#but he pushed them away and now they pick up on him and make elaborate jokes about and AGAINST him

[getaapologist]

The Tension and the Terror..............Part VIII

Pairing: Emperor Geta x OFC (extremely loosely, character is named but otherwise not described besides hair length in a later part)

Summary: Geta makes a declaration of love. It isn't received well, through no fault of his own.

Warnings: violence, implication of SA (did not occur), 18+ only.

Word Count: 3.4k

Part 8 of 13?

[ Part VII ]

Series Masterlist

A/N: This is a bit more foundation work. I also didn't name Letha's brother (or any of her family) so you can picture whoever you want. I almost took all this out, I wasn't sure it fit everything I've written up to now, but I hope it works for you.

Raptio is literally "taking," but it's used to reference the abduction of women, to be used/enslaved or married against their will. The obvious implication there is SA, but I am not including that aspect here because it's just not needed. Being kidnapped is enough, surely. I don't know if it was really a punishable crime, but I sure hope so. It is in this version of events, anyway. The next two parts will pretty much be all Geta. Thanks for your patience!

Letha had beaten both Emperors to breakfast that morning, despite spending extra time in choosing a dress from the assortment delivered to her rooms the prior day. The anticipation of seeing Geta again drew her out of bed early. She took advantage of the quiet to actually eat a reasonable meal, only interrupted as she pushed the small plate away. 

“My brother dismissed all his concubines this morning. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” Caracalla wasn’t really asking. He already knew she had something to do with it. Still, the news shocked her. She thought of Lyra, regretting her words. She hoped nothing awful had happened.

“I didn’t ask him to–”

“Of course you didn’t. You can’t tell us to do anything,” he sighed, pulling out his usual chair and plopping down in it. “Just thought you’d like to know.”

Letha took it for the kindness it was. “Thank you, Caracalla.”

He reached out and picked through the fruit, mischief lighting his eyes up. “So does this mean you two are fucking?”

She nearly choked. “N-No,” she responded, recovering, face on fire.

Caracalla giggled. She avoided looking over at him, instead choosing to study the elaborate craftsmanship of the table. It was a nice table, she thought, desperately trying to not think about Geta.

The chair beside Letha was pulled out and the man himself sank into it, a sly smile already on his face as he busied himself with adjusting his robes. He was all made up, ready for the day. Bright, shining, like Apollo. 

He leaned over, invading Letha’s space. “Did you get enough to eat?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” she assured him. She was nervous to meet his eyes again after the way she left him. She was relieved he didn’t seem upset with her, quite the opposite. 

Protective?

“How is your shoulder?”

“Better,” she answered. 

She noticed Caracalla watching his brother intently. She followed his gaze, surprised to see the dark maroon already lining his eyes. She expected to see the tired, fresh-from-bed version of Geta. This was… It was nice. 

“You sure look pretty for the senators, brother,” Caracalla teased.

Geta looked down to Letha, his gaze soft for once. “It’s not for them.” The smile returned. Her face probably felt hot to the touch. She almost pressed her own hand to her face to check. 

“Why do I even have to go?” Caracalla whined, slumping in his chair. “Can’t you tend to them by yourself?”

Geta looked over at his brother, his smile growing. “It’s our duty.” He picked up an apple and took a bite, his pleasant mood almost infectious. 

“I’ve never seen you so eager to fulfill our duty,” Caracalla grumbled. 

“You must get ready, ‘Calla,” Geta requested, his tone gentle. “It shouldn’t be a long meeting. Then you can have your games.” Another bite of the apple.

Geta was always so sweet to his brother. Letha couldn’t come up with a better word for it. Taking the sting out of responsibilities, soothing his panic and fear, distracting him with life’s pleasures to ease his mood. He tolerated his teasing, even when his patience had run out for all others. Caracalla was exempt from Geta’s poor moods. He only ever received a tiny fraction of Geta’s ire when his mouth got away from him and he seemed on the verge of revealing something in other company that Geta wished to remain private. 

And Caracalla intuitively understood his brother’s shifting moods and their cause, not usually having to ask him what was wrong, what might be bothering him. Perhaps all that time seated beside his brother he became a good study. 

“At least Letha will keep me company,” Caracalla smiled.

“The senators might balk at her presence,” Geta admitted.

“Since when do you care?”

“I don’t,” Geta claimed, glancing down at Letha. “She can come if she wants to.”

“Is she not here for my protection?” Caracalla asked, seemingly concerned.

“I’ve arranged for Tegula’s best man to remain at your side, at all times,” Geta explained, gesturing to a lightly armored man standing in the corner of the room, tucked in among the columns as if he was trying to be inconspicuous. “This is Ancus.”

Caracalla looked over at the man. Then back to his brother, to Letha. To Geta again. “But I don’t want Ancus, I want Letha,” Caracalla complained, something in his tone veering towards true agitation.

“She’s still healing, ‘Calla,” Geta explained. “She will be near, but I would feel better if Ancus stayed with you too, at least until we figure out who’s responsible for these attacks.”

“You just want her for yourself!” Caracalla accused, standing from his chair. Geta mirrored his movement, albeit much more slowly.

“Caracalla, I—” he paused, adopting a more gentle tone before continuing, “I will not keep her from you. She can do as she pleases. I just need to know that you are safe.”

His words seemed to soothe him enough, but Letha worried that this would not be the last of this conversation. Caracalla skulked off, and Ancus followed after him silently. 

Geta sank back into his chair with a sigh, his mood no longer nearly as pleasant.

“I will spend time with him today,” Letha offered, broaching the silence. 

He leaned his head back, his head turning in her direction lazily, a smirk appearing. “Not too much, I hope.”

“As much as is necessary to preserve his good temper,” she answered, the pressure of his warm eyes on her jump-starting that heat again, as if she were back in the gardens again, frozen beneath his stare.

“Oh, but then I’d never see you, Letha,” he teased, moving closer, “and I have more to offer you.”

“More?” She couldn’t help her eyes falling to his lips.

She jumped in her seat as his fingers found the skin along the inside of her leg, just past her knee, too close for where they were, in the middle of the dining hall. She quickly pressed her hands to his, trapping it against her skin. He squeezed.

He leaned over further, his lips finding her ear. “Just something for you to consider today, when you’re… deciding how to allocate your time.” His teasing was back in full force. He drew back, taking another bite of the apple, his stare unwavering as he chewed.

Letha could only watch him right back, thoughts boiling until her legs stopped shaking and she could stand.

Letha understood Caracalla’s complaints about having to meet with the Senators almost immediately. She could feel their eyes on her as soon as she stepped into the room, following behind the twins as they made their way over to their thrones, side by side. 

“A chair,” Geta summoned, pointing to the space beside his seat.

“By me, brother,” Caracalla insisted. 

Geta frowned, but relented.

Letha was sure to reach down and brush the hand gripping the arm of his seat with her fingers as she passed around the chairs, a consolation to try to keep him jovial. She took a seat as instructed, body turned in towards Caracalla in the presence of so many strangers, with clear distaste in their expressions for her unconventional presence.

“Caesars, forgive me, but what is this woman doing here? This is hardly the place for a dalliance—”

Geta rose, the speed of it startling some, Letha included. “She is a lady, and you will address her as such,” he corrected, standing before the bravest of the Senators. A display of power, of confidence. Of ego. “That lady is the reason your Emperors still stand and breathe. I believe you owe her an apology.”

He was incensed. Part of Letha almost felt bad for the Senator cowering before Geta, all his fury and splendor making him appear very much like a god. It shouldn’t have been so thrilling to see, but Letha couldn’t help herself.

“I am sorry, my lady,” he spoke, his eyes on Geta. His fear was palpable. 

Caracalla giggled beside her. “It’s not usually this entertaining.”

A few more moments of lording over the senator and Geta stepped back, slightly more composed. “What do you need of us today?” Geta finally asked, sinking back into his seat.

An older senator stood, stepping into the middle of the room, drawing Geta’s gaze. “There was a question of increasing your personal guard’s wages, Caesars?”

“Yes,” another stood, “We do have questions as to the… necessity of this. It is a steep price.”

Geta frowned. “Is our safety not worth the extra expense? We’ve had two attacks in as many days.”

“Well, perhaps if you did not hold such lavish dinner parties every night, the costs could go towards this increase you desire.”

“Senator Gracchus,” Geta smiled, standing. “I will remind you that we have not yet found the person responsible for bribing the Praetorian. Someone wishes us dead.”

Letha froze up in her seat. Yes, someone did. But they were looking in the wrong place. 

“The sum recovered was far too large for an average citizen to come up with,” Geta explained, circling the senator. All others had backed off, allowing all of Geta’s displeasure to focus in on Gracchus. “Should I have you interrogated? Or will you pay Tegula’s men what they are owed?”

A moment longer was all it took before Gracchus wavered, relenting. “They shall have it, Emperor.” A chorus of similar responses sounded throughout the room.

“Very good,” Geta praised, moving past the senator and reclaiming his seat. “What else?”

The doors at the back of the room opened and a tall, hulking figure clad in dark armor and a red cape strode in, bowing before the emperors before rising to his full height. The garish line across the side of his head still looked like it burned, the flesh vividly red around the line. The cut ear.

Letha recognized him immediately. She shrank in her seat, drawing Caracalla’s eye. A flash of her brother’s bruised and bloody face had her squeezing her eyes shut. It wasn’t enough, the image wouldn’t leave.

“Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla,” the general greeted. “I have come to report on my men.” He did not spare a glance to Letha. Either he mistook her for another of their concubines, or did not spend enough time in the Senate chambers to know how unusual her presence was. 

“General Plautianus,” Geta greeted. His eyes raked over the violent wound. “What of them?”

“Regrettably, they cannot seem to be contained,” Thraex interjected, eyes on the General as he got to his feet. “They drink the city dry and commit acts of violence upon its citizens. A brawl in a brothel just yesterday required a hefty discretionary payment to appease the owner so he didn’t ban the entire army.”

“They need to be sent away,” Gracchus agreed. “They are bored, and their victories have given them a feeling of entitlement to the city’s offerings.”

Oh, that sounds quite familiar, Letha frowned. So as long as it isn’t taking place in Rome, that’s what matters, she thought bitterly, sinking back into her memories and tuning out the rest of the conversation. 

“Your God-Emperors are cowards,” Letha’s brother spoke, his lip split, his brow leaking blood. His eye socket looked broken, his skin beginning to darken around his eye. 

“You should hold your tongue,” General Plautianus spat, stepping past the man crumpled against the wall. Another soldier knelt beside him, gripping the cloth covering his shoulders tightly, keeping him upright.

“You Romans can’t take a joke,” he laughed. It devolved into a coughing fit not long after, his hands going to his ribs as he grimaced.

Letha looked up, worry filling her as she waited for her brother to recover, desperately trying to figure out how to help him, how to get them out of this mess.

“You should stop talking before you choke on your blood,” another soldier threatened.

“You’d have to hit me a bit harder for that,” he grunted, clearly nursing a broken rib.

“Brother, please!” Letha pleaded, begging for him to be silent. Him egging on their captors would ruin their chances of surviving this night. 

The sound of the harsh slap cut through the room, almost echoing. For a moment Letha couldn’t feel her face at all. Then it all flooded in at once, tears welling, clouding her vision.

She could hear her brother shouting, the soldiers joining in. She tried to ignore the way her cheek stung, too concerned for her brother’s welfare to care about her own. It was one blow versus the great many he’d suffered at their hands already. 

They were holding him down against the wall, it took two of them now. The General stood before her, his hand still outstretched from the slap, though his eyes were cast over his shoulder at her brother as he spouted insulting, angry words.

“You are lucky you’re considered one of Rome’s subjects now,” the General spoke, returning his attention to Letha. “Your dear father pleaded for your safety, and I can think of none better to secure it than me.”

Letha understood his intent, the implication of his words. It was nothing new. It was all men ever did. She couldn’t be dragged to Rome. She refused. As her brother drew his attention once more, his protests much more spirited, she saw only one opportunity to save herself from that future. 

She reached forward and drew the sword from its hilt on his belt, the sound of it drawing all attention to her. It was heavier than she was used to, the blade much wider. Still, she didn’t waste a moment, swinging it recklessly at the General’s head. It drew blood, but the recoil of it hitting his thick skull forced it out of her hands. He roared, his hands moving to cover the red line leaking blood down the side of his head. 

Letha felt the stabbing point of a gladius at her back, the soldier’s boot forcing her flat onto the floor. She wondered if it had drawn blood, it felt quite sharp even through the dress. Even if she had just signed her own death warrant, that would be preferable to the alternative.

Plautianus hissed as he cupped his ear, reaching down for his discarded sword. He used it to tilt her face up, forcing her to see the wound she’d created. “You’ll pay for that,” he assured her.

“Please, just leave her alone,” her brother pleaded. “It was stupid, she shouldn’t have done it, but don’t hurt her.”

His words stung. He was right, it was incredibly stupid of her, but she had to do something–

“No, no–”

The blade had left her chin without her realizing it. It was embedded in her brother’s throat. She screamed.

“Letha,” Caracalla whispered, a hand pressing against her cheek, drawing her back to the present. “Are you alright?” She jumped, crashing out of the vivid memory. He moved his hand down to squeeze hers. “Do you want something to drink?”

She shook her head, eyes landing on Plautianus. He wore the very same armor as that day. 

He is the monster.

“I will think on it,” Geta answered, dismissing the senators. “General, I would like to speak with you, if you have the time.” He wasn’t really asking.

Plautianus nodded, clasping his hands together in front of him, watching the senators as they trickled out of the room. As his eyes scanned the room, they finally landed on her. There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes and he reflexively reached up for the side of his head, to the scar there. He said nothing of it, instead returning his attention to his smiling Emperor.

“Letha,” Geta called out, reaching an arm out for her to join him. Her stomach sank like a stone. “Come on,” he urged, as if he were coaxing a small child into a room full of strangers. As if it were shyness keeping her in her seat. But he didn’t know. How could he know?

She stood on shaky legs and released Caracalla’s hand to walk over, trying to keep her eyes on Geta so she didn’t fall into a state of panic. Even though months had passed, it was now so fresh in her mind, as if it had happened only days ago. She felt ill.

Geta was concerned, but he hid it well. He wrapped an arm around her waist and returned his attention to the General. 

“I’d like to introduce you to Letha,” Geta spoke, looking down at Letha with something close to love in his eyes. Perhaps she was imagining it to save herself from the reality of what was unfolding.

“I don’t believe you two have met, unless… Well, have you?” Geta prodded, all pretense falling away. 

Letha felt herself suck in a deep breath at the realization. Geta knew. How much, she couldn’t say. But he knew of their meeting, likely how she was brought to Rome. How she was purchased by Macrinus. From Macrinus himself, she thought. It would explain their new closeness. What else had Macrinus shared?

General Plautianus seemed just as caught off guard. He looked like he wasn’t sure if he ought to lie, or admit to his crime. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Geta frowned. “Ancus,” he muttered, signaling for him to approach. 

Ancus moved swiftly behind the General, pressing his boot into the back of Plautianus’s knee to force him onto the marble, his hands gripping the pauldrons to keep the General still.

“Raptio,” Geta spat, “is a crime, General. Just in case you’ve forgotten.”

The sound of a sword being drawn sent shivers of revulsion down Letha’s spine. The tremors that Geta had stilled with his hand at her lower back resumed. The General looked truly frightened. It didn’t fill Letha with any amount of satisfaction. She was just as scared as he was.

Geta raised the General’s sword high so he could inspect the edge, trying to determine its sharpness. He pressed the blade to the spot just above the chestplate, letting the tip bite through the cloth covering the base of his throat before turning to Letha, ignoring the General altogether.

“Should he be killed?”

Letha could see now the warnings she’d been given. Geta was deadly. He was clever and vengeful and violent. But he hid it well. So well. Much better than Caracalla. Seeing the senators scared to defy him, the way his General seemed scared of his whims, she should’ve been scared of him too. 

But it was never directed at her. And even now, it was being done in service of her desires, her wants. She felt… honored. He was offering her a gift. A declaration of love if looked at in the right light. 

She felt her own love for him beginning to bud, but her memories were too distracting in the moment, keeping her expression empty, her body trembling. If they were somewhere else, she might have taken the time to explain, so he’d understand she wasn’t spurning him intentionally, she just couldn’t get a handle on her own mind.

“Emperor!” Plautianus lifted his hands up from his waist, his plea desperate. “T-This is improper.” 

Geta glowered down at him, his eyes narrowed. 

“She attacked us,” he tried to explain. Ancus kept his knees pressed to the floor.

“Quiet!” Geta ordered, glaring at the General. He returned his eyes to Letha’s, his gaze softening immediately.

In that moment all Letha could do was stand there and try to keep her tears at bay. 

Was this the same sword used on her brother?

Geta was patient, reading into the way she shook slightly, a bead of sweat falling down over her temple. She was terrified. Perhaps now wasn’t the best time. He could drag him out again later on, when she felt more up to it.

“It seems Justicia has saved you today, Plautianus. Find solace in your cell.”

The sword was silently returned to Ancus and as soon as it left Geta’s hand he brought her back in close, whisking her away from the scene and over to the golden thrones. 

“Brother?” Caracalla asked, clearly confused.

“I will explain later,” Geta spoke, his eyes focused on Letha. His hands found her cheeks, attempting to soothe her. “I should not have sprung that upon you,” he realized. 

“I-I do not think–I think I should lie down,” she confessed, a tear spilling down her cheek. She could see the heartbreak plain in Geta’s eyes. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I can attend the games today, I don’t feel well.”

“It’s fine,” Geta assured her, smoothing her hair out of her face. “I should have warned you.”

She couldn’t say anything more, couldn’t offer some placating remark to soothe his mood. She needed calm and quiet, and she wouldn’t get that from the arena. She hoped he understood that.

[ Part IX ]

[buthappysoverrated]

forever losing my mind to his reaction here in making dennis reynolds a murderer

[bimbosandbubbles]

Yandere Jotaro Kujo

The slowburn yandere

Starring Jotaro Kujo and chubby reader

Warnings-obsession,yandere,possessive behavior,somno,dacryphilia,stand usage,mentions of nsfw themes but nun too crazy.

Thinking about yandere marine biologist Jotaro who becomes obsessed with his chubby assistant. The assistant who the company forced him to have because although he's amazing at what he does—he's terrible at interacting with others without being standoffish.  So thats why you show up in his office on a irritating Monday morning. Chubby body stuffed in a formal two piece consisting of  a knee length skirt and vest on top of a sickeningly colored dress shirt. You seem to only be 5 or 6 years younger than him.

Jotato immediately finds your presence to be a disturbance to his calculated peace. You haven't even began to introduce yourself before he instructs you not to talk him and to stay out of his way. You shiny lip gloss lips frown at that and your face drops the excitable expression. For weeks you obeyed Jotaro—only doing things he tells you to do,steering clear of him,not disturbing him. And your coworkers notice how you follow him around like some sad kicked puppy who's desperate to make your boss proud of its constant effort. They feel for you and tell you he's not friendly with anyone,only coldly and barely cordial. However you're eager just to get a few words out of him.

But talkative,determined you can't hold it in one day. You have to talk to him cause you just might lose your mind! So,when you're bringing him some photos of dolphins,setting them gently on his wooden desk. You loiter by his desk,waiting for an opportunity to strike—an action Jotaro doesn't mind or notice because he simply doesn't address it. You watch as his sea green eyes illuminate at the pictures and you can tell they make him happy even if there's not a hint of a smile on his face. And then you finally speak,"Are dolphins your favorite animal?" Your voice slightly cracks because of the dry nervousness you feel in your throat. And you already feel like you've missed your chance to amuse him.

You're left waiting there for what seems like forever before he just wordlessly nods. Progress! Is all you can think. At least he's somewhat answering. So with that you pat yourself on the back and gleefully trop away from his office with a,"Okay sir,I'll leave you to it now!" Leaving Jotaro with this thoughts. Thoughts of who you are because he thought he had you all figured out from the very first day. He thought of you as too pushy—too loud,annoying like girls he went to college and high school with. Especially because he saw how shocked you were by his appearance—seemingly entranced with his handsomeness. But when he told you to keep your distance from him— you did. Not only that but you do your work with precise excellence. Today was different though,today you bothered to talk to him. Even despite the fact he didn't give you the most elaborate answer you happily accepted what he gave you. He liked that you never attempted to push him—you respect him. And maybe he should pay that same respect back.

