#but a kid would always desire more something that someone else had | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lightlycareless · 1 day ago

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um so I swear this was an ask but i don't find it anymore i really do hope tumblr isn't deleting them now jfc.

anyways, here it goes!! another piece of the naoya y/n marriage that isn't as perfect as i would like it to be 😈🥹😭

warnings: you and naoya have a disagreement and he's... cruel about it, ngl. you too so... oof. you're married and have kids but they do not make an appearance here. extra notes at the end.

What would Naoya think of the day you suddenly approaching saying that, after long consideration and years of retirement, you want to go back to being a sorcerer?

He wouldn’t take it well.

I know he said he’d always support you, be on your side and whatnot…

But when you bring this up to him… he just becomes defensive, unable to feel anything else but rejection at your words and quickly shooting down your desire.

“No, you will not.”

And of course, you don’t take it well either. He didn’t even give you a chance to explain yourself before he made the decision!

“Naoya? That’s not—I don’t think that’s for you to decide!” you gasp, but he’s unrelenting.

“It is, as your husband, I have to look after what’s best for you—and that, is not.”

“And I appreciate when you do, but that doesn’t mean you get to dictate all of my life!” You respond. “This is something that I want to do, that I know I can do! You do it all the time, so why should it different with me?”

“It’s not the same, Y/N. And you’ve said so yourself—you’ve been out of the game for too long, it’s a completely new world out there. Besides, someone needs to be here while I’m gone. What about the children? Who’s going to look after them? Or are you simply planning on abandoning them to their luck?”

Ouch.

“Excuse me? No one said anything about be abandoning them! There’s more than adequate options to choose from if necessary… besides, I only want to take a few missions here and there, not make this full time!” You gasp, offended by his implication. After all you’ve done for them, how dare he?! “What about you, then? I’ve never considered you to be abandoning them when you go out for work, but if that’s how it’s going to be, you haven’t been the best father either!”

You two say a lot of things you don’t mean. A lot of hurtful, senseless words that are not a reflection of what either you or Naoya truly feel. Not by far.

But in the heat of the moment, they simply slip through your tongue, and once past the point of no return, the two continue to spiral.

“Y/N, be honest with me. When was the last time you even worked out?”

“Well, I—I’ve been busy tending to the house! I haven’t gotten much time for it… but that doesn’t mean I can’t go back to my career!” you fret, embarrassed by his words. “It’s just a matter of catching up… which I can do if given the opportunity!“

“Do you know how much you need to catch up? How much has everything changed since you last went on a mission? Curses aren’t the same as you remembered them, time is a luxury we can’t afford!”

“That’s—I just—I can figure that out once I start!”

“No, you can’t. That’s the truth.�� Naoya frowns. “And you know that! You weren’t even good back at school!”

And in the moment his words pierced right through your heart, swiftly, directly into your insecurities, the world comes to a complete stop.

“…is that what you think of me?”

“I’m not saying anything we didn’t know already.”

Yes, it was no secret that you weren’t particularly outstanding when compared to him or other sorcerers. That you’d never be able to compete with powerhouses like Satoru, Suguru, or your siblings.

But you still considered yourself adequate enough, at least with your technique. While they relied on strength, you were proficient on stealth. You had a purpose inside the community, you were accepted into school and graduated as one of the most dedicated students of you generation…

What you never expected, however, is for the same diminishing words you’ve heard all your life from the mouths of your clan’s elders, or even HQ…. would eventually come out from your husband’s. The man that swore before the gods to always stand on your corner.

The same person you’ve personally disclosed these horrors, the constant fear of failure, that you wouldn’t amount to anything ever—but not to him, whom you could only be perfect to in his eyes.

To be the light of your darkness, calm to your storm…

And yet, here you were, listening how he easily disregarded your small achievements for apparent no reason.

Perhaps because he wanted to.

…

Perhaps… because this is what he always thought of you, it’s just that there was never a moment to say so. Expecting you to always be in line, why would you?

And it hurt you, greatly so, that it completely shattered any hopes you had for pursuing something for yourself ever again. Such a sorrowful, empty feeling that it forced you to do nothing else but retreat, scurry whatever was left of your heart, and begin to reconsider your reality.

His betrayal.

Wonder if this was even the happy marriage you proudly proclaimed to others—

If you had done right in marrying him.

“D—dad…I don’t know what to do.” You breathe, having called your father in the middle of the night once your burdened heart became too much to ignore. You couldn’t take it, as much as you wished to move past this moment, your mind simply kept pulling you back again and again to the dreadful possibility of going down a road you did not want to. “I don’t want to… I don’t want to leave him, but he also—Naoya also said terrible things that hurt me!”

“Y/N… How long has this gone on?”

“…For a few weeks.”

“Oh, pumpkin… and you haven’t spoken to Naoya since then?”

“No. I don’t want to.” You sob; you tried your hardest to hold back your tears, but at the nostalgic voice of your father, you simply become more vulnerable—taken back to when you were nothing but a child seeking his comfort. “I don’t… I don’t think I can even if I wanted to.”

“It’s not right to go on days without speaking to him. I know it’s not easy, I’ve been in your same position with your mother once, and that’s why I can tell you it isn’t right. But you’re meant to face problems together, not apart. Communication is important in marriages”

“But he said some hurtful things, dad! What did you expect me to do?! He called me a failure and all because I told him I wanted to be a sorcerer again…” you cry. “I can’t just ignore it and act like nothing happened!”

“Maybe he was just… worried, but didn’t know how to convey that properly.” Eiichi isn’t surprised, Naoya wasn’t known for his greatly assertive communication.

But he’s also known for having changed for you. For his children. So, for you to proclaim crudeness… something else must be going on.

“It’s a dangerous career, pumpkin. I was never happy that you and your siblings were forced into this world…”

“But he didn’t have to say it that way! He told me I wasn’t even good back at school!” You then pause for a moment. “…Do you believe that too?”

“No, never Y/N. You and I know best how silly they can be when it comes to grading sorcerers. You’re good through your own merits, that is undisputable. But…”

“But what?”

“Y/N, I want you to know I will always support you, no matter what. And though you are angry at this moment, and this might make you feel like I’m not… I really do want to help you and your marriage. I know how much Naoya means to you, and how much it would hurt you to toss away all that you’ve built with him.”

You press your lips together, his words stating nothing but the truth, as much as a part of you wished to be blinded of it.

“But before you make a final decision, talk to him.” Your dad pleads. “I do not believe this is enough to call it quits; marriages tend to have arguments here and there. Some bigger than others, and … well, I never thought I’d come to say this about Naoya, but… I understand why he’d say what he did. Your mother once came to me with the same words and I shut her down, in the most stupid way I could’ve—but I didn’t mean any of those words. I simply didn’t want to put her in danger.”

“But he’s not you, dad. What if he truly believes I’m good for nothing?!”

“He didn’t say that, Y/N. Besides, have you forgotten all that he did to convince me into letting you marry him? For his family to allow him to marry you?” Eiichi says. “And I thought I was stubborn! If he felt that way about you, this story would’ve been vastly different.”

…

“Please, just talk to him. And if you still feel the same way, I’ll go pick you, ok? And help you with everything else.”

“…OK.”

And so, after days of not looking each other in the eye (to the point of sleeping in different rooms) … the moment comes for you to approach your estranged husband, who’s gaze seems to falter from yours for a quick second, as if hesitant, ashamed, worried, perhaps even a bit scared.

Yet unable to keep away for much, for deep within, he desperately longed to see you. As it has always been.

“Naoya, are you… busy?” you ask gently, silently approaching him until you were just a few feet away from where he hunched over his desk; presumably busy with that same damned paperwork that seems to hoard all of his free time.

“Not quite. I was just finishing and thinking what I wanted to eat for lunch.” He responds, pressing his lips together before looking away. “What about you? Are you hungry? Have you eaten anything yet?”

“Can we talk, please?”

He swallows.

“…Are you here to tell me you’re leaving me?”

“Where… where did you get that idea from?”

“…I heard you talking to your father the other night.” He confesses, coincidentally, the night he was planning to reach out to you. It’s safe to say that after that he ceased insisting. “If that’s what you want to do, go ahead. I won’t stop you if no longer want to be with me, but I will not allow you to take the children—”

“I—I won’t deny I didn’t consider it at the heat of the moment, but I don’t want to leave you, Naoya! I… I love you too much to even think that, or hurt our babies like that, but…” unable to contain your emotions, tears begin to pour out of your eyes. Your husband instinctively desires to embrace you, use everything in his disposition to make the pain go away.

But he fears that by doing so might only be to your detriment, so, once again, he desists.

“You said some awful things that made me question if you… if you loved me the same as I did you.”

“Since when did worrying about my wife mean that I didn’t love you?” Naoya murmurs; a sharp pang engulfs his heart. He’s capable of many things, but failing you… he dreads the mere thought of it. “All I ever wanted for you and our family is happiness, but most importantly, safety. I can’t ensure that if you’re out there.”

“…Do you not believe I can keep myself safe? When you said I wasn’t capable… did you mean it genuinely?”

“No, of course not. It’s not that.”

“You thought I wasn’t good back when I was a student, why would today be any different?”

“Y/N—I… I messed up. I didn’t mean that.”

“What did you mean, then? Why would you say that if you didn’t mean it?!”

“Goddamn it—Why is it so hard for you to understand that I don’t want to lose you?! That the mere thought of you getting hurt or even—dying, is too agonizing for me to consider?!” Naoya finally explodes, making you flinch and subsequently quiet.

Your terrified face overwhelms him with another wave of sorrow, that he might as well be the one to leave. Set you free from the pain he only seems to be capable of providing you.

Mistake after mistake, Naoya will never be freed from the shadows of his past. No matter how much he tries.

No matter how much he wishes to be the one you deserve.

Which unbeknownst to him, he already was?

“I can keep myself safe.” You carefully thread upon seeing his softening, regretful gaze. The two are far from over with this topic, but even then, you cannot bring yourself to ail him when he’s showing you a part he rarely allows himself to be in touch with.

His vulnerability, the human side of him.

What made you fall in love with him.

“I know, but…”

“…what is it?”

“That mission. Since that damned mission, when I saw your frightened face—” at the prospect of facing your demise… Naoya hasn’t been the same.

Your fear imprinted in the back of his mind; when he sleeps, when he closes his eyes, when he hears something that might remotely imply your pain…

Naoya swore to do all in his power to never let that happen again.

Even if it takes his very existence.

Because if something happened to you—if you died—

Life would cease all meaning, and would rush to join your side too.

“Please, don’t—don’t go. If something were to happen to you, I—I can’t… I don’t think I could live without you.” He quietly begs, further opening his heart, and for the first time in so long… you see him cry.

Weep, tired of acting brave, as if he were above everything—

When in reality, there was so much going in his mind all the time.

What if he isn’t good for the clan? What if his father decides for someone else to take his so-called rightful title?

What if he meets a curse that’s much greater than his capabilities? What if someone worse than Suguru comes along?

What if someone from his family betrays him? Attempts to enact his downfall?

…

What if his enemies finally get to you? To his children? And he’s nowhere to protect you?

What then?

Money can only do so much when passion is involved.

And with someone of his title, he’s not ignorant to how many people his family has wronged.

Seems that even after years of marriage, the two still have many secrets to disclose.

“Naoya…”

“Curses are getting strong each year, Y/N. And there’s not enough sorcerers to deal with them… HQ is growing irrational with their assignments, sometimes the missions are far beyond the sorcerer’s level.”

“I can be one, with enough training, I can get back on shape.”

“I don’t doubt it, I never did.”

“…Then why did you say that?”

“I thought that if I… forced you back by hurting you, you’d leave this matter to die. But clearly, I forgot how stubborn my wife could be.” He lets out a breathy chuckle, followed by a sniffle. You respond with a tight smile. “Our children are already on their way to become sorcerers; it was decided so since the moment they were born with cursed energy. And since then, I’ve been agonizing about the moment they’ll have to leave home to fight these things… but the thought of you being home, away from all of this… kept me hopeful. Reminded me that no matter what, you’ll always be there for them.”

For me.

When things become too difficult, too painful to deal with, … Naoya needs the reassurance of you being the one place he can always go to. A shoulder to cry on, someone to vent to. Someone to be loved from.

He never knew how lonely he was, until the day he met you.

But as much as he wished otherwise… he loved you too much to go against your desires. He’d hate to be the cause of your misery, and such…

“…But if you want to do this, I won’t stop you.” He murmurs. “I can help smooth out your return, even get in a word for your promotion—”

“Naoya...”

“I don’t think you’re a bad mother.” He quietly adds. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

“…I don’t think you’re a bad father either. I know how difficult it is for you to leave and do your job, how you sometimes have to go undercover, without any possibility of contact…” those missions are the most dreadful, and often pushed your mind to conjure all kinds of horrible scenarios.

You try to ease yourself by remembering that if something bad happened, there’s no doubt in your mind you would’ve known by then. However, a part of you still worries. Hates to think that Naoya could just… not come back. Whether because no one was able to keep up with him, or because something so horrible occurred, that it left his body unrecognizable for—

You loathed to think of the possibilities.

But what you loathed most, was your last interaction with him being an unpleasant one.

If this was to be the last time you saw him, you’d want to remember him happily.

“…I guess I didn’t realize it wasn’t that easy for me to just come by and demand a change when there’s so much more to consider—”

Naoya presses his lips together, feeling regretful for your reaction. He wanted you to reconsider, but not this way. Not anymore.

He doesn’t want you to feel like you can’t trust him.

“We can start slow, get you reacquainted with the basics, and once you’re ready I… I guess you can request missions.” He concedes. “But I would still feel uncomfortable if you take high grade missions; and if you do get some, I’ll take them immediately. That I will not allow.”

“I don’t intend to go that far, my technique isn’t really suitable for that type of work either way.” You respond. “Besides, I’ll miss my babies too much.”

He remains silent, but his thoughts are nothing but clear.

“I’ll miss you a lot too.” You say, walking closer to him and gently wrapping your arms around his chest. The way he leans into you, resting his head over yours almost instinctively, just make you feel worse and longing of all the time you’ve missed by this rift. “And I would like to be there when you eventually come back home, instead of being god knows where with god knows who…”

“Preferably, not with another man…”

“Or what, you’ll scare them off like you did back in Jujutsu High?” you tease, he frowns, hugging you back.

“Yes, if that’s what it takes.”

“I’ll scare them off myself, no one compares to my strong and handsome husband either way.”

“Not even Satoru?”

“Now, don’t get too crazy.” You giggle, Naoya smirks. “…Yeah, even him.”

“There’s much for us to talk about.” You add.

“I know.”

“I never meant to take the children from you, either. I couldn’t do that to them.” You snuggle against him, taking in his cologne, that familiar yet cozy, warm smell of cedar you missed to wake up to—a scent that reminded you of home. All of Naoya. “My dad actually pushed me to talk to you, you know?”

“Really?”

“Yeah; and I’m glad he’s right.” You sigh. “I guess he’s grown to be quite fond of you… hopefully my sister isn’t too jealous.”

“What can I say? My charm is simply… undeniable.” He teases back, you chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah it is.” You say, looking up to him, and Naoya looked down to you.

The two stare at each other’s eyes for a moment, enjoying the sight their misunderstanding cruelly stripped them away from, relishing it’s return and the fact that it won’t go away anymore.

His sharp, calculating yet soft eyes that always make you forget how to breath whenever they land on you… it’s a blessing to know you’re the only one who can see him like this. To know that you’re the only one they seek, the only one they admire…

While your big, round eyes that Naoya doesn’t know why he’s so enthralled by them. Is it because they’re beautiful, or because their yours? Or because they see him like his worth looking at?

Either way… they’re his.

They’re yours.

For all eternity, you belong to one another. For worse, or for better.

Sorcerer or not.

In this universe, or the other.

He’ll support you every step of the way.

Imma lean further into y/n's insecurities and admit that she was quite happy of leaving the whole jujutsu world behind. being constantly compared to her oh so incredible siblings and the rest of the people she seemingly had the misfortune of studying with must've been quite exhausting.

besides, she's the #1 to her babies and that outranks anything else in the whole wide world.

however, if she does get the itch to use her jujutsu knowledge, i'd like to think she'd actually become her kid's teacher if they desire to be homeschooled; she's quite good when it comes to the theory part of it. :)

in other words, i doubt this argument would even happen but it's nice to see them act like human for once, and remember how nasty naoya can be sometimes :s (and he was being quite demure here ngl)

#naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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ninisdollie · 17 days ago

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forbidden fruit - yang jungwon 𓈒ིུ ❤︎ ˖ ݁

✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪ . Demigods series

Synopsis: At the halfblood camp, there exists an unwritten but unbreakable rule: no romance between demigods. You, daughter of Athena, are known for your intelligence and wisdom, always following the rules to the letter. However, your life takes an unexpected turn when you fall in love with Yang Jungwon, son of Poseidon. Though your feelings are deeper than ever, you know this relationship is dangerous. Not only because of the rule that separates you, but because any discovery could put your lives at risk. As you struggle to keep your love a secret, you must use all your cunning to hide what is growing between you two, but how long can you conceal what you truly feel before everything falls apart?

Content: +18MDNIfem! reader x jungwon, pjo au, poseidon's son! jungwon x athena's daughter! reader, kind of emotional, based a little on percabeth, soft vanilla sex, praising, a little bit of dirty talk, oral (f.rec), unprotected sex, creampie.

taglist at the end, likes and reblogs are appreciated !!

You were everything a daughter of Athena was expected to be.

Sharp-minded. Disciplined. Untouchable.

From the moment you stepped into Camp Half-Blood, eyes followed you, not out of admiration, but respect laced with fear. You were the kind of girl who could outsmart a son of Hermes in chess, shoot a bullseye blindfolded, and recite the Iliad in Ancient Greek just because someone said you couldn’t. People came to you with problems they couldn’t solve. Cabin Six called you their pride. Children asked for advices, girls from other cabins wanted you as their friend and as their ally in Capture the Flag.

You were born into legacy.

Not just the legacy of Olympus, but the sharp, gleaming, heavy weight of Athena’s name. Wisdom, logic, order. Your very existence was curated by divine intention. You weren’t an accident, or the result of fleeting desire like so many other demigods. No —Athena had chosen to bring you into the world, and that meant something.

You loved strategy, planning, puzzles. You loved the satisfaction of a well -constructed battle plan, the thrill of solving a prophecy no one else could make sense of. When there was a quest to be assigned, Chiron often consulted you first. Not because of favoritism, but because your insight had saved lives more times than anyone could count.

You were your mother’s pride.

Athena didn’t say it often, not in words. But when she appeared to you in dreams or left offerings by your bedside, you knew. You felt it in the way she would look at you , composed, proud, maybe even a little possessive. You weren’t just her daughter. You were her creation, the living embodiment of everything she valued.

So you never gave her a reason to doubt you. You never broke the rules. You never chased chaos, or love, or anything that could make your legacy fragile.

Not until Jungwon.

He wasn’t part of the plan.

You had read about Poseidon’s children, powerful, unpredictable, ruled by instinct more than reason. And when Jungwon stumbled into camp, dripping wet, dazed, and wide-eyed after slaying a Minotaur with nothing but a broken blade and his bare hands, something in your gut twisted.

He didn’t look like a hero. He was clumsy, unfocused, always a little out of place among the well-trained campers. But he had a quiet strength to him. He smiled like he didn’t care what anyone thought, and he moved through the world like it was his to claim, even when he tripped over his own feet.

You should’ve ignored him. You tried to ignore him.

Jungwon couldn’t strategize to save his life. He fell asleep in Chiron’s history lessons. He called Ares kids “mean jocks” to their faces. He once asked if drachmas could buy snacks at the mortal mall.

You were the camp’s brightest mind. He was the camp’s biggest walking contradiction.

You were ice. He was waves.

And when he smiled at you, really smiled, like he wasn’t supposed to, your world tilted.

You didn’t like him.

You couldn’t like him.

But feelings have a way of creeping in, soft and slow, like tidewater kissing the shore. And before you knew it, his clumsiness wasn’t annoying. It was endearing. His dumb questions made you laugh. And his smile?

It stopped being dangerous.

It started being home.

͏ ͏ུུ̑̑ 🌊𓇼

Yang Jungwon wasn’t what anyone expected.

When he first stepped into Camp Half-Blood, the whispers followed him like a storm cloud. Son of Poseidon. The boy who killed the Minotaur. The one who could charm any creature, monster or god, with just a flash of that smile. He was supposed to be a legend in the making. But no one had warned you how annoying he’d be.

He wasn’t tall like the sons of Ares. Nor broad-shouldered like those of Hephaestus. But when he walked into the Big House with his hair wet from rain and eyes wide with curiosity, the air around him shifted.

There was something wild, untamed about him. Like the ocean, unpredictable and a little dangerous. He didn’t give the vibe of a camp hero, he didn’t try to. He strolled into camp with the same nonchalance as a guy picking up coffee on a lazy Sunday morning, and within minutes, he was the center of attention.

It wasn’t his looks, although those storm-colored eyes and those dimples on his cheeks were enough to make the unspoken rule about no romance feel like a joke. It was the way he didn’t care about anything. He had no reverence for the gods. No fear of the monsters. Not even an ounce of caution when he crashed headfirst into a pine tree during his first battle training session.

His lack of self-awareness made you want to strangle him and kiss him all at once.

“Do you always fight like that?” You’d asked, irritated beyond belief after watching him swing a sword around with all the grace of a toddler trying to hold a knife.

His sheepish grin had been all charm.

“Not really. But I do like to make things… interesting.”

And in that moment, with your brows furrowed in a mix of disbelief and growing interest, you knew it wasn’t just the Minotaur he had killed. He was dangerous in a way you hadn’t seen coming.

Not because of his powers or his lineage.

But because you couldn’t figure him out. And gods, that was the most infuriating thing of all.

͏ ͏ུུ̑̑ 🌊𓇼

You started getting closer after an almost-failed mission. It was supposed to be simple, in and out.

You were given the task of retrieving an ancient artifact hidden deep in the woods, a task normally reserved for the more level-headed demigods. Naturally, you had the strategy already mapped out. Every move, every potential threat, every path through the dense forest was accounted for in your mind.

And then he showed up.

“Hey! I’m here to help,” Jungwon called out as he came bounding up to you, his sword gleaming in the sunlight, only to trip over his own feet and nearly crash into a tree.

You sighed before even speaking.

“This isn’t a joke, Jungwon. Stay focused.”

His grin was unrepentant.

“I am focused!” He pulled himself up, dusting off his clothes. “Just… you know, having fun out here. Who said strategy can’t be a little bit of adventure?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, annoyance bubbling up.

“This is a mission, not a game.” You motioned ahead, where the shadows deepened in the trees. “We’re not just collecting souvenirs. We’re in danger.”

“Danger’s my middle name,” he said with a wink, slinging his sword over his shoulder with a nonchalance that made you grit your teeth.

You knew he wasn’t serious, but the way he treated everything like a joke, like nothing mattered, drove you insane. Everything had to matter. Especially here.

As you both ventured deeper into the woods, the atmosphere grew heavier. It wasn’t long before you heard the low growl, something large, lurking in the underbrush. You shot Jungwon a quick glance.

“Stay back. I’ll handle this.”

Before you could take a step forward, Jungwon was already charging at the beast. The wild, uncoordinated way he swung his sword almost sent you into a panic. The monster, a Chimera, its scales glittering black under the dim light, charged, its massive horns aiming right at him.

“Jungwon, no!” You shouted, trying to reach him in time.

But it was too late. Jungwon lunged forward, his sword missing the Chimera’s flank by inches as it swung its tail toward him, knocking him off balance. He fell, hard, straight into a pile of fallen branches, his sword clattering to the ground.

You froze for a second, but instinct took over. The Chimera roared and turned its fury on you, its fangs flashing.

You weren’t sure how you did it, maybe it was your strategic mind, the hours you spent reading Athena’s scrolls, or the training you’d put in, but in one fluid motion, you darted forward, dodging the beast’s attack and slashing at its underbelly. The Chimera screeched and staggered back, leaving it open for another strike.

You didn’t look back at Jungwon, but you knew his eyes were on you. The moment passed in a flash, the beast falling with a thud as you stood over it, breathing hard.

Silence followed.

“Not bad,” Jungwon called from behind you, a bit winded but amused. “I mean, I did most of the work, but—”

You whirled around, cutting him off with a glare.

“You almost got yourself killed, Jungwon! What the hell were you thinking charging in like that?”

He took a step forward, a teasing smile playing at his lips.

“I was thinking I could’ve handled it.” He dusted off his shirt, completely unbothered by the mess he was in.

“You can’t just charge in and hope for the best!” You were practically seething now. “This isn’t some game where you can rely on luck. You could’ve gotten us both killed!”

He stopped, his grin faltering slightly as he met your gaze. For a moment, you thought you might’ve seen something more in his eyes, something other than his usual teasing. But it was gone too fast for you to read.

“You’re right,” he said, tone shifting a little. “I messed up. But it was… kind of fun watching you work.”

Your breath hitched at the unexpected compliment. It was disarming. But you weren’t about to let him off that easily.

“Don’t make a habit of it,” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not saving your ass again.”

His eyes softened just slightly.

“I wouldn’t want you to.”

And just like that, the air around you both seemed to change. It wasn’t the usual playful tension. This was something new, something you hadn’t expected. Something that made your heart skip a beat, and your mind race with thoughts you had no business entertaining.

“Let’s just finish the mission,” you muttered, turning on your heel to walk ahead.

Behind you, Jungwon chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “Sure. Lead the way, smartypants.”

͏ ͏ུུ̑̑ 🌊𓇼

It didn’t happen all at once. Love never does, not the kind that consumes you slowly, like a tide pulling you under before you even realize you’re drowning.

At first, it was just casual interaction. Reluctant partnership. Jungwon had been assigned to your combat team for a short mission, and you’d bristled at the idea. You still thought of him as the clumsy new kid with waterlogged shoes and a crooked grin who stumbled into Camp Half-Blood dragging the corpse of a Minotaur behind him. Powerful, sure, but chaotic. Undisciplined.

You were precise. He was impulsive.

You spoke in plans and formations; he spoke in jokes and instinct.

And yet… it worked.

He followed your lead, even when he didn’t understand it, because he trusted you. Not blindly, but with an openness that unnerved you at first. He never made you feel like you had to prove yourself. And despite how annoying he could be, how distractingly pretty his eyes looked in the sunlight, he listened when it mattered.

Over time, the mission ended, but the partnership didn’t.

Jungwon became a fixture in your life in ways you didn’t expect. You’d find him waiting for you after training, hair tousled, cheeks flushed, grinning like a fool. He’d bring you snacks you liked without you ever telling him. He never let you study in peace, always interrupting with some stupid joke or question, yet somehow, it became your favorite part of the day.

You started meeting him by the lake. At first, just to talk. He’d skim stones across the surface, and you’d tease him about his form, even though you secretly liked watching his arms move when he threw them. The conversations became deeper. The silences more comfortable. You shared things with him you never told anyone, about the pressure of being Athena’s daughter, the loneliness of being seen as perfect, the fear of disappointing someone who wasn’t even really there.

He never judged you.

Instead, he told you about the ocean, not just his powers, but how it made him feel. How it calmed him. How it made him homesick for something he never had. He told you how scared he was of being the son of Poseidon, not because of the power, but because he didn’t know if he could live up to the name.

You touched his hand one night, just for a second, and he didn’t let go.

The first time you kissed him, it was after a sparring match. You had him pinned to the ground, knees on either side of his hips, sweat running down both of your necks, breaths tangled. He looked up at you, his chest rising and falling fast.

And then he said, “You’re not going to let me up, are you?”

You didn’t know why you kissed him. You just did.

And he kissed you back like he’d been waiting for it since the day he met you.

From that point on, things changed.

You were still careful. You had to be. Camp had rules, strict, unspoken rules. No romantic entanglements between demigods. The gods watched. The camp leaders enforced. Love between two children of Olympus wasn’t just frowned upon. It was dangerous. It could tip the balance of power. Destabilize alliances. Invite disaster.

You both understood what was at stake.

So you didn’t walk too close in the daytime. You didn’t meet at the campfire. You never touched hands in public, and you definitely didn’t look at each other too long. You became experts in secrecy. A glance across the archery range. A coded phrase in training. A scribbled note hidden in a book.

But when the sun dipped below the horizon, when the camp fell silent and the stars came out, that was when you belonged to each other. He would sneak into your cabin through the window. You’d lie together, tangled under thin blankets, whispering about dreams and fears, about what it would be like if things were different. If the rule didn’t exist. If love wasn’t forbidden.

Sometimes he kissed you like you were fragile. Other times, like he couldn’t believe you were real. Either way, he always held you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

You didn’t realize how much you’d fallen for him until the thought of losing him made your chest ache in a way you’d never known. Not even the fear of disappointing Athena compared to the fear of being forced to let him go.

He felt the same.

You saw it in the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. Like the whole world narrowed to your presence. Like you were the only thing in the universe he’d fight for.

Now, a year later, the love between you was no longer something soft or budding. It was all-consuming. It was fire under your skin and salt in your lungs. It was dangerous.

And no one could know.

Not if you wanted to stay together. Not if you wanted to survive.

But every day, it got harder to pretend. Harder to keep your hands off him. Harder to lie to your friends. Harder to look your cabinmates in the eye and say you were still Athena’s perfect, logical daughter.

Because you weren’t just that anymore.

You were his.

And if the truth ever came out, you didn’t know what you’d do.

͏ ͏ུུ̑̑ 🌊𓇼

The camp was quiet, blanketed in the kind of silence that only came after curfew, when the cabins were dark, the training fields were still, and the stars felt just a little too close. You stood at the lake’s edge, barefoot in the cool grass, arms wrapped tightly around yourself. The moonlight shimmered across the surface like broken glass, glittering reflections catching in your tired eyes.

It was always the lake.

You didn’t come here just to think, you came to feel. The way the air hung heavy with mist. The way the water moved like it was alive. The way it reminded you of him, even when he wasn’t there.

But tonight, you weren’t just feeling.

You were unraveling.

You weren’t supposed to be like this. Not you, daughter of Athena. The one who had always followed the rules, who had always been told she was her mother’s pride, sharp, unshakable, destined for greatness.

You remembered what it felt like the first time you saw your mother in a dream. How her voice, cold and elegant, filled you with something like reverence and fear all at once. You remembered her saying, “You are my legacy. Don’t let me down.”

You’d lived by those words for years.

And now, every kiss you shared in secret with Jungwon, every whispered “I love you” spoken between cabin walls and stolen glances, chipped away at that legacy like cracks in marble.

“You okay?”

His voice, low and familiar, broke through the quiet like sunlight through storm clouds.

You didn’t turn around. You didn’t have to.

“I had a feeling you’d come,” you said softly, barely louder than the wind.

“I always do,” Jungwon replied, and a moment later, you felt his warmth behind you, his presence grounding. “I saw your bed empty and figured you were here again. Couldn’t sleep?”

You shook your head, still watching the water ripple under moonlight.

He didn’t press you. He never did. Instead, he stepped closer, standing beside you now, close enough that his arm brushed yours. He glanced at you, eyes soft, thoughtful, and then tilted his head slightly.

“You’ve got that look,” he murmured, half a smile on his lips. “The one where you’re about to tell me the world’s ending and it’s probably your fault.”

You let out a broken laugh, the sound small and tired.

“Maybe it is.”

Jungwon’s smile faded. He turned to face you fully.

“Hey. Don’t do that.”

You finally looked at him.

He was in his hoodie and sweats, damp hair curling over his forehead, eyes reflecting the lake like mirrors. There was something in his expression, something aching and wide open .and it undid you completely.

“I keep thinking about her,” you whispered. “About what she’d say if she knew. About what I’ve become.”

Jungwon blinked slowly.

“You mean… someone who feels too much and thinks too hard and loves too deeply?”

