “Can you imagine how you’d feel if I were doing it? If someone else thought they had rights to me, posted me around, the rest of the world thinking I belonged to someone else, saw me next to them, pretending I was theirs?”

Immediately he felt rage. Even more than was his base level from today. He’d had this thought but hearing it vocalized stung. It hurt, damn it. “I’d kill them.” He said lowly. “And I know. I know, baby. And I’m sorry.” Hesitantly he grabbed her chin, tilting her up to meet his eyes. “I’m so sorry. I don’t say that a lot, or enough to you, but I regret it. I regret every bit.” His fingers brushed her cheek, feeling her lean into them. He didn’t deserve her forgiveness, nor her kindness, but somehow he had managed to get her to love him. He knew she would, even if he had to grovel for a few weeks. 

“I know. It still hurts me, though. There’s nothing we can do to change it, but I just wish.. I wish we could go ahead with our original plan. That she hadn’t fucked it up and took such intimate photos of us, outing us like that. I wanted our relationship to be public, I wanted everyone to know I’m yours- but not like this.” Her knees were gathered against her chest. Harry despised that she was folding into herself, pulled away mentally despite letting her face rest in his hand. “I feel so gross. You can see the bottom of my ass in the photos, and god knows what else she took. I’m just happy we didn’t have sex there.” She shuddered. 

“She’s not going to get away with it, Y/N.” Harry stressed. “I am going to spend every day trying to make up for the pain that I’ve put you through, and I know that it isn’t something that can be fixed overnight but I love you.” He promised, keeping her gaze. “I swear to you, I’m going to make sure that this is fixed to the best of my abilities. I’m going to take her down, no matter the cost.” 

—----

“Are you sure this is the route you want to take?” Mitch asked as Harry sipped his drink. 

“Yes. I’ve never talked to them before, and I’m positive it’s going to make front page. She wants attention that badly? I’m going to give her a headline.” He smirked, tapping his nails against the frosty glass. 

When Harry heard back from Brant, he had never heard a man be more apologetic and horrified in his life. There was no question that it was his daughter who was responsible for the photos and breaking in, and he had indulged in Harry that she had indeed been cut off but- no one could find her. She was in the wind and none of her friends was giving up her location. She had acted impulsively and didn’t think through the consequences, with both her father and the law looking for her. 

It was unsettling to know that she was unaccounted for knowing that she would go to desperate lengths now, cut off from the wealth she had made her entire personality and wanted for breaking and entering, as well as robbing him. Yes, she had taken some of the jewelry he had bought Y/N for Christmas along with a few other designer items. Desperation, he knows, and she was backed into a corner. What she had at first probably imagined as the greatest revenge was going to be her downfall. 

Harry was the last person with any fear regarding playing dirty. He was known for his malicious eyes and his sharp tongue, never one to tell a lie- so no one was going to notice if he stretched the truth to the paparazzi that had been purposely called to wait outside the bar. Giving her a taste of her own medicine. If she wanted to attempt to harm his relationship, make the love of his life uncomfortable, he was going to ensure she knew he had no intentions of backing down. She deserved not only a verbal attack but jail time.

“As long as you’re sure.” He patted his arm. “Where is Y/N at? She’s been attached to your side lately.” Harry had been taking time himself to get security temporarily for his love, not trusting the unhinged nature of Katherine running in the streets untracked. He’d also hired extra for his building, and his lawyers were working on a breach of contract for the prior company that had let her slip through the cracks due to a bribe. He’d seen it himself on camera. 

“She’s with Hannah. They’re getting manicures done at my place, so I gave her the time to do something for herself. Hired one to come to the house. She’s been a bit quiet lately, shaken up from it. I don’t blame her. I knew something was off that morning.” That’s why he hadn’t fucked her like he’d intended that morning. Something felt wrong. He’d never been more happy that he followed his instincts. 

“I got you. Is she okay though?” 

Harry sighed. “Yeah. We had a rough day, the first day. She was withdrawn. But it’s okay now. She’s a little jumpy at home, but since I got security she’s been better.” The one topic the man was soft about was her. Mitch was one of the ones he legitimately trusted in his circle and one of the few people that he liked genuinely, so he didn’t mind speaking to him. “But I’ve better get this show on the road. I know they’re out there.” He’d had his driver text him updates about the building crowd outside the bar. 

“Be safe, man.” Mitch smacked his shoulder. “I’m sorry you’ve got to deal with it.”

Harry appreciated it. He wished Y/N didn’t have to. That was feeding his revenge thirst more than anything. Remembering how she’d turned in on herself and genuinely looked horrified, how she had cried in his lap with how many people texted and called her to ask her what was happening, the idea of being labeled a homewrecker making her heart hurt. It hurt his, too, considering she was the only one he’d ever want to make a home with. 

Before Y/N, he thought of love as a weakness. A distraction, something to avoid. He himself thought he was incapable of it besides familial love, avoiding making connections because of the way he’d been fucked over in his youth. Of course he’d never expected love to become a driving force for him. Motivation. Wanting to build up higher and go harder so he could provide for her and their future family, to set things up so they’d never have to worry about a thing.  The woman had changed his perspective on everything. 

It’s why he decided the best course of action was to face the very people Katherine loved to pander to, give them the story they wanted. He never spoke to paparazzi, he considered it an invasion of privacy every time he saw one, but this would reach the masses. 

Pulling his jacket over his shoulders and his sunglasses over his eyes, he nodded at the guard who opened the door and opened himself up to the blur of flashing lights. Even his shades didn’t help the slight blindness, slowly walking until they started yelling at him. 

“Harry, who’s the girl?”

“Where’s Katherine?!”

“Why did you cheat?” 

“Hey, Harry, did you two break up?”

“Having a break up drink?”

He paused in the middle, looking around the mess of photographers who knew better this time than to get too close before opening his mouth. 

“I didn’t cheat on Katherine. Our relationship was something she manipulated into a contract. I’ve never considered her to be mine, nor will I ever. I let her run her mouth and say what she wanted because, frankly, her father was an acquaintance at one point. She’s the one who’s been obsessed with me, stalking me and breaking into my home. I told her to call off her charade of a relationship with me weeks ago, but instead she decided to break into my home, take violating photos of the woman I’m in love with and I in an intimate moment, and robbed me. She isn’t the feminist she claims to be with taking revealing and intimate photos of another woman. It’s violating and cruel, and I will not stop until she’s caught and my girlfriend feels safe again. ” He took a breath before lowering her sunglasses, looking at the cameras that were recording. 

“So no, I’m not having a breakup drink. It’s celebratory that she’s going to be arrested on multiple counts. No one knows where she is, but I’m sure she will come crawling out when the things she pawned for money runs out. There’s an active warrant out for her arrest, so if you see her…  Call the police.” He scoffed. “And for the record, I never cheated. Fidelity was never a clause.” Taking the glasses back to his face, he briskly walked towards the car, heart beating steadily in his chest. There was a mess of questions being shouted at him from behind, loud flashes from the cameras taking photos a mile a minute, but he didn’t stop. He’d said what he said. 