Two whole months pass by after that extremely brief interaction and Jotaro seems to be very slowly warming up to you. Now he allows you to stay in office and catch up on some work and today you were doing exactly that. You were completing some files on the computer and the two of you are a safe distance away from another,due to the fact the man chose to sit a good 10 inches away from you. But despite that he still smells how sweet you smell,like a ripe peach aching to be picked . A peach his mother would make into a wondrous dessert after he won a game of baseball in elementary—a reward for his effort. He can't help but slightly inhale the scent,the pure nostalgia of it setting in. And for one good second he stops and stares at you from the corner of his eye. Your pudgy cheeks are puffed out in frustration,meaty fingers are gently placed on the wooden desk,your eyes are determined yet still hold that gentleness in them,and your lips that are always coated in some shiny substance is slightly open in pure concentration.

Beautiful,so effortlessly beautiful. He unknowingly becomes so entranced an old friend manifests from beside him. Star platinum in all his glory floats towards you and he peers at you with curiosity and affection. He can't seem to help himself so he gently almost ghost like caresses your chubby face—light squeezes and soft pinches being barely felt. Jotaro pulls his white hat down in shame,the shame of not keeping a hold on his emotions. He's not a teenager who can't control his stand anymore. He calls Star back and reluctantly the stand stops touching you. Frazzled, the man says he has important business to take care of and snappily kicks you out of his office. He sighs deeply and looks at his hands that Star— no he felt your skin with. He could feel every pore,every textured mark,the plushness that allowed his stands fingers to barely dig into it. It felt...nice,so nice that he wonders if he let Star touch you further how far he'd go. Jotaro then realizes that he's actually so fond of you.

Ever since he lost control of Star Platinum Jotaro begins to long to be closer to you. Tasks that he could do easily,he now asks for your help,things that require one person suddenly becomes a two person issue. Jotaro talks to you more even if it's very vague or brief,he just wants to hear your chatter. An action he used to find irritating about you but now he loves it. Jotaro's even eaten your cooking and he enjoys that as well,so much so that he has up it there along with his beloved mother's cooking. But he doesn't only get closer to you through interactions—he starts touching you more. When you're getting something he uses his tall frame to reach for it himself—bumping his crotch against your ass. That plump ass that he knows his riddled with cellulite—those cute little dimples he wants to dip his fingers in as he ruts into your plush cheeks.

He loves when he does that,loves when you gasp and look at him with those innocent eyes. He can tell you think of his actions as pure accident,never suspecting your stoic boss to get off on something like that. And because of that he simply gets more and perverted,a part of him becomes disgusted with his seemingly uncontrollable lustful urges. But when he looks at you,the woman who simply likes him despite his reluctance to fully open up,he can't help but be so fond of you. That's why he finds himself nursing his aching cock in the wake of many late nights in his office. He always sends you off early with a cold tone despite the fact that he wants you to stay and touch him instead with those soft hands. Hands that are pure,that have never been exposed to things he's seen and done. Hands that could most likely struggle with wrapping themselves around the girth his cock has. Jotaro concludes you'd look cute like that.

Jotaro will carry on with this behavior for a full year. He carries on asking you to eat lunch with him despite the fact he hardly talks and when he does it's when you ask him a question—even that's hard to get out of him because he'd much rather hear you ramble on and on about something that has you so enthralled. He carries on by touching and letting you touch him as well. He hates unnecessary touch but when you walk up to him to prattle about whatever he shivers when he feels your pudgy hands wrap around his muscled arm. He carries on staring at pictures of you that you post on any platform and there's one particular one that has him in frame with a grouchy expression and you're grinning ear to ear in that photo,looking at him with happiness in your eyes. He wonders if you if can really make you happy? He wonders if he can make you a happy wife? His wondering reaches a end though because at last you and him finally go on a work trip together. And it just so happens to be a trip to a small Caribbean island for the research on a certain fish species.

This work trip is what set off his obsessive urges—unlocking a beast that's been shackled for years of his life. Seeing you in a two piece bathing suit could really do things to a man,after all. He recalls you saying a week prior before the trip on how you're a tad insecure on showing your tummy openly like that,and yet there you were standing there in a star patterned bathing suit; waiting for Jotaro to say anything about the way you look. He doesn't because his mind and body can't handle how good you look. He wants to fuck you like really really fuck you. Wants to see you spoiled and ruined for him. He's fucked before but only for alleviation,however seeing you like that makes him desire you wholeheartedly.

The whole trip Jotaro keeps on saying he wants to go swimming just so he can keep seeing you in your cute little bating suits that he's fighting the urge to rip off. And the whole time you keep on being so sickeningly sweet to him he almost can't take it. He wants to see your kind features twisted in pain and pleasure. He yearns to make you feel like that,yearns to have you bent over on his cock and taking it until he's done with you. He feels so gross for wanting to fuck you roughly but he can't help it. He knows you'd be such a good girl for him because it'd make him happy.

Not only his sexual need for you increases for you though. His obsession does too. The whole time at the trip he sees how people admire you for your outside and inner appearance. It pisses him off because he knows he doesn't only have that side of you. He wants it for himself completely. And he can't understand why. He understands his sexual urges towards you but his emotional ones don't make sense to him. He's never had the urge to be married or have kids or any of that other sappy shit. But with you, he craves that so deeply. He wants to make you a cute housewife with him who still helps him with work at home. He could work from home if he wanted and he plans to once he makes his direct move on you.

Even with normal suburban dreams like a happy wife and happy life Jotaro knows he could never give you a normal marriage because of how he feels about you. He's slowly getting to the point where he wants to be with you all the time just so he can hear you chatter. He wants to be the only person in your life and the only that matters because that's how you are for him. He knows that's wrong though,knows he can't just hide you from everybody. He so badly desires it though.

He's very aware that what he feels is wrong but he doesn't care enough to stop it. And the reason for that is because you make Jotaro so happy. He doesn't show it but trust you sincerely do. In front of you he's always quiet,surprisingly patient,and oddly needy. In his heart when you're away from him too long he feels so deeply bothered;an itch that can't be scratched until it hits a certain sweet spot. He just wants to get be by you all the time,just to soak in the same space as you.

Once the trip is over,Jotaro begins his plan on how he'll solely become your only company. He moves so incredibly slow because as he's gotten older he's grown to understand to be less hasty. There's two reasons for that,one,he wants you to view you the same way and have your too cute personality,two,he wants you to view him the same way he does you.

Low and slow is the way he plays this obsessive love game. He starts off with informing you about how your "friends" at the office insult your chipper attitude,the way you dress,even your beautiful body. This is not a lie or made up tactic for you to run into his arms,it's actually the truth. Before he grew to feel such a way for you,they'd make comments on how you tried to suck up to Jotaro and throw yourself at him. Of course,he told them to shut the fuck up even before he started falling for you. But now that he can't afford to have his precious girl hurt,he decides to pay back those harsh words with a little bit of physical force.

The moment he tells you he almost regrets it. Almost,is the keyword. Your eyes bubble with tears and you immediately grip onto the snug sleeve of his expensive dress shirt. "Oh,Jotaro...why don't they like me? Am I that bad?" He triumphs in the feeling of having you in his arms,going to HIM and only him for sweet comfort that only HE could ever provide you. If it was anyone else he'd complain about you fucking up his shirt with your tears,but no,oh nooo,he loves that he now has pieces of you imbedded in his clothing. You cried in his arms for an hour,not even meaning to,but that hour could've been decades and he wouldn't have mind. Does Jotaro like seeing you cry? Depends,if it's him making you cry on his cock. Any other cause,no.

Even though he doesn't enjoy it because he's not the cause,his dick gets a little hard seeing your sobbing and vulnerable body. He feels bad for his body reacting to you in such sad state,but oh my god,you're just so irrestibale. That night he carefully takes of his dress shirt and brings it to his face,smelling,no,inhaling the salty and wet material that also is slightly mixed with your sweet smelling perfume. He nurses his cock in his hand,bucking up into the o shaped hand,instead of stoking up and down. Why? Because he's imagining taking you just like that.

He envisions you slotted perfectly on his muscular thighs,whining about how good and big his cock feels,how nicely he fills you up. He's gripping onto your creamy skin that he knows will soften like butter in grasp. He imagines feeling all the texture your body as to offer him;the rolls that adorn your tummy and a little bit of your back,the stretch marks on your wide waist that wiggle all the way to your hips,and that cellulite you have on your ass and thighs—God he just wants to perfectly place the pads of his fingers into those dimples as he thrusts up into you. He imagines you at your rawest,a part of your being that no one else will see but him. He wants to swallow you whole and force you down to the deep abyss of his never ending appetite for you.

Phase two of catching you in his snare is,quality time to the point where he gradually is the only person you'll ever see during the week. It starts off with him asking if you'd like to go to the aquarium with him after work. Then he asks for a late lunch with you the following day. Then he always begins to call you,his faithful assistant,to do very mundane tasks he didn't bother to ask for prior. Pick up his laundry,bring his paperwork to his house etc. The paperwork task is the biggest one because that's how he ropes you into staying overly late at HIS house. His house is so calm,modern and almost empty of anything relatively personal. The quiet nature of his home and himself,have you chattering,cuddled into him on the couch,talking about God knows what all the way to nightfall.

Obviously,kindhearted you,feels so bad about intruding on him like this,especially when you both have work tomorrow. He assures you only by saying,"My guest room is right across my room,go ahead and knock out for the night." You protest but you're shut up by Jotaro rolling his eyes and muttering about good grief,why do you have to make things so complicated? That night starts an evening routine for Jotaro now. Almost ever day since he's been able go weasel his way into making you stay over,he's began to divulge into his urges a little more.

Once you're sound asleep in the bed,body covered with usually loose fittings pajamas that almost leave nothing to the man's imagination. Jotaro will summon Star Platinum to touch your unconscious form. He prefers Star touches you because he's a lot of more gentler than the stand user could ever be while seeing you like that. The stand always lifts your shirt up to reveal your braless chest,to palm and pinch the naturally weighed down breasts. The ghost like presence is ever so precise—pinching,pulling the harden buds of your nipples. Jotaro's jaw is slack as he feels whatever Star platinum is feeling. You're so soft—so moldable. God,every time he finds you vulnerable like that it takes everything in him to not fuck you just like that. Have you spread,wide—so wide your thighs almost hang of the sides of the twin sized mattress.

He'd hump you through your cute sleep shorts,the silly ones with fishies riddled all over the cool cotton material. He envisions the tingling friction,drooling at the lewd thought of the fabric pulling so hard on your clothed mound that he could see your fat pussy lips.

Jotaro doesn't do this though,he respects you too much and knows this is wrong. He doesn’t want to do anything to that you don’t want. He wants you organically,normally—despite his abnormal and unhealthy feelings he festers deep in his heart. Even letting Star touch you bothers him because he knows he’s violating you but he tells himself that it will always be the last time. It never is.

Despite his dark urges in the night,the mornings are blissfully domestic. Breakfast in the morning,made by him or you,depending on which one of you wakes up first. The two of you will eat and talk,not really though,you’ll do most of the talking while Jotaro listens intently. The man practically hangs on every single word you say even if it’s random chit chat. Anyone else he’d tell to shut the fuck up or to fuck off—you being different though. It’s like sweet sugar is being poured his ear canal,that’s how much he’s grown to enjoy your voice.

The best part of the morning is you getting ready at his house. You’ve literally had to bring clothes to his from how often he has you staying overnight. Why is this the best part in Jotaro’s opinion? Well,it feels him the happiness of what he craves most with you,domesticity. He wants to marry you,he wants to live with you—he wants to be with you. It’s carnal yet sweet at the same time. He’s never dreamed he’d conform into the sweet marital bliss so many elders talk about,yet he’s here offering to zip up your skirts for you,placing your shoes on your feet with such a gentleness a person would’ve forgotten he’s a fully built 6’5 man,complimenting the simple,meticulous,or bare face look you chose to rock today.

Months of this causes Jotaro to snap though. He can’t take this playing house fantasy anymore. It no longer satisfies his hunger and want for you. It was a snowy day,Christmas was beginning its slowly chilling approach,Jotaro recalls you and him being the only in that day. He doesn’t know why he finally gave in now to his urges but God he’s glad he did. He asked you with his has hat off,his messy black locks tossed to every direction and yet still complimented his undeniably handsome features. He blushed as he did so,a very cute and odd look for him.

“Would you let me—“it’s an awkward pause,but not one that kills the tension,only heightening it instead,”take care of you?” His wording is off and he already knows he could’ve been more direct. But your pretty eyes and soft self were so intimidating he just got flustered. It doesn’t matter though because you seemingly picked up on what he meant.

“Like be your girlfriend?” No,his everything. But he’ll settle for that at this moment. After all this just moved him many steps forward to completing his plan. He’s so happy when you say yes,he wants to pull you in for a kiss but he doesn’t. What he does do is pull you into a warm embrace,muttering a good grief into the office.

He could wait for the other stuff he’s been longing to do,after all he’s waited this long to make you his,what’s waiting a little longer?

REBLOGS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED THANK YOU!

[acciofictionalmen]

fallout in the snowfall ❆ part 2

james potter x female!reader

summary: when james kisses you on an adrenaline high, your friendship is in shambles as the true meaning of "just friends" becomes irreparably warped. you both desperately try to restore the platonic bond that you once shared, but at what cost...

warnings: strong language, sexual references

word count: 3.6k

series masterlist

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

That night you found yourself stood outside James’ dormitory.

With a sharp knock on the door, you waited for someone to respond. It was beyond curfew, the common room silent as you shuffled uncomfortably in the darkness. Eventually you heard movement on the other side of the door and it cracked open.

“Pete?” You exclaimed in surprise; he was usually asleep by now.

“Oh, hi (Y/n).” He twittered, turning to look behind him. You heard the chatter in the room pause at the mention of your name.

“I’ve got James’ charms essay here.” You said softly, conscious of waking the other dormitories up.

“One sec.” Pete turned to shut the door, and his mouse-brown hair bobbed out of sight. The door re-opened to jet black hair.

James quietly shut the door behind him, leaving you both alone in the corridor. You swallowed nervously, he looked good; wearing only a pair of crimson, low-hanging, plaid pyjama bottoms. He noticed your eyes on his bare chest, and smirked.

Rolling your eyes, you handed him his essay, “Here.”

James took the paper as you calmly continued, “Your main points are good, but you don’t spend enough time articulating them, y’know? Like in your first paragraph you state the importance of the Fidelius Charm but then don’t elaborate. And if you want to get full marks you need to-”

“(Y/n).”

You paused at the firmness of his voice.

“What?” You crossed your arms as your confidence began to ebb away the closer he got.

“I could care less about Charms.”

He caressed the side of your face with his thumb as you froze, your breath hitching as he looked down at you. Tall shadows stretched across his face, slithers of moonlight the only thing defining his features, “I wanted to see you.” He breathed, his lips lowering to your neck, “Can’t I see my best girl?”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you sunk into his embrace, his hands tightening around your waist to keep you steady.

James’ essay drifted to the floor, forgotten.

His lips travelled up your chin, nearing the corners of your lips when you stopped him, channelling your resolve.

“Not like this.”

James instantly stopped and pulled away, his hands still loosely on your waist, “What?” He murmured, still entranced by you.

You pointedly removed his hands from your waist, and stooped to pick up his essay.

“I came because I thought you wanted to improve your Charms grade, because I’m a good friend,” you pushed the paper into his chest, finality in your voice, “I’m going to bed.”

James’ brows lowered in confusion as he stepped away, “Have I-” he stopped himself, “Right. Goodnight then.”

──── ୨୧ ────

Since that encounter by his dorm, you kept your distance. Had skilfully evaded moments alone with James like the slyness of a golden snitch eluding its seeker. Partially to make a point, but also because you didn’t trust your self-control anymore.

The initial few days of your withdrawal had been spent waiting. Waiting for any effort, for him to try or even just ask why you’d suddenly pulled away. Or for him to find you and express some sort of dissatisfaction with the way your ‘friendship’ had been left, that dissatisfaction you felt, and tell you he wanted more.

When it became clear that wouldn’t happen, you continued to joke with each other in the group. However, the underlying tension was so prominent that your conversations began to lessen- your mind constantly elsewhere and his, a mess.

It didn’t take you long to realise the growing feelings you had weren’t reciprocated, and to shove them deep, deep down.

You wondered whether you’d made the right decision- you’d stopped kissing James with the hope that he’d realise he wanted you as more than just a friend. At the least, that your friendship would return to the way it had been. You hadn’t expected- hadn’t even considered that it may be irreparable: that that friendship was long gone.

Embarrassment frequently bullied your thoughts as you wondered whether your friendship had any worth to James when he wasn’t tasting you.

The others had noticed the change too, but no one dared comment yet.

To your dismay, the rest of the year had also noticed. People would look at you uncertainly whenever they mentioned James in front of you, as though you’d broken up. As the days trickled past and your conversations dwindled, it began to feel that way.

One of the first people to observe this had been Gideon Prewett. He approached you one afternoon as you trailed out of DADA, his easy pace matching your own.

You felt his eyes on you before he spoke, a teasing lilt to his voice, “Rough breakup?”

You weren’t amused, blinking as you registered him properly. He was bluntly attractive- high cheekbones dotted with freckles and full, pink lips. You could count on one hand the number of times you and Gideon Prewett had interacted since the start of Hogwarts- despite being in the same house. This only increased your irritation.

Your response was bland, “We weren’t dating.”

His voice was deep as he chuckled, “I gave Potter too much credit, then. I thought he was good at knowing when something precious was in front him.”

You caught the clear Quidditch reference, and the even more obvious flattery. You definitely didn’t mind it.

“Careful,” your lips quirked to the side in amusement, “or I’ll tell your Captain you’re slagging him off.”

He smirked. “(Y/n), right? I’m Gideon.”

You laughed softly. “I know who you are, Prewett.”

He grinned, responding with equal wit, and you allowed yourself to settle into the fun exchange. He walked you to your next lesson, despite his being on the opposite end of the castle.

James had been leaving Potions when he spied you with Gideon. His satchel slung across his shoulder, hand failing to smooth his unkempt hair. Your laughter had reached him before you had. He almost smiled at the warm sound and the fond memories that accompanied it.

Until his eyes caught up.

His gaze collided with yours, the impact rendering him speechless. The world seemed to slow as you crossed paths, his eyes catching on your face and relaxed mannerisms, snagging on the laughter still etched into your expression. He noticed the faint blush that kissed your cheeks, the brightness of your eyes. It can’t have been longer than a second, but it was enough time for James’ gaze to flicker between you and Gideon. Enough time to recall a time when it had been him effortlessly bantering with you, making you laugh at his well-timed jokes.

You realised it at the same time, but too late, your back already to him as the space between you grew.

You turned back to Gideon, your mind in disarray. Seeing James walk past had forced the realisation that it wasn’t him beside you, making you laugh until tears danced in your eyes.

Suddenly feeling light-headed, you tugged at the red and gold scarf wound tightly around your neck. It loosened, but you still struggled to breathe.

──── ୨୧ ────

Honey-soaked waffles were stacked on your plate, glistening with sugar as you dug in eagerly and took occasional sips of coffee to counter the sweetness. The hall was filled with lively chatter as people anticipated the nearing holiday- whether it would snow, if Peeves was particularly active and planning gift-exchanges between friend groups for those leaving over Christmas break.

You sat with your usual group as James harassed Lily for the answers to the Charms homework- a common exchange. Flitwick was expecting it that evening despite James protesting that he had Quidditch practice in the afternoon; he had already been granted two extended deadlines. You wondered if James had even done any more work on his essay since you’d returned it to him that one night.

Remus paused, his eyes meeting yours with a familiar look, the same one he had when he was about to answer a question correctly in class, “James, why don’t you do the homework with (Y/n) in the library today? She’s really good at Charms.”

James’ eyes flickered to yours as he hesitated. You knew what he was thinking, because you were thinking it too- the two of you hadn’t been alone together for almost a week. There had always been someone present to change the conversation if things became strained, to act as a buffer to the overwhelming tension.

His hesitation stabbed you in the gut, but then he abruptly looked up, confidence restored in his eyes, “After lunch?” He suggested.

A faint smile settled on your lips, but before you had the chance to respond, a warm hand rested on your shoulder. You looked up, offering Gideon a smile as he nodded to the rest of your friend group.

“Hey.” He grinned as he removed his hand from your shoulder to push back his red hair.

“Hi.”

The whole of your group had stopped talking to observe the interaction, and there was an awkward pause. Mary quickly resumed talking and you made sure to remember to thank her later.

“I was wondering if you wanted to stop by and watch my Quidditch practice later?” He gestured towards the tall windows, “Weather looks promising.”

You paused, hyper aware that James was listening intently, but also that you needed to respond, “Sure. As long as it’s not an excuse to show off.” You gave him a look of feigned suspicion.

Gideon raised his hands in mock defence, “You’ve caught me.”

James’ eyes narrowed as he registered the easiness of the exchange.

“I’ll be there.”