You swallowed, throat tight.

“I mean someone who disobeyed everything she was raised to believe. Someone who’s risking everything for something that might not even last.”

His brow furrowed, and then he stepped forward, cupping your face with both hands.

“Don’t say that,” he said, voice quiet but intense. “Don’t you dare say we won’t last.”

You closed your eyes.

“I want to believe that,” you said, your voice cracking. “But there are gods, Jungwon. Real ones. My mother watches everything. And if she finds out, if Chiron finds out — if anyone finds out — I don’t know what they’ll do.”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away.

“I don’t care what they do,” he said. “They can throw me in Tartarus for all I care. I’d still choose you.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest.

“I don’t regret loving you,” you said, tears finally slipping free. “I just wish it didn’t feel like a crime.”

He pulled you into his arms like he was anchoring you to the earth.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he whispered into your hair. “You’re not a crime. You’re my choice.”

You clung to him, arms tightening around his waist as he rocked you gently, the lake lapping at the shore like it, too, felt the weight of your love.

For a long moment, the world faded. There was no camp. No prophecy. No gods.

Just two broken kids trying to build something out of the pieces they were given.

You pulled back slightly, your noses brushing, eyes wet and locked. He kissed your cheeks first, soft, reverent, like he was trying to erase your tears with his lips. Then your mouth. The kiss was slow, tender, almost shy. But it deepened quickly, desperation curling in every movement, a quiet ache that said, I need you. I need this. I need to feel like we’re still okay.

His hands tangled in your hair as your fingers slipped under the hem of his sweatshirt, touching the bare skin of his back. You kissed him like it might be the last time, even if you prayed it wasn’t.

When you finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against yours.

“I don’t know what the gods have planned,” he whispered. “But I’ll fight them. All of them. I’ll fight Olympus itself if I have to.”

You let out a soft, shaking breath.

“I don’t want a war,” you murmured.

“I don’t either,” he said, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “I just want you.”

And in that moment, with the stars watching, the lake shimmering, and his arms wrapped around you, you wanted to believe that was enough.

Maybe it had to be.

͏ ͏ུུ̑̑ 🌊𓇼

It began with waves.

Not soft or rhythmic, but slow, creeping things. Sludgy, dark. Pulling back and forth like something was breathing beneath them. You were standing on a desolate beach you didn’t recognize.

The sky was grey, sickly. The sand under your feet was coarse, colorless, almost like ash. Wind ripped through the air in sharp howls, but there was no sun, no moon. Just the shriek of gulls that never landed and the heavy, endless crash of water. You were barefoot, your clothes torn at the edges like you’d come from battle.

You turned, searching for something, anything familiar.

And then you saw him.

Jungwon.

He was standing at the edge of the water, barefoot like you, a few paces ahead. But something was wrong, his shoulders were hunched. His back was turned. And his hands were shackled in thick celestial bronze chains that trailed into the ocean, disappearing into the depths.

“Jungwon?”

Your voice barely carried in the wind. It was swallowed like it didn’t matter. You tried to run to him, but the sand was too deep. Too heavy. Like it didn’t want you to reach him.

Still, you pushed forward, breath stuttering in your chest.

“Jungwon, please—”

You were almost there, so close you could touch his shoulder, when the sky cracked open with a terrible, familiar voice.

“So this is what you’ve become.”

Your blood froze.

She stood at the top of the dunes, her armor glinting silver, her owl perched on her shoulder. Your mother, Athena. Radiant and cold. Her eyes glowing with power and disappointment. She descended the sand like a queen to her execution.

“All that I gave you. All the wisdom, the discipline. All the years I spent shaping your mind, your spirit. And you throw it away for this?”

She gestured to him, to Jungwon, still shackled, still silent, as if he were nothing but a stain on your honor.

“The son of the Sea. You let emotion cloud your wisdom.”

You shook your head, breath ragged.

“He’s not weak—he’s good, he’s kind—”

She was closer now, towering. Godlike. Her voice thundered across the sky.

“You think this is love. But love is foolish. Dangerous. Weak.”

Lightning struck the sand nearby, shattering it to glass. You stumbled back, hands raised, but she kept coming.

“You were supposed to be a warrior of thought. My legacy. My pride.”

“I am!” you cried, voice cracking. “I still am, I—!”

“No.”

She stopped before you, her expression carved in stone.

“You are no daughter of mine.”

The chains around Jungwon yanked suddenly, violently. He gasped, the first sound he’d made, as the ocean pulled him backward. His eyes found yours, wide and scared and betrayed.

“Y/N—!”

You sprinted, reaching for him, screaming his name, but your feet sank deeper, the shore crumbling beneath you. Your hand brushed his just as he disappeared beneath the water, swallowed whole.

“Jungwon!”

You collapsed where he’d stood. Salt stung your eyes. The waves receded.

And Athena?

She was gone.

Only the owl remained, circling overhead, shrieking and shrieking until—

You jolted awake.

Your scream caught in your throat. Your sheets were tangled, soaked with sweat. Moonlight poured through the cracks in your cabin walls, bathing everything in silver, but it didn’t soothe you. You were shaking.

You sat up slowly, pressing a hand to your heart. It was racing, too fast, too loud. Your mouth was dry. Your skin clammy. You felt like you’d drowned.

But the worst part wasn’t the fear.

It was the guilt.

Because even in a dream, even in your own subconscious, you hadn’t protected him. You’d stood still. You’d let her take everything.

You covered your face with both hands, trying to breathe through the rising panic. But the shame settled in your bones like frost.

You were Athena’s pride.

Until you weren’t.

And now… you were nothing but a girl caught between what she was born to be, and the boy she couldn’t stop loving.

͏ ͏ུུ̑̑ 🌊𓇼

You’d been quiet for days.

Not the kind of quiet that passes unnoticed, like skipping lunch or keeping your nose buried in a strategy scroll. This was the kind of quiet that carried weight. That pressed between you and Jungwon like a wall, invisible but suffocating. You could feel him watching you during practice. In the mess hall, at the stables. Always hovering just close enough to reach you, but never close enough to touch.

And it was killing you.

Because you missed him. Gods, you missed him like air. But every time you looked at him, all you could see was your mother’s face in that nightmare. Her eyes, the disappointment, the thunderous silence that followed.

You’d never known fear like that.

Not from monsters. Only from the thought of losing everything you were supposed to be.

So you started pulling back. Quietly, strategically.

You stopped meeting him behind the cabins after dinner. You skipped his favorite spot by the lake. You turned your back a little too fast when his hand brushed yours during training.

He noticed, of course he did.

You were halfway through sharpening your dagger after sparring when you felt his presence, steady, warm, uncertain , standing behind you.

You didn’t turn around.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

His voice was careful, gentle. Like he was trying not to startle something fragile. He always spoke to you like this, with so much swetness and kindness and love, and it would always drive you crazy, the velvet sound of his voice.

You kept your eyes on the blade.

“I’ve been busy.”

“Y/N.”

Just your name, but something in his tone made you pause. You exhaled, sharp and shallow, and finally turned to face him.

Jungwon stood there in his armor, hair damp from training, cheeks still flushed from effort. He looked beautiful, he always did, his dark hair and his blue eyes staring directly at your soul. But he also looked tired. Not from battle, but from you.

“Did I do something wrong?”

The question landed like a knife.

Because no, he hadn’t done anything wrong. Not once. He’d only ever loved you. Gently. Openly. Like you were something worth choosing even when it hurt. He was perfect, he was the sweetest boy ever, the bravest warrior you'd ever known.

But you couldn’t say that.

So instead you lied.

“I just think we should cool off,” you said, forcing your voice to stay even. “Keep some distance. It’s getting too risky.”

He stared at you, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

“So… you’re cutting me off.”

“It’s not like that—”

“Then what is it like?” he asked, stepping closer. His brows furrowed, confused. Hurt. “Because from where I’m standing, it feels like you don’t want this anymore.”

Your throat tightened.

“You know I do.”

“Do I?” he whispered.

You looked away, jaw clenched.

How could you explain it? The nightmare. The weight of being Athena’s daughter. The way your whole life had been a blueprint for greatness, and how one look from him, one stupid smile, could unravel every careful thread you’d ever laid down. The way that, even if you did love him, with a strength that was greater that the whole Olympus, your pride was always speaking for you, always taking you over. How you didn't want to lose him, but you also didn't want to lose the glory that being your mother's favorite brought to you.

“This… this thing between us,” you said slowly, “it’s not just reckless. It’s selfish.”

Jungwon just stood there, motionless, as if you'd just stabbed him right into his heart. He blinked, and you saw his beautiful ocean eyes glisten with tears he clearly was starting to hold.

“So love is selfish now?”

You winced, the ache on your chest growing by every second, by every word that came out of your mouth, that you didn't mean, but you had to say.

“I’m not ashamed of you,” you said quickly, before he could twist your words further. “I just… I can’t be weak, Jungwon. I can’t afford it. Not with who I am. Not with who she is.”

He was quiet for a long moment. And when he finally spoke, his voice was lower. Raw.

“Do you think I don’t know what’s at stake?” he asked. “You think I haven’t thought about it? Every day? Wondered when they’ll find out, when we’ll be punished, when you’ll leave me to save yourself?”

Your head snapped up. He knew, of course he knew.

“I’m trying to protect us,” you said, eyes stinging. “From them. From everything.”

“But who’s protecting me from you?”

The words knocked the breath from your lungs.

Because you had nothing. No defense. No brilliant answer.

“I wake up every morning wondering if you’re still mine,” he said, stepping back like it hurt to be near you. “And for days now, it’s felt like you’re not.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

He shook his head, blinking too quickly. A single tear fell down his cheek, drowning in the deep dimple that appeared when he swallowed hard.

“I thought you were brave enough to fight for us. I thought… I thought I was more than a mistake you regret.”

“You’re not,” you said, stepping forward, hand reaching for his. “You’re not a mistake.”

But it was too late.

He had already taken a step back.

“Then why do I feel like one?”

And with that, he turned and walked away, his shoulders rigid, his fists clenched, the ocean in his blood rippling with heartbreak you couldn’t soothe. You didn’t stop him. You couldn’t.

Because the truth was… you didn’t know how to love him and live up to the legacy you were born to uphold.

And for the first time since you fell for him, you didn’t know which one would survive.

͏ ͏ུུ̑̑ 🌊𓇼

Jungwon sat on the edge of his bunk, arms resting on his knees, fingers twisted together in a way that made his knuckles pale. He hadn’t taken off his training gear. He hadn’t moved much at all. His sword leaned against the bedframe, untouched. The scent of sea salt still clung to him like a second skin, but it brought no comfort now.

He swallowed hard and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“I’m not ashamed of you.”

He replayed those words again and again, like they were supposed to soothe something. But they didn’t. Because if you weren't ashamed, then why did it feel like you were hiding him?

It wasn’t the secrecy that hurt. He could live in the shadows if he had to. For you, he would. But the way you looked at him lately, distant, careful, like you were trying to build walls again, that was what made his chest feel too tight to breathe.

“I can’t be weak, Jungwon.”

As if he was the weakness. As if loving him was a flaw you had to crush before it ruined you. He knew who you were. Athena’s daughter. The pride of Cabin Six. The girl with sharp eyes and a sharper mind, who carried the weight of her legacy on her shoulders like it was carved into her bones. You were beautiful, you could easily pass as an Aphrodite girl, the way your hair rested lazily over your shoulders, the way your smile made his knees week the first time you saw him, the way you whispered his name when he was making love to you, making him addicted to you.

So why did it feel like you were already forgetting what that meant?

Jungwon let out a shuddering breath and tilted his head back against the wall, blinking up at the rafters until the blur of tears broke the lines apart.

He hated this.

Not you — never you — but the helplessness. The way love could feel so big and still not be enough to fix things.

“I thought I was more than a mistake you regret.”

He hadn’t meant to say that. Not out loud. But once it slipped, it tasted true. And that terrified him. A tear rolled down the side of his face, catching on his jaw. He didn’t wipe it away.

He let it fall.

Because for the first time since meeting you, since killing the minotaur, since arriving at this camp and watching you from across the arena with his heart in his throat, he wasn’t sure where you two stood anymore.

He loved you. More than he’d ever said. More than he probably should. And gods, it hurt. It hurt that you were slipping through his fingers and he didn’t know how to stop it.

It hurt that he was starting to wonder if maybe love wasn’t enough.

And it hurt worst of all that even though he knew you were pulling away to protect you both, to survive the wrath of your mother, and the drowning rage of his father, part of him still felt like a boy on the shore, watching the tide steal everything he cared about.

So he curled his hands into fists, pressed them to his chest, and let the waves inside him crash, quietly, endlessly, for the girl who once swore she’d never let go.

͏ ͏ུུ̑̑ 🌊𓇼

“Nice form today, Y/N.”

You turned at the sound of Nicholas’ voice, heart already racing before you even saw his face.

Nicholas, Hermes cabin. All charm, all mischief. The kind of camper who never took anything seriously except getting under people’s skin. You hated how he always smiled like he knew more than he should. Like everything was a joke to him, and this time, you were the punchline.

He leaned on the railing beside the water barrel, tapping his fingers idly. You could feel his gaze scraping over you, too casual.

“You’ve been a little distracted lately,” he said. “Something on your mind? Or… someone?”

You straightened your spine, jaw tightening.

“Spit it out, Nicholas. Whatever game you’re playing, I’m not interested.”

He tilted his head, smirking.

“I saw you the other night. By the lake, with Poseidon's son, looked… intimate.”

A cold weight dropped into your stomach. Your throat dried instantly.

You said nothing, but your silence said too much.

Nicholas caught it, like a vulture spotting blood.

“I mean, hey,” he continued, mockingly light, “who hasn’t had a little rendezvous in this camp, right? But rules are rules. And Athena’s daughter, of all people—”

“Shut up,” you snapped, harsher than intended.

His grin widened.

“Oh, I’m not judging. I think it’s cute, actually. But others? Well… they might not be as forgiving if the truth comes out. Especially when the guy in question is the boy of the prophecy.” He tapped his temple and stepped back, smug and infuriatingly calm. “Just a friendly tip: secrets don’t stay secret for long around here.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving his words to fester like poison in your mind.

You stood frozen in place, your breath shallow, eyes locked on the dirt beneath your boots as the weight of his insinuation wrapped around your chest like a vice.

And then, without thinking, you ran.

You didn’t stop until you reached your cabin.

Slamming the door behind you, you stood in the middle of the room, eyes wild, fists clenched, lungs desperate for air that didn’t seem to exist.

Everything was crashing down.

Everything you’d buried. Hidden. All the stolen kisses, the nights spent wrapped in his arms under the stars, the softest parts of you that only Jungwon had ever seen, all of it could be ripped away in an instant.

You couldn’t breathe.

You staggered back until you hit your desk, and then you were sliding to the floor, the sob escaping your lips before you could swallow it. It came out of nowhere, violent, raw.

You pressed a trembling hand to your mouth, trying to keep quiet. The daughter of Athena did not cry like this. Did not fall apart over a boy, no matter how good, no matter how kind, no matter how in love she was.

But it wasn’t just about him.

It was your pride. Your legacy. Everything your mother had molded you to be, sharp, brilliant, composed.

You were Athena’s pride.

The one who always knew the answer. The one who played by the rules. Who walked with her head high because she earned it.

And now?

Now you were a hypocrite. A traitor to your own name.

“I don’t know what to do,” you whispered into your knees, your voice cracked and desperate. “Gods, I don’t know what to do.”

You curled in on yourself on the floor, letting the panic crest and break over you like waves you couldn’t swim through.

What if someone told Chiron?

What if the gods already knew?

What if your mother — your mother — had already seen it in some cruel vision and was just waiting, disappointed, silent?

What if this love ruined everything?

And yet… you couldn’t let go of him.

Not when his voice still lingered in your ears. Not when your heart still beat his name with every breath.

“I love him,” you choked out, barely audible. “I love him, and I can’t stop.”

The cabin was silent except for your broken sobs.

You’d never felt so torn, between what you were expected to be, and what you wanted.

͏ ͏ུུ̑̑ 🌊𓇼

You didn’t knock.

Jungwon’s cabin door creaked open under your trembling hand, and the moment you stepped inside, he was already standing. Shirt loose, curls mussed from tossing and turning in bed. He hadn’t been sleeping. You could tell.

His eyes widened the second he saw your face.

“Y/N—?”

“We have a problem,” you blurted, stepping in and shutting the door a little too hard behind you. “A serious problem.”

Jungwon’s heart leapt.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

You started pacing.

“No. No, I’m not okay. I’m freaking out.”

“Talk to me,” he said gently, stepping forward, but your hands went up between you.

“Nicholas knows,” you said, breath shallow. “He saw us. By the lake. I don’t know what he saw exactly, but he knows something. He’s already smirking at me like he’s got dirt to use. And it’s only a matter of time before—before he tells someone or it slips or—gods, Jungwon, this can’t happen.”

He froze.

“You’re sure?”

“I felt it,” you said, eyes wide and panicked. “In the way he looked at me. Like he was holding something over me. And I—” You trailed off, your voice beginning to crack. “I’m scared. I’m scared, and I don’t know what to do, and I’ve worked so hard to be good. To be worthy. And now it all might fall apart because I couldn’t stay away from you.”

He flinched, like the words stung more than you intended.

You didn’t mean it like that. But gods, it felt like that, didn’t it?

You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the first wave of tears threaten your vision.

“You don’t understand, Jungwon. I’m Athena’s daughter. I’m supposed to be better. Controlled. Above feelings. I’m not supposed to break like this. Not for a boy. Not even—” You swallowed hard. “Not even for you.”

That landed somewhere deep in him.

Jungwon’s chest rose and fell sharply. His hands curled into fists at his sides, the candlelight flickering across the tense set of his jaw.

“So… what?” he said, voice quiet but edged. “You regret this?”

“No,” you snapped, stepping toward him before you could stop yourself. “No, I don’t regret you. I regret that loving you makes everything feel so dangerous. Like I’m walking on a tightrope every second of the day.”

His eyes flicked over your face, searching for something, maybe the part of you that still wanted to run. Maybe the part that still belonged to the version of you your mother had carved out.

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you,” you whispered, like it hurt to say aloud. “But I did. And now I feel like I’m suffocating. Like every day I’m waiting for it all to collapse.”

Silence followed, taut and raw.

And then Jungwon stepped forward, slowly, deliberately, until he was standing so close you could feel the warmth of his body.

“You think I don’t know that?” he murmured, voice tight with emotion.

You blinked, breath catching in your throat.

“I know your pride matters,” he continued, softer now. “I know your mother matters. Your legacy. Everything you’ve worked for. But I’d give up everything I am if it meant I didn’t have to watch you look at me like this — like I’m something you have to hide.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks then, warm and silent.

“I’m not ashamed of you,” you said, voice cracking. “I’m ashamed of how much I need you.”

His breath hitched.

The air between you felt electric, your pain mingling with his until it became indistinguishable. A mess of fear and want and love, too much love, pressed tightly between your chests.

You didn’t think, couldn’t.

You just reached for him.

The kiss that followed wasn’t soft.

It was desperate.

Your mouth crashed into his with a kind of aching hunger, your hands sliding into his hair, gripping like you needed to collide yourself to him completely or drown. He gasped into you, a small sound of surprise that melted into something deeper when your lips opened beneath his. Jungwon's arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you flush against him. His kiss was fire, slow and steady and building, like it had been waiting, simmering, and now it couldn’t be stopped. But his addictive taste was the same as always, yours.

You pulled him closer, felt the hard lines of his body through the thin fabric of his shirt, felt the way his breath stuttered when you whispered his name into his mouth.

“Y/N…” he murmured between kisses, voice thick, full of too much.

You pressed your forehead against his, eyes shut tight.

“I can’t lose you,” you whispered.

“You won’t.”

Another kiss. Deeper. Slower. His lips traced yours with reverence now, hands trailing up your back, cupping your face as though you were breakable and holy all at once. You tugged him backward toward the bed, your fingers laced in his.

And he followed, every inch of him trembling with restraint, devotion, and a need that had been buried too long.

“I want to stay,” you whispered.

He looked at you like you were the most precious thing the gods had ever made, his ocean blue orbes glistening, maybe from tears he was holding back, maybe from love, maybe from need and lust.

“Then stay.”

And as you fell into his arms again, heart pounding and lips seeking his, you weren’t Athena’s daughter or the camp’s golden girl or the girl who always followed the rules.

You were just his.

Everything else faded the moment he kissed you again, slower this time. Deep, careful, like he was memorising the shape of you, the way your lips parted for him with such natural ease. Jungwon’s fingers grazed your jaw, tilting your chin up slightly as his mouth trailed to your cheek, then your neck. You gasped when his lips found the spot just beneath your ear - the place he knew made your knees weak - the sensation lighting something warm and dizzying in your stomach.

“I’ve missed this,” he murmured against your skin. “Every night. What it would feel like to have you under me again. Just… you. Mine.”

Your breathing was shaky, legs trembling where they were tangled with his. Tilting your head so you could give him more space, you let your hands trail around his body, above the clothes, shaky fingers in his perfectly built figure.

“Jungwon…”

He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes. His expression had changed, darker, softer. Tender and commanding all at once. Not even with the lust taking over his whole body, the sweetness in the way he looked at you went away. And that's what got you even more worked up, what really got you about the way he touched and needed you.

“You’re shaking,” he whispered, brushing your hair from your face. “Tell me if it’s too much. We stop whenever you say.”

“I don’t want you to stop.” The words came out in a breath, trembling but true. “I’ve missed you too”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his chest heaving, like the need was too much, like the fear of losing you was too much.

“Okay,” he said softly, kissing your forehead. “Then let me take care of you.”

His touch grew more confident now, fingers skimming down your arms, your sides, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt like he’d dreamed of it a hundred times. His palms pressed to the skin of your ribs, and you squirmed under him, the touch sending a shiver through your whole body, every pore jumping like it knew you who you belonged to.

“Off,” he said gently, tugging your top. “Let me see you, my pretty girl.”

You nodded, heart pounding, and lifted your arms. He peeled the fabric away with reverence, like unveiling a secret. When his eyes met your bare skin, he let out a slow breath, even if he already saw you like this thousands of times, he always looked at you with the same glow in his blue eyes. You were left in your bra, and he didn't waste time before cupping your breasts with his hands, squeezing, never tough, just needy, like he couldn't believe you were his. A whimper left your mouth as you arched your back.

“Beautiful.” His voice was hoarse. “You always are, gods, I don’t think I’ll survive you.”

Your face burned, but he kissed the blush across your cheeks, your collarbone, your chest, like worship. Like you were sacred. He took his time undressing you, undoing each layer with soft kisses and careful hands, murmuring praise against your skin.

Once your pants dropped to the floor and you where left in your underwear, he bit his lip and hooked his fingers on the waistband, not pulling yet, just teasing himself and you. You were dripping, pooling wetness against the thin fabric, always so needy for him, for his touch.

Then he lowered his face, pressing soft kisses on your chest and abdomen.

“So pretty,” he whispered against your stomach. “So fucking perfect for me.”

And when he finally hovered above you, his hand cupped your cheek again.

“I want to make love to you,” he said, voice trembling now too. “Not just fuck you. Not tonight.”

Your eyes welled.

“Me too.”

He kissed you again, slower than before, hips pressing gently into yours. Every movement was deliberate, soft friction, just enough to make you ache, enough to make you reach for him. He was already hard beneath his pants, you felt him, familiar, thick, throbbing against you, and you rocked your hips too just to feel him more.

You felt his hand trail between your legs, until he reached under your panties, fingers slipping between your pussy folds with ease because he already knew every part of you. He watched you unravel beneath him, whispering your name as your breath hitched, soaking his digits with your wetness.

“You’re soaking, baby,” he murmured, eyes dark and full of want. “You want me this badly?”

“Please,” you whimpered. “I need you.”

He groaned softly and kissed your lips, your throat, your chest, until you were gasping and arching and begging. In one move he removed your bra, in the next second he slipped your panties out of you, throwing them on the floor. You were naked now, all for him.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “Gonna make you feel so good. Gonna make you fall apart on me.”

You didn't respond, you couldn't, because he grabbed your knees, strong but still gentle, spreading you just for him, blue eyes fixated in your dripping pussy, and then shoved two fingers inside of you. A soft moan left your plumped lips, your back arched again as he curled them inside of you just perfectly, as always, because he knew how much you liked it, and he groaned, thrusting them in and out of you with a slick, wet sound, until his knuckles disappeared between your tight walls.

"So perfect, so mine. Always"

“Gods, Jungwon—” you breathed, voice shaking.

He moved them expertly, fucking you with slow, deliberate thrusts, knuckles sinking deep as the slick sounds of your arousal filled the quiet of the room. His other hand stayed on your thigh, grounding you, while his mouth pressed against your stomach, your hip, your inner thigh, leaving kisses like promises.

“You take me so well, baby,” he murmured. “So tight, so perfect.”

Every word from him sent shivers down your spine. He wasn’t teasing, he wasn’t being cocky. He meant it. Every filthy, reverent word came from the deepest part of him, the part that only you got to see.

“Mine,” he whispered, curling his fingers again, right against that spot that made you cry out. “Always.”

You reached down, tangling your fingers in his hair, tugging gently. He looked up at you, pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed.

And then he leaned in again, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh, right where your skin was hottest, trembling, his breath brushing over your soaked folds before he pulled his fingers out with a slow, deliberate drag. You whimpered, your body instinctively following the loss. But before you could beg for more, he slipped his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean with a soft groan, his eyes locked on yours the entire time.

“Can’t get enough of how you taste,” he said lowly, voice barely more than a rasp. “So sweet… always so fucking sweet.”

Your chest heaved, the air thick and heavy between you. Every touch, every word, every glance, it wasn’t just lust. It was something more dangerous. More consuming. More permanent.

He leaned back down, this time using both hands to spread you open, thumbs gliding over your folds, your clit swollen and throbbing with need. He looked reverent, like you were art, and he was both the sculptor and the worshiper.

“You’re shaking for me,” he whispered, his voice suddenly gentler again, one hand coming up to rest against your lower belly as he lowered his mouth.

Then his tongue flicked over your clit — just once — and your whole body jerked.

“Jungwon,” you gasped, fingers flying to his hair again.

“That’s it,” he murmured against you, tongue moving slowly, teasingly, just enough to make your hips buck. “This is how i love to see you.”

He licked you like he had all the time in the world, slow circles, open-mouthed kisses, soft sucks to your clit that made your thighs tremble around his head. Every now and then, he’d hum, sending vibrations through your whole core, and you could feel the smug curl of his lips when you gasped his name again and again.

You were already close. Too close.

“Please—” your voice cracked. “Please don’t stop.”

He didn’t. In fact, he doubled down, slipping one hand from your thigh and easing two fingers back inside you while his mouth never left your clit. The stretch was perfect. He knew your body too well, knew just how to angle them, curl them, fuck them into you until your body was arching and your moans were turning into broken sobs of pleasure, until you were leaking and dripping against his sheets.

“Feels good?” he whispered, voice soaked in heat and affection, eyes dark and heavy with love. “You gonna give it to me, baby?”

You nodded desperately, unable to form words.

“Do it,” he whispered, curling his fingers deep and sucking on your clit just right. “Be a good girl and come on my mouth.”

Your whole body tensed, then unraveled as you cried out his name, trembling under his touch, his mouth never leaving you as he worked you through every wave of it.

By the time you came down, your limbs were boneless, your heart pounding, tears slipping from your eyes, not from pain or fear, but from everything you felt all at once.

Jungwon crawled up your body slowly, tenderly, kissing your skin on the way. When he reached your lips, he hovered just a moment, brushing a thumb over your cheek.

“You okay?” he whispered.

"Perfect." You smiled softly, and he pressed a wet kiss in your mouth.

His kiss deepened, warm and slow, as if he was trying to memorize every inch of your mouth. You could still taste yourself on his tongue, but it didn’t matter, all that mattered was how close he was, how real he felt against you, how your body ached to be his completely.

When you tugged gently at his shirt, he sat up on his knees above you, pulling it over his head in one swift motion. The soft golden light from the lone lantern flickered against his skin, his toned chest rising and falling quickly, some scars still there from previous fights, lips parted, eyes dark. Beautiful. Yours. So, so yours.

Your fingers found his waistline next, fumbling with the buttons, breath catching as he leaned down and helped you, his forehead brushing yours with a quiet:

“I’ve got you.”

He pulled down his own pants, followed by his boxers, and he was bare in front of you. Your eyes glowed, his thick length against his lower belly, veins popping, needy, red tip, familiar and yours. A shiver went down your spine.

You whispered his name like a prayer, and he stilled for a moment, eyes searching yours.

“This time feels different,” he said softly. “Like… more.”

Your throat tightened.

“Because it is.”

You both knew it wasn’t the first time. There’d been late nights before, stolen hours where desire burned hot and fast, but this wasn’t just need. This was everything you were afraid to feel. Everything you were terrified to lose.

“I don’t want to hide it anymore,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks.

“Then don’t"

You nodded, tears threatening again as he leaned down and kissed them away. Jungwon then grabbed his member, stroking himself a little, soft whimpers leaving his lips, before rubbing his swollen tip against your sensitive and dripping folds.

When he finally entered you, it was slow, so slow it made you cry out, your fingers digging into his shoulders. He stretched you so good, you could feel every vein, every inch of him against your clenched walls. He groaned against your neck, like the feel of you around him still overwhelmed him every single time.

“Gods, baby,” he whispered. “You feel like fucking heaven. Always so tight for me.”

You gasped as he bottomed out, your hips rising to meet him instinctively. He stilled there, his forehead pressed to yours again, letting you adjust. Letting you feel it, feel him, hot breath crashing with your face.

“You okay?” he asked, voice wrecked and low.

“Better than okay,” you whispered, brushing his hair back with shaking hands. “Please move.”

And he did.

He started thrusting gently, every motion slow and precise, like he was trying to make love to every part of your soul. His lips trailed across your jaw, down your neck, whispering praise between kisses.

“So good for me,” he murmured. “Taking me so well… like you were made for me.”

Your back arched, your body meeting his in perfect rhythm. It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t rushed. It was desperate in a different way, two people clinging to something they knew could shatter.

“Jungwon—” you breathed, your eyes locked on his.

He looked at you like you were divine. Like you were the most beautiful thing in every realm. He leaned down, his lips brushing yours.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he said, his voice breaking just a little. “Just for now. Even if we can’t be… just for now.”

“I’m yours,” you whispered back. “I’ve always been yours.”

The pace stuttered, his control slipping as he pressed his hips harder into you, chasing both your pleasure and his heartbreak. One of his hands found yours, fingers lacing together tightly. Anchored. Even fucking you like this, you could feel it, the deep love he felt for you, and that you felt for him. His thrusts were perfect, not too rough, but spot on, always, hitting places inside of you that made you clenche around his length even tighter and cry out his name, nails digging deep in his skin, but he didn't care, he just moaned in response, hips bucking against yours creating an obscene sound that sounded so romantic for you both.

The coil inside you start to wind again, tighter, sharper, deeper this time. Your breaths came quicker, your moans soft and shaky as his other hand reached down between you, rubbing your clit in perfect circles.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice strained. “Gonna come with me, baby? Let go for me?”

You cried out, clinging to him like he was the only thing left in the world, and when you fell apart this time, it wasn’t just your body, it was everything. Your heart, your pride, your fears, all unraveling in his arms. Your pussy clenched around him as the orgasm hit you, eyes shut and body trembling, shaking under him with so much force.

He followed with a broken groan, burying himself deep inside you as he came, spilling everything he had into you with a desperate whisper of your name, filling you so good and familiar, so warm.

After that, neither of you moved. The room was silent except for your ragged breathing, your trembling limbs tangled together in the quiet aftermath.

Then Jungwon leaned down, brushing his lips over your forehead.