Harry was well aware of the fact that this was going to be spread like wildfire. It was going to be international headlines and he’d just started a firestorm across social media and the gossip channels, but that was the goal. Katherine had so desperately tried to carefully curate her image to be a girl supporting, philanthropic, kind, sweet wealthy girl, but she was nothing of the sort. She was nasty, cruel, vapid, fueled on the validation of others- and Harry was taking that away from her. Taking the one thing that mattered most after her father took away the money. There were no regrets. 

Slipping in the car, he placed the sunglasses on his head before checking his phone. 

Y/N: Look!!

Y/N: [Image Attachment]

Y/N: I did what you said :) 

Harry’s heart skipped a beat as he got a selfie from her with her nails the baby blue color he had suggested, silver stars as accents on a few fingers. It had been a choice she showed him when going through her nail pinterest board, and he thought it was cute. 

The photo was a reminder of just what exactly he was doing this for. Her. His sweet, angel faced girl sitting back in the apartment with the kindest heart he’d ever known. His heart had softened for her alone, making him weak to the touch. Feeling a little lighter just from seeing her face, his smile twitched on the corner of his lips as he typed out a reply. 

H: Gorgeous, my love. 

H: Is Hannah still there?

Y/N: Nooo, she had date night w Niall. 

Y/N: Salvatore is here though, he’s watching the door. 

Y/N: Can’t he watch TV with me or something? He must be bored. :////

Harry hated that he had to have security inside his home but he just didn’t know how deranged Katherine may actually be. 

H: I don’t pay him to watch television, pet. I pay him to watch the door. So, no. 

H:  Let’s stay off our phones tonight. 

Y/N: …Okay. 

Y/N: Do I want to know what you said or did?

H: Nope x

Y/N: I’m just going to trust you and say fine lol 

Y/N: Want to have ice cream when you’re back tho?

His smile grew to a full one at the last message. Y/N’s wants were so simple. All she wanted was to spend time with him, be close to him. That’s what he wanted too, but he’d never seen someone be so simple in the best way. There were no games with her, no fucking around. It was something he’d always admired about her, one of the many reasons the ring sitting in his office drawer was burning a hole in it. He wanted to make her his, officially but it wasn’t the right time. 

Soon, though. He didn’t like her walking around without his ring on her finger. 

H: You know I love sweet things, darling. Of course I do. 

Y/N: That’s why I’m your favorite 0:) hehe

H: My favorite in the world. 

H: Hang tight, my love. I’m coming home to you x

[spaced-out-muses]

Nope, no way, he's not meeting his gaze, he's not looking at him—

"It's... uh... something for sure. It's a hat. That's.. . fish related."

"... Please don't go walking around like that top-hatted guy from the one American cartoon..."

And yet he comes over to sling his arm around the boy's shoulder. "Whaddya think? This one caught my interest, but I did see another more elongated hat catch my eye."

@spaced-out-muses

[spaced-out-muses]

How Many People are Simping You?

"... Uh."

"... It's not getting better. That doesn't make it BETTER—"

[brandwhorestarscream]

I need the whole story of D-16 and his sparkling with Sentinal! It's such an amazing story. Take ur time tho.

Well thank you for saying so, that's so sweet! And I'm pleased to announce that I'm givin ya'll the next chapter here and now!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

They have suffered enough for one day.

Alpha Trion departs swiftly, disappearing out through the tunnel they had explored to get here, leaving the four of them in solitude. They cling to each other in the darkness, exhausted and sick and hopeless. Orion and D-16 remain wound tightly around one another, the silver mech continuing to tremble with the stress of everything bearing down on him. Orion holds him, fully with both arms, wrapped as tightly and securely around his body as they can, keeping Dee snuggled against his chassis. Dee clings to him, desperate for comfort that isn’t coming, hiding his face in the underside of Orion’s neck. His EM field throbs weakly, sluggishly, exhausted even as potent grief and fear gushes off of him and contaminates the air around them. It’s impossible to escape, and the four of them stew helplessly in the aura of misery. They’re all contributing toward it, but none more than D-16. It’s just too much.

Alpha Trion finds them just where he left them, huddled together like frightened nestlings that flinch at every little sound, and their optics are full of fear when he returns, til they notice it’s him. Then the fear abates, replaced with longing and misery that he can’t soothe.

The fuel their guardian has brought is in liquid form, to their surprise. The energon they stripped from the mines was all solid, and even after processing became squishy and malleable, like thick petroleum jelly. Capable of holding it’s own form without assistance, but easy giving out under the force of pinching fingers. This wasn’t at all like that: it sloshed and splashed within the old cube, and was steaming, little ribbons of heat curling off of it and into the air.

“You first, Dee,” no one protests Orion’s insistence, propping his friend up. Dee has by now gone limp, optics faded and empty as he struggled to process everything, and the horrible, gnawing pressure of the choice he faced. Orion shakes him gently, but it’s like his friend can’t even hear him, optics listless as they stare deeply into space, as if he’s watching something a thousand miles away. Orion jostles him again. “Dee…? H-Hey, come on, you’re scaring me-!”

“Do not panic, little one.” Alpha Trion reaches out and gently presses the tip of one finger to D-16’s forehelm, and the silver mech jumps. His optics snap up to the old Prime, trance broken, and his expression remains blank for only a second before it crumbles back into devastation. He sobs, and turns away to curl further into Orion, shoulders shaking again. Orion rubs his back, laying his chin atop the other’s helm as his own optics sting.

“Dee…” Orion sniffles. “I-It’s time to eat.”

They shuffle around for a moment, and finally, Dee’s tearstained face peeks out, the epitome of misery. Oily tears dried and caked to his face, vents still shuddering and hiccuping and leaking little bits of backed up cleanser. His mouth is downturned, lips still trembling, optics narrow and sore from so much crying. He hiccups, clinging tightly to Orion. He swallows, and rasps out his first words since Onyx Prime had left them. “I…” his voice cracks grandly, tone hoarse and stuffy. His systems are clogged. “I’b not- h-hungry…”

“C’mon, you’ve gotta be hungry,” B-127 speaks up, wringing his servos worriedly. The journey here had taken them multiple days, and D-16 had been violently ill the entire time. He had to be running on empty! There was hardly anything left in his tanks to throw up, and- “Ohhh, I get it. You’re scared you’re gonna vom again, ri-”

“Don’t-!” Dee covers his mouth, optics squeezed shut. “P-Please, don’t…”

Onyx Prime’s blessing had chased away the worst of his symptoms, for now, but it wouldn’t last forever. For the first time in several decacycles, his digestive tanks weren’t sloshing and roiling like a stormy sea, but they were still incredibly tender and sore from all the abuse they’d endured. He was sure, if he tried to refuel, it would just come back up. His fuel gauge was at a measly 7%: any further and he’d probably drop into stasis lock, but the idea of food was downright revolting.

“You must try, little one,” Alpha Trion implores him. “You will not recover if you are starving.”

Dee’s systems make a high pitched keening noise, and Orion gently rubs his arm. “...please, Dee?” he asks, voice soft and hesitant. “Just try? For me?” He picks up the cube in one shaking servo, raising it to the silver mech’s face. Dee’s expression remains pinched and uncomfortable, and Orion gives him a gentle squeeze. “C’mon… one sip?”

Nearby, Elita huffs when D-16 still shakes his helm. “Well, I’m not refueling until you do.”