And you had meant it. Gideon was funny, kind… undeniably good-looking. You’d been talking for a few days now and you enjoyed his company- he was easy-going and straightforward. A welcome contrast to your recent friendship dynamics.

He nodded, satisfied, eyes skimming over James before he turned away and joined his brother further down the table.

You turned back to your friends, feeling uneasy that they’d overheard everything. One person specifically.

James’ face was imperceptible as he turned to Sirius, punching his friend on the shoulder when he said something stupid. James’ face had always been easy to read- his passion making it hard for him to conceal his feelings.

You had always loved that about him- the genuineness of his emotions that you could almost always tell what he was feeling in the moment by looking at him. The look he was giving you. Of exasperation, of longing, of want… James grunted with the force of his lips colliding with yours. His hands flew to your waist as you met in a flurry of passion and l-st and want as one of his hands snaked up your side and- you blinked hard, shoving away the memory that burned before your eyes.

This was unfamiliar ground, and you didn’t like it. You noted his reaction, turning instead to your girls who were eager to know since when you and Gideon Prewett were friends.

James’ odd behaviour still hadn’t changed as you both sat down hours later on plush armchairs in the library. Multiple scrolls were piled on the rickety table before you.

The armchairs were placed opposite each other, a healthy distance between them, yet you still felt stifled by the proximity. Mostly by the emotions that accompanied it.

Setting your bag down on the table, you pulled out your work, James mirroring your actions.

Once you’d both settled, you reached over to read his essay, which you were pretty sure was unchanged since you’d seen it last.

Your fingers brushed his own as he released the parchment. A few weeks ago, his hand would’ve lingered on yours, his thumb tracing circles into your palm. This time you retracted your hand quickly, as though his touch was searing.

If James noticed this, he didn’t react, opting instead to lean back casually as you read over his homework.

To your surprise, James’ essay had changed. He’d implemented all of the improvements you’d suggested last time, and you read through the work quickly, conscious of his unwavering stare.

“This is really good.” You murmured, unable to conceal the surprise in your voice.

James looked as though he was going to say something, probably why you sounded so surprised and that of course it was good, but just said, “Yeah, thanks.”

But then his eyes met yours, studying you carefully as he leant back in his armchair, the picture of nonchalance. He ran a hand through his hair.

“So you’re going to the Quidditch match then?”

Your cheeks warmed as you slowly sat up, “Yes.”

James looked at you, warily, as he spoke, “Practices have been boring lately, probably isn’t worth coming.”

“I want to.”

A muscle feathered in his jaw, your answer not the one he’d wanted. Thankfully, he didn’t pursue it further. He nodded, the movement stiff, as he pulled out some overdue homework to complete.

Realising the brief conversation was over, you pulled a book from your bag and tucked your feet under your thighs, reading intently. A few times the sound of James’ quill scratching on parchment would stop and he’d look over to you, as though he wanted to speak. He didn’t.

A little while later James packed up his work and explained that he needed to get ready for practice.

You couldn’t quell your disappointment. Was this going to be the next few weeks? Strained meet-ups as you chased the memory of a friendship that had once thrived so beautifully on its own? It already felt pointless.

You nodded in understanding. Just as he turned to leave, you added, “No broken bones.”

He turned to face you, the ghost of a smirk gracing his lips as he echoed, “No broken bones.”

He left you perched on the chair, unable to turn the next page of your book as you bunched your hair in your right hand in exasperation. You slowly packed away too, realising you should dress warmly for the match.

Gideon had been right, the weather was beautiful- rays of sunlight illuminated the library as you prepared to leave, beams of light dancing across your face and momentarily blinding you. But the unmistakeable chill that always accompanied the winter months was ever-present, and your hour-long study session with James had left you cold enough.

──── ୨୧ ────

Chatting loudly, you, Mary and Lily left the castle bundled in colourful scarfs, woolly hats tugged over your ears and plush coats. All three of you set off for the Quidditch pitch, laughing as the wind whipped your hair and the frost crunched beneath your shoes. By the time you’d reached your seats at the top of the stadium, your teeth chattered so violently that your friends began to look worried.

“Here, (Y/n).” Lily leant over Mary and tapped her wand against your gloved hands, a blast of warmth surging out and enveloping them. You smiled gratefully and turned to face the pitch.

Small figures in red and gold stood far below. You were able to distinguish James, the team’s captain, stood further away from the others as he split them into two groups. A little to his right: Sirius and Marlene. You leant a little further forward, spying Gideon stood with the rest as he slipped a helmet on and mounted his broom.

Before you could point Marlene out to your friends and wave, the players abruptly entered the skies, the Quaffle, two Bludgers, and finally the Snitch released by James shortly afterwards, who then shot up to join the rest.

Ever since you were little, you’d been a massive Quidditch fan- had spent hours reading about the sport and attending live matches. You had a professional’s knowledge, just not their skill. You recalled the last time you’d played Quidditch in James’ massive garden and had flown into a tree, knocking him off his broom when he’d tried to retrieve you.

You huddled with the girls as you whooped and cheered for your friends, the practice a flash of scored goals and quick dives, near-misses and relentless Bludgers.

You caught Gideon’s eyes a few times during the match, and each time he’d flash you a lazy smile before James would snap at him to focus.

Soon there were only ten minutes left, and the match reached a new level of intensity as the Gryffindors used their final spurt of energy to score a few more goals. Suddenly, Mary nudged you in the shoulder as you noticed one of the players zooming towards you. More specifically, Gideon. He landed smoothly, his skill evident by the way he dismounted his broom. You stood up, unsure what was going on as you neared him, wanting to ask why he’d stopped and if he was okay.

Gideon’s chest heaved from the physical exertion as he slowly took off his helmet, streaks of red flopping over his eyes.

“Are you alright?” You asked, concern lacing your voice as you wondered whether he’d pulled a muscle.

“Fine.” Gideon smiled down at you.

You returned the smile. “You sure? Just fine?” You asked, unable to help the blush that formed on your cheeks.

He didn’t immediately respond, lifting your chin with his left hand before pressing a firm kiss to your cheek. Taken by surprise you simply stood there; eyes wide as he pulled away.

“Just fine.’ He murmured, his hot breath fanning over your face.

“I-“ you began, unsure what to say.

“Practice is basically over. I’ll walk you back to the castle.” He grinned, offering you his arm.

You nodded, though it wasn’t quite a question, and slowly took his arm. You threw a look over your shoulder, your friends looking as surprised as you felt. You turned back to Gideon and headed down the stands as he explained the basics of the match to you.

You hadn’t noticed James’ scrutiny of your interaction, his hard stare; nor the way he’d been so distracted that he’d flown right into a Bludger and fallen to the ground. The fall hadn’t been lethal- only a few metres or so. But as James sat there, his friends rushing to make sure he was okay, he ignored the searing pain in his arm and the way his muscles felt as though they were on fire. The flames were concentrated in his eyes instead.

By the time he was back in his dorm, his anger had dulled. James sat on his bed, deep in thought as his friends bustled around him, all except Peter awake.

“Oi Remus,” Sirius poked his head out of the connecting bathroom, “Chuck the hairbrush over, will you?”

Remus, who had been sat cross-legged on his bed immersed in a book, groaned, reaching for Sirius’ bedside table. He attempted to throw it to Sirius who had his hands open and ready, but the hairbrush fell short, landing instead at the foot of James’ bed.

They turned to look at him expectantly. James quickly snapped out of his thoughts and threw the brush to Sirius, who caught it smoothly. But Sirius didn’t vanish back into the bathroom, lingering by the doorway as he exchanged a brief look with Remus.

“What was that today? With (Y/n) and Prewett?” Sirius asked, casually tossing the brush up and down in his hand.

James traced the movement with his eyes, his jaw tensing, “He’s arrogant. Lacked focus on the match. I can’t have him like that during games.”

“What are you going to do? Ban (Y/n) from coming to matches? Gideon wasn’t the only one distracted by her.” Sirius remarked slyly, ignoring the glare James gave him.

Remus sighed, shutting his book once he realised he wasn’t going to finish it, “Why don’t you just talk to her?”

James leant against his headboard, massaging his temples, “I tried, mate. At the library. Things aren’t the same anymore.” He rubbed his face in frustration.

Remus sighed, “Do you want things to be how they were before? With her?”

“Before what?”

“Before you started snogging.” Sirius interjected, unhelpfully.

James cringed, “Shut up.”

Sirius snorted, “We all had to witness it, mate. Don’t know how you messed that one up.”

Remus shot Sirius a silencing look, before facing James once more, “What I’m asking is, do you miss your old friendship dynamic? Back when you two were inseparable?”

“I miss being with her.”

“Then talk to her. Properly.”

“Yeah.” James slid from his bed, signalling the conversation was over, and sat by the adjacent window.

He took off his glasses, folded them up and chucked them onto the bed. The cold of the windowsill seeped into his skin, but he didn’t care, continuing to stare at the green and grey blurs beyond. He wondered what was going on between you and his teammate, the fresh memory of Gideon kissing your cheek still haunting his mind. He pressed his forehead against the freezing glass, hoping the cold would douse the fire that lapped at his thoughts.

He thought deeply about your friendship. What it had entailed. The way the two of you had been inseparable for so many years, constantly joking and laughing together. The party had changed that, but he wondered whether things had started to change before. Not solely your friendship, but how he saw you.

James cursed himself for that kiss- when he had been drunk on success and behaving impulsively. Yet at the same time, he couldn’t condemn the action itself. Nor the weeks that had followed. Kissing you felt…

James narrowed his eyes in concentration, backing away from the window as white blobs settled on the thick glass. He held his breath as dozens more appeared, quickly snatching his glasses of the bed and shoving them back on.

Snow.

A/N

thank you for reading lovelies! as always, i love reading your thoughts/reactions/emotions, so feel free to comment :)) also, thank you so so much for the love on the first part, i appreciate you all

if you'd like to be added to the taglist, lmk ♡

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[meanbossart]

Love Drow's camp greetings, but now I've got to know-- what would his romance path look like?

(This was a REALLY FUN thought experiment, thanks for asking about it!)

You'd get approval points by: -Picking the joke dialogue options, especially if they're dark or crass. -Succeeding intimidation checks. -Starting fights no-questions-asked with characters that don't immediately show you respect. -Defying authority. -Antagonizing drows, githyanki, mindflayers and goblins. -Being friendly towards animals. -Showing willingness to do what the dream visitor suggests. -Notable boost if you let him take on the Loviatar priest in your stead.

You get disapproval by: -Disclosing to people that you're infected with the tadpole. -Agreeing to help NPCs who aren't offering to get rid of your parasites. -Some deception checks (he doesn't always realize you're lying). -Being distrustful/pushy with Shadowheart. -Siding with the absolute. -Trusting or empathizing with the Emperor at all after he reveals himself (Yes, he will leave you if you bang the squid). -Massive point loss if you don't let him take on Orin on his own.

[More elaboration underneath the cut, CW for terrible relationship dynamics and implications of sexual coercion, especially within the context of BDSM.]

He can be persuaded to allow you to have a one-night-stand with Halsin, but will not agree to a three-way relationship or long-term arrangement.

He will stay with you if you sleep with Mizora without the need to roll for anything, but you will lose a lot of approval.

He will agree to a four-way with the twins at Sharess Caress if you ask him about it, but only after you complete his quest. If he has lost to Orin he will kill the twins during the act. If he has accepted Bhaal, he will ask if you want to kill them with him, but you can refuse/dissuade him from doing so.

In regards to his personal interactions, you would usually get choices between antagonizing him, expressing fear, not taking him seriously at all, or making flirtatious advances.

He's neutral/disapproving towards flirtation prior to triggering a romance (though he still reacts flattered). He's neutral/approving of not being taken seriously and/or being feared, as long as the PC is being somewhat facetious and not expressing outright distrust or doubt toward his capabilities. Basically, as long as what you're saying implies that he's formidable, or makes him laugh, he will like it.

After the romance is initiated, he will enjoy flirtatious dialogue options that put him in the role of the desired, compliment his looks/abilities, or express general affection. You would also get options that paint him in a kind of "sexually predatory" light - he doesn't like those.

You could encourage him to embrace his Urge at the start of the campaign for approval, then he flips to wanting you to discourage it after it grows outside his control. If he accepts Bhaal, this switches it back to where he approves of it being encouraged. If he loses to Orin, he will just agree with you whether you tell him to give into his Urges or keep fighting them.

You can break up with him at any point unless he has accepted Bhaal; In that case, he won't agree to it and say that when he takes over the brain you won't have a choice on the matter. The only way to keep him from betraying you during the ending is to either kill him or staying in the relationship with him and dominating the brain together.

As for the actual romance scenes, it'd be similar to Astarion's route where you get to sleep with him right away, then the following interactions are more focused on other forms of intimacy and developing the emotional side of the relationship. You would get the option to push for more sex every time, which he would turn down out of fear of what the Urge might do if he goes along with it - if you keep pushing even after that, it gets you disapproval.

During the scene that locks the romance path (prior to arriving at Baldur's gate) you can persuade him to have sex, and if you succeed he will lose control and try to murder you during the act. The only way to survive it is to kill him instead. You can be resurrected if you lose (he cannot) but he then breaks up with you.

The "themes" of his romance are supposed to allude to the different dynamics of a maso-sado/dom-sub relationship. If you push him to pursue Bhaal you are setting yourself up for a 24/7, lifelong arrangement. the relationship is reduced entirely to your sexual desire for each other, the pushing of boundaries with no limits, and constant one-upmanship. You are no longer allowed (and outwardly mocked) for displaying any tenderness that isn't sexually charged, and he will become angry with you if during your night together following the finalization of the quest you don't pick the aggressive/violent options during intimacy.

If he loses to Orin, he becomes entirely emotionally dependent on the player character, willing to bend to your every will and latch onto the PC as his new master whether or not they agree to it. He is terrified of his fate and desperately wants to please you so you don't abandon him before he loses himself. You can either take advantage of this and revel in the power you have over him, become frustrated, or demonstrate patience and try to encourage him to hold onto some individuality. You can also just kill him, which he will allow you to do through dialogue options at any point. During the romance scene that follows this path, you can only have sex if you restrain him completely first.

If he refuses Bhaal, you get yourself a quiet, cocky, but loving weirdo who enjoys play-dynamics a healthy amount but is ultimately in it because he likes you as a person. He's willing to compromise on the maso-thing as long as you don't put him down for it, and it is implied that while things may not be perfect, you are both willing to work on it through mutual understanding and patience because the relationship is based on more than just burning desire or co-dependency.

[amblebamble]

Arcane Season 2 Spoilers - RE: TimeBomb

“Her name was Isha.”

Ekko does not stop painting her arm, neon green on cloudy blue. His lines are knife-sharp, thin where the tip of the brush caresses her skin, and the paint barely runs as she watches an hourglass unfold.

“Who?”

“You said something… about creating a better world for someone,” she can’t remember his exact words, “her name was Isha.”

“A friend?”

“A baby, really.”

She doesn’t care to elaborate, and Ekko doesn’t ask for more. He releases her elbow to drag his fingertips down to her wrist, pausing a moment, then slips his hand into hers. Jinx does not reciprocate.

Instead, she locates the paintbrush previously dipped in neon pink, the brush-end fatter than Ekko’s choice, and – ignoring how paint splatters across Ekko’s trousers – paints a streak across his chest. He jumps back, a half shout bitten down, hands flying to his chest and patting around. Jinx waits for him to look back up at her to raise a brow and wave her brush with an eyeroll.

Ekko doesn’t apologise for the misconception. Jinx doesn’t apologise for every action it took to lead him there.

He settles back down in front of her, scooting his stool closer until their knees are slotted together, giving her access to his chest. Her hand trembles. His hands remain face-up in his lap, a slight curl to his fingers, lax. She prefers the caution.

The second line she draws with involuntary care, an X forming unhurriedly where her brush ghosts his sternum.

“Sorry I’m not her,” she says.

Ekko had told her of his time away, of a world without Vi, of green trees and abundant produce flooding the clean streets of Zaun, of a Powder that—

“I don’t want you to be.”

He takes the brush from her, and without it she is bereft of places to rest her hands.

“It was—” everything “—a good place, but I left it.”

His own encase her face, a palm cupping her jaw, the other hand curled around the paintbrush and resting on her cheek. It is cold where he swipes beneath her eye.

“I realised I had given up on you,” he ducks lower, peering up at her until she meets his gaze, “Jinx.”

Her eyes flutter, stinging with stale air as he paints another line beneath her other eye. When the brush is set in his lap, his hands return to her face. Her fingertips graze his chest, curling back into her palms, but when he remains in place she settles more securely against him, poised to push, instead snagged on the erratic pulse white-hot against her palm.

“I’m not coming back,” she whispers, eyes wide, her own pulse off-beat. “Whatever happens, whatever outcome, I don’t make it back.”

She had decided, when she heard him out. A private thought. It seems an impossible secret now - had burst from her in traitorous confession.

“Okay,” he says, though the word catches in his throat, and he repeats, “Okay.”

Jinx presses her lips tight together, rocketing forward to wrap her arms around his neck, her nose shoved in the crook of her elbow. His own arms encircle her, one hand at the base of her neck, simply holding her.

"You've wasted it - on me,"

Always a dance with them; cyclical, endless repetition. She speaks every word around 'sorry' without ever saying it, can never say it, isn't sure anymore who she means to apologise to.

"It was a choice," he tells her, "not a waste."

Silco had said killing was a cycle, was a mistake. This is another kind, a different cycle, she's just not sure where the mistake starts. She simply has to leave.

--

Later, when they’ve let go and Jinx fiddles to wrap a pink tie around Ekko’s hair, he’ll jokingly point to the transferred X along her chest and pick up the paintbrush to define it better, all while they ignore their reddened eyes and the pink trailing alongside her mascara.  

[another-lost-mc]

Pillow Talk | SIMEON x gn!Reader 1.7k words | NSFW | Depravity & Pining Content warnings: Perversion, masturbation with clothing, dirty thoughts. obey me! m.list

It’s a rare occasion when Simeon has Purgatory Hall to himself.

Luke was visiting the Celestial Realm and spending time with Michael, and Solomon said he had things to take care of in the human world. It promised to be a lazy evening - there was no sense cooking an elaborate meal just for himself.

He suddenly recalled that you mentioned to him earlier you were going to be home alone too. Most of the demon brothers were attending a party at The Fall and you didn’t want to go.

It was the perfect chance to invite you over for an impromptu movie night, and he walked to the House of Lamentation to pick you up. Simeon rarely had the opportunity to spend time with you alone, and he didn’t want to waste a moment.

You spent a quiet evening eating snacks and cuddling together on the sofa. When you shivered from the evening chill, Simeon covered both your laps with a warm blanket. He tucked you against his side and draped his arm over your shoulder. He thought you might pull away from him, but you curled into his embrace even more.

You fell asleep halfway through the film. Simeon turned the volume down so you wouldn’t be disturbed, and he was careful not to wake you. He enjoyed the weight of your body pressed against his and wanted to savour the feeling as long as he could. He leaned close so that he could smell the scent of your shampoo when he buried his nose in your hair and brushed his lips across your temple.

You woke up long after the movie ended, and you were too groggy to notice Simeon had maneuvered you into his lap. He had both his arms tucked around you and he was stroking your back gently. You yawned warm puffs of air against his neck, and he nearly shivered as the slightest twinge of pleasure shot through him.

He told you that he already made your excuses to Lucifer and that you could spend the night at Purgatory Hall. It was far too late for you to walk home now. It was his own little secret that he looked forward to seeing your sleep-mussed hair and warm, syrupy smile in the morning.

You mumbled that you could sleep on the couch, but he was already pushing himself up and lifting you in his arms. He carried you to his room and laid you down on the bed. He shushed your feeble protests as he helped tuck you into the sheets and explained he would sleep in Luke’s room. He leaned forward and wished you goodnight, daring to brush his lips lightly against your brow.

Your eyes slipped closed and you murmured something under your breath before you started snoring softly in your sleep. He stood by the bed and watched moonlight and shadow dance across your skin. His hands clenched into fists and relaxed again, over and over, while he resisted the urge to palm his half-hard cock through his pants.

It was nearly half an hour later when he finally dragged himself from your side and went to sleep in one of the empty rooms. He dreamt of pouty lips and warm, naked skin against his own.

When Simeon woke up, he was surprised to see you making tea in the kitchen; you wore a different shirt and pants than last night. Your cheeks darkened slightly when you explained you packed some overnight things in your bag just in case.

He helped make a light breakfast and basked in your company until you got ready to go back to the House of Lamentation. You hesitated at the door like you wanted to say something, but you shook your head and promised him that you had a wonderful night.