“I love you,” he whispered. “No matter what the gods say. No matter what we have to face.”

You didn’t answer, you just held him tighter, tears silently slipping down your cheeks.

The candle burned low. Only the faint flicker of flame lit the cabin now, warm shadows on the walls and in the curve of Jungwon’s jaw. He laid on his side, propped up on one elbow, watching you like you were the only thing left in the world worth looking at.

You were still lying beside him, tangled in the same blanket, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the constellation of tiny scars on his shoulder. The silence between you was comfortable… but it wasn’t light. It was heavy with the weight of everything you couldn’t keep ignoring.

You swallowed.

“Jungwon?” you whispered, not looking up.

“Hm?”

“I’ve been thinking.”

He waited, gaze fixed on you.

You inhaled slowly.

“About… everything. My mom. The rules. Camp. This—us.”

You finally lifted your eyes, and he sat up a little straighter at the expression on your face, not sad, not angry… just raw. Exposed. Real.

“All my life,” you started, voice steady despite the ache in your chest, “I’ve been told that pride is the root of wisdom. That it’s what separates us from chaos. From weakness. My mother always said I was her greatest creation — her ‘perfect daughter.’ I grew up thinking that meant I couldn’t make mistakes. That I had to be the best. Always.”

Jungwon didn’t speak. He only listened, his thumb brushing slow circles over your wrist.

“And for a long time, I thought love would ruin me,” you said. “Make me weak. I thought being with you — loving you — would destroy everything I worked for. Everything she was proud of.”

You sat up now too, holding the blanket against your chest, your eyes shining in the dark.

“But that was a lie,” you whispered. “A lie I let myself believe because I was scared. Because I thought if I chose you, I’d stop being who I was. But now I know… loving you hasn’t made me weak. It’s made me stronger.”

He let out a soft, shaky breath, like he’d been holding it the whole time.

“I don’t care if I disappoint her anymore,” you went on. “I don’t care if it makes me less of what she wanted. I want to be with you. Fully. No more secrets. No more shame.”

Jungwon reached for you immediately, pulling you into his lap, your arms wrapping around his neck. His heart was pounding hard against your ribs, and his hands were holding you like he was afraid you’d vanish.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said, voice low and cracked with emotion.

“You have me,” you said firmly. “You always have.”

He pulled back just far enough to look at you, and his expression was nothing short of awe.

“Then let’s run,” he said suddenly, breathless. “Let’s run away.”

You blinked, stunned.

“Run?”

He nodded, eyes wild and full of wonder.

“Not forever. Just… for now. Just us. Away from the rules and the gods and the war they want to throw us into. We’ll find a place by the sea, somewhere no one knows us. And we’ll just be.”

You searched his face, your lips parting with the storm of feelings surging in your chest.

“Can we do that?” you asked softly, like a child asking for a dream.

“We can do anything,” he said. “As long as you’re with me. I’ll fight fate. I’ll fight Olympus. I’ll fight my own prophecy if I have to.”

Tears welled in your eyes again, but they weren’t from fear this time. They were from the sheer, overwhelming gravity of his love.

You leaned in and kissed him, slow, deep, aching, like a vow.

And when you pulled away, your voice was no longer scared

“Then let’s run.”

You knew it then, it didn't matter anymore. You would fight the whole Olympus, your own mother, even yourself, for the clumsy boy that one came to camp without knowing how to swing a sword, for the boy who stole your heart with those dimples and soft voice, for the boy who belonged not only to the salt and sea, but to you.

as always, thank u so much for reading, this one took me a lot of time because i was so blocked, but got through it. i didn’t proofread so sorry for the mistakes <3

taglist: @gulicore @bussolares @vixialuvs @berryloveseunghan @lilifiedeans @m1kkso @usuallyunlikelyfox @jayjw16enxp @starfallia @bellsjakesgf @zuwishii @cutehoons02 @immelissaaa @nyxtwixx @kayjiguki @emisluvr @k1ttyjwon @cherrymaria58 @koizekomi @crysieberry @add-this-to-that @ii-mimii @luumiinaa @firstclassjaylee @elicheel @vintaegegirl @petalsofink @mariegibeau @tunafishyfishylike @kristynaaah @stercul1a @bl43bl00d @yazmike @yeonmuse @kryllea @e-r-i-15 @ashrocker123 @deluluscenarios @ziiao

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crushribbons · 3 months ago

Text

thanks, peg J

summary: Dr. Michael Robinavitch needs help building a shelf.

cw: 2.7k words, fluff, my actual husband is an actual doctor i should probably know more/anything about how hospitals work, vague age gap (reader/oc is in her 30's), vague to graphic depictions of injury/illness, fem!OC/reader.

a/n: paging dr. daddy :) <3

(gif cred)

She pulled her stethoscope off her neck. “Oof. Sounds like a ball of a Friday night. Is it from Ikea?”

“The Ivar,” Robby specified with a nod and shrug. He looked back down at the patient list from their shift, which couldn’t have been ending at a more merciful time. The last man she had examined had spat on her. And what else should she expect?; she’d diagnosed his pain as a small kidney stone passing through his urethra and written a prescription that would all but eliminate the discomfort. If that wasn’t deserving of a loogie to the face, she didn’t know what else would be. Robby let out a sigh that sounded exactly like the exhaustion tugging her eyelids down.

Nurse Dana swept by them, her fleece jacket already three-quarters of the way on. “Don’t take too long on those autographs, kids, or night shift will just let you keep right on rolling.”

A raspy little laugh slipped past Dr. Robby’s lips and the corners of his eyes crinkled the way they always did on the rare occasions someone could tug a genuine smile out of him. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure if the lack of breakfast and the bag of Ritz crackers she’d scarfed down for lunch were the only things making her light-headed.

“Yes, ma’am,” he called after Dana. The charge nurse raised her hand without turning around and wiggled her fingers at them while darting out the double doors that led to the waiting room and exit before anyone could stop her. Robby turned back to the doctor next to him and handed her the clipboard he’d just finished signing about two hundred times.

Her hand grazed his, and the level of attention she paid to how warm and rough his fingers felt made her grit her jaw in frustration. It was her first year as an attending, how could she be letting something as ridiculous as a workplace crush get to her? She realized it had been a while since she’d spoken, and that Robby was pulling his own coat and backpack from underneath his desk.

“Need any help chasing down the million nuts and bolts that are guaranteed to burst out of the little bag when you open it?” she offered jokingly. Robby’s eyes flicked to her too fast. She felt her hairline heat up, worried she’d overstepped.

None of the attendings did anything outside of work together; the work hours were long enough to get their fill of each other without feeling the need to add alcohol or food to the mix. Some of the students and residents would occasionally hit bars after their shifts, and though she had no desire to join them, it made her miss the relative lack of responsibility of med school. Dr. Robinavitch, in particular, never broached the topic of his personal life at work, so she tried to do the same. There were too many patients to see and too much to accomplish to bother checking if the attractive ER chief with the puppy-dog eyes had plans for the weekend. No matter how much she wanted to.

He let out another chuckle, though this one was without humor. "Don't tell me you got nothing better to do than that," he said. "On a Friday night."

"I'm, uh, still finding my way around Pittsburgh." It was true. Her residency in California had spoiled her, and she found the stark greyness of Pennsylvania off-putting. She rarely ventured from her apartment for anything other than work and necessary grocery shopping.

He regarded her for a few seconds. His gaze felt heavier than it should have, as if she had some symptom that didn't line up with her lab results. She remembered what Dr. Santos had muttered to her on her first day at the Pitt when she'd caught the new doctor staring a little too long at Robby typing his notes.

"I know. He's crazy hot, right?" Trinity had pinched her elbow and embarrassment had made her stutter nonsensically. Then, to top off the humiliation, Trinity had started swaying her shoulders side to side and singing under her breath, "I will be your father figure, put your tiny hand in mine..." The younger woman was known for being abrasive, but, shit, she was a perceptive little fucker, too.

"I'd be a fool to turn down help wrangling Ivar. Ikea furniture is my Achilles heel," Robby was saying when she snapped back to the present. He seemed hesitant. He couldn't tell whether she'd been joking or not, and, frankly, she couldn't either. "But I couldn't ask you to–"

"You'd be doing me a favor," she cut in quickly. He would, in more ways than one. "If I sit on my couch with my cat for one more weekend, I think they're gonna start letting me collect Social Security."

A genuine laugh! Her stomach flipped upside down at the sight and the sound. Both were warm and inviting and made her want to kiss each of the individual lines on his weathered face. "Then by all means, please."

Oh, wait. Was this happening? Was it, actually? Nerves gnawed at her while she finished handing off the patient list to the night shift. What was it? A date? A friend helping another friend put a shelf together? A coworker helping another, older and more senior coworker who intimidated the hell out of her put a shelf together?

As Robby departed through the same double doors Dana had dashed through, he turned and pointed significantly at his phone, and she pulled hers from her pocket to see that he had texted her his address. Nothing else, just the address, dashed out in Robby’s usual efficient and minimalistic tone. He hadn’t even included the city and zip, but he didn’t need to. Living further than 15 minutes away from the hospital seemed like something a less dedicated physician might consider, but she knew that Robby didn’t really live at the address he’d sent her, anyway. He lived in all the exam rooms and hallways surrounding her, their sanitized scent pricking at her nose one last time before she stepped into the waiting room and the few remaining rays of sunlight waiting to greet her outside.

The door opened on her second knock, or, more accurately, before she could even finish it. Goddammit. She should have taken more time to consider what an off-duty Dr. Robby might look like.

“Hey,” he said, a genial smile lighting up his tired face.

“H–mm, hi,” she replied. She tried to hide a swallow.

Robby stood aside and let her pass through the front door of the aged but charming brownstone. The long hallway was lined with dark wooden panels that creaked when she walked over them. She tried not to feel him following behind her, the scent of some musky shampoo or body wash drifting off him. She also showered directly after a shift. Too much hospital.

A line of hooks held various jackets and sling bags, and a haphazard pile of worn sneakers sat beneath them. “I gotta get a rack for those, or something,” Robby muttered from behind her, noticing her sightline.

“You should see mine. The floor of my closet is a nightmare.”

She walked into the living room and couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. It was sparsely but cozily finished, an overstuffed couch and matching loveseat positioned atop a plush rug that hugged her feet taking up most of the space. And, of course, a veritable disaster of boards, planks, plastic bags, and ripped cardboard in the middle of all of it.

“Yikes.”

“Thank you, again, for helping me with this,” he said, and came to stand beside her. “Why is it that I can perform a trach in my sleep, but the assembly of Swedish furniture is my downfall?” He scratched the back of his neck, the white t-shirt he was wearing showing off far too much of what was usually hidden beneath a few layers of thermals, scrubs, and hoodies. Her hairline started to feel hot again.

She cleared her throat and made her way over to the pile of shelf. “For what med school costs, they really should be teaching us the essentials like this stuff, too!” He didn’t respond, making her look up at him. He was watching her again, with that sort-of-absent-but-always-thoughtful x-ray vision. She wished he’d stop.

“You really got none of the cynicism and all of the optimism out of your residency, didn’t you?”

She flushed and looked back down at the ground, unsure if he was making fun of her. “It being basically on the ocean didn’t hurt. Lots to be optimistic about in northern Cali, it’s so beautiful.”

Robby shook his Midwest-born-and-bred head. “Damn hippy.” His voice was gruff, but his dark eyes were sparkling and she felt some of the tension in her shoulders dissipate in a giggle. He crossed the room and through an arch that led to the kitchen. “I ordered some Chinese for dinner, hope that’s alright,” he called back to her.

The tension returned tenfold and her heart began doing somersaults in her chest. Dinner? This included dinner now? Sure, it was time for dinner, but she hadn’t wanted to be so presumptuous as to suggest adding food to this friendly favor she was performing. Robby returned laden with white paper takeout boxes and a handful of napkins and chopsticks. “Like lo mein?” he asked. She nodded.

“Yes, but you really didn’t have to get anything for me! That’s so nice,” she gushed, trying to reign in the attraction to this man and behave as if he was just any other rugged, kind, intelligent guy she might come in contact with. She was so screwed.

He pressed the box of lo mein into her hand with a pair of chopsticks. “It’s the least I can do to thank you for helping with this,” he shrugged. “Hopefully, you still have an appetite after that bike accident from this morning.” The memory of the young man’s torso torn open and spilling out onto the operating table sent a nauseous wave from her head to her stomach, but she quickly compartmentalized it, as she’d learned to do long ago.

“Why do people even buy motorcycles,” she muttered rhetorically.

“Uh, because they love visiting you so very much,” he returned with a wink that made her miss her mouth with the chopsticks.

Two hours later, the shelf was only two-feet tall and missing three of the nine screws it had required so far.

“Peg L, peg L, peg L,” Robby said through gritted teeth, “where the fuck is peg L?”

She held the instructions centimeters away from her face, hoping the proximity would illuminate its solutions somehow. “Peg L goes into plank K. We just placed plank H.” He stopped running his hands along the carpet to search for the missing peg L and looked up at her with a speck of encroaching insanity peeking through.

“I’m out of order?”

“Miiiike,” she laugh-groaned. “Did you already use peg G? We need J right now!” When he didn’t answer, she glanced up from the “simple” instruction packet. A sleepy kind of flush appeared on his face, and he pulled the reading glasses off to massage the bridge of his nose and–hide it? Then, he sighed.

“God, no one’s called me just…Mike in forever.” It was a complete sentence, a complete statement, a complete story, and he was done talking about it, but it made a million questions bubble up in the back of her throat. She ignored them.

“You’re at work too much,” she almost whispered. Why she was no longer scared of stepping over some professional, coworker boundary, she wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the way he had accepted her help with such a domestic task, or the fact that they were seeing each other in something other than scrubs for the first time (the loose, perfectly worn-in jeans he was wearing would surely be appearing in her dreams that night), or maybe it was because their legs had been pressed together for the last half hour as they tried to decipher the mysteries of Ivar. Whatever it was, Robby–Mike, felt it, too. He stared into her eyes before averting them to the floor and mumbling,

“Yeah. I know.” He put the glasses back on. “So, peg J.”

“C’mere, ya little Swedish asshole,” she agreed, and they resumed pawing around the rug to try and find the screws that, as predicted, had spilled from the package as soon as Robby had ripped it. She tried to avoid brushing against his hand as well as she could, until her fingers bumped into a tiny piece of metal, and she snatched the screw from the ground. Carefully consulting the instructions, she looked from the page, to the screw, to the page, before shouting, “Oh my God, I found it!”

His hands were cradling either side of her face in a second, and then he was kissing her. The part of her brain that handled compartmentalization clocked in at lightning speed and swept all her confusion into the bin so she could focus on nothing except his beard scratching her, his warm hands cupping her jaw. Well, well before she had gotten her fill of him, he pulled back and blurted, “Awesome! Good job, let’s put it in.” He plucked the screw out of her hand like the conversation had just been on pause, scooting over on his knees to the feeble half-shelf.

She sat in complete shock until Robby, without turning to face her, said, “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

“Mike.”

“You just looked–and I, it’s been…I’m really sorry.”

“Mike.”

He was attempting to twist the screw into place with his fingers so he didn’t have to come get the screwdriver from beside her. “I overstepped. It won’t happen again. If you want to take it to HR…”

That was enough to jumpstart her brain again, and she burst into laughter, forcing him to finally spin around.

“HR? Really?” She made a phone out of her pinky, fist, and thumb and held it to her ear. “Hello, Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center Department of Human Resources? Yes, I’d like to file a report against one of your doctors.” She was having a hard time stifling her laughter. “Dr. Michael Robinavitch. Yes, the hottie from the ER, that’s correct. He really laid one on me—"

It was Robby's turn to cut her off, and he did so by rolling his eyes and snatching the instructions out of her other hand. "Hey!" She dove after them but decided instead to drag him in by the collar of his shirt for another kiss. They both held each other tightly, Robby's hands wandering, respectfully, under the hem of her shirt. When she tugged a handful of his hair, he grunted in annoyance.

"Watch it. Don't have much of that left."

"You've got a lot for an old man." She regretted it as soon as she said it, even though he had already alluded to it. His head dropped and apologies bubbled up and out of her lips, assurances that that's not how she'd meant it, that he was the most attractive man she'd met at the Pitt, but he waved them off.

His glasses were sliding down his nose again. He cleared his throat and pushed them back up. "Are you okay with it, then? I mean, I know I'm not..." Her heart ached when he trailed off, nervously scratching the back of his neck again.

"Very ok," she whispered. She reached for his hand and took it. He was fiddling with a screw that she plucked out and tossed to the side. "I'm 31, you know, Senior Elder Doctor Robinavitch."

Robby smiled, clearly in spite of himself. He tucked a piece of hair that had fallen into her eyes behind her ear. For a minute, they just sat and looked at each other, matching each other's lazy smiles. "That's it. Didn't want to have to do this, but you're fired."

"Okay now I want to take this to HR."

masterlist

#being RESPECTFUL with this one cuz the tag is still growing :)#i'm not off hiatus just dropping and running lol!!!#this show is so effing stressful i have no other recourse but to stare at Him #the pitt x reader #dr. robby x reader #michael robinavitch x reader #doctor robby x reader #laneywrites #noah wyle if you see this i am free thursday night please reply if you are also free thursday night #trying a new (lazier) aesthetic w this one and it feels good feels organic xx

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ariestrxsh · 22 days ago

Text

dom!reader x sub!chris x dom!friend

➶ ࣪ ִֶָ𖹭. content warning: threesome (ffm), semi-public, praise, degradation, light humiliaton, handjob, oral (m & f!receiving), unprotected sex, double cowgirl, facial

➶ ࣪ ִֶָ𖹭. summary: you and a friend seduce the cute, quiet boy who always sits at the back of the class and keeps to himself while the three of you are at a party on campus

dividers (top) by @/chachachannah (bottom) by @/sisterlucifergraphics

No I In Threesome

Loud rap music blared throughout the house as you and your best friend, Desiree, navigated your way through a sea of drunk college kids, trying not to trip over the pairs of feet as you made your way to the other side of the room.

You were laughing and carrying on about how excited you were for midterms to be over with and which boy you hoped would hit on you tonight when you noticed Desiree become a bit distracted.

"Awh. Look. That's the sweet boy who's in our communications class. He's all by himself," Desiree said, gently squeezing your arm before gesturing over at Chris who was sitting all alone on the couch, hoodie pulled on over his head with a red solo cup in one hand and his phone in the other.

"I'd love it if he hit on me," you chuckled, admiring his attractive features.

"Oh, come on. He's not the type to hit on someone. He's the type to get hit on," Desiree giggled, clocking his submissive behavior.

He was a shy, quiet boy who had a sweet demeanor, usually sitting at the back of the classroom and mostly keeping to himself. You hadn't spoken to him too many times, but the few interactions you'd had with him, you'd found his timid nature incredibly endearing.

He'd been so nervous, stumbling over his words and blushing anytime he made direct eye contact with you. You'd had your eye on him for a while because of this, secretly craving him.

You figured this might be an opportunity to bring one of your biggest fantasies to life. You leaned over and whispered a naughty idea into your best friend's ear, one the two of you had joked about before, but this time, you were serious.

At first, she giggled, covering her mouth with her hand as blood rushed to her cheeks at your suggestion, but the longer she thought about it, the more she found herself seriously considering it. She slowly nodded, the embarrassed smile fading from her expression.

"Now's our chance to go ask him. Let's go," you replied, taking Desiree's hand as the two of you strutted over to the blue-eyed boy who was peering down, scrolling through Instagram and not paying his surroundings any mind. You came up on his left side and Desiree on his right.

"Hey, pretty boy," you spoke aloud, pulling his phone out of his hand while Desiree took his drink from him, both of you collapsing down on the couch beside him. The two of you crowded him so closely, you were nearly perched on his lap. He glanced between the two of you, shifting nervously around on the leather.

"Mind if we have a little chat?" Desiree asked, taking a sip of his drink before leaning forward and placing the red solo cup on the coffee table.

"Yeah, we had this really silly idea, and we wanted to run it by you," you replied, tucking his phone into his hoodie pocket. He gestured toward himself, raising his eyebrows and looking around as if the two of you were addressing someone else. You nodded, biting down on your lip and placing your hand on his thigh.

"An idea? S-sure. W-what is it?" He wondered aloud, peering down at your hand placement as he swallowed the lump forming in his throat. All he could think about was how dangerously close you were to his...

Before he could finish his thought, Desiree stooped forward and whispered something into his ear. As he listened to her bold language and sexual vulgarity, you watched him widen his gaze, and his jaw dropped as a look of desire flashed across his face.

He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"You w-want to what? With m-me?" Chris asked, raising his eyebrows at the two of you. He'd never had a woman come onto him so strongly, never mind two.

"Of course, you, silly boy. Come on. It'll be so fun," you purred into his ear, pulling off his hood and running your fingers through his brown locks.

"Yeah, what do you say, pretty boy? Think you can handle us both?" Desiree cooed, leaning in and resting her palm on his chest.

Chris eagerly nodded with a flushed expression, knowing damn well he probably couldn't, but he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity.

He looked at the two of you speechless, still in disbelief about what the two of you were suggesting. A threesome? With him? His cock stirred in his jeans at the way the two of you were devouring him whole with your eyes and putting your hands all over him.

"Ever taken two girls on at the same time?" You wondered, licking your lips as your gaze dropped to his lips. He timidly shook his head no.

"That's okay, baby. No need to be nervous. We'll pop your threesome cherry," Desiree told him, gripping his jaw and turning his head to face her. He slowly nodded, his heart pounding in his ears and his erection twitching in his pants.

"Sweet boy. You're already getting excited, aren't you?" You hissed, reaching for his bulge. He glanced over at you and let out a relieved sigh as you soothed his aching cock by gently palming him through the demin fabric. He peered down at where you were touching him, his jaw falling open as pleasure washed over his features.

"Don't worry, pretty boy. We'll show you how to take good care of us," you assured him, cradling his face and tracing his jawline with the tips of your fingers.

You slowly leaned in, closing the distance between your lips and his. Your tongue slipped into his mouth as he hummed into yours, a response to the way you caressed his eager cock that was straining against his pants. You pulled away, chuckling at how easily he had gotten worked up.

"But first, baby. We're gonna take really good care of you," Desiree told him, grabbing his jaw again and facing him towards her. He peered up at her with his desperate blue eyes and slowly nodded as she leaned in to kiss him, their lips locking onto one another's.

She slipped her tongue into his mouth, and he moaned when he felt the ball of her piercing. His heart started to race, and his palms started to sweat. He wanted to reach out and touch you both, but his nervous energy had his arms pinned at his sides, too shy to do anything with his hands.

Desiree pulled away from the kiss, giggling and commenting on how soft his lips were as she ran the pads of her fingers over them. His breath hitched.

"I think we should take him somewhere upstairs, don't you?" You asked, glancing between Chris and Desiree as you combed through his messy brown hair with your manicured fingernails.

"We definitely should. We don't want anyone to see what we're about to do to him," Desiree replied, biting down on her lip as she bore into Chris with her seductive stare. His breathing became more labored, his imagination running wild as her words danced around in his mind.

"Let's go," you said, leaning in before you jumped up and started to head to the second floor. You grabbed Chris' wrist and dragged him up the stairs. Desiree followed closely behind the two of you.

You started trying the doors, hoping that at least one room was available. The first couple you tried were locked presumably due to people who already had the same idea as the three of you.

The third doorknob that you turned opened easily, and you stepped into the room without any hesitancy, guiding Chris and Desiree in as well. Desiree closed the door behind her, the latch sounding as she locked it to keep someone from walking in on the three of you.

You didn't know whose bedroom you were in. It didn't matter. You just needed privacy and a bed.

You and Desiree kicked off your heels, discarding them into a pile on the floor. Chris followed suit, kicking off his converse. You sauntered over towards the sweet, shy boy, gently pushing him onto the edge of the queen-sized mattress. You and Desiree sat on either side of him again.

"W-what are you guys gonna do?" Chris asked, his eyes full of excitement and wonder as Desiree fiddled with the zipper of his hoodie. She slowly unzipped it, revealing the black t-shirt he had on underneath. She pushed his open hoodie down off of his arms and tossed it carelessly onto the floor.

"Come on, pretty boy. Don't play dumb," you softly answered, your lips curling into a devious smile as you reached for his belt, popping open the buckle. His heart raced, pumping more blood to the place he needed it most as he watched you undo his zipper and the button on his jeans.

You weren't wasting any time. You hooked your fingers into his waistband, pulling his pants and his boxers down slightly to reveal his length. "It's so pretty, baby," you complimented him, staring down at his cock as it sprung out of the restrictive fabric, "and so big."

He sharply inhaled as his precum covered tip was exposed to the cool air. "Wow! Look at that," Desiree said, peering down at it wide-eyed. She reached down, wrapping her fingers around his thick, veiny shaft, and started to stroke it gently.

You tilted his chin towards you again, looking into his pretty blue eyes and admiring his flushed cheeks and his slightly parted lips. "We're gonna have so much fun with you," you cooed before you slowly leaned in again. His eyes fluttered closed, meeting you halfway as he predicted your next move.

You engulfed his soft, warm lips with your own, feeling his breath quicken as Desiree sped up the pace of her strokes. You gently bit down on his sensitive flesh, causing him to whimper into your mouth, the soft vibration tickling your lip.

You moved to his jaw, leaving a trail of kisses as you made your way to his neck. Desiree did the same, latching onto the other side of his neck as she gently suckled on a sweet spot just below his ear. More soft moans unfurled from his pouty lips as the two of you teased him.

You peered down at his dick that was twitching in Desiree's grasp, and you delicately placed your own hand on it. A guttural noise came from the blue-eyed boy as you swiped your thumb over his swollen tip, causing the clear fluid that had gathered at his slit to leak down his length. You listened to all the pretty sounds and took in the sight of all the pretty faces he made, feeling a wetness pooling between your thighs.

"Wanna feel our mouths somewhere else?" Desiree whispered into his ear, her lips brushing gently against his earlobe and sending goosebumps across his skin. All he could think about was her tongue ring.

"Please," he desperately whined, savoring the feeling of being played with by you both at the same time. You slowly slid off the bed, nestling between Chris' legs, and Desiree followed.

The two of you looked up at him with your lustful eyes, both leaning in to lick a stripe from the base of his cock to his swollen tip. He shuddered at the sensation of both of your tongues gliding across his sensitive skin, tightly gripping the blanket beneath him as a moan spilled from his lips.

You gently flicked your tongue over the head, tasting the salty flavor of his arousal as he lifted his hips off the bed, subconsciously trying to coax it into your mouth. You and Desiree giggled at his desperation, which turned him on even more.

The soft sounds of the two of you planting kisses along his shaft echoed throughout the room along with Chris' labored breath and the moans he choked out as you each neared his most sensitive spot.

You circled his tip with your tongue a few more times before you finally took it into your mouth, the whole time Chris staring at you in anticipation. You hummed around the head, feeling him twitch against your lips. Desiree continued trailing kisses along his length, her mouth only a few inches from yours.

The two of you alternated, taking turns putting him into your mouth until he was squirming beneath you, whimpers slipping from his lips. You both started swirling your tongues over his slit in unison, his cock writhing in your grasp. He could feel the smooth metal of Desiree's tongue piercing stimulating his tip and creating a wonderful sensation he'd never felt before.

You each giggled and slurped up the clear fluid that was leaking from him, making his whole body tense beneath you. He tried so hard to fend off his orgasm, but he was teetering on the edge, just a few subtle movements from coming completely unraveled beneath the two of you.

You could see the pleasure etched into his facial expression. "Awh, look. He's so close," you said, pulling your mouth away for a moment.

"Already?" Desiree scoffed, following your lead and pulling her mouth off of him. "I thought he said he could handle this."

"Are you kidding? You really believed him when he said that?" You teased him, giving him a little smile as you gazed into his desperate blue eyes. The way the two of you subtly humiliated and degraded him made his cock pulse.

Suddenly, your gaze wandered from Chris to your friend. "Kiss me," you softly whispered as the two of you withdrew your attention from Chris and started making eyes at each other. He watched in awe as you reached up to cradle your friend's face, your gaze dancing over her features before the two of you embraced, your bodies pressing against each other as your lips met hers.

You loved kissing girls. Desiree's skin was smooth, and her lips were so tender and tasted faintly of her vanilla chapstick. You felt her warm breath mixing with yours. Your senses were filled with her sweet perfume and her favorite moisturizer she wore every day. You couldn't get enough of her.

She quietly moaned into your mouth as your hands wandered her body, tracing every curve. Her hands did the same, gripping your waist and pulling you closer. Her touch was much softer than a man's. She was much more passionate and somehow also more gentle.

Chris grew a bit jealous. He'd just gone from having the attention of two women to none in a matter of seconds, but he couldn't take his eyes off either of you.

The kiss the two of you shared was so erotic that he felt like he was intruding on two lovers sharing a vulnerable moment, almost like he was witnessing something he shouldn't be. You carded your fingers through Desiree's long, soft hair, your lips melding into hers as you fell deeper and deeper into her kiss.

The two of you had made out before two or three times in high school when the two of you were practicing for kissing boys and at a sleepover when you'd been dared by another mutual friend to kiss eachother, but nothing this heated until now.

You started reaching up her shirt, your hands brushing against the warm, smooth skin of her stomach until you reached her chest. You gently squeezed her breast as she hummed in delight, the vibration tickling your lip.

You pulled away for a short moment, just long enough to pull Desiree's shirt off over her head, leaving her in nothing but her jeans and her lace bra. You gently tugged on the lacey fabric, revealing her perfect breast. You leaned in and took her nipple into your mouth, gently sucking on it.

She threw back her head, gently tangling her fingers in your hair as she savored the feeling of your tongue flicking against her sensitive bud. The sounds she made were heavenly, and you smiled against her chest as you listened to how good you were making her feel.

Chris couldn't pull his eyes off of the two of you. He loved how tenderly you each interacted with one another, taking notes on what he'd do differently the next time he kissed a woman.

You slowly retreated, looking up at her before you attached your lips to hers again. You felt her hand resting on the inside of your thigh, her fingertips unhurriedly gliding up your skirt. Your breath hitched in your throat for a moment as she brushed her thumb against the damp patch on your underwear.

She pulled away from the kiss for a moment, but kept her hand between your legs, softly drawing circles on your clit through the fabric. "Oh, my god. You're so wet," she gasped with a bit of surprise in her voice.

Chris started slowly stroking his length as the two of you leaned in again, your lips being pulled together by some kind of magnetic force while your curious hands continued roaming each other's bodies.

Your fingers wandered to the front of Desiree's jeans, slowly undoing the button and pulling down the waistband to reveal her white panties she had on underneath. You gently squeezed her soft, round ass, smirking against her lips.

After you tugged them the rest of the way down her legs, the pads of your fingers slipped down the front of the cotton fabric, and you gently brushed against her wet folds, causing her to moan again. You had always wanted to touch her like this, to elicit these sounds from her, and you couldn't believe it was finally happening.

Chris' mind was swimming with thoughts, wondering if the two of you had slept together before this due to the obvious sexual chemistry that lingered between the two of you and wondering what he did to deserve becoming a voyeur to such a seemingly intimate moment.

When the two of you pulled away, you were each breathless and staring into each other's eyes. You'd almost forgotten Chris was right there until you saw him getting carried away with himself out of your peripherals and heard his soft whimpers as he started pumping faster.

"Ah, ah, ah. Better not cum yet, naughty boy. We're just getting started," Desiree smirked over at him, gently swatting his wrist. Chris nodded. He slowed his strokes to a stop, looking at the two of you like he'd been scolded.

Desiree reached for the hem of your top, and as your raised your arms, she pulled it off over your head, her eyes dropping to your breasts that were spilling out over your bra. Her gaze wandered over to Chris whose eyes were locked onto your tits. "Sit on the bed next to him," your friend told you with a devious smile on her face.