That gets his attention. He turns toward her, confusion painted on his face. “What are you-”

“If you’re going on a hunger strike then I am too,” she folds her arms in challenge, brows furrowed and lips pulled into a tight pout. “If you’re gonna try to starve yourself to death then I’m gonna starve to death, too.”

“Oh oh, oh! Me too, me too!” Bee eagerly waves one arm in the air. “I’ll go on strike too, I’ve always wanted to do a strike!”

D-16 glances back and forth between them, looking panicked. “Wait, no-”

“Me three,” Orion actually manages to smile. It’s small and frail, but it’s there, and Dee stares at him incredulously. “I’m not eating til you do, either.”

“Wha- bu-” at a loss, he glances at Alpha Trion for help, who looks just as bemused as he feels. “You guys, you c-can’t just-”

“Too bad,” Elita glowers at him challengingly. “You don’t want us to starve? Then you don’t get to starve, either. Fair’s fair.”

“Just ooone sip, Dee?” Orion looks hopefully, still holding up the cube of fuel. It’s begun to cool now, no longer steaming, but still every bit as thin and fluid as before. Orion gently sloshes the cube back and forth. “See, look, it’ll go down easy, you won’t even have to chew.”

Helpless against all three of them and unable to bear the idea of none of them eating because of him–especially after Orion carried him most of the way here and was probably painfully hungry as well–he nervously concedes. “...ok,” he swallows unsurely, eyeing the fuel with trepidation. Orion is gentle as he brings it forward to press against his mouth, and Dee tries to steal himself. The first sip flows into his mouth and he coughs, clamping one servo over his mouth and forcing it down. His tanks cramp painfully and he hunches over, but… nothing comes of it. He takes several slow breaths, then turns back to Orion, nodding.

His best friend smiles wider, and presses a gentle, chaste kiss to his temple before raising the cube once more. “Couple more, then we’ll have some, ok?”

Elita refuses to take the cube til D-16’s drained about 20% of the contents, at last dropping his face into Orion’s shoulder and telling them he really will get sick if he has any more. She gently takes it from him, refusing to let B-127 hold it, not trusting him not to drop or spill any of the precious fuel. “Open,” she commands, and he does as she says, letting her press it against his mouth and tilting it steeply. “Now chug.”

When he’s done gulping down his portion, she hands it back to Orion, who tries to protest. “No, uh, you go ahead-”

“Shut up,” she barks the order. “Drink, now!”

“Yes ma’m!” he squeaks, optics wide like a dipole-doe in headlights, drinking down the lukewarm energon.

Once they’ve all eaten–Alpha Trion included–the old Prime sits cross legged before them. There’s still more to talk about, like their missing cogs and the matter of D-16’s health. He tells them, in no uncertain terms, that so long as he hosts the sparkling within him? He’ll have to cater to its needs if he wants to stop being so sick. “I understand that this subject is very, uncomfortable for you,” he says, regretful. “But we cannot afford to delay. Your child will continue to sicken you until its material requirements are satisfied.”

D-16 seemed to shrink, looking queasy at the idea. “I- I can’t! Not with him, not after-” he gags and covers his mouth.

“No, not with him, little one. You have suffered his touch enough,” Alpha Trion shakes his head. “You shouldn’t engage with such things unless you are certain. But, in order for your sparkling to live and for your own health to improve, you must intake the proper donations, regularly.”

Dee huddles close to Orion, audials ringing and only half-listening as the much older mech explains. If they were still home in Iacon, it would’ve been easy. Ratchet could administer it artificially, he could be numb and not have to feel it. He could have his choice of donor; he knows plenty of his batchmates and fellow cogless would be more than willing to donate. He could have Orion next to him to hold his hand and distract him so he didn’t have to think about it.

Here, though…

Here, his options are limited. They don’t have the luxury of medical tools or numbing medication. No choice but to do it the old fashioned way, and the thought makes his tanks turn. He’s only just met B-127. He likes the little chatterbox well enough, but he could never be intimate with him. Ever. Elita, he knows her better, but their relationship had always been rather strictly professional, and the idea of her domineering and straightforward personality being directed at him while they… oh, Primus, no. The thought makes him want to cry. He… he never wants to interface again, honestly. Just considering it makes him feel dirty, makes shame burn at his cheeks and neck.

Alpha Trion made it clear that he would if asked, but D-16 can’t imagine asking anything more of the mystical mech that’s looking after them. Besides, they just met, and he’s so much bigger than them… about the same size as Sentinel. He shudders just thinking about it.

That leaves only Orion, but… he can’t ask him. He- He suffered the same thing that Dee did, Sentinel had violated him too, how could he be so selfish and ask him to engage in the most disgusting and horrible thing of all? How could he ask his friend to touch the same place Sentinel had, how could he ask him to help grow that monster’s spawn? Orion didn’t deserve to have such a choice foisted on him-

“...Dee,” Orion’s voice drifts into his audials like a soothing balm, so warm and gentle. “Hey, um… c-can I- I mean, I wouldn’t mind if-”

“What?!”

Orion makes a sound that almost passes as a humorless laugh. His weight shifts beneath D-16, and he snuggles him close. He hasn’t let go this whole time, keeping his carrying friend cocooned safely in his arms for several megacycles. He rocks them both back and forth for a moment, trying to find the right words. “I just... I- I know this’s gonna be… h-hard. Really hard,” he swallows and blinks rapidly, as his optics strain to fill with tears but his reserves are still empty. “B-But, we- uh-” his optics flit over to Elita and B-127. The femme takes the hint, pointedly turning away and loudly asking Bee a question. Orion lowers his lips to murmur softly in Dee’s audio receptor. “We were both there, I- I’ve already seen you and you’ve already seen me, so, it- it won’t be awkward, and I won’t tell anyone, and,” he presses his nose into D-16’s cheek, optics sliding closed. “I… w-wanna do it with you. Cuz-”

Because you’re not Sentinel. Because I trust you. Because I love you. Because I’m worried for you and this is the only way I can help you.

So many reasons, and all of the words die in his throat. Unable to speak, he cuddles closer to Dee, letting their EM fields mix and mingle. He doesn’t push, doesn’t try to force it, and instead just lets his emotions flow and ebb like the tide, lapping up against his dearest friend, hope and tenderness offering themselves warmly. To his relief, Dee heaves a sigh of relief and snuggles into him, one servo snaking around to gently interlace their fingers and squeeze him tight.

“You…” he takes a shaky invent. “Y-You really… wouldn’t mind?” Orion nods in affirmation, and Dee gives his first, weak little smile in days. It's sheer relief, realizing he won't have to suffer through it with a stranger and, instead, his best and most beloved friend. “Ok,” it comes out in a whispered rush. “Alright… y-yeah, ok… let’s- l-let’s do it.”

...

And that's a wrap on this piece! Hope you enjoyed it lol, next time prepare for schmoopy fluffy adorable healing sex between these two traumatized babies. Part 4 only comes when ya'll abuse my ask box for it, so~

[ddollfface]

𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐇𝐨𝐭 𝐓𝐨 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐥

𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗦𝗶𝗰𝗸!𝗔𝘁𝗵𝗹𝗲𝘁𝗲 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

"You're as hot as the bottom of my laptop, mamas ;)."