Simeon didn’t know what to do with himself after you left. He was hoping that you could stay longer, but he knew he couldn’t be greedy with your company no matter how much he wanted to. The demon brothers would never allow it, and even during breakfast you were getting messages on your D.D.D. from them asking when you would be home.

Simeon hated the thought of sharing you. When would he have another opportunity like last night to indulge in your company? Why was it only in his dreams that he could finally have you all to himself?

He walked back to his room and decided he would tidy up. You made his bed - not perfectly - but he smiled at your effort anyway. He leaned across the mattress and brushed out some wayward wrinkles in the duvet, but a sudden thought occurred to him and he drew back the covers. He smoothed his hands across the mattress and pretended he could still feel your body heat beneath his fingers. When he pressed his nose to the sheet, he caught faint traces of your natural scent that lingered behind.

His cock strained against the zipper of his slacks and he bit his lip. What was the harm?

He was unbuckling his belt and when his foot caught on something. There was a lump of fabric on the floor, and he recognized the shirt you wore last night. You must’ve forgotten to put it in your bag before you left. He picked it up and wondered whether he should wash it for you when he realized something else was tucked inside. It fell to the floor and landed at his feet with a soft plop.

It was like a punch in the gut when he realized what it was. 

Underwear. Your underwear. You must’ve changed and rolled them into your shirt to take home later, but you forgot them both.

He licked his lips as he picked up the delicate garment with trembling hands. He rubbed the fabric between his fingertips and noticed how soft they felt. The colour was a bit faded and the waistband was worn, as if this was one of your favourite pairs. They were completely ordinary, but they were yours.

Simeon brought them closer so that his nose brushed against the fabric. It was impulsive, and his cheeks burned with embarrassment and shame at his depravity. He tried to remind himself that what he was doing was wrong - but then he took a deep breath and inhaled your scent into his lungs. 

Oh, fuck.

He groaned and laid down on his bed, shimmying his pants low enough on his hips so he could free his aching cock. The tip was already dribbling with his arousal, and he used his thumb to smooth the thick fluid along his shaft as he started pumping his cock with fast, rough strokes. Your underwear were clenched in his other hand. He brought them to his nose again so he could breathe in as much of your deliciously sweet scent as possible.

Fuck, look what you do to me—

The mattress springs started to creak as he thrust his hips in time with each desperate tug of his cock. He didn’t even notice - he moaned his pleasure, moaned your name, and let his dark desires take over.

He imagined kissing you senseless on the sofa last night when you woke up, sliding his hands underneath your shirt and feeling you shiver as he stroked your skin. He thought about slipping your pants down your hips and flicking the waistband of your underwear teasingly, peppering kisses along your jaw and neck until you keened and begged him to touch you. He would slide them down the velvety soft skin of your thighs until you were completely bare to him, and he’d finally lower his head and taste you–

Simeon licked a stripe along the crotch of your underwear before he sucked the fabric between his lips. Have you ever worn these and thought of him? Have you ever stained these with the slick evidence of your arousal? Were you aroused last night, just by being close to him?

So sweet, so fucking sweet, I need more, I need—

He thought about your quick glances you thought he didn’t notice and the way you hesitated to say goodbye. He wondered if you woke up in the middle of the night and rolled around in the sheets that smelled like him. Did you think about touching yourself in his bed? Did you think about what he would do to you if he caught you?

He was nearly delirious with lust and he fucked his fist, fueled by his desperate thoughts of you. The wet sounds of his hand moving up and down his cock were buried underneath the pleasured noises pouring freely from his mouth. His eyes clenched shut when he felt his body burn with the pleasure that crashed over him.

—fuck, fuck, fuck, please. Oh, fuck, I'm gonna—

The cotton in his mouth muffled the roar that ripped from his throat, and he pumped his cock as thick ropes of cum shot up his belly and dribbled over his fingers. He didn’t stop until he whimpered from the sensitivity and he grew soft in his hand. He unhinged his jaw and your underwear slipped from between his teeth and fell limply onto the pillow beside him.

He was sweating underneath his shirt and his throat was dry, but he laid in bed and let his mind wander to thoughts of you until his heart stopped racing. 

His D.D.D. started vibrating on the mattress next to him and he jolted in surprise. It must’ve slipped from his pocket when he laid down. He picked it up - with his clean hand - and his breath hitched when he saw your name on the screen.

You: I think I left something in your room earlier, can I come by later tonight to pick it up?

Typing a response was enough of a challenge for him, and trying to type one-handed with trembling fingers was another matter entirely. It took him longer than usual to manage a coherent response.

He tossed his phone to the side and tried to think. If you're coming back later, he'll make sure you find your clothes exactly as you left them. Any lingering traces of his spit should be dry by then, and he’ll flatten out the remaining indents of his teeth.

This will be another little secret of his, kept guarded within his heart where all his sinful thoughts of you are buried.

But just the thought of seeing you again made his cock twitch with renewed interest. He only hesitated for a moment before he reached for your underwear.

He had until tonight to enjoy them, after all.

[bottlehawk]

hs kids' first day on the earth c minecraft survival server

jake: starts digging straight down as soon as he spawns. keeps digging. keeps digging. keeps digging. no one ever sees him again

jane: enters ready to get everyone organized. half the server immediately runs off doing their own thing. stops the remaining crew before they wander off so they can start building a base before it turns to night. gives everyone roles and then has to go afk because she was on her lunch break and is actually playing minecraft on her company computer. comes back hours later and finds the entire server on fire.

karkat: gets a stone hoe and some wheat seeds thrown at him and is told to set up a wheat farm. nods even though he's never played minecraft before and doesn't know how. clicks the ground with the hoe and it seems to do something so he does that for a while. dave comes over and asks him why he's been just plowing the ground in one really long straight line. tells him to fuck off so he does. wishes he hadn't when he realizes he could've asked him for help. figures out that if you click on the ground with the seed it plants it and decides he's actually a minecraft genius and doesn't need anybody's help at all. dusts his hands off proud of the work he's done and then goes to try to find kanaya.

kanaya: is given a stone axe and is told to chop down some wood for the houses. does and gives roxy some stacks and goes to chop down some more wood because she honestly finds it kind of therapeutic. ends up clearing an entire mountain. night comes and mobs start sprouting up and she chops them down too. is surrounded by fields of floating rotten flesh and bones and cursed armor when suddenly she sees flames in the distance near the base. starts marching down there with the grim resolution of an executioner, ready to now start chopping some necks.

terezi: learns how to craft a flint and steel and discovers the magic of fire. laughs maniacally as she starts burning cows she runs into and laughs even more when she discovers they drop cooked meat. wants to find more things to burn. finds a raider's base and the sound of the wood torching up into flames does something to her and she starts setting fire to the entire forest. stumbles across the base. sets fire to one of the buildings. karkat comes over and yells and asks what the fuck she's doing. sets karkat on fire. laughs as she watches him run in circles not knowing how to stop the flames. suddenly gets murked by kanaya who's sneaked up behind her, and continues being hunted down by her as she respawns for the rest of the night.

jade: wanders off and finds a cute little village. decides that she's adopting it now. places some flowers she's picked along the way around to make it look nice and pretty. tames and places some cats around the perimeter and puts some torches nearby to keep away mobs. builds a water fountain in the middle of the town square. waves goodbye to go find some wolves to tame and promises that she'll be back.

dave: builds elaborately detailed dirt penises all over the farm while karkat works and negs him. karkat tells him to fuck off and go do something useful. fucks off accordingly and finds jade's village. raids everything from the chests and all the crops. puts dirt dicks all over the place. kills the cats for string and free exp. kills some sheep and creates beds and pushes some of the villagers inside a shitty little acacia building he made with a sign on it saying "breeding pen". throws some potatoes at them and then blocks up the entrance. turns around and immediately gets blown up by a creeper.

calliope: is the only one given op privileges as she is the only one that everyone can trust to have it. decides she wants to build a big cool glass castle in the sky. has just finished building the base when jade types in chat that whoever destroyed her village is going to pay. types "oh no!!!" in the chat. gets a dm from dave asking her for sanctuary because jade is going to KILL him. remembers that he's made NFTs. sends jade screenshots of the exact incriminating parts in the server log and happily continues building her castle.

rose: has debug screen turned on. immediately crafts several stone axes. runs off to the nearby desert and finds a desert temple and raids it, crafting an iron bucket. fills it with water and goes to a lava pool and builds a nether portal. enters the nether. speed bridges over to a nether fortress and makes a wither skeleton farm and proceeds to grind for ~3-4 hours. collects enough wither skulls. readies her bow and summons the wither and starts using its detonating blasts to mine down for ancient debris.

roxy: tried to convince everybody at the beginning to download 727378282 mods to make the server "more FUN!!". was unsuccessful. gets told to make some houses and beds for the base so she does. looks for other things to do and finds karkat's wheat farm and is flabbergasted. why is it in one long straight line. there isn't even any water. where is the water? tells john to go get her some redstone while she fixes it up so she can automate it.

john: not sure what to do. roxy tells him to start mining for redstone ("its red and shiny lol you wont have to dig that far"). digs straight down into a cave. realizes he forgot to get wood but decides to go on anyway. uses up all his stone pickaxes mining copper because he doesn't know what it is and it looks cool. hits a slime and it divides into more slimes and he freaks out and runs away with two hearts. keeps running and finds a door in the side of the cave wall. opens it. wanders around in a cool maze and then enters a weird room with some yellow and green chest like boxes. suddenly gets attacked by a little bug making a screechy sound and panics and dies.

dirk: rounds up some animals into pens for the base and then busts out a boat and a fishing pole to try to get them a book of mending. is chilling in the middle of the ocean and then sees that dave gets blown up by a creeper in chat. asks if he's okay and if he needs someone to come over. sees that karkat got killed by terezi. sees that terezi got killed by kanaya. asks what is going on. is now rowing back towards base. jade types that her village has been destroyed. jane has logged on and is asking why the entire base is on fire. is crafting buckets and filling them with water. sees that rose got an achievement for summoning the wither. texts her "Dude did you just summon the Wither???". rose ominously replies "I've got it handled." sees john got killed by a silverfish and roxy asking when the hell john found the stronghold. jake gets a cheating death with a totem of undying achievement. proceeds to have a total aneurysm.

[star2fishmeg]

Aahhh congratz on reaching 1k! Can I get scenario # 127. Situationship/friends with benefits but it’s unrequited feelings with Luke Hughes.

Thank you for requesting <3

SCENARIO #127 Situationship/fwb but it's unrequited feelings

📞 dialling…

Sometimes people just need a break from everyone. Sometimes people just need a break from themselves and the whirlwind of their mind. Y/n and Luke thought so as they let the night’s chill slap them across their cheeks with the party in the house behind them, the back porch surprisingly vacant. The air between sat thick, unresolved somethings jumbled up but the bravery to break down the barriers locked away in hearts protected by walls of their own. 

Luke was the first to speak up in their silent company, his hat backwards and eyes softly set on her. “Are you seeing anyone else?”

“No, why?” she turned to him, arms loosely folded over the wooden railing. The small slither of excitement painfully bubbled in her stomach, the hope of resolve.

He shrugged, looking away and out into the yard, not that there was a lot to look at, just ratty grass with plastic garden furniture and a couple of bicycles, abandoned. He knew he had to pursue, rid of that horrible, anxious feeling that consumed him, kept him up at night but she was undeniably the best woman he’d ever met in his young life and losing her forever because of some poorly thought-out decision killed him slower than bleeding out onto the porch.

“Just wondering.” He paused, leaning forward onto his arms against the railing, mirroring y/n. “Why aren’t you…seeing anyone else? Like, you’re not even talking or?”

She furrowed her eyebrows slightly, desperation filling her senses, but she knew, and she knew too well how he fumbled over his feelings. How he could never spit it out and hoped she’d pick up his gist but at times like those, nothing boiled her blood more.

“I dunno, just haven’t met anyone else, I guess. You?” She lied, voice clipping ever so slightly.

That horrible, nauseous feeling spread through him violently, guilt-ridden and sweat dribbling down his neck.

“Uh, no, too busy, y’know. You, um, remember the agreement…righ-”

Pushing off the railing she folded her arms, turning to face him abruptly with wet eyes, “-Luke, of course I do. You said no feelings because you’re heading to New Jersey soon.”

“Yeah, I know that. I don’t have any strings, was just making sure you didn’t. We’re friends.”

“Yeah, friends.” Heart aching and sinking into the bottomless pit of the truth, she leant her shoulder against the pillar, arms remaining folded. “Whoever you do fall in love with though, one day, is one lucky girl.”

“Yeah, because she’ll be dating a rich athlete-” his laughed rumbled through his chest, tilting his head back to her but she was already looking at him. 

Rolling her eyes, she scoffed, “-not what I meant.” 

“Well, what other reasons are there?”

A short silence pushed them apart, like a wedge between them. Y/n hoped he couldn’t notice the tears pricking the corners of her eyes, her heart hammering in her chest and she swallowed, a lump choking her and she loathed him. Herself. The situation. If she could have screamed at the top of her lungs right then and there, she would have. And she would hope he’d pull her into his chest and stroke her hair, cooing to her about how it would be okay.

“I don’t think you want to hear them, yet. Not from me, at least.” She sniffed, shaking her head slowly, her eyes burning into his, pushing off the pillar and stepping towards the backdoor.

Luke swung around, hand grasping her bicep desperately, his gut setting sirens off in his head and now he’d pried, pried too far that he had to know whether it would kill him or not. He needed to know if he’d made the worst decision of his life. 

“No, y/n, tell me, why would she be lucky? You can’t just drop that and not elaborate. We’re friends, y/n, you can tell me anything.” He didn’t raise his voice, but it was firm, not enough to frighten her but strained as if he were fighting his own set of demons.

“No, it’s doesn’t matter, don’t worry about it…” her lips pulled into a sad smile, and even Luke could see that. His eyes pleaded, glassy with eyebrows pulled, shoulders slumped and mouth faltering. She was a weak woman to him, and as much as it pained her, she inhaled and let out a shaky breath, “...you’re so much more than a hockey player. But I shouldn’t be the person telling you that. You’re kind with a comforting warmth, you draw people in with your charisma and you’re the best fucking company I’ve ever had but the person you love should be giving their heart to you. I’m just a friend who fucks you.”

Her arm felt cold again, the absence of his hand dearly despised but it was for the better. Luke’s exhaled, running his hand over his hat and placing his hand on his hip. He remembered their agreement, he couldn’t feel anything, that’s what he’d been trying to do but deep some in some crevice somewhere, he knew he couldn’t do better than her. He shouldn’t have offered to be friends with benefits in the first place, he would still have her then. In another universe, maybe they would have worked out, for real. Real feelings with a real commitment and now all he did was watch her punish herself for loving him for who he was as a person. 

She turned, voice shaking and strained, “You can come find me when you’re drunk enough, and we’ve forgotten this conversation. You know I’ll give you the best night of your life.

”Luke watched her disappear from his sight, back into the house and he sighed deeply. Y/n loved him, and if he wasn’t leaving for New Jersey, a part of him believed that he could have loved her too.

[ayabeanworks]

Title: Can I meet you again?

Synopsis: AU in which Geto does not defect, but you do instead.

Character: SaShiSu x reader

Series: Let's Meet in the Spring (SaShiSu x reader)

Notes: Literally just heavy angst & sadness. Mentions of death, murder, suicide and reincarnation. Heavy themes. Lots of swearing. Spoilers for JJK season 2 (anime).

Part 2 available here!

Prequel available here!

AU sequel available here!

The songs I had playing while writing this was: - Hero by Alan Walker (Probably played this one the most that it's at the top of my repeated songs Spotify list ☠️) - Apollo (Eurovision ver) by Timebelle - Dancing With Your Ghost by Sasha Sloan

"Oh?"

Shoko stared at you as you waved at her with a bright smile, brows raising in surprise as she took out a new smoke in the Shinjuku smoking area.

You made your way over to her, finding that she wasn't pushing you away. It was good to see a friend after a while, but you weren't too sure if you had that privilege anymore.

For you, you were testing the waters.

"Hey, Shoko." You took out a lighter from your pocket, one-handedly opening it for her to light her cigarette.

"Fancy seeing you here. You need something from me?" She glanced into your direction, taking a shallow inhale and extending her exhale.

You hummed in reply. "Just testing my luck."

"So, just to be sure, are the claims false?"

"Unfortunately, they're true." You could only bring yourself to shrug lightly, looking ahead. From your peripherals, you could see her taking out her phone to call the others.

"Just to be sure again: why?"

"I want to create a world where jujutsu sorcerers don't have to struggle." You didn't elaborate.

"Wow, that's funny!" Shoko laughed lightly, but there really wasn't anything humourous behind it. It was as if she was contemplating asking more. After all, everyone and everything struggles, so what is this righteous talk from you?

"Do you think I'm wrong?" You asked, hearing the faint ringing of her phone as she waited for one of the others to pick up.

"Right or wrong, it was dumb." Shoko didn't even hold back on her words, making you genuinely laugh at how frank she was, regardless had you been granted a bounty.

"Gojo, Geto, [name]'s here with me in Shinjuku." Gojo seemed to say something on the other side, but Shoko retorted, "No way! I don't wanna die." She hung up after conveying her message.

"So, what will you do now?" She turned to you, exhaling a puff of smoke into a ring above her head.

"I don't know. I might see you around, I guess." You took a step forward, facing her. "See you later, Shoko." You knew Gojo and Geto would be here at any moment, but you didn't know if you wanted to face them.

Shoko didn't say anything in response, just watching as the ashes fell from the cigarette between her fingers.

You didn't see, but it was the first time Shoko has made an expression where she was at a loss of what to do.

And, that was the last time you saw Shoko.

"WAIT, [NAME]!" Satoru bellowed out to you as you walked away, in front of the KFC you all used to go to until recently.

He caught up pretty fast...where's Sugu? You sensed his curse energy, but you weren't sure where it was. As for Satoru, he was only a few metres away from you down the slope of the street.

You sighed inwardly, ready to face him. "'toru."

The nickname you usually call him by hurt him more this time around as he registered how unaffectionate your voice was, contrary to the usual. It was devoid of any emotion. Like you didn't care about what you left behind. Like you didn't care about him.

"Explain yourself, [name]!" He demanded, sunglasses further down his nose as he watched you with wide eyes full of emotions of all kinds, but you mainly picked out disbelief and anger.

"There's nothing else to say. You've heard from Shoko." You stated, watching the twitch in his face as he evaluated your dismissive answer.

"So you'll kill anybody who makes life hard for Jujutsu sorcerers? Both sorcerers and non-sorcerers?" Satoru's voice rose in anger.

After all, you did kill an elder a week ago. It was the one that'd been annoying you since forever, the one who tried to get you purposely killed each and every time you went on a mission. Killing him was much easier than you had imagined, though.

"Well, if natural selection isn't going to do anything, I might as well do it instead." You crack a light joke, but your words were serious.

"That's not what I'm asking! I thought you were against killing if there was no meaning to it?!"

"There's a meaning behind everything. A purpose, even."

"No there isn't! You want to make a world where Jujutsu sorcerers don't suffer? That's impossible!"

"Satoru's right, [name]." Geto spoke from behind you, his voice wafting through the air as he went to stand closer to Gojo as he faced you. "There's a purpose to everything, but there's a better way of doing things than say, homicide. Especially for us in the Jujutsu world."

You wanted to scoff. But, you couldn't, because you used to be that way, too. But everything ate away at you, and you just weren't the same person anymore with the same aligning morals. You chose to go down the path you've decided to go down, even if it meant deserting everything you knew before.

"Is it really impossible?" Your voice was light, but the lilt in it was undeniably laced with seriousness. "I wouldn't do this if there was a shred of impossible in it."

The alarm on their faces was really something.

"[name]...you'll need to fight us if you keep going down this path." Suguru spoke his words deliberately, slowly, like he was getting a child to listen to him. He was careful.

Satoru clenched his teeth and fists. He wanted to say that it was impossible yet again, that when you fight them, you'll lose. But, you knew that. You knew, so why?

"Wow, I'll get to fight the 2 strongest sorcerers!" You clapped your hands together once, a smile on your lips, one that didn't reach your eyes. "Maybe so, but you're not my targets. There's some smaller fish compared to you I must get rid of first."

"Why?" Geto voiced both Gojo and his thoughts, a quick glance at Satoru knew he wasn't going to be able to hold a proper conversation without shouting.

"Why?" You echoed his question. "Well, for starters, we're treated like shit, in both worlds regardless sorcerers or non-sorcerers. Do you remember? The elder I killed, he was truly one who deserved to die. The number of times he ignored protests, warnings and more...killing off our sorcerers one by one, do you really believe someone like him being alive is worth all that struggle? For him, he deserves to die for that alone."