Chris scooted over a few inches, making room for you on the edge of the bed to his left. Chris' stare danced over your body as you stood up and plopped down beside the blue-eyed boy. He admired the pretty black bow connecting the two halves of your bra, licking his lips as he imagined taking it off of you.

"You can touch me," you offered him permission, sensing that he may have been too shy to ask. He blushed and smiled, reaching over with a trembling hand and delicately cupped your boob. He brushed his thumb along the fabric, feeling your nipple harden beneath his touch.

He hooked his finger into the strap of your bra and slowly tugged it down your shoulder, his eyes meeting yours once more to make sure he wasn't crossing any boundaries. You nodded in approval. He smiled when the fabric fell away, revealing your bare breast to him. He lowered his head, bringing his lips to your nipple and flickering his tongue over it, eliciting a moan a from you.

"Good boy," you cooed, reaching up and gently scratching his head as you ran your red nails through his hair. He whimpered against your chest at your praises, eager to do anything to receive more.

Desiree was on her knees in front of you, reaching under you skirt again and catching her fingertips on the waistband of your panties. She slowly slipped them down your thighs, discarding them behind her as she parted your legs and spread you open. Her warm breath hitting your heat caused you to gasp and shudder.

Chris peered down at her, eager to watch her start eating you. He'd only ever seen a girl eat another girl out in porn, never in real life.

Desiree's eyes were fixed on yours as she leaned in and attached her lips to your bundle of nerves. You jumped at the feeling of her mouth on you, and Chris watched in awe at the way her tongue started fluttering around on your most sensitive spots, her shiny, smooth piercing massaging your clit.

Your fingers found themselves threaded in her hair again as you pushed her head down. She gently shook her head, nuzzling your cunt. You rolled your hips forward, grinding against her face and leaving her chin soaked in your juices. You peered into her eyes, hypnotized by the way she looked at you, already nearing the edge.

"You wanna cum all over my tongue, don't you?" She whispered, her warm breath hitting your cunt. You fervently nodded, your eyes begging her to put her mouth back on you. "Not yet, not until Chris has some fun with you, hmm?" She cooed, giving you one last slow, soft, sensual kiss between your legs before she pulled away and glanced over at the boy beside you. "Wanna taste her?" She asked him in a sweet voice.

His eyes lit up. He turned the inner corners of his eyebrows up with his lips slightly parted as he slowly nodded. He slid off the bed, kneeling beside your friend. Desiree helped him out of his shirt, revealing his silver chain necklace.

You glanced down in anticipation as his shirtless form settled between your legs. You leaned back on the bed, propping yourself up with your elbows. Desiree placed a hand on each of your thighs and pushed them as far apart as she could.

"Doesn't she have such a pretty pussy?" She said to him, but her eyes were on you, watching your reactions and watching the way your cunt quivered at her words.

"It is. It's very pretty," Chris replied, wetting his lips as he drew nearer, his cold chain tickling your soft skin. He peered down, soaking in the sight of your glistening pussy just inches from his face.

His tongue darted out, brushing against your clit and making you softly moan. He gave a few sweet kitten licks, closing his eyes, too nervous to directly look at you as he started working his lips on your sensitive bud.

"C'mon, pretty boy. Don't be shy. I bet she wants to see those pretty blue eyes of yours while you eat her, hmm?" Desiree encouraged him, softly running her fingers through his hair.

He reluctantly opened his eyes, gazing up at you and the pleasured expression on your face, which encouraged him to keep going. His licks because a little messier, drooling all over your cunt as he ate you out. He wrapped his lips around your sensitive clit, gently suckling on it and moaning against you.

You couldn't get enough of his mouth and his fucked out expression as he got drunk off of you, slurping up all your wetness.

"Chris..." you moaned, one hand reaching up to squeeze your breast and the other tangled in Chris' brown locks. Your body began to tighten as he sped up the flicker of his tongue that hit all the right spots with the perfect pressure. "Oh, Chris.. Where did you learn to do that?" You whimpered, your legs beginning to shake.

You'd always been under the impression that he'd need to be taught or need to be shown how to do it right, but the look in his eye and the feathery touch of his tongue suddenly had you believing otherwise. Perhaps he was more experienced than he let on. He smirked up at you, knowing you'd fall apart any minute.

Desiree whispered into his ear while he licked you, calling him a good boy and telling him what a good job he was doing. His soft tongue continued exploring your wet folds, every few seconds, closing his lips down around your sensitive button and gently suckling on it, sending jolts of pleasure through you.

You clamped your thighs down on his head, suffocating him with your pussy as your body began to spasm. He could feel your wetness flooding his tastebuds as you finished, both his hands traveling to your waist and pulling you down further onto his face.

You let out a stream of unintelligible whimpers and moans as you continued grinding against his tongue, enjoying every last bit of contact his mouth made with you. You loved every second, even the aftershocks as you came down from your intense orgasm, Chris still lazily dragging his tongue along your folds and licking you clean.

You sat up as Chris retreated from between your legs, wiping a drop of sweat that had formed on his brow. He breathlessly smiled up at you with a flushed expression and pink-tinted cheeks, his chin covered in a sheen of your arousal.

"You did so good, Chris," you praised him, still trying to catch your breath. "Come lay down on the bed for us, hmm?" You softly spoke, patting the mattress like you were beckoning a puppy. He nodded, biting down on his lip. "We're gonna use your mouth and your cock at the same time, okay?"

He nodded even more enthusiastically this time. He laid back on the bed in nothing but his underwear and his silver chain, his chest rising and falling from excitement. You and Desiree exchanged a devious look, each of you closing in on him.

You slipped your hand into his waistband, pulling out his length, throwing your leg over his lap and straddling him while Desiree straddled his face, facing you while she pulled her panties to the side. You lined him up with your entrance, sinking down on him at the same time that his mouth made contact with your friend's warm, wet cunt.

Chris moaned as you slid down on his length, feeling every ridge and every vein of his pulsing cock as you stretched around it. You lowered yourself all the way until you were completely full of him.

You couldn't help the noises that slipped past your lips as you started to ride, trying to find a rhythm. You started to roll your hips forward, massaging Chris' cock with your walls and causing him to whimper against Desiree's cunt once more.

"Oh my god," Desiree said in a breathy voice as Chris started expertly eating her. She started grinding against Chris' tongue while the two of you stared into each other's eyes, exchanging looks of sheer pleasure.

"He's so good with his mouth, isn't he?" You cooed, reaching up and brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She slowly nodded, her jaw dropping as Chris started to suck on her clit. You rode Chris a bit faster, leaning in and pulling Desiree into another long, slow kiss.

Chris was overwhelmed by having two women make out on top of him while he pleasured you both, desperately trying not to finish too soon.

The room was filled with rhythmic breathing, loud moaning, and the languid sounds of Chris' cock and tongue working in and out of both of you. You squeezed around him, already getting close again, whimpering against your friend's lips.

"I'm gonna cum," Desiree whispered, pulling away from the kiss and pressing her forehead against yours. You gazed into her eyes, caressing her pretty face. "Yeah? You're gonna cum? All over his soft tongue?" You asked her.

She nodded, her moans growing more desperate as Chris started licking her more fervently. "Yes. Good girl. Finish for me," you smiled, talking her through it.

She started thrashing her hips, her orgasm crashing over her and leaving her a trembling mess. Chris graciously cleaned her with his tongue, savoring her flavor as she overwhelmed his tastebuds with her sweetness.

Your climax hit you shortly after, Chris' tip hitting all your hard to reach places as you bounced on him. He could feel you start to rhythmically clench around him, your cum starting to leak down the sides of his cock as his name cascaded from your lips.

You slowed down, still riding the high of your earth-shattering orgasm, your cunt still fluttering around his cock.

Chris was desperately squirming beneath the two of you. He couldn't take anymore, on the verge of his own release. "Where do you wanna cum, baby?" You asked the sweet boy, staring down at his fucked out expression after Desiree climbed off of him.

"On your pretty faces. Please," he whimpered in response.

You and Desiree crawled off the bed and knelt down on the floor, and Chris climbed to his feet, standing over the two of you. You each placed a hand on his length, pumping his cock that was ready to bust at any moment now.

He glanced back and forth between you two, taking in the sight of both of your smeared makeup and messed up hair, wondering how he'd gotten lucky enough to have two beautiful women on their knees, waiting for him to finish with mouths open wide and tongues sticking out.

He placed a hand on each of your cheeks, stroking your faces as he gazed at both of your eager expressions. His lips parted slightly after he licked them, and he pinned his eyebrows together as his eyelids grew heavy.

You knew he was coming undone seconds before pearly white ropes of cum shot all over each of your faces, squirting into both of your mouths and coating your features in his warm, sticky substance. Whimpers and profanities poured uncontrollably from him as he released all his pent up sexual frustration.

He stared down at the two of you who were giggling and laughing. A smile curled on his perfect lips that were bright pink with arousal as you both milked him dry. "Holy fuck. That was amazing," he managed to spit out, but he knew amazing didn't really do it justice.

"Naughty boy," Desiree smirked up at him, her hand still wrapped around his thickness.

"You liked that a little too much," you teased him as he tried to gather his thoughts and recover, completely dazed. He couldn't help but to wonder if maybe you guys had liked that a little too much.

After you and Desiree helped clean each other up in the bathroom, and after you'd both kissed Chris goodnight, telling him how much fun you had and suggesting the three of you should do it again sometime, you two started your walk back home from the party.

"That wasn't just some ploy to get me to make out with you and eat your pussy, was it?" Desiree nudged you in the arm, smirking over in your direction as the two of you made your way down the sidewalk, both sets of your heels clicking against the pavement.

"What!?" You asked, trying to sound shocked. "I can't even believe you'd suggest that!" You exclaimed. The two of you exchanged a look and broke out into laughter.

Desiree stopped walking for a moment, gripped your face, and turned your head towards hers. The way her hands felt on you gave you goosebumps and sent a shiver down your spine.

She leaned in and whispered into your ear, "Okay, but next time you're eating my pussy."

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #sub chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #christopher owen sturniolo #ᴀʀɪᴇꜱ' ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ .ᐟ ✮⋆˙#ᴄʜʀɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ ꜱʜᴏᴛ .ᐟ ✮⋆˙#ɴᴏ ɪ ɪɴ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇꜱᴏᴍᴇ .ᐟ ✮⋆˙

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honeyblackberries · 1 month ago

Text

The world you left behind

Sylus died but what about the people left to miss him? What of the boy who’ll never know what lies beyond the shadow of his father’s wings?

sylus x reader (reader referred to as mother but no pronouns) 1.8k

cw: angst with a (maybe) happy ending, hurt with (maybe) comfort, mentions of blood and physical injuries, lore inaccurate, unnamed son pov.

basically a 'what if' au where mc/reader has sylus's kid after he dies in their dragon myth times. *sylus's son and the transformation scene was inspired by this art by @/napanewt (whole thread makes me sob) | also on ao3

The first time your son wished for his father happened when he was just a child.

He was born hearing tales of great dragons, of love in bloodshed, of kindred spirits and souls bound together for all eternity. Legends whispered throughout the cities were his bedtime stories, a requiem for the deceased was his lullaby.

Oh how exciting it all was to a young boy. What incredible adventures you’ve had! He wished to know more, desired to always hear of the man who's name stoked the flames of Tarus city.

“When can I meet him?” He’d asked you one night as you lay beside him in bed.

He was seven summers old, practically grown up. He would like to meet his father soon. Sylus was familiar yet completely unknown to him. A fiend that strikes fear into the hearts of the strongest warriors. Yet someone his mother speaks of so fondly, with a voice always gentle.

“I’m sorry love, your father has gone far away,” the words were ones he’d grow used to hearing. Ones he would come to resent.

But not yet.

Your son wondered if he looked the same as Sylus, as he stared at his own reflection in a chalice atop one of the many piles of treasure in your cave. You’d told him that regardless of how much he might look like you now, his silver hair and ruby red eyes come from his father.

“What about the horns?” he asked while pointing to his head. Where yours are and where his own should be. “And the tail, and… wings?”

“I hope you never grow them.” Those words confused him.

“Why?”

“Because they are a curse.”

Back then he didn’t understand what you meant. They would make him stronger, fiercer, more dragon-like. They would make him the same as the man he caught glimpses of in the shadows on the wall. The same as the man he saw in the twinkle of your eyes..

“Well, I hope I do.”

And hope he did, wished and prayed to every shining star. Desperate to be even half the man his father is. He had to be since Sylus was gone.

How else could he protect you from those who wanted to do you harm; fight off all the monsters that curse your existence and hunt you down. Men with wicked intentions and venom on their tongues. How else could he get rid of the sadness that would creep into your gaze when you think he isn’t looking. Stop the heartache that would overcome you sometimes, when you reminisce on the dragon who left you behind.

Your son was stuck with Sylus’s stories and nothing more.

The second time your son wished for his father was when the transformation started. It came suddenly and it tore him apart all at once.

The scream of pain he let out as something began to grow through the bone of his skull, tearing delicate skin. The way his own blood thickly trickled into his eyes from the open wounds. The sickening wet sounds of his body unwillingly shifting in ways it wasn't used to.

That’s how you found him. Curled up in a heap on the floor, body convulsing as if it didn’t know what to do with itself. Crimson staining everything around him.

“Mama—” he sobbed, something he hadn’t called you in years.

His voice sounded broken to his own ears, but he no longer cared about being weak. Not when it hurt so much that he wished death would save him. What a foolish child he had been to dream of this. And what a cruel father Sylus must be to let it happen. How could a father who didn’t even know him curse him so—give him what he so desperately wanted but at such a horrible cost.

He blacked out not long after, cradled in your shaking arms.

You told him later on that the same thing had happened to Sylus when he was still a young dragon and your son wondered if it would have been less scary with him around. If his father would have held him through it like you did, if he would have known what to say to make it hurt less.

He can almost imagine it.

‘Bite down on a cloth so you don’t bite your tongue.’

‘Slow your breathing, don’t panic. The adrenaline will only make it happen faster.’

‘It'll be over soon.’

‘I’m here for you.’

The next few years were hard on your son. Having to learn how to exist within his new body. He always moved wrong. Would trip over his own tail as he walked, cut his mouth with his fangs, tear flesh with his talons.

But all of that paled in comparison to the challenge that was his wings. To the humbling experience of learning to fly.

A part of him yearned for the skies yet he was wet behind the ears with the way his wings would allow him to rise for only a moment, before plummeting to the ground. Always two steps behind spring’s baby birds who could soar past him.

He learned a lot about himself during this time. That he was impatient, easy to anger, easier to lose common sense. It’s good he supposes, looking back on it. The way he was forced to prematurely clip the hubris that was growing within him. Lest he fall just as bad as Icarus.

It was during each failure—in the moment just before the crash—where he would find himself wondering if his father would hold his hands as he taught him how to take flight. Show him how to follow the wind above mountain peaks and along the edge of the horizon. Go with him to the edge of the sea beyond where the datura flowers bloom.

He remembers you asking him once, years later, if he regretted wishing to be like Sylus. If after what had to be done for it to happen, he could still want to be like him.

His answer then is the same as it would be today.

Even if the pain was once unbearable and the struggle seemingly never-ending, it chipped away at his rough edges. Honed him like a blade. He could now fight his own battles; win against those who started ones against you. He could hear the joy in your laugh as he picked you up and flew off towards the dawn. Could see the look of pride on your face.

You were proud of the man he grew to be.

It was worth it to get a step closer to his father.

The last time your son wished for his father was on the day you left him. Dragons live long but not forever and you only had half the soul of one.

It had been lifetimes since he was a boy but he felt more helpless than ever before. He could do nothing for the mother who kissed his bruises and loved him twice as much to make up for the absence of his father.

He could only lay you to rest in the field of flowers you cherished. Could only fix your hair and cover you in the softest fabric as he buried you. Lay by your grave as long as his body would let him. Through tears he cursed the heavens, cursed whatever deemed it fit to take you away. Cursed the father who was never there.

Where was he when you needed him?

…

He wondered for the last time what Sylus was like. Not as a myth or a father, but as a man.

A man beloved enough to have a son with. A man you hoped to see again in the next life.

A man you'd to turn yourself into a monster for.

Your son never came back to visit you. Never came back to the home that held nothing except bittersweet memories. He left for the farthest corners of the world and still sought to go further.

Without the father he never knew and the mother who was his everything, he was truly alone.

Centuries passed but your son never forgot you. Everywhere he went the wind and the wings of birds carried your presence. In the people he met he saw your kindness. But time was a gentle mistress to him. It healed wounds, altered him in ways never expected.

He was different. Changed to fit the new life he was living—one with towers that reached beyond the clouds, new monsters, and so many people. There was a maturity to him now. A quiet patience. Gone was the boy who would dream of dragons.

Actually, he hadn't been him for a long time.

Then it happened one day.

He was out in the city centre—waiting in line for a new cafe—when he saw you. It was only in passing but he knew it was really you. Knew it in that innate way one can recognise their mother.

Feet moved on their own and he was following behind you before he even realised. You were younger, closer to how he remembered you looking when he was a child. And where were you going? Home? Or to meet up with friends, maybe even a lover?

He just wants to watch you for a bit; won't approach you. You were different, you wouldn’t remember him and that’s okay.

You cross the street and stop, seeming to reach your destination.

He watches curiously as you sneak up behind a man with his back facing the two of you. Sees you throw yourself onto him, hugging his neck. The man turns suddenly and lets out a deep laugh, arms wrap around your waist and he leans down to smile at you.

His breath catches when he sees the stranger's face.

This man is someone he'd recognise from the very marrow of his bones. Hair silvery white like the flash of light that would hit his eyes when he used to fly too close to the sun. Eyes like the rubies that littered the floor of the cave he once called home, a perfect twin to his. And his gaze is fixed on you, much like his own. But there’s something there, a depth of love and longing he’s never seen.

“Hey!” a voice calls out to your son.

“Where are you running off too?” his lover chides out of breath, as they run up to him. “You just suddenly disappeared, I thought you were waiting for me.”

“Sorry,” he smiles apologetically. “It’s nothing. I just… I thought I saw someone familiar.”

They talk his ear off and drag him back to the main street, but the warm feeling bubbling in his chest stops him from hearing any of it. What are the chances that his wish would finally come true. He got to see his father. On top of that, he can tell from the way he holds you that the man loves you with depths beyond time.

Across the street Sylus watches the retreating figure of a man. His gaze drawn to him with a pull he can’t quite explain.

“Sy, you know him?” you ask as you tilt your head to see who he’s looking at.

“No,” it’s true, and yet—

“He just seems familiar.”

a/n: this only exists because i was listening to epic and had sons never knowing their fathers on the brain. also tysm for 200 followers! kissing each of you on the forehead *muah*

#love and deepspace #sylus #sylus x reader #sylus angst #dad sylus #sylus x mc #lads x reader #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace angst #lnds #l&ds sylus #sylus qin #qin che #sylus x you #love and deepspace fic #love and deepspace x reader #lads oc

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readingkitty22 · 24 days ago

Text

You Were Mine First

Pairing: Alpha! Satoru Gojo x Omega! Reader

description: Gojo Satoru has been everything to you since childhood: your rival, your protector, your closest friend. And always, quietly, something more. From scraped knees to training matches, whispered confidences to shared silence, your lives have always been tangled.When Gojo and Suguru present early as powerful Alphas, and you, later, as a rare Omega, everything changes. Suddenly you're no longer invisible, no longer “just” a friend. You’re desirable. Vulnerable. A political asset to a lesser clan. And when your family arranges a match, Gojo reaches his limit.Because he’s the strongest and he’s always known one truth: You were his before anyone else had the right to say otherwise.

A slow-burn, childhood-friends-to-lovers saga set in an omegaverse where obsession brews quietly, affection runs deep, and nothing stands between Satoru and what he’s claimed.

⚠️Warnings Omegaverse dynamics (presentation, heats, bonding), possessive but not toxic Alpha behavior, sorta-explicit sexual content (18+), mild angst, arranged marriage elements, clan/political interference, emotional vulnerability, pregnancy references, mild language. No major character death. Emotional resolution and satisfying ending guaranteed.

w.c. 6.1k

⟡─────⟡─────⟡

a/n: I am still SUPER new to this whole writing thing, but thank you all for liking and reblogging <3, I've been working on this little work for a bit and I'm still unsure about it. Hope y'all enjoy!

⟡─────⟡─────⟡

Age 6

The first time you met Satoru Gojo, he offered you the red crayon.

Not the broken one. Not the short, stubby piece every kid avoided. He handed you the longest, sharpest red crayon in the box like it meant something.

“You can draw the wards,” he said, like you were already part of the team.

Suguru smiled at you from where he sat cross-legged on the temple floor. “He doesn’t usually share that one.”

You glanced between them,two boys from powerful clans, both still too young to know what their futures would cost them. You weren’t like them. You knew that even then. You were from a lower clan of healers, support staff. Useful, not vital.

But Gojo just tilted his head and said, “You’re gonna be around a lot, right?” You nodded. “Then you should start with the best color.”

And just like that, you were part of their world.

⟡─────⟡─────⟡

The three of you claimed a disused storehouse as your base. You brought juice boxes and old charms. Suguru brought manga. Gojo brought chalk and spelled salt he wasn’t supposed to have.

You were eight the first time he laid his head in your lap.

“I don’t get headaches,” he said softly, like he was surprised. “But I do when I’m around too many people. You’re… quieter.”

“Quieter how?” you asked.

He didn’t answer right away. Just looked up at you with those strange blue eyes, too bright for someone so tired.

“Like breathing near you is easier.”

When Suguru fell asleep with a comic book on his chest, Gojo scooted closer to you, drawing lazy circles on the floor with his chalk.

“I think we should make a pact,” he said.

You blinked. “What kind of pact?”

“We stick together. No matter what.” He glanced at Suguru. Then at you. “No matter who we grow up to be.”

You didn’t say anything at first. But you reached out and gently pressed the red crayon to the back of his hand like a seal.

He smiled, soft and secret.

And in the years that followed,when instincts started pulling you in strange, dangerous directions,he would always come back to that moment. The red crayon. Your touch. The feeling of safety he’d never find anywhere else.

⟡─────⟡─────⟡

Age 9

The shrine courtyard buzzed with late summer heat and the soft clatter of ceremonial prep,silk slippers on wood, hushed chanting, incense curling in the air like smoke from a dream.

You weren’t meant to be at the front.

Technically, neither was Gojo.

You were helping your aunt with the offerings,sprigs of purifying herbs, tied together with rice paper and string. It was busy work, meant to keep the lesser clan kids out of the way.

But you caught sight of him before the ceremony started,white hair mussed by the wind, half-buttoned yukata, sunglasses tucked into his collar instead of worn.

He grinned when he saw you.

“I snuck out of greeting duties. Suguru's covering for me.” He leaned close, whispering like it was a secret. “Said I had to ‘see the herbs in action.’ Very scientific.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t tell him to leave. You never really did.

It happened fast.

One of the elders from a visiting clan,tall, grim-faced, the kind of man who wore tradition like armor,caught you whispering over the offering baskets.

“Too noisy,” he snapped, voice like cracked ice. “This isn’t a playground.”

You dropped your head in a half-bow, voice quiet. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“You’re distracting the real assistants.” He stepped forward, hand twitching toward your shoulder. “Leave, child.”

You didn’t move.

Gojo did.

He stepped between you so smoothly, so silently, it almost didn’t register until the man’s hand stopped mid-air, just shy of his chest.

“She’s with me,” Gojo said. Calm. Clear. Unapologetic.

The elder narrowed his eyes. “This is a sacred rite. She is unqualified.”

Gojo didn’t flinch. “She’s mine to watch over.”

It wasn’t possessive,not quite. Not yet. Just... matter-of-fact.

The words hung in the air like static.

The elder backed off without another word.

Later, walking back down the stone steps with your sleeves bundled in your arms and sweat damp on your brow, you caught Gojo watching you from the corner of his eye.

“Why’d you do that?” you asked. “He wasn’t going to hurt me.”

Gojo shrugged. “Didn’t like the way he looked at you.”

You waited for him to tease. To make it a joke. But he didn’t.

Instead, he reached out and tugged a leaf from your hair. His fingers brushed your temple,so light, so careful,and he looked down at the crumpled sprig in his hand like it had done something wrong.

“Next time,” he murmured, almost too quiet to hear, “just stand behind me.”

And something deep in your chest,something instinctive, old, nameless,settled quietly into place.

⟡─────⟡─────⟡

Age 13

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the training field. The air was warm but still, almost too still, as though the world was holding its breath.

You didn’t understand why Gojo insisted on this early-morning training session. You had no intention of trying to compete with him today,not when his cursed energy felt like it was vibrating in the air itself.

“Focus, focus,” he said lightly, jumping into a crouch. His hands were relaxed, casual, like he wasn’t preparing to unleash the full force of his power at any moment. But the air felt too tight, and even Suguru, ever the grounded one, was glancing sideways at Gojo in an unspoken exchange.

Then it happened,without warning.

Gojo’s cursed energy exploded, a wild burst of power that cracked the earth beneath him. A shriek of wind shot through the field. You stumbled back, caught off guard by the sheer intensity of it. Suguru’s eyes widened, but he wasn’t surprised.

You were used to this,used to Gojo’s strength, to his overwhelming presence. But this… this was different.

“Whoa!” Gojo laughed, standing tall and grinning, as if he hadn’t just nearly torn the air in half. He was practically glowing, the sheer magnitude of his power both terrifying and beautiful. “Guess it’s official, huh?”

Suguru didn’t say anything, just walked over to him and set a hand on his shoulder, eyes flicking toward the distance like he was waiting for something.

“Yeah,” Gojo said, lowering his voice. “Guess it is.”

And then, just like that, the storm subsided. Gojo grinned again, as if it was nothing. He’d presented as an Alpha, raw and potent, the kind of power that left a permanent mark on the world. It had been so fast, so quiet, but so intense.

You watched him with a mixture of awe and concern, but before you could speak, Suguru was already turning to face you, his gaze soft but knowing.

“I knew it was coming,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “His energy’s always been too big for anything else.”

You nodded, unsure what to say.

A week later, Geto presented.

His was quieter than Gojo’s,his energy more controlled, restrained. It didn’t have the explosive violence Gojo’s did, but there was something just as intimidating in the way it rippled under his skin. Geto always seemed like the kind of person who would wait until the world was watching before he made his move and when he presented, that’s exactly what he did.

It was subtle. It was almost… calm.

But there was no mistake. He was an Alpha.

When Geto met Gojo’s eyes from across the field, he raised an eyebrow, and a slow, amused smile crept across his face. “Guess we’re both officially off the market now, huh?”

Gojo laughed loud, easy, like the universe was his to control. “About time,” he said, smirking in that way that made everyone around him feel both invited and terrified.

It started quietly.

You were sitting under the old cherry blossom tree, half-listening to Suguru talk about a recent mission while Gojo made cranes out of your lunch napkin. It was normal,comfortable.

Until it wasn’t.

At first, it was just a lingering glance. Then two. And then you felt it,noticed it. The way people were looking at you. Students who’d never said a word to you before. Instructors passing too slowly in the hall. A lingering, curious sharpness in the air.

Like they could smell something shifting.

Suguru noticed it before you did. His head turned toward you slowly, eyes narrowing, calculating. Then his expression softened, something sad and fond flickering across his face.

“…You presented,” he said quietly, like he was speaking a truth you hadn’t caught up to yet.

Your lips parted, confusion still thick in your chest.

Gojo sat upright in a second. His napkin crane crumpled in his lap.

The moment he caught your scent,really caught it,you saw it hit him like a wave. Not with hunger, not with something feral. With something… stunned. Like he’d been punched in the ribs by the universe.

His pupils contracted. Then dilated.

No words. Just pressure.

Suguru said it for both of them. “An Omega…”

Gojo’s jaw flexed.

Among jujutsu sorcerers, Omegas were rare. Especially rare in active bloodlines,your kind burned too hot, cursed energy tangled with instinct too violently. Most faded into support roles. Some were hidden by their clans, used for arranged bonds. And some… disappeared entirely.

You swallowed hard, suddenly aware of just how exposed you felt.

Your scent was faint for now,still settling,but the students around you weren’t stupid. They’d start to recognize it soon. The way Alpha instincts shifted in your direction. The tilt of a head. The tightening of a jaw. The challenge in a stare.

And through it all, Gojo just looked at you.

Not with pity.

Not with fear.

But like he’d just remembered something he’d sworn to himself long ago: Mine to watch over.

Only now… it meant something else.

The next day at Jujutsu Tech felt different.

You tried to ignore it. Tried to walk the same path to class. Keep your shoulders relaxed. Pretend the weight of your uniform hadn’t suddenly become too tight across your chest. But the air knew.

So did everyone else.

It wasn’t even subtle.

The moment you stepped into the classroom, conversations slowed. Heads turned. And though no one said it out loud, their stares pressed against your skin like heat,That’s the Omega.

You weren’t the first in school history, of course. But you were the only one currently in circulation. Most Omegas were quietly moved to private training or matched with a pre-approved bond by their clan before it ever got this far.

You? You were still here.

And that made you… vulnerable.

⟡─────⟡─────⟡

The worst part wasn’t the whispers.

It was the way some of the older students lingered a little too long in the halls. One of them,someone from a mid-tier clan you barely knew,bumped your arm in the corridor, leaned in a little too close.

“You smell different,” he murmured, eyes raking across your face like he had a right to look at you.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to. Because before you could move, someone was already there.

Gojo’s voice was flat. “Touch her again.”

The boy turned, surprised. “Gojo—hey, I didn’t—”

“Touch her again,” Gojo repeated, low and cold, “and I’ll decorate the hallway with your teeth.”

There was no smile. No sunglasses. Just Gojo Satoru standing very, very still, his cursed energy curling around his shoulders like a stormcloud.

The boy backed off fast, muttering something under his breath as he disappeared down the corridor.

Gojo didn’t move.

He didn’t even look at you.

Not until Suguru came up behind him and said quietly, “You’re making a scene.”

That snapped him out of it. Gojo shoved his hands in his pockets and walked off, not looking back.

That night, Suguru walked you back to your dorm.

He didn’t say much at first. Just let the silence stretch between you like a thread.

Then, softly: “You okay?”

You nodded. “I didn’t think it would feel like this.”

Suguru didn’t smile. But his voice was gentle. “It’s not your fault people are idiots.”

You looked up at him, biting the inside of your cheek. “Is he mad?”

“Gojo?” He huffed. “Gojo’s losing his mind.”

“…Why?”

Suguru tilted his head at you like you were being ridiculous. “Because you’re you. And now, everyone sees it.”

You swallowed hard.

“He’s trying not to act like it’s bothering him,” Suguru added, almost too casually. “But you’re an unmated Omega in a school full of Alphas. You’ve been close with us since you were six. What do you think he’s feeling?”

You stopped walking.

Suguru paused too, then looked over his shoulder, something fond flickering behind his eyes.

“Just… don’t be surprised if he doesn’t handle this very well.”

⟡─────⟡─────⟡

You couldn’t sleep.

The day had clung to your skin,stares like needles, voices too loud and too soft at the same time. Even Suguru’s calming presence hadn’t helped this time. You’d spent hours turning over what Suguru said about Gojo in your head.

You’re an unmated Omega in a school full of Alphas. You’ve been close with us since you were six. What do you think he’s feeling?

You needed air.

The rooftop was quiet this late. The wind was cool, brushing over your skin like a sigh. You curled your arms around your knees, sitting beneath the narrow lip of the railing. It was one of the only places in the school that still felt yours.

So when Gojo’s voice broke the silence behind you, your whole body jumped.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

You turned.

He didn’t look like himself. No sunglasses. Hair messy. His uniform half shrugged off one shoulder, like he’d thrown it on without thinking.

He crossed the rooftop, quiet for once, and sat down next to you with a grunt.