Trigger Warnings; gaslighting, manipulation, somewhat spreading misinformation, hinting at yandere behaviors, fluff, PDA, reader is referred to as a girl, honestly this is pretty tame lol If I missed anything, then please let me know ♡ Just a few headcanons on a new OC. And, just so you know, when I was writing this, I had an afab!reader in mind! If you have any requests, idk why you would, but send them in! I hope you enjoy:)))

Never, ever refers to you as your given name. He prefers to call you by some type of nickname or pet name, depending on his mood. His go-to is mamas, sweet cheeks, baby cakes, hot stuff, good-lookin', and so much more. Honestly, he could go on all day, just listing different pet names he has for you. At this point, it's become a source of entertainment for you, trying to see what odd name he'll call you. Come on, you don't like that nickname, sugar plum? How about dolly? Baby girl? Pumpkin? I don't know, you look like an angel, baby.

Though you'll admit it, it's somewhat endearing to hear, especially when you know he's only called you these cute names. But at a certain point, it gets embarrassing... Like does your mama need to know that he calls you bubble butt, of all things? Let me answer that for you, no, no she does not. If anything, that's something she should never, ever know.

He demands that you come to his games; he doesn't want you to miss a single one. He'll show up to your house at the crack of dawn, on a Saturday, and drag you out of bed to bring you to his game. He doesn't give too shits if your hair looks like a mess or if you're still in your jams. Nope, not at all. If anything, he likes it. He thinks you're adorable with your Hello Kitty booty shorts.

He just wants you there, to support him. He wants to have his own personal cheerleader, someone who he can come to after the game, and give a hug too.

While the thought behind it is endearing and cute, that doesn't change the fact that he's just so pushy. He won't give up, no matter what. If he says you're going, then you're going. You don't get a say in the matter 'cause if you refuse to go, then he's going to bring out the waterworks. He's going to look at you with the saddest eyes you can imagine, there's even tears. He'll cock his head to the side and question you, asking why don't you want to support me? What happened to 'friends first? Remember when I went to that stupid party 'cause ya' didn't want to be alone? Where's my payback, yeah?

He'll use emotional manipulation to get what he wants, making you out to be the bag guy, instead of him. His guilt-tripping usually always works, well, so far it has. And now you're at some stupid hockey game, wrapped up in his jacket, wearing his team colors. Great, now people are asking how you bagged a guy like him. Jesus, where'd they get that idea from? You're not even dating...

Well, that's what you think. Little do you know, he's been going around town tellin' everyone about you. He'll hype you up to his buddies, rambling on and on about how you smell, how your cheeks puff up when you smile, and God, you're so pretty when you're sleeping. Wow, he doesn't mean that in a creepy way! Why would you think of it like that? Because he's just admiring the prettiest girl in school! Don't you know, mamas? You being here makes me the luckiest guy in town, yeah?

He's just so God damn touchy; people can't help but think ya'll are dating. Everything about your relationship screams dating. He's always got an arm around your shoulder, and if he's feeling really ballsy, he'll place a hand on your hip. Though those moments are far in between, seeing as you'll give him a hard side-eye when he does it.

But the PDA doesn't stop there. He'll hold your hand, claiming that he's just warming your hands. After all, it's pretty cold in the winter, yeah? He's just looking out for you, nothing to freak out over. Sometimes, he'll hug you a little too tight, and for a little too long. His touch lingers for such a prolonged time it causes you to look up at him with a questioning look.

Of course, he's the master of diverting your questions, shifting your conversations from his touchy behavior to finals. And this does nothing but piss you off, but it's hard to stay mad at him when he looks at you like that. The way he scoots his chair closer to yours, intertwining your pinkies together, and smiling at you like a dork. The way he'll bring you coffee (or warm tea, depending on your preference) during a cold morning, always making sure his baby's all warm. Or how he'll cover for you when you're late to a lecture, stalling the class for a few minutes, just enough for you to slip into class unnoticed.

All these small things let you forget about why you were even mad in the first place! I mean, what could he have done wrong? It couldn't be that bad right?

And just like that, you walk right back into his arms, not knowing that he's the one you should be running from. You're such a stupid girl, aren't you? Don't worry, I'll take care of you babes.

[sp00kcanwrite]

Hear me out- i'm cooking here some idea! Like- what if Sun wukong, Macaque (separatedly) met an Reader who is an Goddess of the Moon, like, not like Chang'e but mostly THE Protector! One of the elements, like, they met her when she was humming a tune while sitting on a little moon shape floaty thing (The Design might be inspired of Moonlight Cookie From Cookie run Ovenbreak/Kingdom! So you get an idea of how to do it <33) Some Headcanons??? I'll gladly love to read it! It can be Some fluff or something about them both having a crush on The Reader (bro's gonna go wild if they found out Reader is lesbi-) (jk,jk, just an nerd joke from the moonlight x sea fairy story)

Just an fan of Moonlight Cookie here! Love your fics <33

Stay healthy and keep yourself all good

-This dumb nerd

I LOVE COOKIE RUN TO!

This is my first,and (probably will always be) my favorite request ♡♡♡

MACAQUE X MOON GODDESS! READER

Maybe a bit OOC

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MEETING!

Macaque never thought he'd stumble into a moon goddess but here he is!

After a fight with wukong, in wich macaque barely got away, he fled to a usually empty lake surrounded by woods .

He didn't expect the isolated area to be occupied by a women with almost glowing skin and a ethereal dress to be sitting elegantly on a Cresent moon like platform that floated 5 inches away from the water of the lake and gave off a white glow.

The woman hummed a soft tune that would put thousands of children to sleep. Though it was very quiet macaque would've been able to hear it from a mile away, he almost fell asleep as he felt the insomnia he's been plagued with for years slip away.

His black claws gripped onto the bark of a tree as he watched the lady for, he doesn't even know how long at this point.

Maybe his grip was to strong as the wood eventually let out a booming Crack and fell forward, right into the lake. The water splashed over the woman sitting in a Cresent moon.

HEADCANONS!!

I won't lie that man fled as soon as the wood gave out, faster then sonic i swear. Yet he found himself coming back to the same lake, to hear the same humming tune that you sung.

After awhile, I'd say 4 weeks, you'd finally introduce yourself. And boy did that shock the raven haired monkey as he thought he was being rather sneaky.

It takes a while for him to warm up to you but patience is perfection! And trust me eventually he did, and soon that friendship blossomed into something else.

He thought of you every night, everything about you intoxicated the guy. Your humming, your face, your eyes, and even how quiet you spoke.

He knew he had it bad but couldn't convince himself to confess, so what does he do? He ghosts you

For a pretty long times (cough 8 days) until you finally take actiona and burst into his dojo, your moon staff in hand, and demanded a explanation on why he was avoiding you.

After a long while of bickering he accidentally slips out a confession, you paused completely when you heard the words come out your mouth.

Oddly enough..you didn't mind it

MEETING!

Ya'll know how in the books he was described to be a light weight drinker? Yeah it was true. And he's a man of bad luck to run into the same moon goddess that he treated so rudely in the past.

He was stumbling threw a forest, god knows how he got there, and ran into a glowing woman that sat sleepily on a Cresent moon. And when I say ran in I mean it, he ran full force into you by accident of course.