Geto was about to open his mouth after a thought, but you interrupted him. "Also, he was a paedophile so he deserves everything that's come his way. The world needs none of those disgusting pigs."

You couldn't forgive him. You couldn't forgive such a disgusting creature existed. When you found out the information coincidently, you knew you had to do something about it.

The anger in your eyes was juxtaposed by the small smile on your lips, one that was almost proud of what you did.

Satoru couldn't contain himself any longer, "Yeah, he was a fucking piece of shit, but killing him? That's made you one of the sorcerers we've got to kill! You're to be executed on sight! You're a hypocrite, [name]. Are you trying to get all the sorcerers you want to protect to come kill you?"

You watched him as he heaved a breath, his eyes feeling heavy on your form as he tried to convey his distraught to you about the whole situation.

You barked out a laugh, a hand landing on your hip as you stared at him, no trace of the smile on your features anymore.

"Hypocrite?" The question lay on the tip of your tongue, before you let out a low chuckle, feeling your throat go dry. "Perhaps you're right; I am. I am a hypocrite who wants death as much as those geezers who send us out to kill ourselves."

"Oh, and you forgot one detail. I don't care about sorcerers and non-sorcerers at all. They're equally as bad as each other. The only difference is that sorcerers have the power to wield cursed energy and use it to destroy curses made up from the normie's emotions." You gave him a half lie. It was easier to push him away. Push him away so he won't be able to break the armour you've put up.

"And what of him dying? Are the elders going to retire themselves? Or will they KILL us sorcerers first?" Your voice became an octave higher as you emphasised words that made you emotional.

"After I kill them, you can then reform the society as you wish. You could probably kill them yourself, 'toru, but you won't take that step. That's why I'll take that step instead." You give him a crooked smile, "There's nothing here worth living for."

"Nothing worth living for?" Satoru repeated your words, taking off his sunglasses, watching you with his blue eyes, and you could see the monstrous waves of emotion behind them. "Are you fucking blind?"

Suguru glanced over at Gojo, hoping he didn't have to inject himself in between to stop it from escalating further.

"No, I am not fucking blind, Satoru!" A chip from your facade broke off, revealing a mess of emotions in the split second your voice broke. "Do you understand how suffocating it is living in this world? Where all your friends die in front of you, or there's a chance they'll die on their next mission? Where the strongest wins - and in this world, if the curses aren't the strongest, the sorcerers at their highest standing are!"

"You know I--" He began, but you cut him off.

"I know you hate them as much as I do! But I'll do whatever it takes to get rid of them, even if it means forsaking you all to do it." You almost sound like you're pleading by the end, your eyes starting to tear up.

"And after. When they're gone, you can reform the system, and control it in the way that works best for this generation." You force a smile to your lips, but it doesn't reach your eyes. "Someone has to be the bad guy, and I'm willing to play the role, even if I may die in the process."

"[name], this can be done differently--"

"I'm tired, Satoru. I've tried. I've tried, and I'm tired. Why don't you understand that?" You whisper, shaking your head. "Do you know how many times I've tried talking to the higher ups, or anybody for that matter? No, you don't. You've been on missions this whole time, so you don't know. Even Suguru doesn't know the full extent of it. Shoko knows a bit, but she's not one who can do much about it."

Suguru and Satoru were silent for a moment, their eyes on you as your expression gave away everything you wanted to say.

"I won't be there, but it's a sacrifice worth making if you all aren't in danger. I don't care about anything else." Your words were soft, soft enough for them to hear you, soft enough for you to hope to convince yourself it was the right way and you didn't make the wrong choice.

Satoru and Suguru were the strongest duo. But, before they were, they were your best friends, along with Shoko. But now? Were you still able to call them your best friends? Did you even have that privilege anymore?

But, this is the path you took. Even if it meant abandoning those that you held dear, it was all for them. The real truth to your purpose and change of heart was to make a world easier for them, and for you, and for everybody who came after you. You didn't want anyone else to experience what you have, and you were going to do whatever you can to make that a reality.

You didn't give a flying fuck about anything else other than your best friends, if you were being honest. If it meant that you won't be by their side anymore, it was a sacrifice you were willing to make.

"So, I won't stop. This world is absolutely fucked. Why save something that can't be saved no more? I'd rather go down fighting. Morals be damned."

Your eyes glistening with tears unshed, you press your lips into a genuine smile. The last genuine smile before giving them a wave, "I guess this is goodbye. The next time I see you, 'toru, Sugu, we'll be enemies."

You turned on your heel, ready to leave, but you felt the curse energy expand from behind you, like they were readying to attack.

But, you kept walking, and nothing happened.

Satoru's outstretched hand fell back down to his side as he swore a string of curses, the pain on his face evident as he watched your figure disappear in the crowd of people.

Suguru had half a mind to get one of his curses to follow you, but he knew you well enough that the curse would be killed the minute you felt his cursed energy, so he didn't even bother.

His clenched his hand into a fist, a bitter taste in his mouth. He remembered back to when he was in a similar situation to you, but you and the others managed to get him out of it. He felt saved, but now, seeing it happen to the very person who helped him, made him shatter inside.

Why did you help him, when you couldn't even help yourself with your own words? Why didn't you let them help you? Why didn't you let them know you were having a hard time? That this was what you were contemplating?

He would have listened. They would have listened. They always would.

He felt a cold shiver go down his spine as he watched the endless stream of pedestrians, ones he used to call 'monkeys' in his head, but when letting go of that thought, you were at the forefront of his mind. It was you who grabbed his hand, you who brought him back.

It was you.

But he wasn't able to bring you back. He wasn't able to bring back the one who had nowhere else to go. The one who didn't know what to do with their emotions. The one who got lost.

But would he really call you lost when you knew what you wanted to do, where you wanted to go?

Suguru knew you weren't malicious. At least, not originally. The essence of you, he knew, was someone who cared greatly. One who had their heart on their sleeve when talking about anything and everything, especially with them. He didn't worry about you because you were always ok. But, there were things you didn't tell them and they didn't know, because you never let that part see the light of the day.

The only thing that Suguru felt in his chest, was regret. Regret so raw he felt cold and numb.

Satoru muttered another string of curses, turning on his heel, "Let's go, Suguru." His voice was small, and he didn't want to say any more.

He pondered all the possibilities of you. But he couldn't make himself understand you like you understood him. Which is what made it even more painful.

"I'm not as strong as you." Were words you once said to Satoru.

A forgotten conversation, one you started when he had come into your room even though the light was off, finding comfort in your presence. He wanted to sleep in the same bed or at least the same room, but you were still awake, sitting up in your bed and watching the stars and sky from your window.

Satoru didn't say anything as he climbed into your double bed, comfort filling his whole being from your calming scent alone. He wouldn't admit it, but it was one of his favourite places to be when he had turmoil in his mind.

"Yeah, you're weak." He mumbled, his face squished against the pillow as he faced you.

He could see the illuminated outline of your features from the moon, finding them captivating as he watched you with half-lidded eyes.

No, you're strong, were the real words he wanted to say. But, he had always called you weak, so he was going to continue. What harm was there?

You turn your head slightly, gazing at him with a soft smile. It was like you knew what he wanted to say, but didn't hold anything against him for saying the opposite of what he truly felt.

"You're right," You whispered. "I'm weak."

You went to close the curtains, slipping back into bed with Satoru as you closed your eyes, ignoring the gaze on you as you drifted off to sleep.

Satoru had a feeling those words were in reference to something else, but he had no idea what. He felt an invisible wall between you and him from the interaction just now, one that shouldn't be there lest he had his infinity on. But he never did unless in certain situations.

"You're plenty strong, [name]." He whispered this, bringing his finger to tap your forehead, before he also went to sleep.

You weren't asleep yet, so you heard his comment. It warmed your heart, the freezing depths of it wanting to thaw. It made you want to spill the inner turmoils of your mind, but you were scared it would taint the bright sun that is Satoru.

Satoru's a lot sweeter than he lets on, you let a small smile grace your lips as you face him to sleep.

Thinking back to that conversation, Satoru leaned back in the chair of your room, wondering where it all went wrong.

Were you trying to reach out to him back then? Or were you asking him for some form of confirmation? Were you trying to let him know you were not alright? What did you want?

He wasn't as good at reading emotions like Suguru was, but he knew something was wrong when something was wrong. He just didn't know how to approach it.

He wondered, if he had indulged you that time, would you have let him in?

"You had another fight with the elders, huh." Suguru stated, seeing your current state. He sat where the vending machines were, having just taken a seat after taking a shower. The can of green tea he had in his hands was opened and given to you, "Drink up."

You held an angry expression prior to this, but being with Suguru made you calm down. You took the green tea and took a small sip, savouring the bitter flavour. It was refreshing.

You handed it back to Suguru, "Thank you." He took it back and took a large gulp, feeling it cool down his body.

"You wanna tell me what happened?" Suguru prodded. He knew something was up. Normally you'd be more like Satoru when you came out pissed from the elders meetings. But this time, you were quiet, more like you were seething, like a volcano about to erupt.

You stared at the ground, wondering what you should start with. You felt that all the words exchanged between you and the elders wasn't listened to, wasn't taken into account. It was like talking to a massive brick wall, one that you had no way to get through to.

"I..." You started, but your throat clammed up. You stopped, waiting for the words to come naturally. When your throat finally decided it was ready to talk, your voice was a whisper. "If the elders disappeared, would this all end?"

Suguru's gaze landed on you, knowing full well what you were thinking. He gave you the green tea again. You took it, and another sip.

"If the elders disappeared, others would take their place."

Suguru could feel something was wrong. The atmosphere was different with you, just like how it was different for him a year ago after the star plasma vessel mission. He could sense it in his very being, something was wrong.

"If the others took their place, would they act the same as the ones now?" You chuckled to yourself, but your voice dropped an octave, "Jujutsu society is trash."

There was a slight panic that welled up inside Suguru, reminding himself of the emotions he himself went through not too long ago.

He could see himself in you, and he hated it. Not the one who had helped to bring him out of it, the one who reached out their hand to bring him back to the light. Not you.

"[name]. You don't hate all sorcerers, do you?" His voice was calm, probing for information for your current state of mind.

Back then, he was on the verge of deciding whether to continue as someone who protected the weak, or someone who didn't care for the weak. And now, you were going through something similar. He wanted to bring you back to him, to the one you saved.

After a moment, you shook your head. "I don't. I just...hate how the elders are sending out young sorcerers to their deaths. I hate how there are young Jujutsu sorcerers being taken away from their families so they can train to be another one of us disposables. I hate how no matter what, the top dogs in this world are absolute trash, who need to be burned at the stake. And don't get me started on curses. They're the worst. I hate them. I hate them so much for taking away so much from everyone. From sorcerers, from non-sorcerers..."

A pregnant pause.

"I hate this world that has curses." Your voice cracked at the end of it as you leaned down, head in your hands as you stared at the ground, a broken whisper of self-awareness, "I hate how I've begun thinking this way."

Suguru didn't know when he had held his breath. Your confession was so raw. You had every right to be angry and frustrated at the system which Jujutsu was. He had also held the same thoughts.

"Sugu..." There was a heartbreaking whine to your voice, one that sounded as if you were on the verge of crying. "I hate this."

An embrace, so gentle, so tender, so soft, enveloped you as his larger body wrapped around yours. You could smell the soap he used as he pushed your face into the crook of his neck, his larger hand stroking your hair as you finally let the tears fall, a broken sob reverberating through your body as you held onto him like he was your lifeline.

"[name], I'm here." He soothes, head gently resting against yours. He closed his eyes, pulling you in closer when he felt you trembling. This was the exact same thing you did for him before, one that soothed him and his tumultuous heart.

The only difference is, you were smaller than before, too. Were you eating properly? You were skinnier. Did you get enough sleep? There were bags under your eyes. Did you take a break? He didn't see the last time you took a break.

You pulled away after a while, eyes puffy and face covered with snot. Suguru didn't even flinch as he grabbed the towel sitting next to him, wiping off any excess liquid from your face. It was gentle, and it reminded you he was the most gentle out of the three, and he'd been in a similar position to you at this moment in time. When you looked up to meet his eyes, you decided, you didn't want to burden him with your thoughts of hate - one time was enough.

"I'll always be here if you need me. You can come to me anytime." His hand went to your cheek and his thumb wiped at the area of your cheekbone. Just like his tender hugs, this was so, so soft that it made you want to cry again, making you nearly regret the decision in your heart.

You could only lean into his hand and give him a nod, eyes closing as you felt fatigue come down on your body, making it feel heavy. You didn't even know you fell asleep so fast that Suguru had to catch you, hauling you up so he could carry you back to your room.

This was the only time you revealed your true thoughts to Suguru, and the only time he has ever seen you this way.

Maybe this was the start of it? Suguru's thoughts when he woke up were clear in his mind. The dream he had was something that really happened, and it hurt him he wasn't able to help you during your hardest moments like you did for him.

He had slept in your bed for the night, finding that he missed you and the comfort you brought him. Your scent was calming to him, and it will forever be a saviour to his soul.

A week before killing the elder, Shoko had found you passed out in the infirmary, half of your body on a chair, and half of it off and on the ground.

She raised a brow at your position, wondering if you were tired and just fell asleep. On closer inspection, she could see the dark circles under your eyes, the thinning of your cheeks, and realised you've lost a lot of weight. The bottle on the chair were a bunch of sleeping pills, open and spilled, indicating you had taken some just prior.

If she wasn't worried about you before, she was definitely worried now.

And when you woke up, you were just like normal, which made Shoko question whether you were just overworked. She did know you fought a lot with the elders and were sent on difficult missions because they were out to get you. So with this information in mind, she was sure you were in need of a proper break, away from everything and everyone.

Which was why she advocated for you to get a break, away from Tokyo, to an island resort with lots of sunshine. A proper 4 day break. Of course, she got Satoru to pay for it since he was loaded and actually owed [name] for a previous thing.

But, the aftermath that came from that was the death of the elder 3 days after coming back.

Did that moment of clarity cause everything to happen? When you were on break, was that when everything went out of control? Was that when you decided this was the path you wanted to take?

You had looked completely back to normal after coming back that the worry Shoko and the boys held for you was almost like a false alarm - but they didn't realise that that in itself was the real alarm.

You were happy - or at least, you were smiling like you did before. It was wonderful to see you back to your regular self, something everyone mutually agreed on by the other sorcerers.

Until you murdered the elder, that is.

That was your first step into the world of depravity, away from the world of Jujutsu, and closer to the world called Hell.

[name]'s heart was soft. It was originally that way, and as you traversed through life, fell and got back up, your heart became stronger. However, it was just an outer layer, like a piece of armour for your fragile heart. You would pretend things were fine until it wasn't, even if you wore your heart on your sleeve, letting the people around you know what you thought, even if they thought you were joking.

It was almost too sudden when you realised all the armour around your soft heart had shattered to pieces.

It was like you lost a part of you that day, and you didn't know what could fix you. You didn't know if you could be fixed. So, you did the only thing you could do.

Pick up the pieces and do your best to put it back together, create a wall for your heart before it gets pierced again.

But before you were able to, a gunshot would shatter your glued armour, shattering in your hands, and your heart was laid bare, bleeding out without any way to stop.

And you wished and wished, for someone to reach out their hands to you and drag you out of your ocean of misery. But, nobody could reach deep enough, and you couldn't reach because you had no strength left to.

You couldn't reach out anymore. No matter how much you wanted, the same fate would await you, and you'd fall into such despair again.

You were tired. You were so, so, so tired.

The ones who made you like this, were ironically the ones who could take you out.

"____." You give them one last smile, a genuine one, as you feel the tears coming down your face, bringing your blade to your neck, before slicing and ending your own life.

You didn't want to die at the hands of your best friends. Not because they're your best friends, but because they would bear the burden of having killed you, and you didn't think they'd be able to take that, especially at the ripe age of 19. So, you'd rather do it for them, making it easier. After all, it would've been close to impossible going up against two of the strongest sorcerers.

You could only hear screams at you from the distance as the pain numbed your mind and body. Geto & Gojo were both screaming your name as they sprinted to you, their panicked shouts becoming background noise as they held onto your body, lifting you up to bring you to Shoko.

Your eyes could only see the terrified blue eyes from Satoru as he carried you on Geto's curse. He seemed to be wanting the curse to go faster, but Geto could only reply in an equally as panicked tone, saying this was his fastest one and that they're going as fast as they could to Shoko.

Your eyes are too beautiful to be panicking, you wanted to say. But, you couldn't. Blood had gotten into your oesophagus, making you struggle to breathe as you coughed and suffocated on your own blood.

"[NAME]! ARE YOU WITH ME?! STAY AWAKE!" Satoru's frantic shouts were barely ringing in your ears, but the creases on his face shouldn't have been there. They were going to give him wrinkles.

With one of the last ounces of your strength, you lifted your hand up to cup his cheek, then gently smooth the line between his brows, giving a weak smile.

Satoru let out a choked sound similar to a sob, understanding exactly what you were doing and what you wanted to say. He held your wrist, supporting you in whatever way he can as he could feel your body heat leaving you. Suguru placed a hand on your cheek, stroking the area under the eye, just like he always did.

It made you feel nostalgic, but you could barely see his expression, since tears had blurred your vision. You wanted to reach for Suguru before you had no more strength, so you gently moved your raised arm in that direction. Satoru, knowing exactly what you were doing, guided your hand to Suguru, who took your hand gently, holding it preciously between his two hands.

"Let's get you home, [name]." Were the last words Geto said to you. By 'home', he meant with them, back to Jujutsu, so they could forget everything that happened and start over. It would just be like those happy days, back when there was nothing to worry about.

In your state, you couldn't make out everything he was saying, but you knew they were kind words by his intonation and the caress he held for your bloodied hand.

You only gave them a smile, one that was apologetic, as you felt your consciousness fading away. The tears that blurred your vision finally fell, and the slight squeeze of your hand in Geto's made him realise that was it.

For you, it was time to sleep. It was a time for you to finally rest your tired mind and body, away from this world, and away from all those that you loved.

Suguru looked over at Satoru, who was biting his lip almost bruisingly as they trembled. With his sunglasses off, he could see everything in detail, including the way your cursed energy stopped, from when your body heat disappeared, and he couldn't feel you anymore. You were a hollow shell of a body now, and the last thing you left them was an apologetic smile on your face.

Away from the battleground, Shoko looked out the window, a pang of sadness hitting her all at once when she realised the screams belonging to Geto & Gojo resonated through the forest. She could barely just hear them, but she knew, the dread that filled her veins was apparent. She knew.

She closed her eyes, taking out the cigarette between her lips as she exstinguished it, her arm covering her eyes as she leaned back in her seat, silent tears falling down her cheeks.

"Quite sad, really. None of you realised [name] suffered this much." Kenjaku sowed the top of your head back together after revealing some information you kept hidden to Suguru & Satoru, and about your last moments and thoughts.

Seeing the despair and shock on their faces was intoxicating, especially when it came to the body he borrowed. Kenjaku knew the amount of love that had been given to the original owner of his current body, and using that, he could disarm even the strongest of sorcerers in the modern day.

It was a pity you were dead, but if you were alive and not dead, Kenjaku wouldn't have been able to take over your body now, would he?

It was especially sweet because the body hadn't even been cremated and still looked the same as it did 10 years ago. And those two who had been responsible for it were standing in front of him, in Shibuya station during Halloween.

Even better because you had died in their arms, so seeing you alive as Kenjaku was more of a sick joke than anything, but he loved that expression on the ones who had essentially allowed you to be this way.

"If only the people around them were able to reach out a hand before their descent into madness, none of this would have happened." Kenjaku ran a hand through your hair.

Satoru let out a low growl from his throat as he watched whoever was in your body use it, control it, and pretend to be you. No one could be you. You were gone. You were gone 10 years ago. And he knew - he knew you were not in front of him.

You died in his arms.

So there was absolutely no way that could be you. Absolutely not!

But, his six eyes said otherwise. It was you. Everything was you. It was the same you who died in his arms 10 years ago, the same you who gave him one last smile before leaving the earth.

It tore him to pieces inside.

Suguru put out an arm in front of Satoru, eyeing the cursed user in your body. He was pretending to be calm, but the way his hands and jaw clenched at the blatant disrepect Kenjaku had for your body was digusting. How dare he exhume your grave and take your body from it?

He felt a cold, almost murderous feeling bubble up inside him as he readied himself for combat.

That was not you. And it couldn't be, even if Satoru's six eyes recognised you to be alive. You weren't alive. You had been lost long ago, and whoever was in front of them was an imposter.

"[name]! How long are you going to let this little bitch take over your body?" Satoru finally burst, pissed at the prospect of someone disrespecting you.