You both stared out at the campus.

The silence wasn’t awkward. Not really. But it was charged,a careful kind of quiet, like both of you knew what was sitting between you but neither had the courage to name it.

Finally, he asked: “How bad was it today?”

You hesitated. Then: “I’m handling it.”

“Don’t.”

You blinked, surprised.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said. Not angry. Just… quiet. “I saw your face after that guy touched you. You hated it.”

You dropped your gaze.

Gojo leaned back on his elbows, eyes toward the stars. “I’ve wanted to break a lot of people’s noses lately.”

You smiled. A real one.

Then, after a long moment: “Is it weird?”

He looked at you. “What?”

“That I’m… like this now.”

Gojo didn’t answer right away. When he did, it was soft. Careful.

“You’ve always been like this,” he said. “You’re just… more obvious now.”

You turned toward him. His expression was unreadable. Still boyish, still beautiful. But something in his eyes was older, heavier.

“It’s not weird,” he said, voice low. “It’s dangerous. For them.”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

Gojo looked away. His mouth twitched,not a smirk. A defense.

“I mean,” he said, “if one more person looks at you like they deserve you, I’m going to forget I’m supposed to be playing nice.”

Something deep in your chest curled up at that. Warm and sharp and aching.

You didn’t say anything. Neither did he.

But you stayed there. Sitting close enough that your arms touched, listening to the wind and the distant buzz of lights. He didn’t reach for you. You didn’t lean in.

But his presence wrapped around you like a barrier.

And when you finally laid your head on his shoulder, he didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just sat there, frozen and burning, until his voice,so quiet,broke through the night.

“I won’t let anyone take you.”

And he meant it.

⟡─────⟡─────⟡

Age 16

Three years made a difference.

Gojo had always been tall, always been powerful. But now he filled a room before he even stepped into it. Every Alpha on campus carried weight, but he carried gravity. He didn’t just stand out; he distorted everything around him. People moved when he walked past. Students whispered in the halls after he’d gone, like his presence left a burn mark on the floor.

And you… started noticing things you hadn’t before.

It was the way he laughed too loud at his own jokes. The way he chewed his gum and flicked his wrist to push up his blindfold with lazy confidence. The way people stepped aside, but he always reached back,waited for you to follow.

He still walked you home. Still saved your favorite snacks. Still rolled his eyes when Suguru got too philosophical and threw paper balls at his head during lecture.

But it wasn’t the same anymore.

One day, during sparring drills, you caught yourself staring,not because he was flashy, not because of his technique. But because he moved like lightning trapped in a boy’s skin. Fluid. Dangerous. Beautiful.

When he caught your eye across the mat, something flickered there,recognition. Like he knew.

He looked away first.

⟡─────⟡─────⟡

It got worse when you were paired for weapons class.

Gojo held the bokken with casual ease, his grin tilted just enough to be cocky. “Try not to fall for me during this, okay?”

You rolled your eyes, heart doing something it definitely shouldn’t.

The duel was fast, brutal, and completely unfair. He pulled his hits, of course,but even restrained, Gojo moved like he was born to be worshipped. Your body reacted before your brain did, drawn to him on instinct. Not just the Alpha scent, not just the power.

It was him.

After the match, breathless and warm, you met his eyes across the mat.

He looked at you like he’d been waiting.

Later, in the quiet of your dorm, you pressed your hand over your chest. Your pulse hadn’t slowed. You could still feel the heat in your cheeks, the echo of his voice, low and amused:

“You’re stronger than most of the boys that try to flirt with you, y’know that?”

You hadn’t said anything at the time. Just stared at him, too aware of his height, the closeness of his breath.

Three years ago, he would’ve teased you. Tugged on your sleeve. Laughed it off.

But now, Gojo Satoru just stood there, watching you like the only reason he hadn’t made a move was because he wasn’t allowed to yet.

And for the first time, you wondered what would happen if he did.

⟡─────⟡─────⟡

You’d been aware of the stares for weeks.

But today, it shifted. Bolder. Louder.

Someone from the Zenin branch house,older, polished, confident,cornered you after class. He wasn’t rude. He was respectful. That made it worse.

“I was wondering,” he said smoothly, “if you’d consider lunch together this week. I know it’s sudden, but—”

You didn’t get to answer.

Gojo’s cursed energy hit the hallway like a wave.

It was subtle enough to be deniable. Just a tightness in the air, like the pressure drop before lightning. Your would-be suitor faltered mid-sentence. He turned his head slightly, met Gojo’s smile from a few feet away.

Cool. Polite. Murderous.

“Am I interrupting?” Gojo asked, voice light, eyes unreadable beneath his blindfold.

You opened your mouth to say no, but your classmate already took a full step back. “Of course not. Excuse me.”

He left like the air was on fire.

You glared. “Satoru.”

“What?” He blinked, innocently. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Gojo shrugged and leaned against the wall beside you, shoulder brushing yours. “Can’t blame a guy for hanging around when weirdos keep showing up.”

“They’re not weirdos,” you muttered.

He didn’t respond. Just stood there, close enough to smell, his body language casual. But the tension in him? Coiled. Hot. Barely contained.

Later that night, Suguru found him behind the training hall, still burning off energy with a practice staff, moving like he wanted something to bleed.

“You gonna kill every guy who talks to her?” Suguru asked, arms crossed.

Gojo didn’t look at him. “Only the ones who think they deserve her.”

Suguru exhaled slowly. “You can’t keep doing this.”

“She’s not bonded.”

“She’s not yours either.”

That finally made Gojo pause.

Suguru stepped closer. “I’m saying this as your friend, not hers. You’re not exactly subtle, Satoru.”

Gojo wiped sweat from his jaw. “Why should I be?”

“Because if the clans start noticing how you look at her, they’re going to act on it. You’re not just Gojo, you’re the Six Eyes Alpha. That makes her a target.”

Gojo’s expression shifted,still, sharp, deadly quiet.

“She’s already a target,” he said. “I’m just making sure everyone knows she’s protected.”

Suguru stared at him for a moment longer. Then he sighed.

“I’m not telling you to stop. I’m telling you to be careful.”

He walked away, his words still hanging in the air.

That night, Gojo didn’t sleep.

He sat outside your dorm window,hidden, silent,listening to your breathing just to make sure you were safe.

His hands trembled, just a little.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could pretend this was only protection.

⟡─────⟡─────⟡

Age 18

It started with a letter.

You knew what it was the second you saw the envelope,hand-delivered, pressed with your clan’s seal. Thick, ceremonial, and cold.

Suguru’s eyes skimmed it over your shoulder as you sat in the common room. “You’re not opening that here, are you?”

You hesitated. “I already know what it says.”

They wanted to arrange a match.

A high-ranking Alpha from a politically advantageous family. One with “stability, long-term potential, and no history of excessive aggression.” Their words, not yours.

Your clan didn’t say Gojo Satoru’s name, but you could feel him in every line of that letter. The pressure to bond. The underlying threat of not doing so. You were an Omega of age. Delaying your mating was drawing attention.

It wasn’t a request.

You didn’t tell Gojo right away.

But he knew something was wrong.

You were quieter. Distracted. Distant.

He cornered you after sparring, chest heaving from the workout, a line of sweat curling down the side of his neck. He pulled off his blindfold,blue eyes sharp and worried.

“What’s going on?”

You shook your head. “It’s fine.”

“You’re a bad liar.”

You tried to brush past him. He moved. Blocking your way with barely a shift of his body, not touching you, but too close to ignore.

“Satoru—”

“Tell me.”

So you did.

His expression didn’t change at first. Then, very slowly, something froze in his jaw. A muscle ticked. His hands clenched at his sides like he was trying very hard not to break something.

“What’s his name?” he asked, too calm.

You didn’t answer.

His voice dropped. “They’re trying to pull you out of Jujutsu Tech.”

You swallowed. “They think it’s safer.”

“No,” he said flatly. “They think you’re vulnerable. And they think I won’t do anything about it.”

You tried to reach for his arm. “You can’t—”

He stepped back.

Not from you. From himself.

“I can’t protect you from them,” he said, voice hoarse. “Not unless you let me.”

You blinked. “What does that mean?”

Gojo looked at you,really looked. And for once, he didn’t joke. Didn’t deflect. Just stared like you were the only thing anchoring him to the ground.

“It means I want you,” he said. “I’ve always wanted you.”

Silence.

“I thought I could wait,” he went on. “I thought if I kept quiet, if I gave you space, maybe you’d choose me on your own.”

You couldn’t breathe.

“But I’m not going to watch them take you away and pretend it doesn’t kill me.”

You stared at him. And then—

“You waited too long.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them. Soft. True.

Gojo’s breath caught.

But then you added, quieter:

“Do something about it.”

His restraint shattered.

Gojo stepped forward and kissed you like he’d been dying to do it for years,because he had. It wasn’t clean. It wasn’t sweet. It was messy, desperate, a dam breaking with your fingers tangled in his jacket and his hands gripping your hips like the only way he could hold himself together was by holding onto you.

He didn’t ask for permission.

You’d already given it.

⟡─────⟡─────⟡

The meeting was called under the pretense of “concern.” A gathering of clan representatives, a few staff from Jujutsu Tech, and of course your suitor’s family.

You weren’t supposed to be there. Omegas were rarely permitted to speak on their own behalf in these negotiations.

But you came anyway.

And Gojo was already seated at the head of the table when you arrived.

Not an empty seat. The seat.

His blindfold was gone. His uniform collar open. His posture relaxed in the way only the most dangerous people can afford to be. Casual, confident, and clearly amused.

“Didn’t realize we were having a party,” he said lazily, gaze sweeping over the gathered elders like they were ants on his shoe. “All this effort just to talk about my Omega?”

Your heart stopped.

So did the room.

A clan elder cleared their throat. “She is not—”

“She is,” Gojo interrupted, voice silk-wrapped steel. “She just hasn’t said it officially yet. But I’m sure you’d all agree it’d be wildly inappropriate to suggest an engagement when she’s already spoken for.”

The silence crackled.

The representative from your clan’s inner circle leaned forward, fingers laced. “With respect, Gojo-sama, no such bond has been confirmed. And while your attachment is clear, this matter concerns lineage, compatibility, and the safety of the Omega in question.”

“Safety?” Gojo echoed, smile thin. “I’m the strongest sorcerer alive. Tell me, which one of you thinks you can offer her better protection than me?”

No one answered.

The suitor’s father spoke next. “Your emotions are understandable, but our son has been vetted. He’s mature, politically sound, and has a reputation for stability—”

“And I,” Gojo cut in, “can vaporize a domain in under three seconds.”

He leaned forward then, elbows on the table, voice dropping into something colder.

“So here’s how this is going to go: you’re going to drop the proposal. You’re going to keep your politics away from her. And you’re going to do it quietly, so no one gets embarrassed. Or hurt. Or—worst of all—made an example of.”

A long pause.

“Is that a threat?” someone asked tightly.

Gojo smiled.

“It’s a promise.”

When the meeting adjourned, Gojo caught up to you in the corridor, like nothing happened. Like he hadn’t just threatened half the room without blinking.

“You’re insane,” you told him, heart racing.

“Insanely devoted, yeah,” he grinned. “Did you see their faces?”

“You basically declared war on my entire clan—”

“They started it,” he said, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “They came for what’s mine.”

You didn’t move.

“Am I?” you asked softly.

Gojo’s smile softened, all that sharpness folding inward, just for you.

“You’ve always been,” he said. “Even when you didn’t know it.”

⟡─────⟡─────⟡

Age 21

Living with Gojo Satoru was like sharing an apartment with a hurricane that made coffee in your favorite mug and left his socks on the ceiling.

The top floor of Jujutsu Tech’s private housing had been “technically unauthorized” when he moved you in, but no one was stupid enough to stop him. Suguru called it your castle, which wasn’t wrong. It was all open space, floor-to-ceiling windows, and way too many pillows.

You’d been dating,courting, by clan terms,for three years.

No bond yet. No mark.

Gojo waited. Even though you could feel it,how he watched you. How he barely held back when you kissed. How his cursed energy coiled around you when you wore his clothes or nuzzled your face into his scent gland in your sleep.

“I’m fine waiting,” he’d said once, hand tangled in your hair, voice soft against your throat. “As long as it’s me you’re waiting for.”

Suguru visited one night during golden hour. He brought food and stayed long after the takeout was cold, curled into a corner of your couch with his arms tucked under his sleeves.

Gojo practically draped himself over you, cheek resting on your shoulder, scent lazy and content. His fingers played absentmindedly with the hem of your shorts.

“Ugh,” Suguru said, grinning. “You’re disgusting.”

You hummed. “He’s just clingy.”

“She likes it,” Gojo mumbled into your neck.

“I tolerate it,” you corrected.

He nuzzled you, pleased.

Suguru shook his head. “You know, I was worried at first. Thought he’d suffocate you.”

You smirked. “He still might.”

Gojo just sighed dramatically. “Let me be in love in peace.”

Suguru’s smile dimmed a little,nostalgic. Quiet.

“She’s good for you.”

Gojo didn’t answer, but his fingers tightened on your thigh, just a little.

⟡─────⟡─────⟡

It happened on a rainy night.

No mission. No special event. Just you and him, alone in your shared bedroom, warm from the shower, tangled in sheets and scent and skin.

He kissed you like he always did,slow, sweet, tasting every noise you made. But when you arched into him, scent thick with heat and need, Gojo paused.

“Tell me,” he said, voice hoarse. “Tell me you want it.”

You reached up, cupping his face, fingers trembling.

“I want you to claim me.”

Blue eyes burned.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve been sure since I was sixteen.”

His control cracked.

The kiss that followed was rougher, deeper,borderline desperate. His hands mapped your body like memorization wasn’t enough anymore. Your scent bloomed under his touch, sticky-sweet and wet with submission, but your eyes never left his.

You weren’t being taken.

You were giving yourself.

Gojo groaned, rut-heavy and shaking, and when he finally sank his canines into the spot just beneath your scent gland, the shock of the bond hit like a curse.

You cried out, hips jerking, body going molten and boneless under him. His cursed energy snapped, flooding through you, marking you.

Not just skin-deep.

Soul-deep.

He licked over the mark, reverent, voice rasping against your neck: “Mine. Mine. Mine.”

Your hands fisted in his hair.

“Yours,” you whispered. “Always.”

Afterward, he held you like he’d fall apart without you,arms around your waist, nose buried in your bond mark, still murmuring your name like a prayer.

When you drifted off, Gojo didn’t sleep.

He just watched you breathe.

His. Finally. Irrevocably.

And if the world tried to take you again?

Let it try.

⟡─────⟡─────⟡

Age 25

Years had passed since the world had first witnessed Gojo Satoru’s declaration of ownership over you. Since the day he'd practically claimed you, raw and unrestrained.

Since then, you and Gojo had built your lives,not just as partners, but as equals. You were stronger. He was more grounded. And the bond, always there, had deepened beyond what anyone outside the two of you could even fathom.

Your home was exactly as it had been before: full of noise, laughter, and chaos, just now with a few extra people. Jujutsu Tech still felt like the heart of the world, but with each passing year, you both had carved out more space for yourselves. Gojo was a legend, but he was also yours. And you were more than his Omega,you were his heart. His equal.

You leaned against the kitchen counter, watching as Gojo fussed with the coffee machine like he hadn’t made the same damn cup a thousand times before.

“Stop acting like you don’t know how to do it,” you teased, smiling fondly. He always made a production out of everything, even the simplest of things.

Gojo’s back was turned, but you saw him grin.

“I know how to make it. I just enjoy the effect,” he said, voice low, filled with that familiar smugness.

“You’re so full of yourself.”

“No, I’m full of you,” he said, turning to you, his blue eyes locking onto yours, soft but possessive. “Always will be.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s new.”

“I’m new,” he said, walking closer, his body heat flooding your senses, that mix of Satoru and Gojo only you knew intimately.

His hand cupped your cheek gently, like he was afraid of breaking you. And you knew that even now, after all this time, despite the raw, unfiltered power he held, he was still careful with you. Always.

He kissed you, slow, deep like you were still the only person in the world.

“I’m not the only one who’s changed,” he murmured, pulling away just enough to rest his forehead against yours. “You’re more than I ever could’ve imagined, beloved.”

You smiled softly, almost shyly, remembering the long path from the moment he first made that choice, back when he was younger, less certain.

Later that afternoon, Suguru came over, as he always did. His usual routine was to catch up with Gojo, drink coffee, and discuss the growing chaos of their world, but today, something was off. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but Suguru seemed a little… distracted.

“Something on your mind?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe, watching him fiddle with his mug.

He looked up at you, smiled a little, but his eyes were far away. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve known you both a long time,” he said, glancing at Gojo, who had his back turned, lost in his own thoughts. “And I have to admit, I didn’t think I’d live to see the day you two would finally settle into this… Whatever this is.”

Gojo grinned from the other side of the room. “It’s called ‘happily ever after,’ Suguru.”

Suguru snorted, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Right, right. But still… I never expected to see you both at peace.”

You stepped forward, cocking your head. “What’s going on, Suguru?”

He sighed, meeting your gaze. “I’ve just been wondering for a while now,what’s next for you two? I mean, you’ve built your lives together. But is that… enough? Or is there something more? Something bigger?”

You stared at him for a moment, before your eyes moved to Gojo, who had finally turned around and was watching you, expression soft and almost… expectant.

You glanced back at Suguru, confused. “What are you getting at?”

Suguru leaned forward. “Well, I’ve been hearing some rumors lately. About you two. And I… I think I know what the next step is.”

You stared at him.

He gave you a slow smile,whispering. “I think it’s time you tell him.”

Later that evening, Gojo had his arm around you, the two of you lounging on the couch as you watched some random movie. His hand traced lazy patterns on your arm, and you could feel the bond pulsing between you.

He wasn’t paying attention to the film, not really,his mind was always on you, and he was letting the quiet between you speak louder than anything else.

But tonight was different.

You turned to face him, drawing his attention, your heart beating a little faster as you reached for his hand.

“Satoru,” you whispered, your voice soft and slightly nervous. “I… I have something to tell you.”

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours with that same intensity. “What is it?”

Your hand trembled slightly as you took his, squeezing gently. You knew, deep down, that this would be another step, the next chapter. The one that solidified everything.

“I’m… I’m pregnant.”

He froze for a beat, like the world itself had just shifted. Then,slowly, ever so carefully,he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

A smile broke out across his face, and it was like a weight lifted from his shoulders. His eyes, those impossibly blue eyes, softened.

“You’re…” he started, the words stumbling out, but his smile grew. “You’re really doing this to me? You’re going to make me a dad?”

You laughed, a soft, breathless sound. "You’re going to be an amazing father, Satoru."

Gojo leaned forward, his lips brushing yours with a gentleness that matched the enormity of the moment.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, the bond between you thrumming with warmth.

“Our baby,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “Our family.”

And just like that, everything felt real. The years, the bond, the madness and the love. It was all leading to this. Your future. Together.

You rested your hand on your stomach, a soft smile playing at the corners of your lips.

His hand covered yours, pressing it to his chest, over his heart.

And you both knew.

This—this was the beginning of something even greater than you could’ve imagined.

#jjk gojo #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #omegaverse #satoru gojo #jjk fluff #jjk #jjk smut #suguru geto #satoru gojo x reader #jjk satoru

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traveler-at-heart · 17 days ago

Text

An odd pair

Nerdy!Nat x F!R - AU set in college. Natasha is a junior, R is a sophomore.

Summary: Natasha is perfectly fine with her lonely college life, until she gets a new roommate that comes with her own group of friends.

A/N: Very special thanks to @jujuu23, @jedi-luca, @caitviers, @ys4b31l4 and @littlegaybutterflysblog for reading this and giving me their feedback. I wasn't sure about posting, but their kind comments encouraged me to share this. This is the first chapter, let's see how long it takes for them to get together ;)

New year, new me.

That’s what most people would say. Even if it wasn’t a new year, just a new semester; Natasha had noticed her peers and their need to reinvent themselves. Promises to be better, more (attractive, fun, desirable), date, go to parties, be one of the cool kids.

None of them had any desire to actually be better at school stuff, which is why she never got along with her peers. And either way, Natasha wasn’t looking to make any changes to her life. Everything was perfectly functional.

Her schedule, her privacy, her dorm. She had managed to find one all to herself, as most students were looking for something closer to campus. This building was the farthest one, and most people who lived here were a semester or two away from graduation, too tired to keep up with the expectations.

Unfortunately for Natasha, something is different as she walks in the dorm.

“What..?” she says, looking around.

No, this is a mistake. She was supposed to have it all to herself, even if the dorm was for two people.

There are boxes. And dishes. Makeup and cleaning products in the bathroom.

Worst of all.

Music.

Very loud music.

“Do you believe in magic?” a girl with auburn hair sings as she walks out of the room, carrying some clothes. Natasha is about to ask what’s going on when the other girl looks up. “You lost?”

“This is my place” Natasha says, trying to not sound annoyed.

“Oh, so we’re roommates!” the girl’s demeanor immediately changes. “Hi, I’m Wanda”

“Natasha. Are you sure you got the right address? This building is so far away from the main campus…”

“Yeah, I know. It’s all my idiot brother’s fault” Wanda says, rolling her eyes as she walks to the kitchen. “We were living in a place outside of campus but he dropped out of college to start his business. Made the last minute call and I can’t afford the place myself. This is the only thing the accommodation office had available”

Natasha’s trying to pay attention, but Wanda’s examining the drawers, moving things around. It makes Natasha uneasy.

She has a system. She doesn’t like it when someone else messes with her stuff.

Wanda keeps talking about the cabinets, how to split the space in the fridge. Cleaning duties, toilet paper…

It makes Natasha’s head spin.

New semester. And apparently a new roommate.

—

You should have known she was full of shit.

Ten minute walk my ass.

It took twice to get to Wanda’s new place. If she had just listened to you, she wouldn’t have to settle for whatever it is the accommodation office threw at her.

Either way, you knock while texting, waiting for her to talk your ear off about how the place isn’t that bad and she loves it (again, you call bullshit).

“Nice place, was the spot under the bridge taken?” you say as soon as the door opens, still looking at your phone.

At the silence, you raise your eyes and meet green eyes. These are different than Wanda’s. They have a certain warmth, but also an irritation that almost makes you falter.

“Can I help you?”

“Uh, maybe I have the wrong place. I’m looking for Wanda” you check the number outside the door.

“She lives here” the girl says, almost sounding annoyed. “I think she's out"

Natasha’s almost certain that Wanda’s not here because when she is, there’s always a sitcom playing in the background while she does the rest of her stuff. How the hell will she deal with all the noise?

Like clockwork, you get a text from Wanda. She went out grocery shopping because she was starving and promises she’ll be home in ten minutes.

So twenty.

“Can I wait for her inside?” you ask with a defeated sigh.

“Are you a friend or something?”

“No. I’m actually her parole officer”

“What?”

“Shit!” you laugh at the girl’s expression. “I’m sorry, I’m joking. Yes, she’s my friend, since middle school”

“Oh”

There’s something about the girl’s demeanor that makes you want to get a rise out of her. So you lean on the door, biting your lip.

“Can I come in now? Or do I have to ask pretty please?”

“Sorry, yeah” she stutters at the flirty look you give her, walking away from the door. As you get inside, looking around the place, Natasha begins to pick up her things to go to her room. “I’ll just be out of your way”

“No, this is your place, I’ll stay in her room”

“It’s fine…”

“Or… we could just share the couch?” you smile, walking slowly as she keeps gathering her notebooks. “Sorry, I didn’t get your name”

“Natasha”

“Natasha” you repeat, nodding. “That’s beautiful”

“T-thank you” Natasha blushes, struggling with the papers on the coffee table.

You approach her slowly, reading over her shoulder.

“Interesting”

“Hey!”

She looks over at you, not realising how close you actually are up until now, and you smile at her with a shit eating grin.

“Ok, I’m sitting down now. You a freshman?” you ask, following her with your eyes as she finally gets all the papers where she was writing.

“Junior”

“Oh, really? How come I’ve never seen you around?”

Not like you’re the most popular kid in school, and it’s a big college, but Natasha stands out to you with her beauty, and you would have definitely remember seeing her around campus.

“I’m mostly at the library. Or home” Natasha says, hovering over the space next to you. You’re smiling up at her, in a way that makes it very clear you’re not stopping the conversation anytime soon.

It would be rude to just leave.

With a defeated sigh, she sits down next to you, looking at her hands.

“What’s your major?”

“Biochemistry”

“Oh, yeah, then we are definitely in different parts of campus all the time. I’m a History major and Wanda’s in Psychology”

“Cool. That’s interesting”

“No parties in Biochemistry?”

“Not that many. And I’m not interested either” Natasha looks at her hands. She’s expecting a joke at her expense, or a comment on how boring that sounds, but all you do is lean your head against the couch and sigh.

“Honestly, I promised myself I wouldn’t go to many parties this semester but I’m not sure now. You don’t have to worry about parties here though. Wanda never does that”

“Right” Natasha says, blushing again as she realises you got to read some of the stuff she wrote.

A list of things that could potentially go wrong with a roommate, variables to consider, rules, schedules.

“Honestly, Wanda is a good roommate. Her brother was the one that’s a bit of a mess. And she cooks so much food all the time, you’ll always have something to eat”

“That doesn’t sound so bad”

“She just brings over boys and they get sooo loud”

“Really?” Natasha turns red and you place your hand over your mouth to keep from laughing. “Hey, not funny”

“A little bit. Sorry, it’s just… very easy to tease you” you say with a smile.

It makes Natasha look away as she plays with her hands.

You like how she blushes a little too much.

When she looks at you with those beautiful green eyes, you’re about to ask something else when Wanda walks in, carrying five bags of groceries.

“I’m making paprikash tonight!” she announces with a smile.

“Stark’s party is tonight” you say.

“I’m making paprikash tomorrow!” she corrects, placing stuff in the fridge. “You like it, right, Nat?”

“Never had it”

“Oh, you’ll love it” Wanda says like an overbearing mother. You roll your eyes, looking at Natasha with an amused expression as Wanda keeps stuffing the fridge with food. Walking up to her, you inspect her work over her shoulder.

“Leave space for your roommate, Maximoff”

“Right. Sorry. There. I can fit everything in this little shelf right here”

“Ok, then get ready, we have to meet with Darcy and then we’ll go to the party” you follow her around, knowing it’s the only way to make sure you leave on time.

Natasha stays rooted to the couch, looking at her hands as she tries not to think of how she actually wanted to keep talking to you. You probably don’t even remember she exists.

“Sure, help me pick an outfit?” Wanda says, starting an episode of I Love Lucy at full volume.

“Don’t be loud. You know Pietro was used to it, because he had to listen to you since you shared a womb”

“Fine, I’ll play some music instead” she sighs. “You’re being so annoying today”

“Yeah, you made me walk twenty minutes out of main campus. And pack a bag, I’m definitely not walking you all the way here after the party, you’re staying with us”

Wanda keeps chatting and trying on clothes, but your attention turns to Natasha. Just like that, you made sure Wanda’s aware of the noise she makes around her new roommate, and you also gave Natasha a much needed break for the rest of the evening, because you could tell she was overwhelmed.

When Natasha finally looks up, her shoulders visibly relaxing, you wink at her, and enjoy how she blushes once again.

—

Over the course of the next couple of weeks, Natasha and you cross paths. It’s always when you’re visiting Wanda, because true to her word, Natasha only leaves her dorm for classes and the weekend trip to the library.

Natasha’s fully convinced that Wanda’s been keeping the volume of her music and tv shows down because you nag her about it, which she appreciates.

Except she doesn’t understand why you do it. Every time you’re over at the dorm, you go out of your way to make small talk with Natasha. You ask about classes, anything she’s got going on beside that. She wasn’t expecting this kind of friendliness, and she also doesn’t know how to respond to it. A big part of Natasha is convinced you’re doing it out of pity, because it’s so obvious she has no friends. Not that you ever run into each other outside of the dorm, but she’d not expect for you to reach out to her or acknowledge her presence.

Which is why she’s so taken aback when she’s walking to the library one afternoon and hears someone calling her name.

She’d recognise the sweet timber of your voice anywhere. She also tries to ignore the butterflies in her stomach as you approach her.

“Hey, Nat! First time seeing you outside of the dorm” you smile at her. The redhead adjusts her backpack, pushing her glasses up her nose. “You look… uh, nice glasses”

You were about to say cute, but changed your mind at the last minute.

Coward.

“I need a book for my Organic Chem class and apparently they only have it at Foster Library”

“Well, it’s a nice day out for a walk, isn’t it? Mind if I join you?”

Natasha opens her mouth, refraining from asking why. She has no idea what to say to you or how to make small talk, but you’re smiling at her as if the idea of a walk together would make your whole day. So, she just nods and resumes her journey.

“I have to go to my Imperial Russia class but that’s not for another half hour” you say, walking next to her. “What about you?”

“I’m done for the day. But I do have a lot of assignments” she sighs, looking at you out of the corner of her eye.

“Same, might have to skip partying for the weekend”

“So, Imperial Russia?”

“I think it’s fascinating. Well, all history, really, it has been a nightmare to choose my courses. I wanna go to every single class”

“My sister got obsessed with the idea that she was a lost Romanov princess” Natasha says, smiling and relaxing at the memory. “I think we all had to sit through Anastasia at least once a week”

“Oh, that’s cute. Does she look like Anastasia or something?” you say, a little confused.

“Oh, no… we are from Russia. And our family name is Romanoff” she clarifies, blushing. You laugh at that, holding on to her arm and leaning forward.

“That seems like a very big coincidence. Are you sure you’re not remotely related to them?” you tease.

“Very” she clears her throat, trying to calm her racing heart at your sudden proximity.

Luckily for her, you wait outside while she gets the books she needs for class. Natasha was expecting you to use the library as an excuse to keep walking to class, but you insist on waiting for her.

Is she supposed to walk you to class? It would mean going out of her way, while you were just going along her path as it was convenient for you. Deciding it would be weird to follow you around campus, Natasha is ready to say goodbye, but you’re waiting by the entrance, two disposable cups in hand.

“Chocolate or coffee?” you say. You had no idea what she liked, so you got two different things.

“Whichever is fine” she hurries to say, taking a cup from your hand. Her blush only increases when your fingers graze against hers, and you smile.

Natasha tries not to grimace at the bitter taste of coffee. She would have prefered something sweeter, but she’ll never say it. It’s bad enough you went through the trouble of getting her something.

“I’ll walk you to class” she decides, surprising even herself.

“Really? You don’t have to. I know you’ll have to walk back home”

“It’s ok” she says, though her heart and stomach are telling a different story. You nod appreciatively, and walk by her side to Pullman Hall, where most of your classes take place.

“Do you speak any Russian?” you ask, suddenly shy.

“Yeah, Mom made sure we learned it. Though sometimes I wish I didn’t understand the conversations she has with dad”

“Wow” you laugh at that, and that makes Natasha smile. She likes to be the reason you’re happy.

Whatever that means.

“I was asking because sometimes I just feel like I’m not entirely getting something in class, like it gets lost in translation, you know?”

“Yeah, I can imagine”

Natasha had to struggle with living with a father that couldn’t really grasp everything in the English language, while she and her sister were basically native speakers. Most of the time, it was harmless misunderstandings.

“So, if you’re ever free, and I’m struggling with something, would you be able to help me?” you say. Natasha misses the way you blush, too busy hiding her own.

“Yeah, of course”

“I can pay you. Or we could go out for dinner. A movie. Whatever you want”

Natasha is about to answer, when you hear someone call for you. Darcy, your roommate and friend, is fast approaching, but she has a murderous glare.

“You finished the orange juice and didn’t get more” she whisper yells, not even acknowledging Natasha’s presence.

“It was about to expire. I may have saved your life.” you try to joke.