By the time you got up and held him by his collar the man was knocked out, he wanted to smack him over the skull buttt that wouldn't be very "elegant" for you (definitely not because you knew he was THE sun wukong)

So you dragged him to FFF mountain, all the way into the shame shack and threw him on his bed. But sadly this powerful demon had, in his sleep, gripped onto your flowing gown and pulled you onto the bed with him.

No matter how hard you wiggled or squirmed you were stuck being wukongs brand new stuffed toy for the night.

______________

He was out like a rock, you had to summon your staff and hit him a couple of times before he even opened a eye.

But oh boy when he did you screamed louder then any siren could in all 7 seas. Not from fear, but from hangover shock.

You scoffed at his girlish scream and turned your nose up to his lazy apology. As you went to the door the great sage folded over on the ground, and started breathing heavy? Was he gagging? Why- OH CRAP

I don't think I need to say what happened next, it ended with him bent over a toilet and you helping him up. You don't know how or why but you stayed for a good 6 hours just listening to the obviously touch deprived monkey, you could tell by how he clinged on your arm, ramble on and laugh at his antics in the past. Tha antics that caused alot of trouble to the moon you protected.

Turns out the great sage has some overpowering charm as you found yourself showing up to his house again

And again

And again

Until you memorized flower fruit mountain like it was the back of your hand.

The lonely great sage found himself growing fonder and fonder of you each day, he wondered why his heart beat so much, why his palm went sweaty or why he felt hot around you.

Until it hit him the day you cooked him a peach pie.

He had hearts in his eyes as he held your wrist, catching the steaming pie with his tail he looked you in the eye and said with much confidence.

"I love you!"

"I like woman-"

(JK)

(JK)

You stared with shock as the monkey man confessed his feelings, and as hard as a asteroid hitting the moon your lips crashed with his.

[http-paprika]

what's left / simon "ghost" riley

part two

zombie-apocalypse!au / pairing simon "ghost riley x female reader / wc 2186 / warnings brief gore, illusions to violence, typical end of the world angst, swearing.

summery ghost is tasked with escorting y/n to edinburgh to help with creating the cure for the zombie outbreak. it wasn't in the plan for him to fall along.

note y'all liked my post about writing something for this, so hopefully you'll enjoy this story. um, not actually heavy in terms of zombie appearances, but i have plans for another part to this story if ya'll end up enjoying this.

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Ghost stayed seated, back flat against the wall as he watched Y/N sleep and breathe slowly, her chest rising and falling steadily. He couldn’t imagine that the small cot was comfortable, or even very warm, but she seemed to be at peace. The only look of relief he’d seen on her face since their first unfortunate meeting. The painful memory of sirens blaring, people screaming in confusion, and the gut-wrenching, squelching noise of rotting flesh moving through the compound. 

A shiver ran down Ghost’s back at the memory, he stiffened, hardening his clutch around his gun, but the night stayed enjoyably silent. It was quiet in a way he didn’t know, lacking the noise cities and towns used to have, the area around him was drenched in an inky black, and the only light provided was from the moon and stars above that cut through the cracks in the window. 

She shifts in her sleep next to him, twitching involuntarily, a bad dream he supposed. Without a thought, Ghost reached down with a gloved hand, brushing it against her cheek, down her neck. The touch stills her, Y/N’s body easing again from the gesture. 

“Fucking hell.” He quietly mutters to himself, in the dim light, he moves the blanket to check the wound on her leg. His fingers graze the stained gauze bandaging, wincing knowing how much worse it could’ve been. How much worse Ghost had seen.

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“We’ve got reports of outbreaks in all major cities across the United Kingdom and the world.” The news was completely ignored as the military compound was in disarray, chaos sweeping through as soldiers moved out. Everything was pure chaos, the streets were filled with blood and bones, corpses piling up as the flesh-craving, rabid creatures spread like wildfire. The consequence of biological warfare and the weapons it made. Man had played god and met its destruction when they decided to use their own as a tool. 

Ghost’s body was tired, threatening to give out under him as he gunned down more of the creatures. Maggots was the name Soap had decided to call them as they fought back, killing those who’d once been fellow soldiers. But if he stopped now, he’d be swarmed by the infected, and if not ripped apart limb-by-limb, he’d receive a fate worse than death. 

“We’ve got medical personnel barricaded in the infirmary, we need to get them out of there and moved to the QZ.” Price barked at Ghost over the comms, he was closet to the infirmary, near the outer hall that led to the medical wing. He groaned loudly, fearing what would happen if he tried to move, but the orders stood firm, and while the government was falling apart, he still acted as a soldier for his country. 

“Moving there now.” 

It was in that dark infirmary, where he could hear the Maggots beating against the outside walls that he first saw her. Gun clutched in her hands, blood splattered across her clothes and skin, and a grave of personnel who’d been turned in the infirmary as he dragged her out of the closet. Y/N kicked and screamed, scarred that he was dragging her to her death, but she went limp once he’d thrown her over his shoulder, his arm securing her in place as he moved her to the cleared tarmac. Past the growing swarms of flies that flocked to dead humans and Maggots alike. 

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“Ghost?” Her quiet voice echoed through the dark room, he gazed at her bruised face. Frowning, Simon wiped some of the grime from the journey off. 

“Right here, Y/N.” Ghost sighed, she opened her mouth to speak but closed it again. “How do you feel?” 

“Probably just as bad as you.” Y/N brought her leg up, closing it to her chest so she could tug at the bandaging. “Need to change to gauze.” 

“Let me do that, Y/N. No need to stress yourself, you need to rest.” He tells her, reaching over to her backpack, reaching inside, and finding her small kit of supplies. The container was beginning to run low, he didn’t like to think about what would happen if they didn’t get to Edinburgh soon. What had been planned, had gone astray. 

“Ghost, you need to rest too. I’m not going to be falling back asleep.” She forces the gauze and antiseptic wipes out of his hands and into hers. “You need to rest, otherwise you’ll just be a bag of bones.” 

Wiping his face with his hand and letting out a low groan, Ghost knew she was right. He’d had little rest the past few days and knew how it would delay his reaction time and ability to keep her safe. “Are you sure? I don’t want you-”

“I’ll be fine, and if I have even the slightest suspicion that something is wrong, I’ll wake you up. I promise.” Y/N assures him. Ghost reluctantly agrees, his body grateful at the idea of rest, even if it was for just a brief moment. 

“Swear it.” 

“I swear I’ll wake you up. Please, sleep.” She promises, shifting into a seating position. Ghost stayed seated, but let his head rest against the walls and allowed his eyes to droop. Exhaustion won the battle against his willpower as he drifted off. 

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“We need to get her to Edinburgh, they have the tools, the chance to get a cure made. And she’s got the knowledge they need.” Price more often than not, was raising his voice at people. Even with the QZ safely established, and the initial surge dying down, there was too much uncertainty and too much loss for him to act rationally. Ghost knew this, he acted the same, snapping too quickly nowadays at already terrified soldiers under him. Sometimes he felt as mindless and flesh-eating as the Maggots, sniffing out fear like the infected sniffed out their next victim. 