Your hand, reacting almost instantaneously, went straight for the top of the head, right where Kenjaku's brain was. It stabbed straight through the cranium, a crunch eliciting a scream from Kenjaku himself as the brain was stabbed, wounding his real body. Kenjaku used your other arm to stop your attack on his weak point, feeling the blood pour out.

For a moment, it was silent except the light splatter and pitter patter of blood from your body. Suguru and Satoru stared at what happened in front of them, shocked that what Gojo said had ellicited such a response.

Kenjaku pulled your assaulting hand away, holding it in a death grip with the one he could control. The blood dripped down his face as he used his reverse cursed technique to heal the head wound, cracking the sides of his neck after he healed your head and his brain.

"Wow, I can't believe [name] went straight for the kill." Kenjaku laughed to himself. "But that's all there is to it. The soul and body are one, aren't they? Don't think this will happen again." He chuckled and waited for the hand to calm itself.

"Oh, and did you know [name] wrote a letter to each of you? Including Shoko. They knew they'd die so they hid it away in the school. I think they hid it somewhere important for each of you. Even they don't quite remember." Kenjaku couldn't quite recall what the contents of the letters were as the memory itself was fuzzy. He wanted to see it as their strong friendship strained due to his taking over of [name]'s body.

He wondered why this specific memory was blurred out, and he couldn't recall anything from your memories about this specific thing?

It was like you were deliberately making sure you didn't remember it, and deleted the memory from your head so no one could find the letters.

A letter? The strongest duo's eyes narrowed at the imposter in their dead best friend's body, wondering if it's a part of their tricks. But it was also hard to not believe them, since they look like you. And everything about you, they would believe.

Because you were the type of person who would write letters to them.

"I don't know what they say, but they've been there since before [name] died." Kenjaku tapped his temple, "If you can get out of here, I implore you to find them."

That pissed the two off. Kenjaku was implying they wouldn't get out of this alive, or at least, to see the letters that were supposedly left for them. It pissed them off to no end, and they prepared to battle, not wanting to take part of his nonsense any longer.

Dear Satoru,

I'm glad to have met you. I love you. I love Suguru. I love Shoko. I love everyone. We had so many fun times, and it was the best time of my life. Everything was so bright, cheery and brought me so much happiness, I can't even tell you the extent of it.

I hope you don't mind this letter. If you've found it after I've defected or after I'm dead, I can't express with words how much doing this pains me. If I can't use my words, I have to use my actions, right? I hope you don't forgive me for what I've done. It's unacceptable and you have every right to hate me. I've killed innocent people for the purpose of my goal. Horrible, right? I really hope you won't forgive me.

But I know you. You will. You're just that kind of person.

I'll miss your bright blue eyes and white hair. I'll miss your loud and boisturous personality. I'll miss how your heart races every time I hug you. I'll miss you nuzzling into my head when we hug. I'll miss the soft 'sweet dreams' you say every time you carry me to bed after I fall asleep studying. I'll miss when you take photos of me everyday. I'll miss your annoyingness. I'll miss your teasing words every day. I'll miss your blushing cheeks when you're embarrassed. I'll miss your comical, over the top reactions. I'll miss you eating a whole bunch of sweets in one setting. I'll miss the crepe shop we'd often go to. I'll miss how you make me feel safe. I'll miss your voice. I'll miss you.

If reincarnation exists, I want to meet you again. I want to see your smile again. I want to call you 'toru again. I want to give you the biggest hug, and feel the thrum of your heart racing. Then, I'll give you a kiss on your head, just like you always do to me before I sleep.

You're strong, 'toru. Make sure to stay safe and be careful. I don't want to meet you on the other side so soon. Grow up to be even stronger, and reform Jujutsu's society. I know you can do it!

By the way, I left your favourite recipe of the sweets you liked that I made. That way, you can enjoy them anytime.

Love, [name].

P.S. Don't eat so many sweet things at once!!! I don't want you getting cavities!!!

Dear Suguru,

You were the first one to notice anything going on, and for that, I'm grateful. I'm sorry I brushed you off so coldly. I didn't know how to ask for help. I wish I'd have listened to your heartfelt words to rely on you a little more.

If you see this, I've probably already defected or I'm dead. But I just want you to know, I love you. I want to see you again. I miss you. I want to hug you and let you know everything I'm thinking. I want you to give me one of your strong hugs, knocking the air out of me. I also equally want your soft, tender hugs, as you whisper comforting words to me. I want to hear your voice again. I want to run my fingers through your hair again and question why you only use soap on it. I want to cook with you again. Have late night discussions. Cuddle. Piggyback rides. Kisses on the cheek. Allowing me to latch onto you like a koala when I'm cold since you run hot. I miss our times together. I miss you.

If reincarnation is real, we will definitely meet again. I want to see you smile from the bottom of your heart, and enjoy the most delicious food! And, if no curses are in that world, then you'll finally have a food you don't like - I'll be willing to lend an ear so you can whisper it to me! I want to cup your cheeks and tell you you've done well, for enduring during tough times and standing right back up. I want to finally give you a piggyback ride, since I was never able to fulfil that wish here. I want to be able to call you Sugu again.

Stay strong, Sugu. Make sure to stay safe. Since I know you hate the taste of curses, I've left the key to my safe with candies that are really good at cleansing the palette. Don't ever let these get into 'toru's hands or else you'll never see them again. I got these custom made just for you, and I've left a note with instructions on where to get it and what special order it was. I was supposed to give it to you sooner, but I left before then. Hope you enjoy them!

Love, [name].

P.S. Please take care of yourself!!! And don't use soap on your hair!!! Use proper shampoo and conditioner since your hair's so pretty!!!

Dear Shoko,

I'm sorry you probably had to see my dead body.

If I had spilled my heart out to you about my troubles, I wonder if it would've helped? I kept things bottled up for too long and it's become like this. I'm sorry I wasn't able to keep our promise. We didn't get to go to Disneyland like we promised all those months ago - the tickets are just sitting somewhere rotting away. I really wanted to go with you, Sugu and 'toru. It would've been great fun, and we would've made so many memories.

I miss your voice, Shoko. I miss your laugh. Your insults. Your frankness. Your weirdness. Your chillness. You. Heck, I even miss your scent of smoke. I miss you so much. I want to see you.

Can I meet you again? In a world without curses, where we don't need to risk our lives and watch our loved ones die. If I ever get reincarnated, can you find me? Or I can find you? I want to enjoy our times together again, feel the breeze against our skin, sing joyfully, joke around, play around, and take many photos together. That's the only way I want to spend it - and I want it so much you don't even know. In that kind of world, we can finally be happier. We can finally smile geniunely. I'll be able to finally see you again.

I bought some smokes for you and it's in my safe. Suguru has the key. Take some of the candies too, they might help in cleansing your palette every now and then.

I love you.

Love, [name].

P.S. Too much smoking isn't good for you!!! Please quit or at least do it a little less!!! I worry for your lung health...

Trembling hands read their letters as they were found around Jujutsu High school. It had your cursed energy as a seal, but the minute it was touched by any of the three, the seal would break. The letter itself was blank, with a couple of pages for each of them. The words appeared once they injected their cursed energy into it.

Words written by you appeared on the page, covering all the pages given for each letter. As the trio read the letters you had kept hidden from them, they couldn't help but let their unshed tears fall.

They were all known as strong sorcerers who don't cry. But, you brought them to their knees with your sincerity, and you were lost too soon. It was the last thing they had from you, and the warmth in every word of those letters struck a chord deep in their hearts, remembering 10 years ago and the day you had died.

"I kept [name]'s room clean," Suguru started, his eyes glossy. He had already cried, but every time he wanted to read the words off the letter, he was ready to cry again. He didn't want to. "Everything's the same."

It was as if they went down memory lane. Nothing had changed in your room. It was just as Geto said, it was exactly the same.

Whenever Geto had some time, he would clean your room, just like how he knew you would like it. It was something he sometimes did if he stayed over to help you study or just to hang out. So, he knew where everything was.

Immediately going to the safe, he put in a random number, guessing your birthday, then he used the key entrusted to him and unlocked it.

"What a bad password..." Geto couldn't help but laugh lightly, but his laughter died in his throat when he opened the safe.

The first thing the three of them saw was a couple of picture frames, each of them with pictures of the four of them that they remember taking when they were younger. The photos where all of them were happy, grinning and had no care in the world, it made their throats dry, clamming up uncomfortably.

Geto picked up the picture frames, taking a closer look at them with Shoko.

"Oh, look, there's more." Gojo peered in, seeing the promised recipe, bag of lollies, Disneyland tickets and smokes from each of their letters. He took them out and handed them what was gifted.

As they examined the items, Gojo read the recipe, a page written neatly by you. It was as if he could imagine you sitting in your room, writing it just for him while you tasted the different variations that you recommended in the recipe.

Geto put the photos face down, falling flat on his back on your bed as his arm covered his eyes.

Shoko stared at him for a moment, deciding to join him by doing the same thing. Your bed was only a double bed (you had requested a bigger bed for your first paycheck) and didn't have that much space for the three of them, much less four.

Seeing the two of them do the exact same thing, Satoru joined them, but instead, he sat up against your headboard, laying his legs in a cross legged position.

He fipped the picture frames back up, a bittersweet smile on his lips as he basked in the silence and warmth of your room he was so familiar with.

He closed his eyes, and like the others, thought of you.

Would it have been different had you told them everything you were feeling? If you talked through exactly what was causing you grief, and what could be done about it? Were they not enough to help you back up? Would you have felt so suffocated that you chose to die? Would you have still died in their arms? Would Kenjaku have still taken over your body? Still left them behind?

They say sorcerers don't die without regrets.

And they knew if they died, their one and only regret would be you.

At a certain crepe shop, Gojo Satoru waited for his crepe, one he decorated with strawberries, whipped cream and a drizzle of chocolate. It was one he used to frequent with his old friend, and he'd come here every week with them to buy a crepe. It wasn't the order he normally went with, but today, he felt nostalgic.

It had been so long since the last time he had visited the crepe shop with you, but it remained fresh in his mind even after reincarnating many times over. What timeline was he in now? He counted 7. That was 7 lifetimes without you. Suguru & Shoko were also counting, and they did whatever they could to find out where you would be. But, each and every one after their first, you were nowhere to be found.

Suguru & Shoko would sometimes come to the crepe shop, but they were also busy making a living in a world without curses. The tragedy from their first life remained fresh in their current ones, holding them so strongly they didn't want to give up.

But unknown to them, you were right under their nose all along, and you frequently went to that same crepe shop at times just before or after they were there, a mysterious force pushing you to the place.

It was at one time, where Satoru thought he saw you, that it reignited the flame that had been dormant for so long, to finally see you, after so many timelines and lifetimes apart.

Your voice, followed by your laughter, and your hand. He had you memorised, and he was so thankful for his good memory that recognised you. It was the closest he got, and when he heard you, saw a part of you, he was sprinting, but you had already disappeared onto the train, and the last thing he saw was the back of your head.

It was brief, but it was enough for his mind to go overdrive and let the others know his findings, that it was possible for them to find you this lifetime, and the crepe shop was the biggest key to it all.

And, when they cracked the code and finally found you, all the memories, feelings and thoughts from their original life came back to them, allowing them to finally see you in a world without curses, even if they had to wait 7 lifetimes.

If they had to put it into years, those 7 lifetimes were equivalent to over 600 years of not seeing you.

But, this lifetime, they finally found you.

Over 600 years in the making, and you also found them.

A/N: I CRIED WRITING THIS. It hurt me 😭 here's part 2!

There's also somewhat of a prequel as well from Geto's POV if you were interested!

Here's also an AU in an alternate timeline with information that takes place directly after the original timing here.

If y'all want some fluff here's the masterlist for the rest of the series 🕊️

[slut4thebroken]

Trapped

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Robert Capa x reader

Summary | You ask Capa for his help, then get stuck in a a room barely big enough for the two of you. After only a few minutes of forced proximity, he snaps.

Warnings | NON CON sexual content, 18+, smut, dubcon but technically noncon tbh, forced proximity, vaginal sex, painful sex, forced breeding, crying, idk what else lol.

Words | 1k+

Notes | Don’t ask for specifics on the beginning… I kept it vague for a reason💀 Also I lowkey can’t tell if this is cringy cause I wrote and published it in one day which I never do so I’ll probably come back to it😭 but anyway I hope y’all enjoy

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“Yeah I know, but everyone else is busy.”

“I’m busy.” He retorted. 

“With what exactly?” You waited and he huffed, rolling his eyes, making you smirk. “It’ll be quick.”

“Fine.” You led him through the long hallways before finally stopping outside of a door. You used your key to open it, then stepped inside, and he waited impatiently for what you wanted to show him. 

“I just need you to double check this for me. Better safe than sorry, you know?” He mumbled out an agreement, then stepped closer, trying to see. When he still couldn’t quite make it out, he stepped forward even more and your stomach dropped as the light quickly left the room, followed by the door clicking shut. 

“Fuck! Capa— this door locks!” You all but yelled, panic filling your chest. 

“What?” 

“We’re trapped, you fucking idiot,”

“Hey, this is not my fault. You could’ve told me.” You could hear the handle violently jiggling as he tried to open it, despite what you just said. With the door now closed, you couldn’t even turn around to face him because of how small the space was. “Who else did you ask to help you before me?” 

“Not enough people for them to realize we're missing anytime soon.” He cursed under his breath and you let out a heavy sigh. There wasn’t a light in this ‘room’ so he couldn’t even look at what you originally came down here for, which just made all of this worse. 

You shifted your weight, trying not to think about how long you might have to stand here without being able to move. Even though you were praying someone would come, you knew deep down that it would take a couple hours at least. You heard him try the handle again before letting out a heavy breath. You were silent, trying to think of something to say or if you should even say anything at all. When his breathing picked up, you paused, listening for a few more seconds just to be sure. 

“I hope you’re not claustrophobic.” You said, mostly teasingly. 

“That’s not the problem right now.” He muttered, making your brows furrow in confusion. He cursed under his breath and you waited for him to elaborate on what the problem was. Instead, his hands just barely brushed your hips, making you stiffen. When he grabbed them lightly, your breath caught in your throat. 

“What are you doing?” You couldn’t hide the slight quaver in your voice. He ignored you and started rubbing up and down your sides. “Stop it.” You warned, trying to bat his hands away, but barely being able to in the small space. You suddenly felt his breath on your shoulder and he dragged his nose up your neck, inhaling deeply. 

“Capa?” You whispered, stomach knotting with fear. He let out a low groan and suddenly gripped your hips, hard enough to make you wince, to keep you from moving. 

“I’m sorry.” He muttered. Before you could ask what that meant, he was shoving your pants and underwear down, making you yelp and try to pull them back up. His were next, pushing the clothing down just enough to free his cock. 

“Wait,” You tried thrashing, but he pushed you forward against the wall and grabbed your hips again to limit your movement. “Capa, stop!” You felt his cock brush your hole and you stiffened. He moved one hand to line up his cock and the other to cover your mouth. 

He applied some pressure, but wasn’t able to push in, so he used more force until he finally breached your hole. You let out a hoarse scream behind his hand, feeling your eyes burn with tears. That was nothing compared to the burning between your legs though. 

“Fuck— I’m sorry. I just need this…” He said through a breath, only staying still for a moment before starting a brutal pace, making your tears fall. He rutted into you and the hand not on your mouth wrapped around your stomach, holding you still. You clawed at both of his hands and arms, trying to get him to release you. Instead, he just groaned at the pain and fucked you harder. 

“I know… I’m sorry.” He said, as if that could make up for anything. You sobbed violently behind his hand and that only seemed to encourage him, making him fuck you even rougher. “Fuck you’re so tight.” He whispered, hot breath fanning your ear. “You feel so fucking good… god— it’s been so long.” 

He humped into you desperately, chasing his own pleasure and ignoring your muffled cries. Even though your body was starting to adjust to make this easier, it still hurt like hell and you already knew you weren’t going to be able to sit comfortably for at least a day or two. He groaned and cursed against your ear as he tightened his grip, fucking you more frenzied now. 

“Oh fuck— I’m already close… I have to fill you.” He said lowly. You let out the loudest scream so far. “I know, I’m sorry, I just need it so fucking bad. I need to come in a tight, hot pussy, I can’t take it anymore.” He whined, holding you tighter. You let out a stifled sob and shook your head.  

“I’m sorry,” He moaned, thrusts becoming more forceful and desperate, “I can’t stop— I can’t pull out, I’m so sorry.” You tried to scream protests at him from behind his hand but nothing you said was coherent. 

He moaned out one last apology before his hips snapped forward, burying his cock deep enough to make your cervix ache. He humped into you as he rode it out, groaning against your ear and squeezing your body tight enough to almost hurt. You felt his cock twitching as warmth filled you, making you let out a strangled whimper. The hand on your mouth dropped so that his arm wrapped around your chest instead, still holding you against his body as you cried silently. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, one last time. 

Taglist (join here)

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @cillianscrybaby @vivvive @ceruleanrainblues

[theoldsports]

| Irish Coffee |

summary: twenty four was the wrong age for everything, except maybe picking up girls in bars at the holidays. Rafe Cameron x Reader

word count: 3.8k

warnings: bars, alcohol, passing mention of sexual assault, death of a parent mention.

Rafe Cameron hated karaoke. It was shitty ego-stroking from typically the very intoxicated or the very tone deaf. He didn’t think anyone ever felt good about their performances on that rinkydink stage anyway. It was unpleasant for everyone involved. Truth be told, Rafe thought karaoke was pointless entirely. If he wanted to hear a good version of a song, he would go on Spotify and find one. He thought karaoke was a selfish sport made fun only for the singer, and never for the listener.

In summation, it was fucking stupid.

When he got in Topper’s Jeep, Rafe had been too tipsy to fully comprehend that it was karaoke night at the Swordfish. Now, with another tumbler of b-list bourbon between Rafe’s knuckles, he moped on a stool at the bar.

He felt old when he went out with Kelce, Topper and their other friends. He had started college while some of the other boys he’d grown up with were in their junior year of high school. Rafe didn’t have friends. He wasn’t good at keeping them and didn’t like it when they complained about their problems that weren’t even really problems. The persona he had crafted for dealing with friends, though, had gotten elaborate enough to where Rafe thought they didn’t notice that his heart wasn’t in it.

He didn’t have friends, he had the people he drank with. That was better than drinking alone.

Being twenty-four sucked. Too old for ragers, too young for drinks at the country club. Too many big problems to solve, but everyone thinking he was too young to solve him. Rafe wondered, if he drank enough, could he blackout the whole of his twenties and then he wake up in his thirties locked and loaded?

Some drunk whore was finishing up a song Rafe had only heard in Sofia’s car. She’d played it often. He didn’t know what it was called. It was by one of those superstar white girls with the zillion dollar concert tickets. Rafe didn’t like it. He didn’t like Sofia either anymore. He didn’t like to think about her anymore.

His heartbeat raced. His could feel it beat in his neck when he drank too much. It didn’t used to be that way. The human body couldn’t fail from misuse before thirty, could it? Rafe took a sharp inhale through his nose to push the frantic thoughts away. Everyone leaves eventually, he reminded himself; a mantra. Fuck, he wanted a cigarette.

Topper was on Ruthie leaning up on the wall near a booth. They were out of commission til she got pissy at him for breathing wrong, or something, and they all had to make excuses to leave. Normal Friday night.

Rafe wished he’d stayed home.

A DJ mumbled that the next person was taking the stage, singing Hard Candy Christmas by Dolly Parton. Arguably, this was Rafe’s favorite Christmas song because it had been his mother’s favorite Christmas song.

It was also the week before Thanksgiving and Rafe didn’t think he could stomach Christmas yet.

“Shit…” Rafe muttered into his glass of bourbon.

The girl supposed to sing was being pushed up into the tiny stage by a group of drunk girls. Presumably a bachelorette party by the looks of it. The girl onstage had a frown of surprise on her lips. It was clear to Rafe that she didn’t know this was going to happen. A girl in her party, wearing a veil headband, called out: “Please! This is our song. Please do it for me? You sound so pretty, [Y/N].”

All of her friends were calling and chanting for her to sing. The girl, [Y/N], looked embarrassed. She was very put on the spot.

Eventually, with all the cheering, pleading and encouragement, [Y/N] walked to the center of the stage where the microphone stood.

“Forgive me if this is dogshit, my friends signed me up,” The girl said over the karaoke track’s intro. A few of the girls she was with cheered. “I didn’t come to butcher Dolly in front of y’all.”

This yielded a chuckle from her audience. Rafe rolled his eyes. He was less interested in her humble act, and more interested in where he knew from. Rafe knew a lot of people, and he was starting to cling to the barstool to do what his legs were struggling to do. [Y/N] was a common enough name, but this girl looked so fucking familiar to him. His drunk mind leafed through the catalog of women in his brain. [Y/N], [Y/N], [Y/N], where did he know her from?