“Don’t be a smartass. You’re paying for pizza next movie night. See you at home”

“Yeah, yeah” you roll your eyes. Natasha plays with the strap of her backpack and you have to control the urge of reaching out to hold her hand. “I should get to class. Thanks for walking me”

“Thanks for the coffee. See you around”

“Definitely” you nod, smiling as she adjusts her glasses again.

Maybe you’ll stop by to visit Wanda, even if you’re slammed with work.

—

It’s been two days since Natasha saw you at campus, and her mind keeps going back to those minutes she spent with you.

What a weird feeling, to crave someone’s presence. She wanted the walk to last longer, or at the very least, that she had a way to find you again and keep talking.

She’s lonely, that’s it. You’ve been kind enough to pay attention and that’s why she feels this way.

The only problem is, Natasha really is up to her ears in essays and assignments, and it’s been a real struggle to focus on something other than the way your eyes light up when she says something funny.

She finally gives up, pushing away the book she’s trying to read.

And then you walk inside, frantically calling for your friend.

“Wanda? Where are you?”

Natasha jumps out of her chair, leaving her room in a hurry. It isn’t like you to just barge in, and you sound upset.

“Hey” she says, leaning against the doorframe. You jump, turning around with your hand over your chest. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you”

“Nat! I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let myself in, but I…” you avoid her eyes, looking at your feet instead.

“Wanda’s out. What’s wrong?” she finally walks into the living room, concerned.

“It’s stupid. You have work to do. I should leave” you hurry to say, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“It can’t be stupid if it’s bothering you. Come on”

Natasha should let you go, promise to tell Wanda that you stopped by. But as soon as you finally look at her, she spots the unshed tears clouding your vision.

Wordlessly, she leads you to the kitchen and you sit down, playing with your hands and wiping away the tears that are starting to fall.

“Wanna tell me what’s wrong?” she says after handing you a glass of water. The way she looks at you makes you calm down, your shoulders visibly relaxing as she smiles.

“I cry when I’m angry. So these are angry tears, basically. I hate it” you tilt your head back, wiping your eyes carefully, though you’re sure your eyeliner is completely ruined now.

“Who upset you?”

“It’s stupid, really” you insist, imagining what Natasha will think once you explain. But you’re here now and it feels even more idiotic to pretend like nothing’s wrong. “I was, uh, seeing this girl last semester. Carol Danvers”

“Oh”

Natasha knows who she is. Danvers is a senior, star player of the lacrosse team. Though she's also known as another kind of player, always at parties looking for girls to hook up with.

“Yeah, it was just not official because I’m sure you know she likes to fuck anything with a pulse” you try to laugh but it comes out as a sob. Clearing your throat, you place strands of hair behind your ears, hoping you don’t look as bad as you feel. “And then this summer I was just a desperate idiot, texting her. Carol barely replied and I figured she might be busy”

“I’m guessing that wasn’t why she didn’t text back” Natasha says, leaning against the kitchen island.

“No, I just ran into her at the dining hall, and she was all over her ex, Maria Rambeau. I’m gonna kill her” your mood shifts suddenly. “I just feel like an idiot and I hate it. All she had to do was put on her big girl pants and tell me she wasn’t interested anymore. Instead I made a fool of myself”

Natasha feels cornered, your sudden fit of rage scaring her a little. She wouldn’t dream of making you upset if this is what you look like when it happens.

But it’s also kind of cute.

“See? You think it’s stupid” you sigh, noticing her smile. Natasha is quick to shake her head, cursing herself.

She can’t say she was smiling because she thinks you’re cute.

“No, it’s not stupid at all. I’m just not good at this sort of thing…”

You’re about to joke, tell her she’s done more than she should considering you just walked in her dorm while she’s slammed with work.

Except Wanda decides to finally show up. You turn around, unaware that Natasha’s eyes are glued to you.

“Hey… what… did you do something to her?” Wanda’s demeanor goes from confused to complete rage. You realise she’s asking Natasha if she’s the reason you’re crying.

“Wow, now hold on. She was helping me” you raise your hands, leaning on Natasha’s side for a second to assure her Wanda won’t bite her head off. “If you wanna take it up with someone, it’s Danvers”

“Ugh, I knew it. She’s going to pay” Wanda stomps to her room, and you sigh, turning to Natasha.

“I gotta make sure she’s not plotting Carol’s disappearance. Thank you for… listening to me”

“Anytime” she promises, nodding as you smile one last time before following your friend to her room.

Natasha can hear your voices, even if Wanda closed her door to give you some privacy. It isn’t the noise that distracts her. It’s about the fact you dated one of the most popular girls in school.

Of course, that’s someone fit for you. Natasha couldn’t compete with that.

At least now she knows the truth, and can go back to focusing on her studies. Maybe you’ll find someone else, and won’t have time to see Wanda anymore. Maybe, that’s the only way Natasha will stop thinking about you.

But the thought of someone else with you twists her stomach into a knot.

—

Morning light filters through the kitchen window, and you sing along to an Elton John song as you flip another pancake.

“Whatever gets you through the night” you hum. Turns out, what got you through your embarrassing predicament was a big party and a large amount of alcohol. But now, you really gotta focus on your work or you’ll fall behind.

Thinking about all the articles you have to read, and all the essays to draft, you miss Natasha’s footsteps as she leaves her room.

“Sorry, was the music too…?” you turn around, aware that it’s early morning on a Saturday.

Your mind stops working when you look at Natasha, wearing a white tank top and grey sweatpants. Her arms are surprisingly toned and you can’t help but stare.

Say something.

But she’s also staring at you with an indecipherable look.

“Nice shirt” she finally comments. “Looks good on you”

“It’s yours, isn’t it?” you realise a moment later. Of course. You found it in the bathroom and just assumed it was Wanda's. “I’ll go get changed, sorry”

“No” Natasha immediately blocks your path, her bravado disappearing as soon as you look up at her, expectantly. “Keep it. Looks good”

“Oh. Thanks” you say, taking a step back. “Want breakfast? Wanda already left, she had a group project to finish”

“Sure” Natasha nods, and you go back to making pancakes. There’s silence as you prepare the food, only realising Natasha’s closer when she leans forward, trapping you between her body and the kitchen island.

“Sorry, I wanted a mug” she apologizes, her hand on your hip. All you can do is nod, heat creeping up your cheeks at her proximity.

“Thank you for yesterday” you say looking over your shoulder, your voice small.

“You feeling better?”

“Less like an idiot” you say with a smile.

You honestly couldn’t care less about Carol. It was about the attention and she was a good fuck, but deep down, you knew she’d never be one to committ.

“You’re not that. Danvers was the only one at fault”

“I mean, yeah. I guess I gotta start thinking before getting in bed with a fuckgirl, huh?”

“Right” Natasha stutters, pouring some milk and looking away.

“No coffee?”

“I prefer sweet stuff” she admits, sitting down with a plate full of pancakes.

“You took the coffee I ordered the other day and didn’t say a word” you complain.

“But you went through all that trouble and it would have been rude” Natasha shrugs her shoulders, avoiding your eyes.

You eat in silence for a few minutes, stealing glances here and there. Natasha’s phone pings a couple of times, and you’re dying to know who it is, especially when she snorts at one of the messages she gets.

“Do you like games?” you say out of the blue.

“Like videogames?”

“More like board games” you say, trying to sound casual.

“Oh, I love Settlers of Catan” Natasha nods, and you want to slam your head against the table. Of course, she’s a genius and likes those games that you never understand.

“That sounds fun, yeah. I meant Uno or Jenga. Ya know, things that are easier”

She probably thinks you’re stupid.

Uno? Really?

“Right. That’s cool too. Why do you ask?” she says, smiling. The way she looks at you makes you relax, and you put your fork down. You were done eating anyway.

“We have game night every other week. Basically, when we have too much work to actually go out and party, but still wanna decompress or just hangout. Maybe you’d wanna join us sometime?”

“Sounds fun” she nods, but that’s not a yes or no. Would it be too pushy if you ask her tonight?

Then, her phone pings again and your mouth is faster than your brain.

“Gimme your phone”

“W-what?” Natasha’s hand stops midair, and you’re sure she’d be fidgeting with her glasses if she had them on.

“I mean… I could give you my phone number. And if you decide to come, just text me”

“Oh, sure” Natasha says, unlocking the device and passing it on. She smiles, taking your plate and going to wash the dishes.

“I’ll do that”

“You made breakfast. It’s the least I could do” she says, and you smile, going back to save your phone number.

“Someone’s calling you”

Someone saved as Yel.

“Sorry, I have to take this” she says, hurrying back to her room. Just like that, Natasha’s gone and you’re alone in the kitchen.

Are you seriously going to fall for Wanda’s roommate? The girl who is not interested in socializing and definitely not interested in you?

You look down at the shirt you’re wearing, remembering it’s hers. As you notice how big it is on you, it reminds you of Natasha in a tank top, and you blush.

Yes, you’re definitely falling for Natasha.

And you’re not giving the shirt back.

—

It’s been a week.

After two days of obssesively checking your phone, Wanda made you confess what had happened.

When it became clear Natasha was so not interested, you avoided the dorm at all costs. Until Wanda practically dragged you to her place next Saturday.

“Close the door” you hiss as soon as you walk into her room, hoping Natasha isn’t home.

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” Wanda says, rolling her eyes.

Instead of answering, you plop down in her bed, arm above your eyes.

“Ok, I gave her my phone number, told her to text me. While wearing her t-shirt and making her pancakes. The ball could not be more in her court”

“Does she even know there’s a ball?” Wanda laughs, which makes you look up.

“What do you mean?”

“Weren’t you crying about Carol the day before? Maybe she thinks you’re looking for a rebound” Wanda shrugs her shoulders, doing her makeup. She’s going back to too much eyeliner.

“Shit. You think so?”

It wasn’t like you said you were in love with Carol - which, you weren’t-. You just mentioned being casually seeing her and being pissed about her gaslighting.

“But there’s also the girl that was texting her” you say, thinking about the mysterious Yel.

“Well, I’ve never seen anyone visiting her. And she’s always in her room”

“Internet girlfriend?” you guess. “Long distance, maybe”

“Or caftfishing. Nat strikes me as one to be naive enough” Wanda says with a smirk.

“Don’t be mean” you nudge her with your foot and she pinches your calf. “Bitch”

“Whiny lesbian. Just ask her out properly”

“I don’t wanna seem desperate. What?” you say when Wanda coughs to hide her laughter.

“All week, you’ve been staring at your phone like a maniac. You are desperate”

Wanda keeps doing her make up, the music blasting a little louder than normal, but this time you don’t say anything about it. Maybe Natasha will ask her to turn it down and will see you and then you’ll get talking…

Ugh.

It’s like your best friend can read your mind, laughing when you place one of her pillows over your head and all but scream into it.

“Come here, I’ll do your makeup” Wanda says, and you pout.

“I already did it. Do I look that bad?”

“You need more eyeliner and your lipstick is just gone”

With another sigh, you lean against her headrest, and she straddles your lap.

“Do you remember when my mom walked in on us just like this?” she laughs and you pinch her side.

“And she gave you the talk about how it’s ok to be gay”

You both laugh at that, and a moment later Wanda’s done with the makeup.

“You look hot. So go and ask her out”

“What if…”

“Just go” Wanda pushes you out the door, her bag swaying with the movement. You’re startled by how she slaps your ass, the sound making Natasha look up from her spot in the kitchen island.

Her smile is shy, but it’s there, and she doesn’t run away the minute you’re in the same room like she used to do.

“Going to a party?”

“Yeah, we…” you turn to look at Wanda, who is pretending to fix her hair in the living room mirror. “Would you like to come with us? It could be fun”

“Thanks, but I’m going to meet some of Yelena’s friends” she rolls her eyes.

Yelena. As in the girl who texts her and makes Natasha smile and laugh.

“Oh. Well, have fun”

“You too” she nods, but all you want to do is go back to your room and hide under the covers for the rest of the night.

“Let’s go” Wanda says, pulling you by the arm without sparing a glance towards Natasha. “Come on, you tried. It’s no big deal. Let’s get drunk”

You think about all the essays you have to write, the fact you’re behind on some of your readings… and then you remember the way Natasha smiles at her phone when that Yelena girl texts her.

“Yeah, let’s get wasted”

—

It’s a rare thing, for Natasha to be going out to a place that isn’t campus or the grocery store. But her sister came to visit and she’s been nagging her about meeting her friends.

Natasha suspects one of them is more than a friend, and that is why Yelena wants her to meet them.

By the time she reaches the bar, Yelena and her group of friends are already sitting at a big table. The blonde is laughing with a guy with short hair, and Natasha takes a moment to look at him.

No, that can’t be the one Yelena’s dating.

“You made it!” Yelena shouts, all eyes turning to Natasha.

The redhead smiles, waving at her sister and walking to their table.

“Hello” she greets everyone.

“Bob, Ava, Kate, this is my sister Natasha” Yelena says, moving to the side so her sister can sit with them.

“Nice to meet you. We’ve heard so much about you” Ava says.

“All good things, I hope”

“Well, she did tell us about the time you went as Gandalf to a Halloween party” Bob says, and Natasha glares at Yelena.

“Bob, stop!” Yelena says, hiding her face in her hands. “She’s going to kill me”

“Oh, why? I thought it was a good thing?” the guy says, looking around the table.

So he’s the golden retriever of the group, friendly and clueless. Ava, who is Natasha’s age seems to be the voice of reason.

That leaves Kate. Natasha notices some of the glances she shares with Yelena, or the way they laugh at certain things that no one else understands.

“Bishop, can we do a rematch? You beat me at darts last time and it’s been bugging me” Ava says at one point.

They both leave, laughing and dragging Bob along.

“They’re nice” Natasha comments, happy that Yelena has found a good group to hang out with.

It was tough to leave for college, and even harder to learn Yelena had chosen a school that was across the country from her sister. From spending all their time together, now they only saw each other during the holidays.

“Yeah, they’re all great” Yelena says, but Natasha notices she’s only looking at Kate.

“Have you asked her out yet?”

“Hey!” her sister complains, and Natasha laughs.

“You must really like her, then. I’ve seen you go for it without hesitation before”

“Well, I just don’t want it to be weird if it doesn’t work… we’re good friends” Yelena says. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Natasha says too soon for Yelena’s liking.

“I meant, how are things with the roommate. But now you’re acting weird. Do you have a crush on her?”

“No, it’s nothing like that”

Of course, Natasha wasn’t lying. But the thing is, she’s getting used to your presence. She looks forward to you visiting Wanda, moving to do her homework in the living room instead of locking herself up in her room.

She wished she had the courage to ask you out, but Natasha’s never dated anyone. Painfully aware of how out of her league you are, she can’t help but imagine you’d refuse to go on a date with her.

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt you to make some friends, Tasha”

“Yeah, I know. I just… it’s hard for me” Natasha says, looking at her hands.

Except when she’s around you. It’s always easy to spend time with you and actually enjoy it.

“Come on, let’s team up and beat Kate and Ava” Yelena proposes, chugging the last of her beer.

Natasha follows her sister, and she doesn’t miss the way Kate’s hand lingers when she hands over the darts to Yelena.

She immediately thinks about you, the few times her fingers have touched yours for a split second.

Maybe she will text you after all. She’s pulling her phone when Yelena calls her out.

“Come on, Tasha, loser buys the next round of drinks”

So, Natasha saves her phone, hoping to text you later.

For now, though, she has to team up for a free drink.

—

The music is loud, the sorority house crowded.

But the noise and the people aren’t enough to keep you from thinking about Natasha. Meeting Yelena’s friends.

So it must be serious, huh?

“Why do you look so pissed off? Is it Danvers?” Val says, approaching you with a new drink. Carol’s here but you didn’t even notice.

You take the glass and down half of the liquid.

“Do you know any Yelena that goes to school here?”

Who is she? What makes her so damn special? Probably someone older, Natasha would never date a young, stupid, irresponsible…

As your thoughts spiral, you finish the drink.

“Yelena? No, name doesn’t ring a bell. Did she wrong you? We will restore your honor, princess”

You let out a laugh at that, and then your eyes meet Carol’s. She seems ready to walk up to you, but Val is quicker, dragging you to dance. Wanda is already there, swaying to the music with some of your friends.

There’s a bottle of tequila that gets passed around, and you take a large gulp, dancing until the heat is too much and you decide to step outside. Wanda barely listens when you tell her you’re getting some air.

Leaning on the wall, you sigh. It’s fresh out and now that you’re outside, your ears are ringing. This is stupid. You should be acting more mature, instead of like a child that throws a tantrum because she doesn’t get her way.

Natasha’s with someone else, big fucking deal. You should be moving on. There’s gotta be someone in that house that wants to sleep with you.

But the minute you try to go back inside, your stomach turns. All you can think about is Natasha’s beautiful green eyes, her shy smile.

“Fuck”

Doble fuck, when you notice Carol’s looking around. You know that look. She’s clearly alone tonight and horny.

Not today, Satan.

Before you make a stupid mistake, you decide to leave the party, texting your friends to let them know you’re going back home.

But where’s home, exactly? It takes you 15 minutes walking to realise you’re just wandering around campus, wasted and lost. You sit on the steps of the main library, and all you can think about is that time you followed Natasha like a puppy, probably looking stupid.

Damn it.

“You ok?” a voice startles you, and you look up, rubbing your eyes.

“Yeap”

The guy looks familiar, but the last thing you want is some dumb fuck trying to act like a knight in shinning armor.

“I think you’re in my American Studies class” he says.

“I don’t know. Maybe” you say, pulling out your phone, thinking it might be wise to call Darcy and ask for her help. She’s gonna be pissed but it’s getting late and you’re practically alone with this stranger.

“I’m Jake” he says with a smile, and you want to throw your phone at his stupid face. As if you even asked what his fucking name is.

“Have a goodnight, Jake from American Studies” you say, standing up to walk around him. Unfortunately, you stumble, and the guy takes advantage, grabbing you by the waist. He’s definitely closer than he needs to be.

“Looks like you could use a hand” he tries to joke, but you feel dread invade your system as his hand slides down to your lower back. Way lower.

“No, I’m fine. Let me go” you push him away, but you’re drunk and he’s stronger. While you struggle, your phone falls to the floor.

“Just let me take care of you” he whispers in your ear.

This cannot be happening. You’re about to scream for help, when his overwhelming presence disappears, and is replaced by green eyes that you’d recognise anywhere.

“Are you ok?” Natasha says. She doesn’t manhandle you like the idiot did, placing her hands delicately in your face instead.

“Yes. I’m fine. How did you…?”

You’re about to ask something, but the adreline rush and the alcohol make you dizzy, so you close your eyes to try to calm down. The guy says something to Natasha, but your heart is beating in your ears, and you can’t even hear him.

“Leave before I call campus police” Natasha says, making it very clear she’s not messing around. You take a deep breath, opening your eyes. Natasha’s gaze is fixed on you, a frown clouding her features. “Is Wanda around?”

“No, I didn’t want to stay at the party, so I left early but got lost. I, uh, can find my way home, don’t worry, I know you’re busy…”

“What did you drink?” Natasha says, her palm against your forehead. “You’re sweating”

“Tequila, a beer or two. I’m sorry, I can take care of myself, you should go…” you stumble with your words, mortified. She probably thinks you’re an idiot.

But instead, Natasha squeezes your hand, smiling gently.

“I’d feel better if you came back home with me. That way I can keep an eye on you”

“I don’t want to bother you” you say, turning away. If you keep looking at those beautiful eyes, you know you’ll agree to anything.

“Please” she says, her raspy voice a tone lower than usual. As if you’d be doing her a favor by coming over and making her take care of you. It’s very clear she won’t take no for an answer, so you nod, allowing her to lead you to the parking lot.

The ride to her place is a short one, but you’re struggling to keep your eyes open. As soon as Natasha parks, she gets out and walks to your side, opening the door for you.

“I’m ok. Thank you” you mumble, slurring your words. Between the exhaustion and the alcohol, you’re having trouble walking straight. The feeling of Natasha’s hands around your waist might be a dream, but you’re fine with it. Her touch is soft and gentle, unlike that idiot.

“I’ll get you some water” Natasha says as you walk inside, making you sit on the couch.

You play with the fabric, trying to focus on something other than the throbbing in your head. It’s really weird, because you had very little to drink, or at least that’s what you recall. Maybe you were more upset than you thought.

“Sorry about ruining your date” you say out of the blue, remembering why you were in a bad mood.

“What date?” Natasha says, frowning. She hands you a glass of water and you take it with a nod.

“Didn’t you say you were meeting your girlfriend’s friends?” you say between sips, closing your eyes.

“Yelena? She’s my sister. I thought I told you about her. The one who thought she was the lost Romanov princess” Natasha says with a smile.

You’re not smiling, though.

“Wait, so… you’re not dating anyone?”

“I’ve never dated, to be honest” the redhead shrugs her shoulders. You stand up suddenly, ignoring the way the room spins. “Wow, what’s wrong?”

“So if you’re single, why haven’t you texted me?” you pace around the room, agitated. “I was waiting… I thought I made it clear I like you”

“You… do?”

“I… think I’m going to be sick" you say, and Natasha’s by your side in an instant. “I’m such an idiot”

“You’re not, it’s ok. Want to change into some comfortable clothes?”

“Ok” you nod. You let her walk you to a room, but you’re so dizzy that you only realise it’s hers when she opens the door.

She lets you sit on the bed while she goes through her closet, handing you a t-shirt like the one you never gave back.

“I’ll be right outside while you get changed, ok?”

You nod, and she leaves, closing the door on her way out.

Natasha leans against the wall, thinking about all the things you just said. Did you mean them? Should she do something about it?

It felt weird, considering you were intoxicated, and maybe it wouldn’t be something you’d admit out loud if you weren’t drunk. Could it be because you were ashamed about liking Natasha?

All this time, she thought you were just being nice…

Could she really be that oblivious?

“Everything ok in there?” she decides to stop thinking about this, focusing on you instead.

When she doesn’t get a reply, she peaks inside. You’re in the t-shirt Natasha left for you, fast asleep in her bed.

The sight makes Natasha’s stomach turn, but not in an unpleasant way.

Even if you look fine, she decides to sleep on the floor, next to the bed, just in case you need something.

“Nat” you mumble against the pillow after a few minutes.

“I’m here” she says, reaching for your hand. You sigh, squeezing her fingers, settling once more.

You don’t let go for the rest of the night.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n

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justpeaxchy · 8 months ago

Note

I heard you accepted opinions than httyd, could I ask for one? maybe a headcanoon about Hiccup x reader, maybe "how Hiccup would show love to the reader or what would happen if he was jealous", thank you for considering it.

Warnings(?): Hiccup is a lil jealous. A/n: thank you for the request <3! I hope I brought what you were asking for with the headcanons! (I feel like it's a bit short, but here you go! Notes: takes place after httyd 2 and before the plot of httyd 3.

Jealousy has a sword

First off, Hiccup wouldn't be one to get jealous that quickly, although he is protective and such, he trusts you to know that you won't do anything that'll purposefully hurt him in that way.

This doesn't mean he can ignore the pricking feelings of jealousy whenever someone or something else is taking up a lot of your time - more than usual.

He has a habit of checking on you throughout the day, even if his schedule is brimmed with chiefly duties, it's his desire to make sure you're just overall okay. So when he finds himself being more occupied throughout the day and gets the word that you're spending your time with other people, he feels somewhat guilty that he can't be that person who's giving you some attention.

Then the jealousy kicks in.

Especially if it's Eret; he trusts the guy now but he isn't dumb - almost everyone says he is extremely handsome and well-built. He knows you wouldn't do anything with him but he just doesn't like it if he's the one who's with you the most throughout your daily tasks.

"So, how was your day?" He'd ask. You hummed, embracing him into a warm hug that he initiated. "It was nice. I got to go on patrol with Astrid, help put out a couple of fires - again - and, oh, Eret helped me a bit with my sword fighting. After that I was in-"

"Wait, wait, wait. You said who helped you out?" Hiccup slightly broke out of the hug to look at you as you questioningly gazed back at him.

"Uhm, Eret?" You remained still in your spot as you watched him deeply sigh, his head turning towards the ground, allowing his hair to barely brush against your face. "Is ... something the matter..?"

Hiccup shook his head, his hair tickling your nose in the slightest, as he lifted his eyes to meet yours while he spoke hesitantly: "N-no, I just-" he sighed once again as he stared at you, fumbling over his words. As though he had given up on speaking, he gently pulled you closer, allowing your lips to meet. The kiss held an earnestness and passion that was disguised by the delicate way he handled you. He took his time pulling away from you, only doing it because of the necessary oxygen you both needed while he took in every detail on your face.

"Nothing's wrong.. I suppose.. but you do know that you can always come to me for that kind of stuff, right?" He leaned his forehead against yours, auburn hair mixing with yours at the touch.

You were flustered at his response, fighting against the temptation to stutter in your speech; "Yeah, I know... but you're more busy now and I wouldn't want to make you feel more stressed or anything-"

Hiccup was quick to interrupt you as he shut down your statement: "No. You wouldn't be doing anything bad to me if you came and asked for my help in something. I want you to do that." His answer seemed to be more urgent than he wanted, making him clear his throat from the embarrassment that began to creep upon him, "W-when you're a available, that is.." He let out a breath that looked as though he were exhaling all negative feelings away. "Y'know what, I'm making a new plan. From now on, we'll meet every day to better improve your sword techniques. Sound good?"

You were shocked, to say the least, by his answer. It took a lot of convincing to tell him that it shouldn't be every single day this happens, for the sake of his schedule and the things he has to do on certain occasions. He's the Chief now, not a teenage kid running away from his problems anymore - which made him a little bit sour when he thought about it.

In the end, after practicing your sword fighting every other day, he just went right back into doing it everyday instead. Even moreso after Snotlout had tried to spar with you. Hiccup felt more "entitled" to do that specific activity with you - for some odd reason.

(He just really likes to do this with you, especially with Inferno.)

"Hiccup, it's not like we don't see each other everyday as it is-"

"Shush. We're gonna meet everyday and work on this. It's for your benefit anyways. "

He definitely feels like it's one of the ways he can show his love for you, if not the most important one: by giving you his time.

(That's why he's so protective over being the person that helps you with your sword fighting.)

----------------------------------------------

#hiccup how to train your dragon #hiccup haddock #hiccup x reader #how to train your dragon #httyd #hiccup httyd #httyd hiccup #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #httyd rtte #how to train you dragon: the hidden world #hiccup #httyd fanfiction #httyd headcanon #x reader #headcanon #httyd x reader

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aceecee · 1 month ago

Text

Insatiable - Extra #8

The original idea I had for Insatiable, actually I didn't have a title for it back then. It was meant to be a Sylus fic, I have no idea how it turned out to what it's become.

I might write this in the future.

Update: Here's a link to the prologue!

Masterlist

The man is silent as he enters your apartment.

The air is heavy with regret…guilt.

You know why he’s here. You can feel your heart breaking at the realisation but you hide it all. Nothing on you gives away any feeling. It’s not fair to the man, he’d been honest to you from the start that nothing real would ever form between you two. He told you all about the woman he truly loved, the one he was waiting for. You don’t feel any malice for her, from the way he had described her, she was an astonishing person, someone who deserved a man like him by her side.

“I’m guessing you found her,” your smile is soft because even though it hurts, his happiness wins over your desires.

“Yes.”

“Okay,” you know what’s coming. The two of you had discussed this. “I guess that's it,” you follow up.

“This is goodbye then, Sylus.”

“Goodbye.”

Sylus doesn’t know what to feel as he walks away from you.

He shouldn’t be this conflicted. It was never meant to be difficult.

He was never meant to get attached.

Whatever the two of you had was always transactional. He had sought you out - a hacker with excellent capabilities - you had a reputation around the N109 zone. At first the both of you kept a clear distance, your help made his operations a lot easier. As time progressed so did whatever it was between the both of you. He made sure to keep his intentions clear, it wouldn’t be fair otherwise.

It was just sex, he told himself as he held you in his arms.

It was just sex, he told himself as he kissed you.

It was just sex, he told himself as he caressed you.

He repeats those same words now as he walks away.

Six months pass and not a day goes by when he doesn’t think of you.

Things with Miss Hunter never take off. Her heart now belongs with someone else and Sylus doesn’t even care. He’s the only one who remembers their past together, there’s no need to burden her with the memories. Instead, the two become fast friends.

One night, he finds himself telling her about you. She offers no kind words as she berates him for leaving you.

“You idiot! You’re clearly in love with her. What are you still doing here?”

He’s back at your apartment. He found himself here a lot these last months, simply standing outside but never knocking. For he had left you, what right does he have to come back in your life?

He knocks this time.

No response.

“[Name]?”

Nothing.

Sylus has been in the game for a long time, one thing he’s learnt is to never avoid his instincts. They had helped him with never making deals with the wrong people, and helped him with finding the right person to trust.

And right now, those instincts were screaming that something was wrong.

He easily bypasses the electric lock on your door. What greets him inside is nothing. All the walls are devoid of any decorations, the photos you had up of your deceased family and current friends are gone. There’s no furniture anywhere. The entire place has been swept clean, not a speck of dirt left behind.

If someone figured out how to leave the N109 zone, it would be you.

Five years and six more months have gone by. Not a single trace of you has been found, you haven’t made it easy with your capabilities. None of your friends know where you are. You’ve left everyone behind.

He still hasn’t given up, no matter how long it takes, he will find you. Mephisto misses you. The twins miss you.

Sylus misses you.

The little girl stares back at him.

“Are you Stylus? Mummy said to give this to you,” she pronounces his name wrong. With red eyes and white hair, it doesn’t take a genius to know who this kid is. She hands him a letter.

“It’s Sylus,” he explains. The kid blinks at him, clearly not expecting such a deep voice. As he rips the letter open, the kid repeats his name over and over again.

Sylus,

If it is you reading this letter then I suppose you’ve met Ruby.

He looks back into those red eyes that mirror his. His daughter’s name is Ruby…how fitting.

“What is your favourite gem?” he asked as the both of you perused the collection.

He watches as you pick you out a gem and hold it next to his eye. “Perfect match,” you grin at him.

“Right now it’s rubies.”

He brings the kid inside, get’s her situated while he reads the rest.

I would have told you but I only figured out I was pregnant when I had already left. I tried to get in touch but the number you gave me no longer worked and I was not going into that area while pregnant or with a child in my arms.

I’ll admit a part of me didn’t want to, I was afraid you wouldn’t accept our child. That I would ruin your future with your hunter.

I know deep down that you’re not that kind of man but even I get insecure sometimes.

I don’t know how but some shady organisation discovered she’s your child. I have a theory that one of them must have met you and if you’ve seen Ruby, then it’s obvious. I did some digging on this organisation and it’s not good. At first I thought they were some small fry but I’ve discovered transactions that go deep, they have a lot of rich people in their pockets which means they’re very powerful. What they have against you, I have no idea. They’re good at covering their tracks.

It’s why I sent Ruby to you, you’ll be able to protect her.

I made them think that I was running away with her while I sent her alone to you. I led them away so she could get to you.

Don’t come looking for me. If I’m successful in tricking them then I’ll come to you and we can finally have the conversation we should have had years ago. If I don’t come back, then I’m dead. I offer no leverage to these people so they’ll kill me.

I’ve attached a hard drive containing all the information I have on them, with your resources it should be easy to end them.

Take care of Ruby for me, okay? She’s all I have. Tell her I love her so much.

P.S. she’s allergic to nuts, her bag has epipens but make sure to keep many around the house! She also needs a story every night or she’s not going to sleep. She has a lot of energy (I blame you for that) so make sure to burn it out of her every day. She has a sweet tooth but don’t give in! She’ll flash you puppy eyes but you have to stay strong, she’s a menace and she knows it.

You don’t sign it with your name but you don’t have to. It’s clear the letter is from you.

The familiar sensation of regret wraps its arms around him. You had been pregnant when he left you. All this time, you had dealt with it all on your own. You might die on your own too.