It seemed selfish to fight against the order he’d be given, foolish and self-centered. But what real chance did they have at creating a cure to stop the virus and its continued spread? Rumors had circulated that the Americans had been in the early stages of developing a counteract to the outbreak, but England had lost contact with all allies months ago. They could only rely on themselves, and even that seemed a stretch. 

“Why don’t you get someone else?” Someone disposable, Ghost thought, as he knew the chances of successfully getting someone across the wasteland of England up to Edinburgh were almost impossible. Vehicles, cars, or helis were out of the question, fuel was strictly saved for powering and keeping the QZ warm. Which left him with no other option but to walk, for three weeks through towns, cities, and country filled with Maggots. A certain death. 

“Because you’re the only one I trust to get her there.” 

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The sun poured into the room, Ghost’s eyes flickered open before he jolted himself fully awake. His heart slammed in his chest, panic seeping through his veins. How long had he been asleep? Next to him, Y/N lay turned into his side, pressed into the side of his ribs. Ghost found the gun still propped against the wall next to him, he brought it back into his grip and surveyed the room around. All was quiet, all was at ease. Almost as if the outbreak hadn’t happened, destroying mankind in its wake. 

Ghost wished Y/N had woken him up the moment she’d grown tired, but he didn’t have it in himself to be mad. For a high-achieving doctor, who always strove to be efficient, Ghost was a bit annoyed by her lack of responsibility. But she looked so beautiful in the early morning light, under the layer of dirt and grime that clung to her skin, Ghost’s eyes lingered on her rosy cheeks and soft lips.

He hated to break the silence or drag her awake, but they needed to move. Their location would only stay safe for so long. “Y/N. We need to get going.” 

The woman grumbled at his words, trying to bury herself closer to Ghost’s side. He smirks at her action, prying her hands off of his body. His fingers grazed the veins and took comfort in the steady flow of blood in her body. 

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Dry grass crunched under his feet as he carried her to the abandoned farmhouse. Set away from the road and society, no Rotten would wander this far from a horde. They’d be safe, safer than they’d been in the town where they’d been attacked by raiders. Y/N let out a whimper as he set her down on the ground, needing his hands to pry open the heavy wooden door. Her hand moved down to the poorly bandaged leg, where the large gash lay from where she’d been struck during the attack. 

The hinges of the door creak as it opens, Ghost steps in, pistol raised and ready to survey the room. The farm, much like everything else around them, was abandoned. He didn’t care to think what had happened to those who’d lived there before, death had lost its sting for Ghost long ago. 

Pulling Y/N back into his arms, Ghost moved back into the house, setting her down on the sagging settee in the living room. He moved down to the wounded leg, and as he began to unwrap the gauze, she winced, cringing as the cold, stale air greeted her wound. Y/N’s body shook uneasily, and her breathing was swallowed. 

“Sorry.” Ghost apologizes, pulling open her medical kit. But his stomach churned uncomfortably at the wound, it was still oozing. 

“S’gonna need stitches.” Y/N groans, dropping her head back down against the arm of the settee after evaluating the wound and its condition. “I can do it myself, but I’ll need you to find needle and thread.” 

“I’ll find it, and I’ll do it myself. You’re in no condition to attempt to stitch yourself up.” He grunts, standing back up and beginning to search the room they were in for the needed materials. 

“But-”

“No buts, Y/N. I’ve done this before, I can do it again.” Ghost states, opening a closet that was still stocked with sewing supplies. Plenty of needles, and a variety of colorful threads. He chose the one that was closest to medical thread, placing it and the small plastic container of needles down on the coffee table. 

As he began to sew the wound closed, Y/N’s eyes began to water, and she gripped the fabric of the settee grinding her teeth. Ghost felt the need to keep apologizing to her, over and over again until he’d tightly secured the stitching with a knot. She let out a strained sob as he wiped the skin clean of dried blood with a cloth and some water from his canteen. 

“I’m sorry, it’s done now.” He promised her, yanking his dirty gloves off and dropping them on the coffee table next to his discarded backpack and the harder outer layer of his mask. “You’re okay, I promise.” Ghost assures her, taking Y/N’s face in his calloused hands. She nods, her lips still trembling.

There wasn’t a thought in his mind as he pressed a kiss on the side of her cheek. He brought her body close to his, breathing in the smell of her skin, the blood, sweat, and tears. They stayed like that for a while, he allowed her to cry into his neck, his hands running through her knotted hair. 

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His gaze falls on her as she fights the knots out of her hair, trying to manage just a bit before they set out again. While Ghost wouldn’t admit it, his body was painfully numb from all the walking they’d done the past weeks, wishing they’d made it to Edinburgh already. But he feared what would happen when they did arrive. The quiet moments he’d come to enjoy with Y/N would disappear. She’d return to her duty, struggling to make a cure. And what purpose would he have? The idea of attempting to return to London alone was a dangerous one. He assumed the military up there would put him to work. But would he ever get to spend any more cold nights, keeping her warm? 

“I’m ready.” Y/N finally announces to him, pulling her backpack over her shoulders.

“‘Bout damn time.” Ghost huffs, offering her his hand to steady herself with. She wobbles a bit, unsure of how much weight she can put on her leg without it giving out underneath her. “Alright?”

“Yeah.” She nods but Ghost drops his arm down around her waist, adding extra support. “Ghost-”

“Let me help you.” He asks, leaning down and kissing her face. The rough material of the mask brushed against her raw skin. Y/N grasps at the mask, trying to remove the barrier between them. With reluctance, he breaks away from her lips, knowing his action is dangerous with consequences that could hurt. “Another time, Y/N. Need to save our breath.” 

note so, i'll admit, i left the worst of the angst out of this. but- i may decide to deliver the rest if ya'll are curious about how gut-wrenching my writing can actually get.

[kit-williams]

I need to be folded like a lawn chair while big Black Templar man breeds me for all he's worth.

*cracks knuckles also pauses work on another boy*

Alright ya'll are getting Brother Roland again because he causes the most thirst. If you need to put this into a time line setting this is before Bun in the Oven

SMUT heavy breeding kink

He tried to be good to his Bäckerin but there were some months that his will would faulter. And as Roland would discover putting a baby inside of his Bäckerin wasn't as simple or as easy as he thought. He could smell the biological changes and the fact that something took but then he could smell her body change back. Frustrated he asked her not understanding that the human body was just too strong for it's own good. His Bäckerin soothed him by simply saying "well if my body reabsorbed it this early then there might have been something genetically wrong. A lot can go wrong... I'm certain you can put it in terms of becoming a Black Templar. Sometimes healthy aspirants just die during the process... sometimes what might have been a viable baby just doesn't make it." She would smile at him and just soothe his wounded pride.

She still humored him to make sure that they could both still could conceive and it was simply the roll of the dice. Though Roland knew him being a Space Marine probably wasn't helping him. He finished his prayer and headed to training as he was just stewing in his own mind. His Bäckerin smelt so good this morning... just like the day they first had sex. He couldn't stop himself from pinning her down and bullying his cock inside of her. Watching her whine and whimper under him just sent such a... a thrill up his spine. Chaplin Eckehard was so helpful for Roland during these times but even Roland would watch him stalk after one of his two wives.