Her clothes weren’t anything special. Standard bachelorette party fare. A little too short, but not quite slutty. She was a bridesmaid, maybe the maid of honor. Rafe wrinkled his nose in thought. His contacts stung dry against his eyes. He had stared at a screen too long in the office and now he was sitting under a vent in November. Who the hell left the A/C on in November?

[Y/N]. Rafe hadn’t hooked up with her before. He didn’t think he had, anyway. She didn’t appear to have botox in her face or filler in her top lip with the way she expressed so freely. That meant she couldn’t have been the kid of one of his dad’s business contacts.

He looked at her friends for clues. Immediately, Rafe recognized the bride. Wendy. Rafe had hooked up with Wendy a few times in high school. He was surprised to see she was still on the island; Wendy had been smarter than that. So Rafe probably knew [Y/N] from school, then. What classes had they shared? He tried to place her.

[Y/N] was working through the slow first verse. She didn’t have a perfect, trained voice. Her voice was the kind of voice that sang in the kitchen on Saturday mornings to the radio. A smirk pulled at Rafe’s lip. She wasn’t forcing it, and she wasn’t so drunk that it was pathetic to listen to. “I hate singing in front of people…” she said.

[Y/N] knelt and set down what appeared to be an Irish coffee, and put her left hand over eyes. No ring, Rafe thought. He almost puked at the thought that looking at babes in bars now came with seeing if they were married or engaged, before giving them the once over. Being twenty-four sucked. The girl swayed from side to side on her feet as she moved from the second half of the first verse to the chorus.

…Maybe I'll just get drunk on apple wine.

Me, I'll be just fine and dandy.

Lord, it's like a hard candy Christmas.

I'm barely getting through tomorrow,

But still I won't let sorrow bring me way down…

The girl took some liberties with how she improvised the line endings or creating a harmony line instead of the melody during the way too repetitive chorus. It wasn’t like she was doing something revolutionary, but she also wasn’t just up there doing a cheesy impression of Dolly.

It was a welcome change of pace from the guy’s attempt at some Jimmy Buffet number a few songs ago. Rafe loved music. He loved it. That’s part of why karaoke was such an affront. Rafe played the piano; he was okay. His mom had put him in lessons right after kindergarten and it was the only thing he had stuck with until the end of high school. That was how he honored her memory.

Wait, kindergarten.

[Y/N] sat next to Rafe in kindergarten and early elementary. Holy fucking shit.

Rafe was a walking ad for Ritalin until he was about ten. Arguably, after that too. No one ever helped him out. He was also spoiled, he knew that. The kid talked out of turn, couldn’t follow the classroom expectations, never sat still, and ended up with his green light getting downgraded to a yellow light by the end of everyday. The tantrums he would throw over it where earthshaking. It was exhausting. [Y/N] sat next to him because she was not disruptive. Miss Lisa, their kindergarten teacher had loved [Y/N]. She loved her not only because she was good kid, but because she talked back to Rafe. [Y/N] used her position as calm-girl-forced-to-sit-next-to-shitty-boy to her advantage. She tattled on him daily. Debatably, that made his behavior worse, but the pair had fun sometimes. Rafe hadn’t thought about her in years.

[Y/N] wrapped up the song, trilling fine and dandy… I’ll be fine… over and over with the tinny backing track. He wished she could sing this song along with a guitar the way she deserved. Unexpectedly, Rafe found his hands applauding and his glass on the counter.

Quick as a flash, Rafe stood on unsteady feet and rushed towards the stage. [Y/N] rounded up her Irish coffee and pivoted towards her friends that clapped delightedly at her. Her hands were peeled away from her face now. Rafe almost smiled. Almost.

“Hey ladies, can I steal [Y/N] here for a second?” Rafe hollered over the music as he slumped towards their party.

Wendy’s eyes lit up in immediate recognition. “Rafe Cameron…”

“Hi Wendy,” Rafe said effortlessly. “Congratulations, by the way. You look great.” Rafe’s hookups were getting married now, and he was going to wake up tomorrow single and hungover.

“Thank you, hon. You look pretty good yourself… Please take her. Buy her another drink before we go. We need her loosened up a little.” Wendy giggled.

“Hey!” [Y/N] protested. She was eying Rafe uncertainly. She was trying to place him the same way that he had her.

“Please, ladies, next round on my tab. Congrats, seriously, Wendy,” Rafe said with a sleazy, false grin as a few of the women cheered. “I’ll bring [Y/N] back in one piece.” Gently, Rafe placed a hand on her elbow and angled her away towards the bar. The two walked in relative quiet.

All [Y/N]’s friends giggled. Rafe’s force dimples dropped when they were out of the ladies’ eyeline.

“Excuse me,” [Y/N] started. “Not tryin’ to be rude. Have we… Do I know you? I didn’t catch your name and…” She asked, staring intensely at Rafe. “Is this a setup, because Wendy’s always trying to—“

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Rafe cut in, stopping. He was drunk and forgot his manners. Great impression. Rafe cleared his throat and tried not to slur. “Rafe Cameron. You probably don’t remember me… I… You’re [Y/N] [L/N], yeah? You sat beside me in, like, fucking kindergarten and stuff.”

[Y/N] eyes widened in recognition. “Oh my god!” She gasped. “Rafe! How are you? Oh my god, you’re so tall!” [Y/N] laughed happily. Her faced buzzed warmly from the alcohol.

Rafe nodded at her amused comment. “Yeah, I’ve been busy since I was, y’know, nine.” He snorted.

“You transferred, right?”

“Yeah, Saint Mary’s.” Rafe replied. His mother’s trust had paid for catholic school after she died. He transferred out around the time he was ten.

“I can’t believe we never crossed paths again. You know Wendy from Saint Mary’s then?”

“Yep, that’s right,” Rafe paused. “Come on, lemme get you another drink. You’re the reason I didn’t fail first grade.”

[Y/N] smirked. “That’s probably true. You were an awful student.”

“Jesus Christ,” Rafe smirked. “Way to treat a guy buying you a drink,” he started his walk towards the bar, prompting [Y/N] to follow him. “You got Bailey’s or Jameson in that thing?”

The girl looked down into her nearly empty mug. “Jameson.”

“Smart girl.“ Rafe said easily. [Y/N] blushed. Even drunk, Rafe didn’t miss that expression on her face at those words. Almost too easy.

“Well, if you’re paying then tell the man to make it a double Irish too.”

“Very smart girl. I like the way you think.”

[Y/N] easily followed Rafe to the bar. The man’s broad shoulders slumped drunkenly as he cut through the crowd. When one was as large, imposing and beautiful as Rafe Cameron, crowds parted like the Red Sea. “So, uh, how are you? Did you do the whole college thing, or…?” [Y/N] asked broadly. She next to nothing about him. He wasn’t even the kind of childhood friend to get added on Instagram.

College. That was the default question at their age. Rafe hated this question, but he couldn’t let [Y/N] feel rejected for that question. “I mean, yeah. For a while. I was at Wofford for a year, but I never finished. I like what I do now, though.”

[Y/N] nodded. “And what exactly do you do?”

“Real estate development. I took over for my dad l when he passed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, we get by,” Rafe turned to the bartender, waving a hand for his attention. “Another Maker’s Mark, neat, and a coffee with double Jameson. Put the anything else the bachelorette party orders on my tab.” Rafe said. He certainly didn’t need another drink, but he really liked having something to do with his hands. Rafe would probably have less substance abuse-related issues if he knew how to conduct his body in public in some way that wasn’t a poor impression of his father.

“Very good, Mr. Cameron.”

[Y/N] narrowed her eyes at Rafe. “Big spender… You that much of a regular that they know your name at the bar?” In her world, guys [Y/N]’s age didn’t get called ‘Mr.’ anything anywhere by anyone. The guys she knew still drank shitty PBRs in punk clubs and had girlfriends they had nothing in common with. Rafe’s polish and pedigree didn’t rub off even in such a state of intoxication.

Rafe didn’t have a good excuse. The implication of [Y/N]’s statement was accurate. “Sure,” he replied. He moved through the rest of his sentence like a gunshot to prevent an awkward conversation. “Hey, why’d you pick Hard Candy Christmas?”

“I didn’t pick it. Wendy did.”

Rafe nodded slowly. “Right. Why did she pick it for you, then?”

“Because it’s my favorite Christmas song.”

“It’s my favorite. It’s probably half of the Smoky Mountains’ favorite too. But why?”

“I didn’t realize this was hardball—“

“Please... I asked you a question about Dolly Parton. You sounded good.” Rafe responded. His drink was passed over the counter. He held it close to his chest and leaned his right elbow down to press it into the bar.

“Um, thanks. It’s… I had shitty couple years. I sang that song everyday for months at a time, I think. Wendy and I would go for these drives with the top down and just… Belt that shit out. Makes the bad days better.”

Rafe half-smiled. “So, year-round?” He said accusingly.

“The song? Like, not at Christmas?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, yeah. She says it’s like a Hard Candy Christmas, not that it is one. That’s grounds for year-round. It’s so much more than a Christmas song.” [Y/N] bit back with a smirk. The bartender returned and placed another white coffee cup and saucer in front of [Y/N] with a nod. The girl slurped a sip down without cream or sugar. She barely made a pinched expression at what was obviously a strong drink. Rafe was moderately impressed. He liked that [Y/N] was drinking brown liquor in black coffee this late on a Friday while all of her friends held White Claws and Daiquiris,

“My head hurts. This is the opposite of the Die Hard’s a Christmas movie thing.” Rafe jabbed.

“Anything can be a Christmas movie.”

“Then, so can a song.”

[Y/N] paused. “Damn.” she sighed. She wasn’t sober enough to get her arguments straight.

Rafe didn’t want to conversation to end. [Y/N] was the most intelligent person he’d spoken to all day. It wasn’t saying much, but was noticeable. He asked another question. “What’s your favorite Christmas movie, if you think that’s true?”

“American Psycho.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? That’s not a—“

“Rewatch it. Not having this argument,” [Y/N] chided. The girl glanced over her shoulder at her friends. They were all staring at her and pretending they weren’t. “Listen Rafe, I appreciate the drink. It was really great to see you tonight. I gotta head back to Wendy now. Bachelorette party only happens once. If you’re lucky… But, hey, thank you again—“

“Ask me.”

“Ask you what?” [Y/N] asked. She had no idea where Rafe was taking this. Rafe pushed up the left sleeve of his brown sweater.

“What my favorite Christmas movie is.”

[Y/N] looked at him funny. “What’s your favorite Christmas movie?”

“Eyes Wide Shut.” Rafe replied coyly.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?” [Y/N] smiled fully, finally. Rafe damn near smiled back. She took a small step away, gesturing to where her friends stood.

“Can I give you my card? Maybe we catch up sometime.” Rafe asked plainly.

“Yeah, maybe!”

Rafe pulled his business card out of his wallet and extended it to [Y/N]. She looked down at it, cheekily saying: “Let’s see Paul Allen’s business card…” her eyes widened at the writing on the card. “CEO? Of a development company? THE development company on the island.”

“I told you I took over my dad’s business.”

“Rafe, I… I’m barely a grant writer at a 501-c3. How are you a CEO… You’re… twenty-three?”

“Twenty-four two weeks ago.”

“Happy birthday,” [Y/N] said flatly. “What’s happening? Why are you talking to me?”

“Because you helped me pass first grade. I thought I already said that.” Rafe’s eyes never left hers. They were so blue. Too blue. Too blue to be real. Rich people were too pretty.

[Y/N] took a very long sip of her coffee. “That’s wild. I’m sorry, but that’s wild. You made me feel vastly inferior and I’m the friend with my shit the most together.” [Y/N] told Rafe, with a smile on her face.

“I know you gotta get back. I’m not gonna the asshole that kept the girls waiting, but call me. Listen, you’re pretty, so is your voice. We should catch up.” Rafe said. Was he asking her out? That was weird. That was weird, right?

Hesitantly, [Y/N] looked back at her friends again. They were too invested in her conversation with Rafe. Hopefully, they would all drink so much that they forgot it happened.

“Do you like karaoke, Rafe?” [Y/N] changed the subject.

“I hate it.” He replied instantly.

“Why are you here?”

Rafe gestured with his glass to where Topper and Ruthie were making out. “They gave me a ride. And you don’t seem too keen about it either.” He said with a shrug.

[Y/N] couldn’t figure out what Rafe’s game was. He had turned from an unsettling child to a freakish adult. He was blunt and brisk, and either frustratingly honest or an alarmingly good liar. Maybe both. She stared up at him.

“What?”

“What?” Rafe raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, I’m gonna go. It was good to see you. Thanks for the drinks,” [Y/N] took a step back. She started to walk away slightly, still facing Rafe. A looked of what could be interrupted as self-loathing crossed Rafe’s face. He didn’t bullshit enough with her during the conversation to be perceived as likable, and she was leaving. Of course. Nobody liked Rafe when they actually knew Rafe. [Y/N] stopped, thinking. “Rafe?”

“Yeah?” His eyes slid back to her.

“Can you do something for me?”

“Maybe?”

He was going to say no, but it would serve as a litmus test for what kind of man Rafe was. It would help [Y/N] sleep easier to know what kind of bullet she dodged by losing Rafe’s business card after tonight. “Okay, we have a scavenger hunt thing for the party. It’s stupid. One of those… Do X number of shots, get someone to give you a BLANK, take a picture of three of you doing… whatever. Y’know?”

“Sure, yeah. What are you asking?”

“One of the items on the list is Maid of Honor and a stranger accomplish a task she’ll regret tomorrow. Like I said, it’s a trashy fuckin’ list.”

“Are you asking me to hookup with you, or…”

“Worse. Do you know the song Don’t Go Breaking My Heart by—“

“Absolutely not—“

“Let me finish. I said do you know the song Don’t Go—“

“I don’t do karaoke.” Rafe said forcefully.

“Do you want to go out on a date with me, or not?”

Rafe was stunned silent. His mind worked overtime. He suddenly felt extremely sober, in spite of his drunkenness. He sucked his teeth.

“I don’t do Elton John. Sorry.” He muttered finally.

[Y/N] nodded, knowingly. It was a setup anyway. She couldn’t be disappointed. She knew he’d refuse and she could leave knowing she had made the right choice ditching him. “That’s a’right. Maybe some other—“

“But, if you really want me to do this, let’s at least stick to the Christmas thing you’ve got going here.”

“You don’t look very… holly jolly.”

“Ho, ho, ho,” he deadpanned. Rafe was the strangest combination. “Stop givin’ me grief here. Your favorite Christmas movie is American Psycho. Let’s do Baby, It’s Cold Outside—“

“Whoa, waaaay too rapey.” [Y/N] protested.

“American. Psycho. How is that song—“

“Wait, do you know Fa—“

“Fairytale of New York?” Rafe finished.

“You know it?”

“My family’s Irish Catholic.”

They both stood still and looked at each other. Well, Rafe stood as still as he could, but swayed a little on his feet. He wasn’t thinking clearly. Why was he agreeing to this?

For as manipulative as Rafe Cameron could be, he was effortless to play for validation and a pretty pair of eyes looking back at him.

Everyone leaves eventually, Rafe reminded himself. His mouth and his brain were not in agreement. Rafe had lost control of his body as he blindly followed [Y/N] to sign up for the next karaoke slot.

They passed Topper and Rafe held onto his glass like an anchor. He should have switched to beer. Why did he have another bourbon? Topper pulled his face away from Ruthie long enough to look at Rafe as if to say what the fuck are you doing? without any words. Rafe grimaced at Topper, barring his teeth slightly in response.

Rafe leaned in to [Y/N]’s ear and clumsily pushed her hair back. “I’m not a singer… This isn’t gonna be good.” He whispered. Chills crept up [Y/N]’s spine at the sensation of his breath. He knew his way around rhythm and music theory. Rafe was an asshole about music, actually. Jazz, classical, whatever. It was his secret no one else got to have. It’s not his fault that most of the motherfuckers he hung out with only listened to guys with the word ‘yung’ in front of their names. Still, all of that musicality couldn’t make him a singer.

“It’s karaoke.” [Y/N] said like it was obvious. She dragged Rafe towards the stage. “You’re so serious… Stop frowning; you’re gonna get lines on your face. We’re both gonna suck. I wouldn’t make you do this if it wasn’t for Wendy anyway. Promise.”

“This is so dumb; this better be some fucking date…”

[Y/N] pried, with difficulty, the rocks glass out of Rafe’s fingers and set it with her mug on a tabletop by the stage. As she pulled him up to a microphone, she said: “You know the words. Sing the damn song.”

And as the track started to play, and [Y/N] stupid friends all cheered, Rafe slurred the words he knew from every drunken family Christmas party he’d ever had. And he smiled. Just a little.

[sxcret-garden]

Yangyang ღ 4:56pm [M]

ღ WayV Yangyang x fem-bodied!reader ღ words: ~1.7k ღ genre: smut (dom!Yangyang is a bit demanding, some teasing, fingering, unprotected sex) ღ warnings: (he picks the reader up, reader is implied to be smaller than him) ღ prompt: against the wall

A shiver runs down your spine when you feel his hot breath tickling your neck, lips ghosting over the skin to tease you. His hands are firmly placed on your sides, meant to keep you from escaping his hold, while your back is pressed up against his chest. You wouldn’t have tried to get away even if he let you, and he probably knows, because the next thing you hear is him letting out a soft, breathy laugh.

“Babe… come spend some time with me,” your boyfriend Yangyang says, making it sound desperate, as if he was begging for you, but you know it’s all an act to have you wrapped around his finger faster. 

“Baby…” you mumble, about to say that you have things to do, that you have no time to spare, but when you feel him attaching his lips to your nape and dragging them towards your jaw with sloppy kisses, the words simply get stuck in your throat.

“I’m really horny…” he mutters as his mouth hovers above your ear now, before he kisses your cheek. “Want you…” Reason leaves you as you feel him continue to scatter lingering kisses all over your neck, and as he pulls you even closer to him, so you can feel his bulge against your ass. You don’t have a single thought to waste on what you should be doing right now, with your needy boyfriend working so hard to put you in a similar state to his.

As he drags his lips back up the side of your throat, one hand leaves your hips in order to get a hold of your chin instead, turning your head so he can lock lips with you. The way he demandingly moves his lips against yours makes you moan into his mouth, which he takes as permission to deepen the kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth as he spins you around in his hold so you’re facing each other now, and then he slowly makes you walk backwards. Your shoulders gently hit the wall behind you just when he breaks the kiss, and his half-lidded eyes remain rested on your mouth. 

“Yangyang…” you whisper his name, unsure of what to follow up with, but your boyfriend merely draws back in.

“What?” he mutters against your lips, before kissing you again. Your hands find his shirt, fingers digging into the fabric as you try to hold onto him. With his hips against yours, he pushes you fully up against the wall, keeping you in place, and as you part, you find a dangerous glint in the way he looks at you. “You’re so cute…” he breathes, and you frown at him.

“Where…?” Yangyang grins at you now, reaching for your wrists and even though you try to resist him, he brings them up above your head with ease, pinning you to the wall.

“Everywhere,” he answers, placing a kiss on the corner of your mouth, before he elaborates, “Especially when you’re all flustered like this." 

"Where am I-?!” You get ready to argue with him, but even you can’t deny the way his words and actions make blood rush to your whole face, and the way your heart beats like crazy. 

“Everywhere. As I said.” Your boyfriend gives you another grin - a victorious one, because he knows that he has you exactly where he wants you now. Then he buries his head in the crook of your neck, starting to kiss and nibble on your skin.

“D-don’t leave a mark…” you say, but he doesn’t want to listen.

“But I want everyone to see that you’re mine,” he simply retorts, and you can feel your knees growing weak. As he’s making his way to your collarbones, lips exploring everywhere your shirt isn’t covering your skin, he moves his hips away from yours, slipping his hand down in between your bodies instead. He unbuttons your pants with one hand, sliding past the hem and making you shiver as his fingertips find the fabric of your underpants. A moan escapes you as he begins to lazily run a finger up and down your folds, and warmth rushes to your core.

“L-let’s at least take this to the bedroom…” you mumble, and he lifts his head to look at you.

“No,” he says, pressing his finger against your clit to make you whine again. “I want you right here, right now.” You feel a need to protest - after all you’re in the hallway between the living room and the kitchen, which is not a very good place to have sex in your opinion - but somehow the lust-filled look he gives you won’t let you speak. Instead, it just makes you anticipate what he would do to you, and so you decide to be patient.