He can’t have that happen.

A small hand tugs at his pants.

“Are you my dad? You look like me,” Ruby asks.

He leans down and pokes her cheek. “You look like me, I’m older,” he says softly.

It’s the confirmation the girl needs, her walls crumble around her father. Tears gather in her eyes. “Will mummy be okay? I want her back.”

Without thinking, he cradles the girl into his arms. His shirt becomes wet with her tears.

He’s already failed you twice. There won’t be a third time.

“I’ll bring her back.”

Tag list: Tag List: @serenity-loves-red @crimsonmarabou @reni502 @r0ckb1n @queenkymmie @plzdonutpercieveme @perqbeth @mephisto-with-a-knife @tumblingdevils @angelwhizpers

#lads fanfic #love and deepspace #loveanddeepspace #yandere #lads #lads sylus #lads mc #sylus x reader #yandere love and deepspace #love and deep space #love and deepspace x reader #non mc reader #aceecee #lnds #lnds sylus #sylus x you #yandere x reader #yandere character #yandere sylus

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monstersholygrail · 4 months ago

Note

dray the crisis is hitting again can I get yandere mad scientist and their also mad scientist reader who loves experimenting with them? Thank u!!

Omgeee my first yandere ask, thank you sm!! Hope you like it, it kinda went all over the place (much like the couple lol)

Ever since Yandere!Mad Scientist was a boy the twisted darkness of scientific exploration spoke to the depths of his soul. He carried it with him throughout his childhood and the so-called deranged experiments he would conduct on the neighborhood animals.

When you, the new neighbor’s child, cried over the loss of your cat, Yandere!Mad Scientist felt something shift inside of him for the first time in his few years on this earth. He wondered briefly if this is what his parents meant when referring to emotion. He wanted… more of this strange sensation. He also wanted to use his gifts for someone else for a change. Another first your presence has given him.

He knew you would appreciate the gift that resulted from his experiment, and appreciate him, even when no one else ever has. Something in him told him you would understand. He didn’t believe in fate or destiny, no, he believed in cold hard facts and science. But perhaps in this one exception… it was your soul calling out for him. It had to be. Who was he not to answer?

The moment you throw open the gift box in your family’s living room to reveal your cat’s moving head on a mechanical body and your joyous squeals mingle with your parents horrified screams, he knew. The way you marveled at his accomplishment as you hugged your cat close before your parents tore it away from you in terror.

He knew you were meant to be his. And someday when he wasn’t so little and you weren’t under the control of your parents, you would be. By the possessive look you flash him as your parents usher him out and threaten to call the cops, he knows you have the same idea.

As you both continued to age, Yandere!Mad Scientist’s experiments only got more complex and dangerous. Though now you were right there by his side, driving his theories down even darker avenues. Your creative mind just as twisted as his, if not more so. Your genius unparalleled.

Of course, a series of strategic maneuvers had to be set in place every time you both snuck away to meet up given your parents had permanently banned you from seeing ‘the freak kid next door.’ They still hadn’t gotten over the little cat incident. The fact that you kept the cat alive to this day probably not helping them move on either.

But nothing could keep you away from each other. He was yours and you were most definitely his. With your work together you two would take control of the world and destroy anyone who tried to get in the others path. They were all of inferior minds to you two, they had no right to deny you what rightfully belonged to you and him.

No one would be able to touch you or keep you from him again. It was only a matter of time.

When you and Yandere!Mad Scientist got to college it was the real first taste of freedom either of you had ever had. He thought that this was it. You two would never be separated from now on. He’d be in an off campus apartment with you after school and during school you two would have all the same classes.

But then you have to go and betray him, doing the worst thing imaginable. Choosing a different major than him. While he had gone the expected path— the correct one— of a Science Major. You had chosen… Psychology. It was possibly the first time in his entire life that Yandere!Mad Scientist had been furious at you. You wouldn’t believe how tempted he was to handcuff you to him so you’d be forced to always remain by his side

He was actually searching online for a good sturdy pair the night you came to him asking for help with a project, the first you two had spoken in days following the fight you had about it. And that’s when he learns of your true motivations, the reason behind your desire to be a… Psych major of all things.

You see, you had started working on a memory control device that would surely help your plans for world domination. Of course, he immediately agreed to working on this with you. You two had never worked separately since you met and he wasn’t about to start now. Only he was allowed to know the inner workings of your mind, to understand the way your genius wove its clever webs. He was the only one who ever understood you and that would remain true for as long as he had a say about it.

Together, the work on your project progressed rapidly. The two of you working on it day and night. It was a little tricky, given you two only shared a few classes together where you’d pass flirtatious notes filled with complex algorithms. But he made do.

Though as you learned more from your classes and began applying them to the device, something started feeling… off about it all. More algorithms were attempted that he doesn’t remember running, beakers he doesn’t recall turning on were left running till they overflowed, and days seemed to pass him by where it felt like he had done absolutely nothing despite your excited rambling on the progression of the project.

One night, as you two are cleaning up from that night’s experiments, he comes across one of his many notebooks. Buried deep under a dozen others just like it. But this one has a book mark with an arrow pointing down saying ‘Read me.’ On the marked page lays a whole series of numbers and formulas he’s never even seen before in his one handwriting. With a sticky note at the top reading ‘Forget Something?’

He reads through what appears to be his work over and over again. No, this can’t be real. He never did any of this, it’s impossible. But as he watches the formulas grow more successful with each equation, realization dawns on him. It is possible. He just lost his memory of it. He looks up, eyes instantly catching onto your form across the room just as you look back up at him.

That playful smirk and mischievous glimmer in your eye that he loves so much. It’s as clear as day. As is what you’ve been doing to him. His lips curl into a mirroring expression and you just laugh, returning your gaze to your work.

Ah, so that’s how you want to play it, huh? That’s more than fine by him. He can play it right back to ya. To show you that his brain is all yours for fucking around with, so long as you’re his to do the same.

The next time you come to, the pair of you are sitting in an unfamiliar lecture hall. The teacher droning on about a topic you can’t really hear. Still half-asleep with your head resting on your arms.

“Wakey wakey, darling,” he murmurs in your ear, hand petting your head affectionately. You look too cute all groggy and disoriented as you slowly wake up from the device’s effects. He understands why you used it so much on him. Seeing you like this was absolutely irresistible.

You groan, eyes scrunching up tight. Your head feeling like it weighs about a metric ton and your eyes begging to remain closed forever. You open them anyway, lashes fluttering as you try and focus in on your surroundings. The lecture hall is completely unfamiliar to you. And given the stone walls, you’re in a completely different department.

“W-where am I?” You ask, voice slightly slurred from misuse.

He is having too much fun watching you. It’s wild seeing the device be used and the impacts it has on its users. He briefly wonders if you’ll forget all about this feeling just as he had. He cups your chin with a surprising tenderness, slowly bringing your attention back on him.

“Don’t you remember, dear? You decided to transfer into the Science department. Now, we’ll be together in all our classes. Just like you wanted,” he rumbles, his voice like a hypnotic lullaby as his thumb soothingly caresses your jaw.

It takes a moment for you to break through the comforting haze of his touch so his words can register. Your brows furrow deeply, having no memory of leaving your previous major. The words begin to repeat in your head, echoing and pounding against your skull.

Remember.

He can the moment clarity begins to dawn on you. Your eyes losing that dazed effect to them. He practically watches as you put the pieces together, realizing what must’ve happened just like he did. Though he has to give you props for how fast you realized. Your genius only made him fall harder for you, want even more of you.

But when you burst out into a fit of quiet giggles, your eyes lighting up with pride, he can feel the strings you have wrapped around his heart grow impossibly tighter. It was that pride in your work, pride in the success of the device, and even pride in him for managing to get one on you.

Your laughter is infectious and soon he’s laughing right along with you in the lecture hall, leaning in close and marveling at what you two can do when you put your minds to it.

He looks into your eyes, his hand sliding to cup your cheek and holding you like you’re the most the precious thing in the world to him. And just like back when you were kids, with one look he knows what you’re thinking.

That there is nothing better than experimenting with each other. In every way possible.

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covenofagatha · 6 months ago

Note

Could you write Agatha/reader where the reader discovers they have a nursing kink 🫠 The ending of chp2 of sugar&spice was so so comforting

I don't know if this is exactly what you had in mind for this request, but hopefully you still like it! Thank you to everyone who voted for this, here you go!!

Nurtured Desires

When your mom's best friend who just had a baby gets caught without a pump, you take matters into your own hands to help her out.

Word count: 1900+

Warnings: nursing kink, lactation, fingering

You’ve always found your mom’s best friend, Agatha Harkness, incredibly attractive.

But ever since she gave birth three months ago, there’s been something even hotter about her.

Maybe it’s the way she’s always exhausted but still finds time to smile at you when she sees you.

Maybe it’s her nurturing side on display that’s tapping into some unresolved mommy issues you have.

Or maybe it’s the way her breasts are huge and full and she makes no effort to hide her cleavage.

You feel like a gross guy every time you find your eyes drifting down, but who can blame you?

You’re pretty sure Agatha has seen you staring a few times, too. But every time, she just gives you a smirk with an imperceptible shake of her head, like she’s scolding you because she knows that she should, not that she wants to.

Her kid, Nicholas, is cute enough. You don’t really know enough about babies to have an opinion, but he gurgles and giggles when he sees you sometimes. When you hold out your finger to him, he’ll grab it with his entire fist and it makes you smile.

Your mom had been named Nicky’s godmother and you had tagged along with her to the baptism. You can still remember how it felt when Agatha had hugged you, pressing her breasts against your chest. You had been able to think of very little else during the ceremony.

Agatha had the two of you over to her house a lot after her son was born. Your mom was all too happy to help out, as Nicky’s father was barely ever home and Agatha was exhausted. You kept the older woman company while doing homework for your college classes in the kitchen while she prepared a light snack or in the living room while she caught up on the newest episode of the show she was watching.

But it was inevitable that Nicky would start crying and Agatha would have to take him into her bedroom to feed him.

Is it weird that you wanted to know what it was like?

Never before had you been so transfixed by the thought of that, and you had been around several of your mom’s and older sister’s friends who had given birth.

But everytime, when Agatha could come back out of the room, holding Nicky with her shirt unbuttoned more than it had been, you couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy.

There is something especially different about today.

It’s Thanksgiving, and every year Agatha has a lunch where she invites people from the neighborhood over. Her husband has taken Nicky to his parents’ house to give her a break and it seems like she is back to her normal self.

But Agatha has decided to wear a short, tight, navy dress with a very low cut, reminding you that something was still not normal.

You’re practically drooling over her. There are several times that someone says something to you that you don’t even hear because you’re too busy staring.

Is she wearing a push-up bra? How are they that perky? You’ve never wanted to suck on something more.

You physically shake your head to get rid of those thoughts.

She is your best friend’s mom. She just had a baby. She is married.

You repeat those sentences like a mantra as you finish helping cook the food. You’ve been tasked with making mashed potatoes, which is a pretty easy job.

Finally the meal is ready, and while you’re setting the table with your mom and another friend of hers, you notice that Agatha is nowhere to be found. You frown and check back in the kitchen. She’s not there.

“Mom, did Agatha go to the bathroom?” You ask, hoping she doesn't ask why you care so much. Your mom shrugs absentmindedly, too focused on balancing the plate of cranberry sauce with the bowl of casserole so she doesn’t drop either.

You glance at the hall bathroom to find the door open. Spurred on by something, you head up the stairs, just to make sure Agatha’s alright. It’s not like her to just disappear.

“Agatha?” You call out and you hear a muffled sound coming from her bedroom. You can hear the front door open downstairs and you assume more guests are arriving. You tentatively walk into her room, the floor creaking.

And that’s where you find her sitting on the bed, her back to you.

“You okay?” You ask, not really sure what’s going on or how to explain what you’re doing.

She sniffs and turns around and your jaw falls open.

There’s two damp spots on her chest, visible on the navy material.

“Uh–” You have no idea what to say.

“I’m such an idiot, I had all the nursing stuff in Nicky’s bag and it’s with my husband, and I thought I would be okay,” she mutters angrily and you walk over to where she’s sitting, as if in a trance. You think you can smell it.

“Is there anything I can do?” You ask breathily, falling to your knees in front of her. It sounds like you’re on something and she looks at you with surprise and maybe a little of something else.

“You want to help me?” Her eyebrow raises like she’s daring you, but you don’t back down. You nod and her lips part. You think her pupils are dilating. “I see you staring, you know. You’re not subtle.”

You shrug shamelessly, hands coming up to rest on her bare thighs. She gasps as the touch. You think she must be so sensitive. “Let me help, please,” you beg, staring up at her.

She holds your gaze for a second and then obliges, reaching behind her to drag the dress zipper down. Your heart stutters in your chest when the front of the dress loosens and more and more of her pale skin is revealed. She’s wearing what looks like a special kind of bra and you move to touch without even realizing.

You cup her swollen breast and run your thumb over her nipple through the fabric. Agatha’s breath hitches and she bites her lip, eyes watching you through hooded lashes.

“Baby,” Agatha says, silently communicating what she needs, and you pull her right breast out over the bra, sit up on your knees, and take her leaking nipple into your mouth.

Her head falls back and you moan at the taste. It’s so warm and rich and you start suckling, just wanting to bring her some relief.

“Fuck,” she says sharply and you feel a spark of heat grow inside you. You keep drawing out the milk and her hand comes down to grab your left one and bring it to her other breast. You scrabble with her bra and she eventually gets fed up and reaches behind her to take it off. You have to take your mouth off of her for a second and she whines at the loss of the stimulation, but you quickly make up for it by sucking her other nipple into your mouth.

The spark has become an ache, but you’re too caught up in the taste of the older woman to care.

You use your teeth and tug and her fingers bury into your hair, holding you close. You can hear her making small noises and you switch your mindless lapping to a slow, steady rhythm of deep sucks. She brushes your hair out of your face so she can see you better and is perfectly content to watch you like that.

You move back to the right nipple, but play with the left with your free fingers. She whimpers when you’re particularly rough with a suck and her hips jerk.

You freeze around her breast and meet her eyes, which are completely glazed over with lust and desire.

“Please touch me,” she whispers, hands moving down to hike up her dress. “I need it so bad.”

Who are you to say no? You reach up under her skirt and feel her underwear and you gasp, her nipple dropping out of your mouth.

She is soaked. Her underwear is dripping. You wouldn’t be surprised if there was a puddle on the bed under her. You almost cum on the spot.

You slide them to the side and push two fingers in easily, eyes widening at the feeling of her warm and wet walls clenching around you. Agatha inhales above you and drags your mouth back to her nipple. You latch on, resuming your sucking, and you start moving your fingers. You curl with every thrust, teething harder on her nipples and drinking her milk, and she bucks her hips up every time. You rub her clit with your thumb and her moans are getting louder with all the stimulation.

“Fuck, baby, so good, so close,” she pants. You can feel her getting tighter around you and you increase the pace of your fingers, sucking rougher.

She cums and it’s explosive. There’s a gush of milk into your mouth and the hand on her other nipple gets drenched. You fuck her through her orgasm, still sucking the remaining milk out of her, until it gets too much and she pushes you off.

You’re both breathing hard. You can feel how sticky and wet you’ve become between your legs, but you know better than to ask Agatha for help with that now. You're not sure what this even was.

“Feel better?” You joke and she chuckles, ruffling her hair.

“Yes, thank you, dear. You seemed like you enjoyed that.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh. “Yeah, I didn’t really know I was into that. Anytime Nicky isn’t around, just call me up.” It’s meant to be a jestful quip, but her eyes darken.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She muses and the blush on your face gives you away. “Okay, go back downstairs now and rejoin the party. We’ve both been gone long enough. I need to change clothes.” You start to move but she stops you. “Oh–and sweetheart?”

You pause and look back at her. Agatha swipes her thumb across your chin and holds it up, milk droplets coating it. Before thinking, you take it into your mouth and suck, much like you had just been doing to her nipples. Her low groan excites you, but she’s right. At the very least, your mom is wondering where you were.

“Thank you,” she says with genuine gratitude in her voice and you smile. “Now, go.” She playfully swats your shoulder to shoo you away and you bite back the urge to ask if it’ll happen again.

You glance back when you get to the door just in time to catch a hint of her naked body and you have to force yourself out of the room so you don’t accidentally go back in for more.

When you go downstairs, your mom immediately finds you.

“Where have you been?” She asks. “The food is all ready, we’ve already started eating.”

“Oh, I had to help Agatha with something.” Technically not a lie.

She purses her lips but can’t complain. “Well, come get some food before it’s all gone.”

There’s footsteps on the stairs and you look up to find Agatha walking down in a maroon suit and your mouth runs dry. She sees you staring – like always – and gives you a wink.

“You know, I’m not really hungry,” you say to your mom, completely distracted by the older woman and the taste of her milk that’s still on your tongue.

#agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #kathryn hahn x reader #agatha harkness smut #agatha smut #covsfics

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rafesangelita · 9 months ago

Note

🍪; lover, you should have come over by jeff buckley

♡ “sometimes a man must awake to find that really he has no one. so i’ll wait for you, love.”— in which rafe never took your relationship seriously when he had you, so you left the island in hopes of starting new. however, you’re back one year later, and this time you’re both on the same page.

warnings: second chance au, implied age gap, lots of talk about marriage and having kids, angst, time skip, rafe is pretty regretful in this one

a/n: this couldn’t have been a more perfect request! i’ve been wanting to do something like this for a while now. left this one on a little cliffhanger, pls don’t hate me </3 buttttt if requested enough, i’m completely open to making a part two!

rafe knew the night you left him without a word, he was the one entirely at fault. he knew deep down there was only so much you could take before you’d have to realize he wasn’t going to give you what you wanted more than anything else, and that was serious commitment. despite you being slightly younger than him, you valued the more serious, traditional side of things. while rafe was thinking about where he would take you to dinner next, you were wondering if your babies would have his blue eyes.

refusing to be the one to initiate that kind of conversation with him, you held your tongue and enjoyed the time you had with him until your heart couldn’t take it anymore. the final straw for you was when you two were laying together the way you always did post-sex, and rafe revealed to you that marriage would never be in the cards for him. he claimed that he was too much of a possessive person to share you with anyone else, let alone children, and you swore your heart broke in two.

“you don’t want to get married.. like ever?” you gazed up at him with those fucked out eyes of yours, just hoping he wouldn’t say the words that would give you confirmation to let him go. “no. i know a lot of people say this, but it’s true; marriage is just a piece of paper.” that night, you remembered every curve and detail of his face, forever engraving his image in your head as you silently slipped out of tanneyhill and didn’t look back. you cried. oh, god, you cried so much. apart of you felt like going back and erasing all desire of marriage and family and just indulge in what you and rafe had, but in no world would that work.

rafe woke up that morning, feeling a profound sense of emptiness he didn’t expect to feel without you near. he recalled the way you looked at him before he fell asleep, like you were never going to see him again. panic set in, his feet moving before he could think. he called your name out, checking every room and bathroom before the harsh reality hit him like a ton of bricks. he called your phone, throwing his own when an automated message said the line had been deactivated.

rafe was in denial the first week. he was sure you’d turn up somehow, somewhere, and wrap your arms around his shoulders while planting kisses on his neck, but you never came. that didn’t stop him from looking for you any chance he got, hoping, pleading that he’d bump into you somewhere and you’d go home with him. when he caught word that you had left the island altogether, he felt hurt, betrayed. how could someone as sweet and soft, and so precious as yourself just vanish without warning?

he didn’t understand, not being able to wrap his head around the fact that you felt like you had to run from him. you were the only thing he had on this god forsaken island. his family, his friends, no one truly knew him like you did. no one recognized his efforts to be a better man, no one comforted him, loved him. he spent his days focused on work, completely shutting everyone out. he was filled with regret, and it was your absence that made him realize marriage was so much more than a legal document.

it was vowing to never take that person for granted, it was carving your love in a stone of history, it was a sacred promise to never leave one another, a sacred promise that he so badly wished to have another chance at. before he knew it, an entire year had passed and just like you, there was nothing he wanted more than a family of his own. scratch that, he didn’t just want it. he dreamt about it, yearned for it just as much as he yearned for you. what he didn’t know, was that it wouldn’t be long until you showed up at his door.

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madaqueue · 10 months ago

Text

PUSH AND PULL

something silent and intangible ties you to sukuna, and has for as long as you've known each other. but you can't help but wonder what would happen if you pull on that little red string of fate, bringing him closer than just friends.

pairing: ryomen sukuna x f!reader

themes/content: modern non-curse au, best friends to ???. suggestive/smut. language, pet names (pretty, baby, sweetheart), he calls you a slut but like as a joke, alcohol consumption, semi-public. 18+, MDNI (wc: 2.6k)

It was always just you and Sukuna, for as long as you could remember. Even as kids, the two of you found your home in the corner of the playground after he pushed someone off a swing you wanted to use; in highschool, you etched your names into the desks during some mundane class, landing both of you in detention. He wove his way into your life, and you into his, mending the frayed threads left behind by scissors and rough hands.

So of course neither of you ever dated - you didn’t need anybody else. Nobody would put up with (nor could handle) him and his moods. And you, well, nobody would dare get near you so long as you had him around.

To his credit, it took very little to scare any potential suitors off, oftentimes nothing more than a glare or a firm hand on their shoulder. And he seemed to understand that no one would ever quite compare to you, everyone else too boring, too bland, too pathetic to deserve his attention.

And so, you played along, this little game of pushing and testing and teasing and almost almost almost.

Yet, there was always something in the way, some invisible force keeping you from ever bridging the gap. “Just friends,” you both called it, a name for the insurmountable chasm between you. It was silent, unspoken, but always felt, a magnetic pull that kept you close but never allowed you to touch.

Tonight in particular, at this shitty house party of a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend, that pull feels almost tangible, lingering in the hazy air.

Music blares, flashing LEDs illuminating the thin layer of sweat covering both of your bodies. Every thump of the bass electrifies the air, your heartbeat vibrating in tune. Tattooed hands hold your hips firmly against his body, your ass pressed to his pelvis.

You love this song. He loves you loving it.

That smug grin plays across his face, shadows cast by the flickering party lights above making it appear far more sinister to someone who doesn’t know Sukuna. But to you, he’s perfectly content.

When the chorus hits, you bend at the waist, dropping forward and grinding against him. Always such a fucking tease, he thinks as a quiet laugh escapes his lips. His fingertips tighten their hold but he shows no other sign of his sinful desires (he was proud of his restraint, even after all these years).

Bending your knees, the pathetically thin material of your dress rides up just enough that a prouder man would feel obligated to look away. Sukuna, of course, just chuckles as you look over your shoulder.

“You look like a slut.” Bright white teeth shine through his grin.

“At least I can dance,” you retort, hips circling against the front of his jeans. “You look stiffer than a dead guy’s dick.”

Throwing his head back, a laugh overtakes him, seemingly louder than the shitty pop song playing through the speakers. Pink hair catches under the red lights, absolutely electrifying. “Jesus, I forgot how filthy that fuckin’ mouth of yours can get.”

Fully turning around, you press your chest against his, your dress doing little to hide the way your nipples harden at the mild friction. The now-empty cup in your hand dangles at your side as you stand on your toes, lips brushing against his ear. “I’m gonna go get another drink to wash out this ‘filthy fuckin’ mouth,’” you shout over the music.

Instead of verbally responding, Sukuna steps back, slapping your ass as you make your way to the kitchen.

You know, of course, that he wouldn’t let anyone else talk to him the way you do, and you, of course, wouldn’t dare let anyone touch you the way he does (and he sure as hell wouldn’t let anyone else do it, either).

The kitchen is brighter than the surrounding chaos, your eyes blurry as they adjust. Finding your way to the stash of bottles, you pour yourself some combination of juice and liquor. The fake marble of the table is cold against your skin as you hop onto it, crossing your legs as the liquid hits your lips.

It’s certainly palatable, you shrug.

You bask in the muted silence for a moment before it’s broken by Sukuna’s loud footsteps marching towards you.

He always commanded attention so effortlessly, eyes turning to follow his path. At first you thought it was the visible tattoos lining his skin and notably unnatural hair, but over time you grew to wonder if there was something more innate, something living within his soul that evoked the unyielding focus from those around him.

Ruby eyes lock on yours (surely an effect of the colored LEDs still flashing nearby) as he glides in front of you. Your legs part, dangling over the edge of the countertop as he slots himself between them, arms encircling you.

Placing his palms onto the table behind your waist, the scent of whatever expensive cologne he probably stole this week hangs on his clothes as he leans closer.

“Thought I finally got rid of you when you didn’t come back.” His voice is gravelly, lips pulled into a leering smile.

“Maybe I just finally got sick of dancing with someone who only wants to paw at me,” you chuckle sarcastically. Lifting the cup to your mouth, you take another swig. “And you’re awfully close for someone who smells like shitty beer and sweat.”

“Oh really?”

Before you can respond, his lips are trailing up your neck, his nose pushing your hair to the side as he nuzzles into your skin.

His breath is hot, tickling your earlobe as he lowly whispers, “Well you smell lovely.”

On instinct your legs try to close around him, a desperate attempt to quell the ache growing between them. You hate his stupid fucking voice, his annoying flirting, how he always goes just a little too far pushing your buttons.

But he’s your friend.

(And that’s all you’ll ever be to him, too).

All you can do is chug your drink, hoping the alcohol dampens the racing pulse of your heart.

“Thanks, I actually pay for my perfume, unlike you, you fucking delinquent,” you manage to spit out.

Finally he pulls back, eyes locked on you. There’s an intensity behind them you can’t quite name, but one you’ve grown familiar with.

He’s playing with you.

A low hum vibrates from his throat in response, his gaze traveling down to your lips. “What’re you drinking?”

He changes the subject, as he always does when things threaten to get too serious, too real. Always running away, afraid to face the ever-insistent voice inside him that evokes a pause the moment before he hurls himself over the edge into desire.

You smirk. “Why don’t you try it?”

Bringing the cup to his face, it rests on his lower lip as you tilt it upwards, the saccharine liquid pouring down his throat. His eyes never leave yours as he swallows. A small trail dribbles down his chin while you place the empty plastic cup onto the counter beside you.

“Messy boy,” you coo, tone as falsely sweet as the drink lingering on his lips.

Grabbing his face, you pull him towards you, close enough you can make out the faint freckles decorating his cheeks. You collect the sugary liquor on your tongue as it travels along his skin, slightly rough from his freshly-shaved stubble. When you reach the corner of his mouth, you place a teasing peck before releasing your grasp.

“Someone should really teach you some manners, ‘Kuna.” And that devilish smile spreads across your face.

You see, you can play with him, too.

He stifles the giddy laugh building in his chest as he fixes his gaze back on you. “And someone should teach you how to make a drink, that shit was nasty.”

“You entitled brat,” you snap back, pushing him away with a hand against his chest. “I make excellent drinks, otherwise why else would you end up drunk on my couch every weekend, hm?”

“Maybe I just like the couch’s company,” he grins, dimples poking through the darkened lines spanning his face.

You’re both just staring at each other, waiting for something to happen, for someone to make a move. The air is electric, buzzing with that imperceptible desire.

Fuck it.

Just as you move to lean into him, a noise cuts through the static.

“Sukuna!” someone calls from the depths of the party.

His head whips around before shooting you an almost apologetic glance. “Guess someone else requires my attention.”

“Wouldn’t wanna keep them waiting for everyone’s favorite asshole,” you mock. With a mirrored smack of his ass, you send him away into the chaos surrounding you.

In his absence, your head swirls, overwhelmed with the alcohol and the lights and the sudden heat in your core.

Just friends.

You’re just friends.

Taking in a steadying breath, your hands shake as you pour another drink.

But at what point does it stop being a game? When do you decide to stop playing?

With a sigh you knock it back in one gulp before wandering between the bodies crowding the space.

The rest of the party is all skin and noise. It’s fluid and blurry and utterly debaucherous, the way you throw your arms around your friends, the way your body moves with each increasingly loud and repetitive song.

By the time the next few hours have passed, your feet start to ache as you make your way from the swath of strangers crowding the makeshift DJ booth at the front of the house.

Stumbling towards the back, a familiar voice calls your name.

“Where ya goin’, pretty?”

Sukuna is sprawled across one of the stained couches lining the walls, an unfamiliar girl hanging on his side. Her hands rest across his chest as her eyes cover you disapprovingly, nails digging into his shirt when you refuse to give her an ounce of attention.

“Lookin’ for somewhere to sit down,” you sigh, shifting your weight from foot to foot.

“Got a free seat right here,” he smirks, patting his thigh. This fucker.

An angry glare forms along the girl’s face as she stares at you with a displeased grunt. Crossing your arms, you let out a breathy chuckle. “I would, but I wouldn’t wanna interrupt anything.”

Sukuna never even turns towards the girl who now traces her fingertips down his chest. “Nothin’ to interrupt here, baby.”

Exchanging a quick glance at the increasingly unhappy stranger lounged across him, she lets out an annoyed scoff as she rolls her eyes, finally removing herself from Sukuna. Brushing past you, she tries to shove into your shoulder before she misses, tumbling forward and back onto the dance floor.

You can’t help but giggle at the failed show of dominance, your eyes now finding their way back to Sukuna. He pats his thighs again expectantly, eyebrows quirking as he awaits your response.

He’s fucking with you, of course.

But before you know it, you’re standing between his legs. With a small sigh, you seat yourself on his lap, bare legs straddling him. A whisper of mischief dances behind his eyes while his hands make their way to your hips, holding you firmly in place.

“See? Isn’t this much more comfortable?” he taunts.

Heat builds in your core at how low his voice is, the rumbling of thunder just before a storm.

“Mmm,” you hum, letting your dissatisfaction show as you click your tongue. Wrapping your arms easily around his neck, your fingertips absentmindedly trace the lines of his tattoos to where they end at the neckline of his t-shirt. “It’s a bit better, but something’s still missing.”

“Oh yeah?” When he smiles, the lines adorning his skin crease invitingly. “And what’s that, sweetheart?”

You can’t help but grin silently. Because you can fuck with him, too.

Rolling your hips forward, your clothed pussy drags along the outline of his cock. The firm denim of his jeans provides just enough friction to have you stifling a moan. He inhales sharply through his nose, the soft sound cutting through the static noise surrounding you.

“Isn’t that better?” you coo teasingly as his fingertips dig into your waist.

A choked groan leaves his throat, his inability to let you have the upperhand fighting against the sudden desire to pin you down on this shitty couch and fuck you right here. Attempting to shake the thought off, his head falls forward into your neck.

Of course he’s thought about you like that before - you’re gorgeous, fucking hilarious, and somehow just as stubborn as he is. You’re everything he’s ever wanted.

But some small part of him worries that the moment he pushes you too far, you’ll run, just like everyone else in his life. He was always too intense, too angry, too much. But not to you - you seemed to love him in spite of it, maybe even because of it.

Maybe that’s why he lets himself play this eternal game of cat and mouse, the push and pull.

But fuck, right now he wants to pull.

He wants to pull you against him, dragging you along the length of his hardening cock through his boxers. He wants to pull you up and down as he fucks into you, feeling your warm walls meld around him. He wants to pull your lips apart with his, tasting how sweet you are, whispering things he wouldn’t dare say to anyone else. Anyone but you.

The words feel heavy on the tip of his tongue. I want you. I want you. I want you. They’re too weighted, he worries. Instead, he settles for biting at your neck, hoping that your skin between his teeth will be enough to satiate his body’s need.

“S-shit,” you stammer at the sensations of his canines digging into your flesh. “Acting like a fuckin’ teething puppy, hm? Need someone to train some manners into you? Or do you want me to tell you to sit, stay, tell you you’re doing a good job?”

And he does. But of course, he’d never tell you that.

Instead, he bites harder, leaving dark bruises in his wake, a reminder of his mark on you.