Training was hardly helping as it just seemed to get his blood flowing faster to between his legs. His Bäckerin should be out... just a cold shower. He marched back to his quarters after bidding his brothers farewell. His Chaplin had explained that like with battle brothers once he had "imprinted" upon his mortal that he was suddenly acutely aware of her scent biology... he could still look at other mortals and find no desire stirring in his loins but looking at his Bäckerin and occasionally women who looked similar to his Bäckerin could cause the stirring between his loins.

Perhaps it was a bad idea to be where her scent was the strongest. But he was a Space Marine if he could not resist temptations then he was vulnerable. He did not wish to be a weak link when out in combat with his battle brothers. The cold water seemed to hiss against his naturally warm physiology but he could feel himself calming down... coming down from the frenzied high. Till he heard the front door open and his eyes snapped open.

He could hear her... he could smell her... he held his breath so he wouldn't taste her. He could smell the scent of flour, yeast, butter, and eggs against her... probably entangled into the scent of her hair. She was bringing home bread was all... she would leave... he waited those painful seconds as his eyes went over to the bathroom door... she would leave...right?! Oh by the Throne why wasn't she leaving?!

He couldn't face his Bäckerin just yet... "Oh Roland..." his ears picked up even muffled through the door. He twisted the water off and stalked out running his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he could smell her. He watched her pull her fingers out of her unzipped trousers and put them into her mouth licking herself clean.

"Bäckerin," He snapped, "Get on the bed now!"

He watched her jump as her head whipped her head to him seeing him fully naked and he watched her eyes fail to meet his as they were caught between his legs looking at the angry throbbing thing. His own eyes were no longer the soft honey brown but were black with how he looked at her with nothing but a predatory desire. But when she didn't move suddenly she was face first into a burly chest.

"R-Roland?! W-what"

"Less words." He felt himself salivating as he unabashedly inhaled her scent, "I'm going to fuck a baby into you!" He snarled as he threw her onto the bed as he punched a code into a terminal. Only the Chaplin could contact him or get in during this time. When he looked over at his Bäckerin he was pleased that she had stripped naked.

She flinched in unconscious fear as suddenly he was looming over her. She was still a mortal at the end of the day and he was a lethal weapon. As much as he wanted to pin her under him and thrust with reckless abandon, as her scent was coaxing him to do, he rolled over laying on his back. "Work yourself on. Please." He hissed giving her this one concession.

Lucky for him she was already so wet. He let out a guttural hiss from the back of his throat as her hips began to roll and bounce her way down his cock. "Du riechst so gut." He groaned arching and pushing himself into her more. She felt so full and whimpered as he gave her till she started to move.

She found herself on her back quickly as his hips began to piston in their barely restrained pattern. He really shouldn't indulge himself during these times of the month... but it was addictive to smell her fertile scent just mingling with his own when he fills her with his sperm. His drool splashes on her breasts as he is lost in his fantasy. Her breathy moans filling the room just as much as the wet squelch and slap of his hips against hers. The way his balls met her skin, the feeling of her feet against his chest and shoulders... oh he knew when he was bad she would press them against his neck to try and break him out of whatever trance he was in.

He pressed her down causing her moans to increase an octave as she was utterly cock drunk slurring his name as the bed creaked and rocked with the rhythm his hips had set. He sometimes wished his Bäckerin could handle him more... but he wouldn't give her up for anything. He could feel the way she clenched around him and the way she groaned in pleasure as he fucked through her orgasm simultaneously extending it but also building up the next one.

"So gut." He salivated on her shoulder before sucking a hickey into her skin. It didn't take him very long to get her to orgasm again but when she did he bottomed out snarling, "Meine Bäckerin, meine... meine... meine." All gutteral sounded and coming from deep within his chest and throat as he stilled his hips just rolling them as he flooded her insides. He knelt there just panting softly as he let her legs go and watch them just spread wide and she rested her feet on his thighs.

"Um... hi to you too?" She spoke softly.

"You're ovulating." Roland said as if it was completely obvious as to why he dragged her to bed, "I wasn't expecting you home."

"I was just going to leave some bread and... yeah neither was I expecting you." She moaned softly as he had softened and pulled out. He cocked his head to the side as he felt some pride and sexual satisfaction seeing at how wide open he would leave her. Pushing some of the oozing cum back into her quivering cunt. She moaned softly as he would do so. She wasn't staying as open as long any more. "Roland?"

"Hmm?" He finally looked up at his Bäckerin.

"Get my laptop I'm not going to be moving for a bit. Not with... that."

He just grinned going to get her some water and her device. He would pepper her with kisses and his tender affection till he had to return to his duties. But he was happy to return to them with a clear head even though it meant any plans his Bäckerin had were ruined.

Though he was certain she hardly minded.

[mokulule]

The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached 7

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3|Part 4|Part 5|Part 6

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Warnings: angst/depression and canon typical violence

I had wanted to do some tag appreciation for the previous part before uploading this but well stuff happened and I need to leave for work soon, so priorities and all that, and I bet ya'll rather want the update than my chatter XD But know that I really appreciate the comments and tags you guys leave me <3

Damian sat in a corner of the library, knees drawn up to his chest. The crumbled up piece of paper burned in his left hand. It shouldn’t. He’d had a hunch and he’d followed it. He’d been right! This was pertinent information. He should have informed Father immediately and yet… He breathed slowly out his nose. He turned his hand around palm up so he could glare at the offending ball of paper resting there.

He was right, but then why was he so uncertain? Why was he hesitating? He was Damian Wayne! Son of the Batman! He should not dawdle, that is not how he was trained!

No matter how much his so called siblings would tease him for his height, there were advantages. Like how when Todd had pulled the dazed Ghost to his feet, the short man had never really looked up which meant that Damian who was shorter had seen the way his eyes glowed green, unlike his father. Because a short while later, when he pushed away from Todd his eyes had been blue. Father would assume the ghost’s eyes were blue, because he hadn’t seen the green. Father would have no idea to look into what Damian had, because he’d missed a vital clue. A clue Damian had been withholding. Damian let his head fall down onto the arm holding the paper and sighed. He was withholding far worse than a clue now:

There were traces of Lazarus Water in the blood sample. Damian felt the childish urge to scream, but he would not give in, he hadn’t fallen that far. It always came back to this, always; like a curse on Damian’s family, one thing after another and it always ended up back there - by the sickly green glow of the pits.

Father wasn’t always exactly rational when it came to the Lazarus Pits or the League of Assassins or Todd.

And maybe Damian had gotten a little bit used to Father looking at him like his son. Maybe he just wasn’t all that excited for Father to look at him like Ra’s Al Ghul’s grandson again…

Alfred, the cat, slinked around the door left open a crack, instantly drawing Damian’s eyes. The tuxedo cat padded silently over to him and stopped. He looked expectantly at Damian with the same unimpressed gaze of his namesake. Damian cracked a fragile smile, and uncurled into a crosslegged position.Satisfied Alfred jumped into his lap. He started batting at the paper ball and Damian quickly stuffed it into a pocket and acquiesced to the demand for pets. It was barely a moment before Damian’s effort was rewarded and the purring started. Slowly, Damian relaxed back against the wall and his shoulders gradually came down from their tensed position. Animals were so much easier to understand than people.

