#i knew there were gates but the names are new

[circeyoru]

Love Trial _ Part 5 *END*

[Sung Jinwoo x High School Ex-Lover!Reader]

Part 1 ― Part 2 ― Part 3 ― Part 4 ― Part 5 (here)

Your first meeting with the boy named Sung Jinwoo was like any other. You two lived close and you two went to the same highschool. The two of your parents got to know each other and naturally so did you two. Jinwoo and you did mostly everything together, you two even welcomed his little sister into the world and you became something like an honourary sibling in the Sung family. Your relationship with them and him was just so close.

Your romantic interest towards the teen named Sung Jinwoo was also like any other. A little rumour, a little gossip, and a little curiosity. You developed real romantic feelings for him. Though it seemed like nothing changed much, the title changed from close childhood friends to significant others. You thought that was enough. He did too. It was enough because you two had each other to share your happy and depressing moments without shame or fear of abandonment.

Your bond with the man named Sung Jinwoo was unlike any other. A bond like family, a bond like best friends, a bond like soulmates. You two completed each other and complimented each other. While Jinwoo was logical in all he did, you were emotional in all you did. Clashing perspectives brought you two closer than ever and broadened your horizons. Everyone thought the only thing missing between you two were the wedding vows that would seal the deal.

Found you when your heart was broke I filled your cup until it overflowed Took it so far to keep you close (keep you close) I was afraid to leave you on your own

The picture-perfect world fell when Jinwoo’s father went missing in a gate and his mother fell victim to the Eternal Slumber. His sister was still studying and so was he. By a stroke of luck, he awakened at the right time, but only as the lowest. Still, he gave up on his studies and worked as a Hunter for money to protect his remaining family. You were by his side, cheering him on.

You lost count of the times Jinwoo appeared to you in new wounds or bandages. At times, you were even called to the hospital to see him because he didn’t want to worry his younger sister. Your worry and concern was through the roof everytime the hospital or Hunters Association number rang your phone, your heart beat a million per second as your mind hoped for the news that your lover survived by some miracle or mercy of whatever higher being. You’d scold and warn him to be careful, that there were still people waiting for his return, not just you. He’d give you the same smile. Both of you knew, there was no way he’d give up his career as a Hunter.

I said I’d catch you if you fall And if they laugh, then fuck ‘em all (all) And then I got you off your knees Put you right back on your feet

“Why don’t I introduce you to a stronger Hunter as your lover?”

“You’re still with that guy?”

“Poor you… Having to deal with him.”

“You know you deserve more, right?”

“Shut it! Sung Jinwoo is my lover and that’s that!” You also lost count of the people talking directly or indirectly and even behind your back that you should abandon Jinwoo as a lover. Perhaps you could stay friends, but not lovers―was the message from all of them. Sung Jinwoo, the Weakest Hunter of All Mankind, that was his title. While you were successful and talented in what you did as an ordinary citizen, the only bad quality people poked fun at was the lover you took care of.

You never let Jinwoo hear any of these, and you never let him doubt himself. Even when he did, you reassured him and stayed by his side. You’ll use your hard earn salary to buy a dagger for him to raids and kill monsters with higher rewards, you’ll research and read articles with some information that would benefit him. You did all that you could as a citizen with a Hunter lover. Still, you thought that wasn’t enough.

Choi Jong-In once offered a place for your lover, seeing you struggle in trying to help. He knew who your lover was and he knew how much you cared. He wanted to repay your indifference to his high status and still stayed as a loyal friend. You declined, knowing Jinwoo was a righteous person, he wouldn’t take the backdoor for money. He wouldn’t stoop so low. Even if he did and the results were good, he still wouldn’t be entirely happy.

Just so you could take advantage of me

When you heard he survived a Double Dungeon, you dropped everything and rushed to the hospital. He slept on the bed so peaceful, ignorant of the turmoil he caused you. You sat by him, waiting for him to wake up. Your hand brushed through his hair, his peaceful expression was so familiar that it reminded you of those days when he had no responsibility but studying and forcing you to study.

Your voice cracked as you cried, never have you cried in public but only in front of Jinwoo. “Please… Wake up…”

Just him.

Tell me how’s it feel sittin’ up there? Feeling so high but too far away to hold me You know I’m the one who put you up there Name in the sky Does it ever get lonely? Thinking you could live without me Thinking you could live without me Baby, I’m the one who put you up there I don’t know why (yeah, I don’t know why)

When he woke up, there was no call from him nor a text. You only knew because a doctor was kind enough to give you a call and asked why you hadn’t been visiting after his wake. You went to the hospital only to see him working out and people staring. Jealousy and envy didn’t cross your mind, but you did smile as you saw him back on his feet. Still, a small voice in your mind questioned why he didn’t at least text you.

You thought that was just the one time.

The usual cafe dates and routine dinners at his place with his sisters were all gone. He stood you up and forgot about them all. Even his sister barely saw him around the house. His sister took a picture of him and showed it to you one time during dinner. You hardly recognized him. Taller, muscler, and more mature looking. Looked like he went through a second puberty.