As his lips trace up your neck, he pauses to nibble along your earlobe. “Just don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea,” he whispers, his breath hot. “Wouldn’t want anyone taking what’s mine.”

You nearly whimper at the words - his? - but you manage to hold back, instead letting your neediness out with another circle of your hips. He hopes you miss the way his breath catches in his throat at the movement.

“Oh? I’m yours now?” you tease, silently pleading he doesn’t notice the lingering waver in your voice. “Quite possessive, don’t you think, ‘Kuna?”

You feel him chuckle more than you hear it, the warm puffs of air gently blowing against your hair. “I’m only possessive of things I want,” he growls. God, you always loved that rasp in his voice, like a gravel road lining the way home.

At this point, you’re sure your panties are soaked through, the tip of his cock dragging along your clit through them. You’ve never gone this far with him before, never been so bold, so desperate.

And he fucking loves it.

“And what do you want?” Your voice is airy, breathless, as your pace seems to pick up. You’re grateful for the dim LEDs flashing distantly from the depths of the party for hiding the blush undoubtedly dusting your cheeks.

Trailing wet kisses along your jawline, his mouth comes to rest just in front of you. His lips are soft, barely brushing against yours, a few millimeters apart. So close. So fucking close.

“I think it’s rather obvious.” His breath smells like liquor and desire as he whispers, “I want you.”

a/n: getting out of my writing slump by going back to my roots (wanting to fuck sukuna)

#q writes #oneshot #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #sukuna smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut

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solar-wing · 1 year ago

Text

⚣ Love's Punishment 🏛️

Prompts Used: @rednsuch – #39 “Just the smell of you gets me excited, darling.” – #13 “Stop being such a brat.”

⚣🏛️ Summary → One may ask what it's like having a God or Goddess for a parent. Honestly, not fun, and Y/N is a perfect example of that considering how he's being punished by his mother. How do you even bring up this level of mommy issues in therapy?

⚣🏛️ Word Count → 6.2K

REBLOGS and replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🏛️

Daddy issues this, and Daddy issues that.

What about the people who have mommy issues? Because they exist, and Y/N would be shocked if anyone else’s relationship challenges with their mother were similar to his own.

Truthfully, he would never understand or believe the idea that someone could have sex and procreate with a god or goddess and not have one clue. There was no divine light following behind them? No wisps of magic or sparkles. No flowers and bright auras left in their footpaths?

Nothing, not a single clue?

Bullshit.

You may ask yourself, “Y/N, whatever could be wrong with someone having adult fun and having children with a god or goddess?”

Lots of things, actually. There could be an encyclopedia on why that could be a bad idea with lots of consequences to follow. Too many to get into right at this moment considering he was busy trying to cover his head and face from getting blasted while hanging off a superhero’s shoulders like a sack of potatoes.

Getting punished by a god or goddess was not for the weak.

No kid liked getting in trouble and punished by their parents. It was a very unpleasant and frustrating feeling when you had to answer for something you either 100% did without thinking of the circumstances, or something that happened and you were the victim of said circumstances.

But imagine getting punished by your God or Goddess parent for something that you had no control over. Even more, something said parent was directly responsible for!

The hypocrisy of it all.

Y/N’s father was a handsome man. Their genes were always divinely blessed, the Alpha always liked to joke, and the young Omega didn’t realize the irony of that statement until he got older and started questioning things.

Whenever he thought about changing his appearance or switching something up, it happened immediately without any action or movement from him. At one point during some teenage life crisis, he wanted to go blonde but didn’t even need to purchase dye. One moment he’s looking at his natural hair color and looks down to grab his comb. Next thing he knows, he’s got a full head of blond hair in the exact style he imagined. And it looked goood.

There was another time when he wished in his head that the sweater he was eyeing while shopping was gray instead of red, but according to the store, they never produced that particular color. When he went to go look at other options, imagine his surprise when he turned back two minutes later and it seemed as if the store did indeed have gray. And from a closer look, they only had gray. Starting to see the point?

Y/N could read people like a book, especially pertaining to feelings of affection, desire, and jealousy. Imagine the ability to feel someone’s very adult-like feelings, and you hadn’t even hit puberty yet. His dad had to have the birds and the bees talk with him much earlier than planned.

One of the most concerning things was Y/N's naturally attractive aura and charming voice. Though, he couldn’t tell if it was his voice or just the words he spoke that were attractive. But, people seemed to flock to him like moths to a flame. Even at a young age, many fought for his attention, whether it was classmates, friends, family, or strangers he’d run into when out with his dad.

It was normal for an Omega to be highly desired and sought after by Alphas, but it wasn’t just them fighting for his attention. Y/N had Betas and Omegas alike competing with each other for the chance to get acquainted with him.

By the time he entered high school, on record, he had up to four secret admirers (and two stalkers), and when things only seemed to get more out of control, that’s when his dad finally decided to sit him down and explain the truth to him.

“So, yeah. Probably should have told you this when you were younger, but your mom’s Aphrodite.”

…

Not joking, he 100% said it just like that.

Of course, you can imagine the Omega’s confusion and somewhat anger that this information had been withheld for most of his life. Now, not only did Y/N have to deal with the everyday struggles of life and being an Omega, but he also had to balance being the demigod son to the Goddess of Beauty, Love, and Desire. When you think about it, it made the Omega thing 10x more stressful than it already was.

This was the type of shit people wrote and fantasized about.

Wait a sec…

…

Nah.

Now, back to the beginning, since we have some more context, what was this so-called punishment, and why did it have Y/N grumbling about mommy issues while being whisked around the nation’s capital as some superheroes had it out with each other over who got to claim his body affection?

Oh, nothing serious, really. Just mommy dearest trying to interfere with her son’s love life! Who knew the immortal parents were privy to the same, petty tactics as their mortal counterparts…

Unlike most others who would be excited at the thought of being the child of Aphrodite, Y/N felt he had an unfair advantage when it came to dating and relationships, given his semi-godly abilities and gifts. After his last relationship ended in a horror show with a sequel he promised would never see production, he swore off dating and romance for good.

Well, that didn’t fly too well with Aphrodite. Her children, full-blood and half-blood, were always known for their romantic escapades. One of them was the face of Valentine’s Day! Well, his cousin from Rome was, at least.

So, with the help of her son and Y/N’s half-brother, Eros, God of Love, Lust, and Sex, (the mentioned Greek cousin to Cupid) they set up a little divine punishment for the young Demigod to teach him a lesson for rejecting his goldy heritage. It also paid off as insurance, just in case.

Deities and their children were always known to be stubborn little beings.

Aphrodite sent Eros down to Earth to follow his half-blood sibling around, observing his actions and who he interacted with. And, for any male Alpha that the Omega came in contact with, the God of Lust was to ensure a connection was established between the two if he deemed them worthy enough.

Simply put, he was to shoot male Alpha he figured his mother would approve as a match for her son/his brother in the ass with a love arrow. Now, why she told him to shoot only male Alphas and not female, you’d have to ask her.

Mother knows best.

Unlucky for Y/N, they chose one of the worst days to do that when he happened to be in Washington, D.C. for a work-related trip.

Do you know what else is in Washington, D.C.? The Justice League headquarters.

But, why would that be a problem? Do you really need an explanation?

Imagine how interesting it would be if, at the same time Y/N happened to be in Washington, D.C., one of the famous Justice League heroes like Flash, Green Lantern, or Superman happened to be there as well. Picture how tempting of an opportunity it would be for Eros after he was told to find the best potential matches for his little brother.

Pretty damn tempting if you ask anyone else.

Now, if we’re being truthful, Superman was Eros’ ideal choice for his brother, knowing their mother would definitely approve of the relationship between her son and the Kryptonian. Even if he wasn’t an Alpha due to his alien biology, he still had all the ideal traits of one. Not to mention his strong features and handsome looks.

But, he wasn’t opposed to one of the other heroes like Flash or Green Lantern. And when the latter had been the one to save Y/N during some random battle that broke out between the League and some villains, he figured why not just shoot them all and see who came out on top?

Plus, he was the God of Sex just as much as he was of Love. He wanted to see who out of the three heroes had the sexual prowess to handle someone like his brother. Prude or not, being mated to a child of Aphrodite meant you had to be strong in a lot of ways, especially when it came down to the nitty and gritty.

And who said he couldn’t get a little entertainment out of this?

That entertainment is what led Y/N to his situation of being carried throughout the city like some prize while the world’s defenders fought with each other like kids trying to get the last cookie in the jar.

As said, it started with Green Lantern rescuing him and carrying him away to some random rooftop. Everything seemed normal until Y/N noticed a change in the hero and his sudden lustful gazes that were being directed at him. He'd been on the receiving end of a fair amount of adoration and attention by admiring and persistent Alphas, but this he could tell was something different.

And it was.

Eros had shot Green Lantern with the love arrow while they were still in the sky. Now, instead of thinking about the fight he was leaving his comrades to handle by themselves without his assistance, all his thoughts were centered around the Omega in his arms and how blessed he was to be in the presence of such a radiant being.

And how much he couldn't wait to claim his body all for himself. Besides, no one was more fitting or deserving of an Omega of Y/N's stature than the Green Lantern himself. At least, that's what his love-delusioned, and frankly, naturally egotistical mind believed.

Y/N didn't have time to even question what was going on before the green-clad hero had whisked him away to a rooftop, not too far from where the fight was happening. He figured it was over after that and the Alpha would return to his comrades after setting him down.

Imagine the Omega's shock when he found himself pressed against a wall, the hero kissing and nuzzling his neck while running his hands down his body.

"W-What are you doing?" Y/N stuttered out, trying to push the man away but to no avail.

"What does it look like? I'm saving you," The hero's voice was gruff and desperate, and the Omega was starting to get concerned.

"Okay, but this is less saving and more of molesting," Y/N struggled, having his arms pinned against the wall before feeling a hand running down his body towards his pants.

"I'm saving you from other Alphas trying to claim you. After this, you'll belong to me, and me only," Lantern growled gruffly in his ear, an aggressiveness that was all too familiar to the Omega. He'd seen this behavior before but didn't have much time to think about it as the hero started unbuttoning his pants.

"W-Wait! Stop!"

"No, I can't," Lantern shook his head, his eyes glazed over.

"You're under a spell or something!" Y/N tried again, but his words fell on deaf ears.

"I can't stop myself. I need you now," The hero growled, finally pulling the Omega's pants and underwear down before undoing his own and pulling out his throbbing, hard cock.

"No! Stop! You don't want to do this!"

"Stop being such a brat. I need to do this," Lantern's voice was firm and demanding.

Before the green-clad hero could achieve his objective, he was suddenly yanked off the Omega by a red and yellow blur, electricity crackling off it. The Omega after realizing he was free wasted no time in pulling his underwear and pants back up, watching as the blur, now recognized to be Flash, was currently fighting with Green Lantern near the edge of the rooftop.

"What are you doing, man?!" Flash yelled, trying to restrain the other hero.

"Let go of me, I need to save him!" Lantern growled, fighting the speedster's hold.

"From what?" Flash questioned, looking at the Omega confused.

"He's mine!"

"He's not yours!"

"Yes, he is!"

"GL, you need to get a grip."

"He's my Omega! I need to mark him!"

From his position, Y/N could see Flash was struggling to hold the other Alpha down and figured he should probably make his exit right about now. He made his way over to the fire escape, about to climb over until a figure floated up from below.

Superman, ever in his large and slightly intimidating form with his cape blowing in the wind looked down at the Omega with a smile, offering his hand, "Need some help?"

The Omega smiled with a soft blush, trying to quell his nerves at the Alpha's admittedly very handsome and chiseled face. Again, the Omega was no prude, nor was he oblivious to all the gossip and rumors of the world's protectors and their handsome and muscular figures. The latter was made even more prominent by the tight nature of their uniforms.

Y/N would be lying if he said he wasn't looking at Flash's prominent glutes hidden under the red spandex.

But, before the Omega took the Kryptonian's equally large hand, he noticed something in the background. The fight that initially led to this whole mess was still going on. Yet, three of the main superheroes involved in that fight were over here. Flash, he threw to the back of his mind since the speedster did technically save him. But, why was Superman here?

That's when Y/N noticed something in the Kryptonian hero's eyes. An expression almost identical to the one he just saw in Green Lantern.

Uh oh.

Before the Omega could even react, the Alpha had already scooped him up into his arms and flew off into the sky.

"H-Hey! Put me down!" Y/N stuttered, struggling in the Alpha's hold.

"I can't. I need to save you," Superman's voice was low and deep, and the Omega could feel the vibrations from his chest.

Hmm, where had he heard that before?

"Save me from what?"

"Other Alphas trying to claim you," The Kryptonian explained, and Y/N could have sworn he heard a growl in his voice.

A nervous feeling settled into his stomach, and if he wasn't careful, he'd find himself falling prey and submissive to the very situation he was trying to find a way out of. Being Aphrodite's son as mentioned before, he had an extraordinary gift with the power of emotions and desires. He could project his feelings of desire and love onto others, just as much as he could mirror them.

Another one of those aforementioned consequences of deities breeding with mortals.

The only thing Y/N struggled to figure out though was why all of this was happening. He'd never had a run-in with any of these heroes before, and the only time he'd seen behavior like this was when it was related to his...

...Of course.

His mother.

Now, everything was starting to make sense. This could only be the work of mommy dearest, and if Y/N had to guess, his half-brother Eros as well.

He'd have to deal with that problem later, though. Right now, he needed to focus on the task at hand, and that was escaping the arms of a very powerful, very strong, and very horny superhero.

"You're mine. I'll protect you from the others," Superman continued, and Y/N could feel a slight rumble in the Alpha's chest.

"I'm not yours," The Omega shook his head, continuing to struggle.

"Yes, you are. You're mine," The Kryptonian's grip tightened, and the Omega winced at the pain.

Y/N looked down and quickly rid himself of any thoughts that he could survive a fall from this height. Even if he was Aphrodite's son, he lacked something vitally important that his mother and brother both possessed. Immortality.

Hopefully, he could figure another way out of this.

He knew there was no reasoning with the Alpha. As long as he was under Eros' spell, no amount of logic or reasoning would get through to him. As cliché as it may sound, Y/N needed a divine intervention.

Thankfully, it seemed as if one was on the way.

Trails of green energy suddenly surrounded the pair, forming a giant floating cage. Superman turned to see his comrade, having escaped from Flash's grasp flying toward them.

"Get away from him!" Green Lantern yelled, flying towards the duo.

"No! He belongs to me. You have no right to him Lantern," Superman shouted back, clutching the Omega closer.

"You're not even a real Alpha, Clark! You're not even strong enough to make an Omega like him submit to you."

"What did you just say?!"

"You heard me, you fake-ass Alpha. I'm the only one worthy enough for him. Not some alien trash!"

"Why, you-"

Before the two could continue their argument, a vortex suddenly surrounded the two, causing Lantern to lose his focus. The energy cage surrounding the Kryptonian and Omega dissipated and the force from the vortex sent the two heroes to lose their flying. Superman tried his best to stay in the air, but the sudden force was too much and caused him to crash into a nearby building while Lantern crashed into a dumpster.

The Kryptonian managed to shield the Omega from the damage and brunt of their fall by wrapping him in his body. When Y/N realized they weren't falling anymore and had come to a complete stop, he peeked from the Alpha's hold, just in time to see the return of a certain Speedster who must have run up the side of the building to where they were now.

"Are you guys alright?" Flash asked, his eyes landing on the Omega in Superman's arms.

"I'm fine," Y/N nodded, and Flash sighed in relief.

"A vortex, Flash? Really?" Superman questioned with a raised eyebrow, still holding the Omega to his body.

"It was the quickest way to get you two out of the air without hurting anyone," Flash defended, crossing his arms.

"By throwing us into a building?"

"Better than the ground."

"You could have gotten him killed!"

"You were the one holding him!"

"Guys, I'm fine. I promise," Y/N interrupted, and the two Alphas turned to him.

"See, he's fine. Let's get back to the fight," Flash suggested, turning to leave.

"No, not until he's mine," Superman shook his head, and the Omega groaned. He stood up from the ground, letting the Omega stand on his own feet, but keeping an arm wrapped body to prevent him from running off.

"Not this again," Flash sighed, turning back, "You can't claim him."

"And why not?"

"Because he's mine," Lantern's voice suddenly joined the conversation, and the three turned to see the hero, seemingly recovered from his fall, walking towards them.

"No, he's mine!" Superman shouted, his eyes suddenly glowing red as he pointed them at the green-clad hero.

"Clark, no!" Flash shouted, holding his arms up in an attempt to stop the Kryptonian.

"No, he's mine. He's mine. He's mine!" The Kryptonian yelled, his eyes getting brighter.

"Clark, you're gonna kill him!"

"I don't care, Barry. No one is taking my Omega from me."

"He's not yours to claim," Lantern shouted back.

While this was all happening, everyone was oblivious to the new presence that had joined him. Only, none of the heroes could see him. Only Y/N could, and that was a very big problem.

"Eros..." Y/N muttered under his breath, narrowing his gaze at his half-brother who held a mischievous grin on his face while positioning himself slowly behind the speedster.

When Y/N realized what he was doing, he struggled in the Kryptonian's grip, "Eros, no!"

But, it was too late. The deity had taken his shot at the Flash, hitting him perfectly square in the back. The speedster flinched at the impact, turning to look around but finding nothing there, at least, nothing his sight could see. But, when he turned his gaze back around and they fell on the Omega still trapped in Superman's hands, an identical glaze to match the one in the other heroes fell over his eyes. One the half-blood was all too familiar with.

"Oh fuck..." Y/N muttered under his breath.

"Mine," Flash growled, his eyes trained on the Omega.

Before either of the two other heroes could react, Flash sped forward and landed a bunch of fast punches and blows on the Kryptonian, causing him to lose his grip on the Omega.

"Flash, what are you doing?" Lantern yelled at his comrade.

"Taking what's mine," The speedster responded, a charming but crazed look in his expression.

He grabbed Y/N and threw him over his shoulder, the Omega flailing in his grip while also trying to hold on tight as the speedster sped around the space, avoiding attacks from both Green Lantern and Superman at the same time.

"He's not yours, Barry!" Superman shouted, his heat vision shooting at the speedster who avoided it with ease.

"Yes, he is! He's mine!" The speedster yelled, clutching the Omega tighter.

"No, he's mine," Lantern yelled back, sending a giant fist toward the speedster who avoided it in a blur.

"No, he's mine!" Superman yelled, sending his heat vision at Lantern who in turn blocked it with a shield.

"No, he's mine!" The two shouted together, and the fight resumed.

Y/N, still trapped in the speedster's arms, watched helplessly as the Kryptonian and Lantern focused their attacks on each other, feeling a pat on his ass from the speedster who tightened the grip he had around his legs.

"Don't worry about them, beautiful. They're not worthy enough to have you. I am. You'll be mine, and I'll protect you from the others," Flash's voice was husky, and the Omega could feel his heart pounding against his chest.

"You're under a spell, Flash. You don't want to do this," Y/N tried to reason, but the speedster just laughed.

"Oh, but I do. I didn't know what actual life was until just a few minutes ago when I gazed upon you. and now that I have you, I can finally make you mine," Flash smirked, and the Omega gulped.

Flash sped out of the building with the Omega over his shoulder still, the two other Alphas only noticing their disappearance after they were already a mile down the street.

"Shit, where did he take him?" Lantern asked, looking around.

"I don't know," Superman answered, "But we'll find him. And when we do, you'll be the one who has to step aside."

"Like hell, I will!"

While those two continued to bicker, Flash ran himself and the Omega all the way back to Central City. Y/N was amazed at how he didn't pass out from the speed and movement, but he was grateful he didn't. Also, having superspeed may have made it a bit easier.

Just a guess.

When they finally came to a stop, the Omega was set down on his feet, and he looked around to see they were in some bedroom.

"Where are we?" Y/N asked, trying to keep his composure.

"My bedroom," Flash answered, his eyes still glazed over.

"Oh," Y/N nodded, a nervous feeling in his stomach.

"Don't worry, you're safe here," The speedster walked towards him, and the Omega backed away, "I'm not gonna hurt you."

"You say that, but your eyes say otherwise," Y/N responded, continuing to back away until he hit the wall.

"I know. But, I can't help it. I need to have you," Flash smirked, and the Omega felt his arousal getting excited in his pants.

"I'm not yours to have," Y/N shook his head, his heart pounding.

"Yes, you are," Flash's voice was firm, and the Omega felt his resolve fading.

"I-I'm not," Y/N stuttered, his knees getting weak.

"Yes, you are," The speedster was in front of him, and Y/N could feel his breath on his skin.

"I'm not," Y/N shook his head, but his voice was barely a whisper.

"You are," Flash whispered, his face close to the Omega's.

The very thing Y/N was concerned about happening when he was trapped with Superman earlier began to manifest, much to his fear. His divine abilities were reacting to his body's 'chemistry spikes' and now, he was beginning to mirror the Alpha's current feelings toward him, including the obsessive ones, which were now clouding his judgment.

"I'm not," Y/N shook his head, his breathing getting labored.

"You are," Flash whispered, his lips getting closer to the Omega's.

"I'm not," Y/N stuttered, his body giving in.

"You are," Flash whispered, pressing his lips to the Omega's.

"I'm not," Y/N muttered against his lips.

"You are," Flash said firmly, pulling the Omega's body closer to him.

In a move Y/N thought was him going to push against the Alpha in an attempt to resist his seductions, he actually was running his hands up and down the spandex-covered muscles. His legs were spread open by the speedster as he hoisted him up, wrapping them around his waist while pressing him to the wall, kissing him even harder while undressing his clothes.

"You're mine, Y/N," The speedster whispered, his lips trailing down the Omega's neck, "All mine."

"I'm yours, Barry," Y/N panted, his body flushed. Y/N remembered hearing Superman call the speedster by that, figuring it must have been either his civilian name or a codename they had. Either way, he could see from the delighted expression across the Flash's face and his blue eyes through the slits of his mask that he was very pleased by it.

"Say it again."

"I'm yours, Barry. I'm yours."

"That's right, beautiful. You're mine, and I'm yours. You'll never have to worry about other Alphas again, because I'll protect you from them."

The sun's light cascaded through the open windows in the bedroom as the two continued frotting against each other against the wall. Barry trailed his kisses from Y/N's lips down to his neck and eventually to his naked chest, before sucking on his wet nipples while the Omega through his head back in pleasure, the Alpha looking up at him with his blue eyes before taking his lips away from the leaking nubs.

"Do you like that, darling?" Barry asked, and the Omega nodded, his eyes glazed over, "Are you ready for more?"

"Y-Yes, Alpha," Y/N nodded, his breath labored.

"Good boy," Barry whispered, his voice husky and deep. He kissed the Omega one last time on the lips before pulling him away from the wall, carrying him bridal style to the bed.

Barry laid the Omega down, the latter spreading his legs open in submission and invitation, and the former smirked, climbing on top of the bed. Barry pressed kisses to the side of the Omega's neck again, right over his scent gland before taking a big sniff.

"Just the smell of you gets me excited, darling."

Barry's hands roamed the Omega's upper naked body, feeling the smooth and soft skin while trailing his fingers down his sides and to his hips. Y/N gasped, his hands gripping the sheets as the speedster's fingers teased the inside of his thighs.

"I love the way your skin feels, and the way your body reacts to me," Barry whispered, his nose pressing into the Omega's scent gland.

"Barry," Y/N moaned, his body arching off the bed.

"Say it again," Barry growled, his hands squeezing the Omega's hips.

"Barry," Y/N moaned, his eyes closed.

"That's right, baby. I'm Barry, and you're mine," Barry whispered, his fingers moving up the Omega's inner thighs.

"I'm yours," Y/N nodded, his legs spreading open even wider.

However, before Barry could move to remove the Y/N’s pants, the Omega whined at him, tugging on the spandex of his suit and mask with his hands causing a cheesing smile to appear across the Alpha's face.

"Aw, you want to see me out of my suit, don't you, darling?" Barry asked, and the Omega nodded frantically.

"Yes, Alpha. Please."

"Good boy," Barry praised, and the Omega whimpered.

He quickly removed his gloves and masks, tossing them aside before unzipping the top of his suit and pulling it off, revealing his sculpted and muscled chest. Y/N's eyes widened in delight and appreciation at the sight, reaching his hands out to touch the smooth and pale skin.

The Omega moaned happily at the sight, running his hands down the hard pecs and abs while leaning up to press his own kisses against the skin. Barry shuddered above him from the move while resuming his earlier actions of removing the offending pants and underwear that were hiding his prize from his sight.

Tossing the pants aside, he leaned up and took in the sight of the fully naked Omega, writhing on his sheets and whining for him, feeling his own throbbing hard erection under his suit pants.

"Look at you, darling. So beautiful, and all mine," Barry ran his hands down the Omega's sides, creating a tickling feeling that had the smaller male giggling, "I can't wait to claim your body, all for me," he growled, voice husky with want.

Barry kissed his way down the Omega's chest, taking a moment to bite and lick at the leaking nubs again before gripping his thighs and spreading them open. He positioned his head between the open legs while staring at the tight, slick-producing hole in front of him. He lapped his tongue to gather of taste of it on his tongue, Y/N flinching violently at the sensation while calling out the Alpha's name.

"Delicious," Barry muttered, before diving in on the wet treat in front of him.

"Oh fuck," Y/N moaned, his hands gripping the bed sheets tightly.

Barry's tongue lapped at the dripping slick, his hands gripping the Omega's thighs tight and pushing them open even further to gain better access. Y/N moaned, his back arching off the bed while the Alpha's tongue entered his hole, tasting him from the inside.

"Barry, please. Please, I need it. Please," Y/N begged, his body shaking with arousal and want.

Barry didn't listen to him though, he kept feasting on the Omega's arousal while using his speed to vibrate his tongue inside him, causing the Omega to moan even louder, his body shaking with pleasure.

"Barry, please! a-ah, fuck ... !" Y/N cried, his body shaking even more.

"What do you need, baby? Tell me," Barry asked, pulling his tongue out and looking at the Omega with a smirk.

"I-I need you... Please, please," Y/N begged, and the Alpha smiled.

"You want me, baby?"

"Yes, Alpha. Please, I need you. Please."

"Well, since you asked so nicely."

The Alpha discarded the rest of his suit and underwear, his throbbing erection springing free, causing the Omega to lick his lips at the sight. Barry chuckled at his reaction while pulling him down the bed and picking him up in his arms, wrapping the smaller male's legs around him and pressing him against the wall.

Barry played with his cock against the Y/N's wet heat, enjoying the pleasurable reactions that ran across the Omega's face. "Who's your Alpha?" He asked with another playful smack of his mushroom head against the hot and throbbing entrance.

"Y-You, Alpha," Y/N panted, his face red and eyes glazed over.

"That's right, baby. I'm your Alpha," Barry whispered before he slowly slid inside the Omega.

"Fuck!" Y/N yelled, his head leaning back against the wall.

"So tight and warm. It's like you were made just for me, baby," Barry moaned, his cock pushing all the way in until his balls were pressed against the Omega's ass.

Y/N dug his nails into the skin of Barry's shoulders while the Alpha pressed him harder against the wall, his hips rapidly moving back and forth as he fucked him hard. The speedster's hips and legs were already dripping with more and more of the Omega's arousal as it dripped into his carpet, creating more of a mess the harder he thrust in and out of the hole.

"h-harder ... p-please, harder ..." Y/N moaned, his eyes closed while Barry sucked on his neck.

"So beautiful," Barry growled, his hands gripping the Omega's ass cheeks while thrusting harder, "Such a good little Omega, taking my cock so well."

"Barry! Barry!" Y/N moaned, his legs wrapped tighter around the Alpha's waist.

"Say it again," Barry growled, his hips moving faster.

"Barry!" Y/N moaned, his back arching.

Suddenly, Barry got the bright idea to add his speed to it, making his hips move at a pace that would be deemed impossible for any regular human. Good thing he wasn't a regular human. However, the increase in speed had Y/N shouting at the top of his lungs, tears springing to his eyes as he pounded his fists against the Alpha's hard, mildly sweaty chest.

Meanwhile, Y/N was a soaking mess. The shine from the sweat all around his body was highlighted by the sun's fading rays and the increasingly bright glow from the streetlights outside the window. Combined with the sticky fluid still leaking from his chest and the slick that was all but splashing between the Alpha and Omega.

"That's it, baby. Take my cock. Take it all," Barry growled, his hips moving faster.

"Barry, I-I'm gonna... I'm gonna cum," Y/N cried, his legs shaking.

"Do it. Cum for me, baby," Barry commanded, and the Omega followed.

"Fuck!" Y/N screamed, his back arching and his eyes rolling back into his head as he came between the two, digging nails into Barry's sweaty back as his release overwhelmed him.

"That's a good Omega," Barry said, before slipping out of the smaller male, carrying him over to the bed and propping him up on all fours.

He gripped the Omega's hips, sliding back inside him and fucking him at a rapid pace, his hips slapping against the plump ass cheeks. Y/N's eyes rolled back into his head as he cried out, his body shaking with pleasure while the Alpha fucked him.

"That's it, baby. Take it," Barry growled, his grip tightening on the Omega's hips.

"p-please, I can't... FUCK! I can't take anymore... !" Y/N cried, his body shaking as the Alpha started using his powers again to increase his speed.

"You can, and you will," Barry growled, his hips moving even faster.

"Barry, please! Fuck, I'm gonna... !"

"Do it. Cum for me, baby. Cum for your Alpha," Barry growled.

"mm ... mmh ... ! O-OHH, FUCK ... !" Y/N shouted, his back arching and his eyes rolling back into his head as he came, his legs and body shaking from the overstimulation as the Alpha started to chase his own finish.

Barry's knot started to form at the base and slowly was inching closer and closer as the Alpha fucked the Omega who was beginning to softly cry from the amount of pleasure and pain he was experiencing. His hands weakly tried to push against the speedster's hips in an attempt to slow him down but were snatched together in a grip while feeling a painful smack against his ass.

"Don't try and fight it, baby. Just let me claim you. Just let me have you," Barry growled, throwing his head back in pleasure.

"Barry, I-I can't ... !" Y/N cried, his body shaking.

"Yes, you can. Just a little longer," Barry's hips started to stutter, and the Omega cried out, his legs shaking as he felt the Alpha's knot starting to press against his hole.

"Barry, please! PLEASE ... !" Y/N sobbed, his body convulsing on the inside from the overwhelming sensation.

"Just a little longer, baby. Just a little longer."

"I-I can't... Please, I can't ... !"

"Almost there, baby. Who's your Alpha?"

"Y-You... You are ... !"

"That's right, baby. I'm your Alpha. And, now I'm gonna make you mine. Forever."

With that, Barry pressed all the way inside, releasing his knot into the Omega with a loud groan as he leaned forward, catching himself on the bed as Y/N had his third orgasm against the sheets, suddenly feeling heavy and drained from the strenuous workout he just went through.

While the pair were both recovering, neither of them realized the small, matching marks that slowly appeared over their scent glands. They were now a fully mated pair, and the God of Love and Sex knew this as he peered in through the window, watching the sweaty individuals with satisfaction.

"Welp, my job's done. I'm sure Mother will be pleased with this outcome. Serves you right, brother. You should know better than to try and deny your heritage. Hope you learn well from this punishment."

With that, the deity disappeared, making his way home.

Meanwhile...

"That should be the last of them," Lantern said, flying through the air after he captured the last of the attacking minions.

"Good," Superman nodded, his eyes still glowing white as he scanned the area.

"What are you doing?" Lantern asked, looking at the Kryptonian confused.

"Looking for him."

"Who?"

"The Omega."

"Oh yeah, do you think Barry already claimed him?"

"Probably, but it doesn't matter. Cause he belongs to me, and I'm going to take him back, by whatever means necessary."

☀️ | Barry Allen/Flash | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

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