The Ghost had purred…

The sound had been just at the edge of his hearing, but it definitely had sounded like purring. Father hadn’t heard it. Damian had asked him if he’d heard the cat, but he’d dismissed him as if he thought Damian had heard a real cat. There was no way he would have done that if he’d actually heard. The sound… it had been something else; there had been this inherent happiness to it.

Damian would admit he’d been startled. He’d never heard a human purr before. Not even Catwoman, his father’s illicit paramour, actually purred, not really. She did something with her voice at times, probably the closest a human could come to a purr, but not like the almost continuous sound of a real cat. Humans just weren’t built for it.

Which pondered the question, what exactly was the Ghost? He had reacted very oddly to Todd (Damian would admit in the privacy of his mind that he’d been alarmed to see the man nuzzle into Todd’s chest as if he was actually an overgrown cat in disguise). There was Lazarus in his blood, so maybe the reaction to Todd wasn’t so strange. He hadn’t reacted in any way special to Damian, but that wasn’t so odd either. Damian knew Todd was different. There was a reason Grandfather feared him. The Pits hadn’t revived him, they may have brought his mind back online and brought some lasting effects, but Todd had crawled out of his grave months before that; Todd was something else.

Maybe Todd and the Ghost were something similar?

Todd had definitely heard the purring. He had been completely unlike himself, there had been a complete lack of the usual hostility from him afterwards. Todd must have also seen the eyes, he had to have made the Lazarus connection. He hadn’t reported anything about it either. But again this was Todd, he wouldn’t share information with Father unless he thought someone’s life depended on it.

Whatever DNA had been in the blood sample was useless for analysis, it had been too damaged, so that didn’t bring them any closer to figuring out what he was.

Then there were the powers, Todd didn’t have those. Invisibility and intangibility… No, the Ghost couldn’t actually be a ghost, could he?

Alfred nudged the hand that had stopped the petting and Damian dutifully started back up again.

Richard often acted like he didn’t have two brain cells to rub together, something that fooled even Damian in the beginning, but he was surprisingly astute if he let you see if. Damian had presumed the Ghost codename had been merely a ploy to annoy Drake and Gordon, but Richard was not beneath hiding a theory as a joke. If he was correct, he would have all the power, if it wasn’t it was after all just a joke - it was a good strategy.

As if summoned, Richard stuck his head into the library and glanced around. He seemed just about leave when he caught sight of Damian’s nook.“There you are Dames-“ he strolled inside, “I wanted to say bye before heading home, so I’m glad I found you.” He crouched down next to him and smiled widely eyes crinkling with it. It was so effortless for him.

Damian frowned.

“Hey, you okay?”

Damian glanced up briefly. It wasn’t something he wanted to talk about, but maybe Richard could answer something else.

“Do you think the Ghost could actually be a ghost?”

And there was that sharpness behind the kindness, that moment of calculation of what might have brought this on, whether Damian knew something, before it was hidden behind a smile again.

“Dami-“ he started and lovingly ruffled Damian’s hair. Damian quickly batted his hands away, before he got the misconception that he liked it; because he didn’t! Blue eyes crinkled further and then he continued, “we’ve seen stranger, haven’t we?”

And that brought Damian to a stop, hands still raised protectively over his head. Alfred looked between the two of them and gave an affronted mrauwp.

“So sorry Alfred, old boy, didn’t mean to disturb you.”

While Richard appeased Alfred, Damian slowly lowered his arms. Richard was right of course, but there was something else too, the assurance in the flippancy. Whatever the Ghost was, it didn’t really matter, they would deal with it, like they did everything; everything had some sort of weakness. And the Ghost hadn’t actually been hostile.

The core of the issue was the Lazarus Water. Lazarus Water didn’t enter people’s blood on their own and Grandfather kept a sharp watch on all the pools. There was a very big risk the Ghost was affiliated with the League. Coerced? Created? Murdered?

Damian narrowed his eyes, it was useless to ponder without more information, but the League at least was something Damian could look into discreetly. If there was increased activity in Gotham he would find it. He didn’t have to tell anyone yet.

“You work out what was bothering you?”“Tt.” He quickly looked away from Richard’s knowing eyes. Unfortunately that left him open for another hair ruffle. Richard laughed and jumped away and back to a standing position in one smooth motion, before Damian could retaliate somehow. Damian glared and only got a soft smile and wave in return.

“See you in some days, baby bat.”

Damian pressed his lips together and waved dismissively. “Go, before I decide revenge is worth removing Alfred.”

Richard’s laughter followed him out the door and down the hall. Damian finally allowed the small smile to form. Whatever happened, whatever Father may think of him keeping secrets, he could at least count on his big brother to stay the same. Oo o oO

Tim had been reviewing the new proposals from R&D when Bruce had stopped by.

The spectral calibrator team had obviously been disappointed to learn they would be reassigned and that the larger project to tune into electromagnetic signals from other dimensions had been put on indefinite hold without the calibrator, but they were a professional bunch and they had quickly come up with some fresh ideas.

Tim really didn’t want to consider what use the thief would have had with the calibrator, but it was kinda his job. It was meant to help hone into the (for lack of better term) frequency of a given dimension and remove the noise from the various other planes of reality - he just really hoped they weren’t dealing with a science portal to Hell scenario. Magical portals were at least usually temporary in nature but most importantly they were the JLD’s problem, not Tim’s.

Maybe the thief just really wanted to listen to some alternate universe rock?

Yeah, fat chance.

Tim had not found signs of the stolen items being resold, which pointed towards the thief having specific buyers or he was building something himself. At least the spectral calibrator was safe in the Cave.

A small beep notified Tim that the decryption program had a match on the passcode for the phone Bruce had dropped off, and he rolled over to have a look. The phone was not a brand Tim recognized, it was from the pre-smartphone era and didn’t even have a camera. It had been easier for Tim to just take it apart and hook it to power to get it up and running - it was then he noticed that someone had modded the receiver and transmitter, it also didn’t have a sim card.

Despite the lack of sim-card, when Tim looked at the now open phone it claimed to have a full signal from the most prominent telecompany in the larger bay area. Tim raised an eyebrow - curious. The text messages were empty, and a root around in the settings found that read messages were automatically deleted after 24 hours - the thief were really keen on keeping his secrets.

In the “phone book” which was a rather quaint old school term for the contact list, Tim finally found something that alluded to a normal life. Something that could maybe give them some information: Dad, Jazz, Mom, Sam, Tuck, Val - pretty sparse contact list. All the numbers had the same area code, which put them somewhere in the Midwest, if Tim was remembering correctly.

Tim considered for a moment then pressed the up button until he reached “Mom” again and pressed enter. Butt calls had been a real problem with this phone type if people forgot to lock them, it wouldn’t be so strange if Tim didn’t say anything. With any luck they’d get confirmation on the name Danny.

There was a single dial tone then a feminine voice announced:

“The number you have called cannot be reached.”

-

Woohooo yay, I think we're done with "the detectives detective-ing" for now which was the extend of my notes before writing the last two parts (parts 6 and 7 are going to be a single chapter once they go on Ao3). Hope you enjoyed, I got a serious case of Damian feels while rewriting chapter 1 for Ao3 (here's a link if you missed it), so that's the explanation for why Damian decided we needed his pov Next

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