Yangyang’s lips meet yours again, and you almost sigh in disappointment when his hand wanders from your core to your stomach, pulling up your shirt. He parts from you for a second to slip it off you, tossing it to the ground as he reaches for your hands that you didn’t dare to move from their position above you, and he shoots you a satisfied smile, as if he wanted to praise you for keeping them there. His other hand reaches behind your back, unclasping your bra skillfully and removing it, letting it fall to the floor as well. Then he guides your arms to his shoulders for you to put them there.

“Hold onto me,” he tells you, and you obey, wrapping your arms safely around his neck as he goes in for another open-mouthed kiss. He is quick to cup one of your breasts with his warm palm, kneading the tender piece of flesh and teasing your nipple, causing you to throw your head back as you break the kiss. Attaching his lips to your exposed throat, he kisses his way down, eventually nipping at your collarbones as you hold onto him. 

“Feels good?” he asks, and you immediately nod, moaning in response. “Then how about… this?” Yangyang lets his fingertips dance down your belly, now slipping his hand underneath your panties and touching you directly.

“Mmhh… f-feels better…” you mewl, shutting your eyes tightly and moving your hips towards his touch. You moan as he dips a finger inside, but he pulls right out again, repeating the procedure a few times until you’re starting to get frustrated. “Baby… m-more, please,” you beg, and you earn yourself a kiss before he pushes his finger inside properly.

“More?” he asks. “One finger can’t be very satisfying…”

“P-please…” you whine.

“So cute…” your boyfriend coos over you, and he rewards you by pushing another finger inside with ease. Slowly curling them against your walls, he watches your reactions closely, and eventually you can feel your thighs starting to tremble from the pleasure. You let your head fall forward, leaning against his chest as you hold onto him tightly, moaning and begging for more.

“More…?” Yangyang repeats. “I’ll give you something even better, then.” As he pulls his fingers out, you’re overcome by a sense of deprivation, but when he begins to unzip his own pants, pulling them down just enough so his bulge covered in his boxers is visible, you begin to understand what he’s about to do. “Help me out here, babe,” he whispers, before reaching behind him to retrieve one of your hands, guiding it to his core. You touch his length, palming him through his underwear, earning yourself a groan while he places his forearms against the wall on either side of you to support himself.

“Fuck, babe… Y/N, I want to fuck you so bad…” he groans through gritted teeth as you can feel him grow under your touch, until the strain must be painful for him. Eventually, he makes you stop, and he pulls his boxers down too, ordering you to remove your pants. You’ve barely slipped out of them when he places his hands behind your thighs, telling you to hold on tight, and when you’ve safely wrapped both arms around his shoulders, he picks you up. Pushing inside you with one eager thrust, he makes you moan and he stops his movements right away to let you adjust to his size. “Tell me when you’re ready,” he says, and you can feel his breath on your cheeks as he speaks.

“I’m ready,” you let him know soon after, and Yangyang doesn’t hesitate for a single second. He rolls his hips against yours in slow, smooth motions at first, but as he gets more impatient, he quickly picks up some speed. “F-fuck…” you curse, unable to do anything other than cling to him and to moan at the pleasure of having him inside you. “F-feels so good…” You can feel him digging his fingernails into your skin, the pain mixing with the pleasure and sending you into a state of pure bliss. Legs wrapped around him, you try to move your hips so he would reach deeper inside you as he fucks you against the wall.

“I won’t last long, babe,” he tells you, his voice sounding strained. “You feel so good…”

“D-don’t stop now… please don’t stop…” you find yourself begging, head spinning from the position you’re in and the way he fucks you so good. “I-I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum…” You come undone while moaning his name, feeling your walls contract around his cock, and along with him growling your name, he fills you up with his warm seed. You stay in your position for a few moments, so you can each come down from your highs, until eventually he slips out of you, setting your feet back on the ground.

“That was… nice…” you say, back leaned against the wall while you’re still trying to catch your breath. Your boyfriend draws closer to give you a short kiss, and then he grins at you.

“We can still go to the bedroom now,” he mischievously suggests. “And have round two there.”

[distorted59]

please elaborate on the dracula monster rp you mentioned in your kirk headcanons…PLEASE!!

YES OMG!!!! THANK YOU SM FOR ASKING THIS!!!!

this idea has been FEEDING my vampire kirk brain rot so well, esp those fanarts on insta👹👹 really check out @ fuzzsux on insta CAUSE THE ART IS SO GOOD!!!

anyways..... HERE'S MY IDEA FOR IT (any era works tbh)

Bite me please

summary: Kirk wants to play dracula and he wants you to play his bride...

pairing: '93!kirk x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw/smut, biting, roleplay, use of safe words,

word count: 1158

A/N: i was debating wether to make this really kinky or nah.

you'd always known Kirk's favorite monster were vampires. especially Dracula and it's whole story arc. he's a hopeless romantic with a dark kinky side. which you don't mind at all, of course.

he loves the idea of him being a powerful, mind infiltrating, seductive, blood sucking creature. who would stalk you, love you, claim you, and mark you as his bride.

it would start with him biting your neck for fun, not real harshly or anything. just some playful bites. and you seem to like them. he would get all excited and wanted to ask you right away, because this has been on his mind for a while now.

but, he still sorta backs out. you see he wants to ask you something, so you do it first.

"baby? what's wrong?" you slide your hand over his back. "Something on your mind?"

"yeah, actually." he has a wide smile on his face, which slowly turns into a smirk. "would you be interested in... uhh... roleplay?"

your eyes widen a bit and your breath hitches. you have a puzzled look on your face and let out a short giggle.

"what'd you have in mind?" you grin back.

"what do you think?" he leans down and bites your neck again, harder this time.

"do you want to drain me from my blood, Count Dracula?" you say in a bad, sensual transylvanian accent.

"oh..." Kirk groans and lets out a breathy chuckle against your neck. "i'd like to drain you from something else too."

you moan softly as he places more sloppy kisses on your neck, going up to your jaw and eventually kisses your lips.

"i'll take that as a yes, hm?" his eyes show a dark gaze, you can see the passion and lust in them.

"yes."

⋆♱✮☽🦇☽✮♰⋆

you're walking around the house, wearing some leathery outfit. which Kirk had picked out for you. along with a tight, blood red corset that is hugging your figure.

"so much for classic." you mumble to yourself. the house is dark and to be honest, you feel a little.... scared.

you don't know if it's the excitement bubbling in your lower belly or the actual thought of being haunted by your boyfriend...

"Kirk?" you call out faintly, looking around for him. "are you gonna jump out and attack me or something?" you say jokingly.

"that all depends, my love." Kirk's dark voice whispers to you, you can feel his breath against your neck.

you turn around and he immediately grabs you and slams you against the wall. he starts kissing your neck and leaving a few bites here and there. he moves down and starts biting on your collarbone, he looks up at you through his eyelashes.

he's wearing a ruffled blouse and a pair of black dress pants you've never seen him wear before. His chest glistens through the low cut shirt, a few faint love bites visible.

"color?" he whispers.

"green..." you breathe out.

"I'm going to drain you and make you mine." he growls. then, he drags you by your arm and pulls you into your shared bedroom. he pushes you on the bed and you scramble back against the headboard.

"w-what are you going to do to me?" you try to sound scared and get into your role as the 'victim'.

"look at you, scared little thing." he tuts and crawls over to you. "you're going to be my bride." his eyes shine with passion and power. you actually feel thrilled.

"are you going to hurt me?" you look into his eyes.

"just for a bit, darling." he tugs on the laces of your corset. "i'll make you think of something else."

Kirk nuzzles his face in your neck and drags his nose slowly down your collar bone and towards your breasts.

"you smell so fucking good." he groans.

you can only respond with a moan and your hands make way through his hair.

"hmm, are you ready, my love?" he kisses your jaw.

"please." you nod.

he pulls down your pants along with your panties and he's taking his sweet time with it too. he grins teasingly at you and slowly slides his hands up your legs and thighs.

"Kirk..." you whine.

"gonna mark you, my love"

he pulls down his pants and boxers and pumps his throbbing cock slowly, he slides it between your pussy lips and the both of you moan and shiver with pleasure.

"you're already wet enough for me, love." he decides to pull back and slide his fingers inside of your dripping cunt first. "and i didn't even really touch you yet..."

"k-kirk!" you moan as he stretches you out by adding a second finger. he curls them up and you gasp, letting your head fall back.

"there, all ready for me." he groans and lines himself up with your cunt.

he slides in and starts biting your neck harshly, you let out a moan that's mixed with pain and pleasure. you're positive you'll have a bruised neck with bite marks in the morning.

normally he's quite the one to talk, but he's too busy fucking and sinking his teeth into you. too pussy drunk to function.

Kirk's hips slam against yours, his moans muffled by your skin as yours are the only ones that fills the room. your whines drive him insane and he bites you harder.

"color?" he growls, his sweet intention gives you butterflies. but his cock pumping into you make them flutter away.

"nghh- gr-green!" the biting hurts but you like it. you swear if he keeps going, he might draw blood.

he bites different spots and sucks on them too, it drives you fucking insane and pushes you over the edge.

he keeps up a steady rhythm and feels you squeeze around him, he stops biting you and kisses you passionately.

"are you going to cum?" he grins, his lips red from marking you up.

you nod as tears stream down your face, the pleasure becoming too much for you.

"cum for me, my love."

you moan his name as your orgasm washes over you, Kirk keeps pumping into you like a wild dog in rut. he moans and grits his teeth, needing to bite on something.

"use me, bite me." you whine.

he bites down on the other side of your neck and cums inside of you, you can feel it shooting up inside you and he twitches like crazy.

he lets go of your neck and falls on top of you. he takes a few breaths and rolls over on his back, pulling you on top of him.

the two of you lay in each others arms and try to calm down.

"that was fucking amazing." he breathes out. "i love you so much, baby." he kisses your temple.

"was.. so good.." you murmur, feeling absolutely exhausted.

"it was." he grins.

he slides his fingers over the bite marks carefully, and smirks proudly.

you feel yourself drifting off, feeling safe in the arms of your monster-loving boyfriend.

"i want to really taste you next time."

[marinettesaltprompts]

Inspired by one of maribat-menagerie's proposals

One of the big things that happen in almost every Maribat fic is Adrien getting stripped of his Miraculous so a batboy can be the Black Cat. But you could actually play with this idea of Adrien becoming Catwoman's apprentice/accomplice:

The story starts in stereotypical Maribat fashion with Marinette feeling unappreciated for her efforts and easily falling for whatever Batboy came into town to solve all her problems. Things progress as normal: Robin uncovers Gabriel, Lila gets sent packing and Adrien gets thrown to the wolves because he didn't do what the Batboy did- left to enjoy the association of being Hawkmoth's son while losing Plagg.

Because it turns out that Ladybug does actually believe in the idea that the holders of creation and destruction are soulmates, just not with him.

Anyhow normally this is where Adrien's story in a Maribat fic would end. He's condemned to a mundane life of public disgrace and suffering while Marinette goes to Gotham to live the superhero dream.

But not this time. Sure, Marinette leave with her Box and the Ring now fits on Robin's finger, but Adrien's not quite done. Sure it seems that way and as he retreats from public life under the heat of condemnation he falls into a deep depression. He's lost everything. His friends (can't be associated with Hawkmoth's son). His family (Nathalie is probably dead, Gabriel is in prison forever and The Gorilla needs employment after all). Even his home was seized by the The State- if not for a small trust fund Nathalie had had the foresight to set up for him he'd have nowhere to live at all.

The best he can do is live in an old house far in the countryside, hoping that people won't recognize him with his dyed black hair. At this point, all Adrien has to his name of his old life are his parents rings- one last gift snuck to him by Nathalie. Holding a secret within whose revelation robbed him of even his humanity.

It seems that after everything he did to try and make a life for himself outside of his gilded cage, he's doomed to spend his life in this new one. A cage made of crumbling old walls who were his only protection from a hostile world beyond them.

At least until one day, a certain Cat shows up. Not Plagg as Adrien dreamed of seeing again, or even the Robin who appeared in his nightmares to taunt him, but the infamous antihero Catwoman.

She' was surprised that he noticed her sneaking in, but Adrien's senses were still sharp from his time as Chat Noir. But it makes no real difference, one way or the other she's leaving with what she came for: The Graham de Vanily rings.

It turns out that his dear Auntie still wanted "her heirlooms" back, so she'd contracted Catwoman to go get them. Normally she wouldn't take such contracts, but with the Bats having ready access to magical jewellery her usual picking grounds were becoming harder to play in.

This breaks something in Adrien. After everything he's lost, after everyone had abandoned him in one way or the other, after neither Felix or Amelie could be bothered to help him in his time of need they still wouldn't let him have his soul?

Catwoman seems bemused by his spluttering, but she's intrigued enough to let him elaborate. Adrien knows from one look at her that he has no chance of beating her in a fight anyway, she'd get his rings one way or the other so he might as well tell her the truth. It's not like he owed anyone his silence and no one had actually cared about his side of the story since he'd lost Plagg.

So he spills. He takes the chance to rant about his situation, how he'd tried his best to be Ladybug's partner but he'd been pushed away, sidelined without cause. how his parents had had a magical slave collar on him since his creation. How his friends had abandoned him, how Ladybug who'd promised him "them against the world" had dropped him like garbage the second she'd gotten a "better model".

Selena listens, but she also happens to know Marinette herself- at least through others and knows the story on both sides now. So she bemusedly tries to correct him- only to find herself corrected:

Catwoman: You didn't exactly try to help her that much did you though?

Adrien: Ladybug pushed me away every time I tried. But I was always there for her. Every time she needed someone to fall on his sword for a plan. Every time she needed a shield I used myself. The one time I failed to show up, she stopped calling on me and started using an entire team instead.

...

Catwoman: Were you really that great a partner though? Robin picked up the ring and did a better job than you did even though you'd had it for months, plus all the training as a holder the old Guardian gave you that Robin didn't have while he was in France.

Adrien: What training? Fu never trained me. I didn't even know he trained Ladybug. As for Robin, maybe the fact that he's been trained by Batman for years before he even came to Paris might play a factor?

You know, I had martial arts and acrobatics before I put on the ring but I'll bet training under "the dark knight" might just be a bit above that. Oh, and Ladybug actually told Robin things. I didn't even know about the Grimoire until after the last battle.

...

Selena: But what about your friends? I've done my research you know? They said you were two-faced and cowardly, you knew about Lila and did nothing. You got your friend Marinette to take the high road and do the same.

Adrien: Did nothing? As far as I knew when I gave that advice Lila was just lying for attention and the first time I tried to get her to stop she got Akumatised on the spot. Marinette was freaking out and acting crazy, the only thing she was doing was making herself look worse in front of the class and risking Lila getting Akumatised again. It was the best advice I could give her until Hawkmoth was captured, or unless someone could prove she'd done something bad enough to get her sent out of Paris.

But I did what I could.

When Lila got Marinette expelled, I was the one who stepped up and helped her. No one else. I couldn't prove anything. I'm not a Robin trained by the Greatest Detective in the world. But I knew what Lila wanted and I used myself as collateral to get her to stop.

And two-faced? That's rich from my "friends". I've had time to think and realise what they were doing all those times they left me and Marinette together. Even before they left me out to dry they treated me more like some prize for Marinette to win instead of a friend, it was all some big game to them.

Now none of them speak to me now that I'm not a rich-boy celebrity anymore. It's like they all decided that I'm responsible for their mistakes with Lila.

---

And so the conversation continues. For the first time, Adrien finally gets to tell his side of the story, even if it's to someone who came to rob him of the one thing of value he had left. And Selena... is intrigued.

She looks carefully over the boy. He's a pretty thing, but he's also clearly strong. There's still lean muscle on him despite the year trapped in this miserable little house. It suddenly strikes her ironically just how much like one of Bruce's Robin's he is- especially with his hair dyed black.

An athletic, intelligent young man made from birth to be a perfect heir to an evil father? One whose socialization had come far, far too late to be healthy? An echo of Damian.

All around her were cheap, but well-read books on an eclectic range of subjects. Tim would find plenty of common interests with this one.

The spark wasn't there now, not in this broken shell of a boy. But when Chat Noir had been in his prime even Dick would have found a cat-themed mirror for his puns and the sheer joy he took in his freedom as a superhero.

Thankfully there's precious little of Jason in him and the similarities to the rest of the bat-family faded from there. But it was undeniable how well he fit the shape of a Robin, even down to the lack of a family with Gabriel Agreste apparently having no interest in his son even before his life sentence.

But he wasn't a Robin now was he? He was a cat.

And in this place, in this dead-end of a life: he had nothing to lose.

Selena asks him for his rings.

Adrien, exhausted from his rant, simply hands them over. What would be the point in fighting?

But to his surprise: Selene doesn't leave or mock him or anything else that he expected. But rather she raises the rings to her skilled eyes to make sure she had the real things and then asks him a question;

Answer me; was anything you just said a lie?

Adrien is compelled to confirm that it was the truth.

Selena considers him once more. Considers his performance as Chat Noir again. Considers what he'd achieved without the training he should have had.

There was potential here. Potential that had been discarded and left to rot. Potential with no loyalties left to his family, friends or anything else. With a new name, a new mask: this boy could become to her what Bruce's Robins were to him.

And really, the Vanily's money couldn't really compare to what she could do with a kitten of her own. One with a bit of resentment ready to be aimed at Bruce's new foundlings that were annoying her so badly.

Selena: So Adrien, you were a bit of a rulebreaker once upon a time. Do you still have that in you?

It turns out that Adrien very much did.

Wonderful prompt! A lot of salt fic stories don't tend to focus on what would come after the story ends, it just assumes that anyone that isn't Marinette just lives miserably ever after. Having Adrien make a comeback without a even having a miraculous sounds actually dope.

[princessbrunette]

omg!! the purity ring request??? it’s def one of my new favorite tropes with rafe now (only bc i used to wear a purity ring and long since ditched it lmaoo)

but, going off that anon who requested that, i kinda wonder what it would be like the reader’s first time with rafe. like, we all know he’s a bit rougher n’ stuff, but what would it be like? the build up, the tension, how long did it take for reader to cave and be like “fuck it, i need his dick NEOW, eternal consequences be damned” ofc it’s up to you if you wanna elaborate lol i just love this already!!

-🪐

࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃

a day spent with rafe where he’s super sweet to you just makes you wanna give it all up for him !

there’s some kind of event hosted by the cameron’s, a fundraiser of some kind, so everyone’s there. rafe knows a sweet little thing like you gets shy, so he takes you around with a hand on your lower back the whole time, being super charming as he chats away to people his dad wants him to network with. maybe you were ovulating or something, but you were practically salivating over him. he was in a good mood, so he was all smiley and gentle, that confident drawl of his making your panties stick to you— a feeling you weren’t used to but definitely wasn’t unwelcome. on top of that he just looked so good, but he always did so this didn’t surprise you.

by the end of the afternoon you’re all warm from the humid weather, comfortable in your sweet little sundress and you’ve made up your mind. your poor pussy was aching, soaked and pulsing in your panties when you lead him up to his bedroom. he’s offhand complaining about some guy at the party who’d made some passive aggressive comment about something. you’re watching him, eyes all wide and watery and a little hazy from the small flute of champagne you’d allowed yourself.

you bring your finger to your lips, slowly pushing it past the parted pillows until your teeth graze the ring, slowly sliding the ring to the tip of your finger. he trails off, his own lips parted too as he watches, intense gaze watching you like hawk. you could practically feel his heart thumping, questioning your actions. you place the ring into your palm and then gently onto his dresser, looking at him hopefully.

“rafe, i want you to have it.” you hum, voice airy and wanting.

“want… you want —” he blinks a bunch, trying to gather his thought as he steps slightly towards you.

“my virginity. i don’t want to be pure anymore. i want to feel you.” you request. when he doesn’t respond, just stares at you dumbly— you begin to hike up your dress slightly, fingers looping around your soft cotton panties and pull them down to your ankles and off, picking them up and holding them shyly in your hands. “look.” you whisper. staring down into the panties face up— the material soaked and sodden with your arousal.

“jesus… baby.” he whispers, walking towards you until he was directly infront of you. he takes the panties from you, looking at them briefly before putting them aside, eyes searching your face. “and you’re sure? you— you know this is something that can’t be undone. don’t want you getting all mad at me…”

“rafe i’m sure… please?” you blink up at him slowly like a relaxed cat and he folds, large hands cupping your cheeks to pull you in for a kiss.

he definitely would fuck you on your back, legs spread either side of him. his back muscles flex as he rolls his hips into you, fucking you deep until every whine and sob echoes through his bedroom. he makes sure you cum, because his pride couldn’t deal with you not doing so, and then when it’s his turn he gets a little rougher, thrusts speeding up, hands pressing under your thighs to bring your knees to your chest, the way he likes it. you don’t complain though, even when the ring on the dresser catches the light.

࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