But you asked if he was fine. His sister answered yes. That was all that mattered, as long as he was fine. Your heart was at ease. Like in the past when Jinwoo went to raids on days unend, you’ll wait for him as his loyal lover. Never overbearing, never too clingy, never too nosy.

Thinking you could live without me Live without me Baby, I’m the one who put you up there I don’t know why (I don’t know why, yeah yeah)

Finally, he approached you and you two reunited for what felt like forever. Jinwoo joked, saying it was his sister nagging him to see you and you laughed along with him. You told him you understood his busy Hunter life. So started his tale on raids and dungeons while you listened. You knew he was keeping something from you, you felt it, but you didn’t question it. 

A positive turn was in his life and he looked like he was in control of it all. He told you you didn’t need to waste money and time on helping him any longer. “It’s never a waste on you, Jinwoo.” You spoke to him softly with a warm smile as the breeze flowed through you two that night. “Well, you’ve told your side, my turn!”

Gave love ‘bout a hundred tries (hundred tries) Just running from the demons in your mind Then I took yours and made ‘em mine (made ‘em mine) I didn’t notice ‘cause my love was blind

You never knew he turned into an S-Rank. You only knew from Jong-In when he coincidentally found out. You felt… betrayed? In the dark? Untrusted? Surely, Jinwoo had his reasons to hide this from you. Surely…

Jinwoo said his Shadows would protect you, he placed guards on you for your protection. Precious soldiers that he didn’t have many. He said he’d be gone for a week to get something to cure his mother and he disappeared. Ironically, the soldiers he left spent more time with you and cared for you more than he did after his change. But you told yourself it was a sign of his love and affection to you. You told yourself that over and over again.

Said I’d catch you if you fall (fall) And if they laugh, then fuck ‘em all (all) And then I got you off your knees Put you right back on your feet Just so you can take advantage of me

When people went in search of Jinwoo, you warded them off and told them it was an invasion of privacy. Some even spread rumours that Jinwoo was a fake ranker and that he had done unsavoury things inside dungeons all along. You defended him and told them all off. No one understood his pain and suffering. No one saw his battered self that was barely clinging to life. No one was there when he was on the edge all his life. None of them but you.

Why are people only flocking to him when they have something to benefit them? It was sickening. Jinwoo deserved more. When he was weak, he was looked down on and mocked. When he is now strong, they claimed he was a fake. When would they see Jinwoo for who he was? He was so much more than his power. He was a person, just like them and you. He has feelings and emotions. He has a past and he has a right to his own life.

Tell me how’s it feel sittin’ up there? Feeling so high but too far away to hold me You know I’m the one who put you up there Name in the sky Does it ever get lonely?

His mother woke up and you were beyond ecstatic for the Sung family. You let them have their moment and you were asked to join in by his mother. You let the tears flow as you welcomed her back. You thought, now things would return back to the way they were.

You were wrong.

More and more, you saw Jinwoo with Cha Hae-In, the S-Rank before him. You saw them all chummy and smiles. You told yourself it was just because they were colleagues. Plus, Cha Hae-In was the only female S-Rank in the country, so it made sense. If all the S-Rank that interacted with her was a crush, then she’d have a harem by now. You surpressed the envy and jealousy within you, you were above it. You trust Jinwoo. You trust your love.

Thinking you could live without me Thinking you could live without me Baby, I’m the one who put you up there I don’t know why (yeah, I don’t know why) Thinking you could live without me Live without me Baby, I’m the one who put you up there I don’t know why, yeah

It was nothing. It was nothing. It was nothing. You lied and lied. Jinwoo’s smile was softer and wider towards Hae-In. Jinwoo’s time was spent with her and not you. It was nothing. It was nothing. It was nothing. You told yourself over and over. Please. Everything that you have done for him. Everything that you two have been through together. Doesn’t those times mean anything? Prove the negativity inside you wrong! Please, Jinwoo!

You don’t have to say just what you did I already know (I know) I had to go and find out from them So tell me how’s it feel (oh-whoa)

Your hands came up to your ears and applied pressure on them. “I’m sorry. Let’s break up. I’m sorry. Let’s break up. I’m sorry. Let’s break up. I’m sorry. Let’s break up. I’m sorry. Let’s break up. I’m sorry. Let’s break up.” It looped in your mind over and over again. Please shut up. Please stop it!

Third time’s a charm.

Your tears flowed in public and Jinwoo wasn’t even there to embrace you. You cried your heart out, you pleaded that it was all a nightmare. What did you lack? What did you do? What happened? In your friend’s arms, you begged for something over and over. Over… It was all over.

Now your heart was broken and you were but an empty shell. The Shadows that Jinwoo sent for your protection was all a painful reminder. They tried to comfort you when you were crying yourself to sleep, the knight Igris and the once destructive foe on Jeju Island Beru, both tried to soothe you. As much as you appreciated their kindness, you sent them all away and told them never to come to your side again. The Shadows mirrored their Lord and Master. You saw him in everything they did for you. Their presence by your side was too tortuous for you to bear.

Tell me how’s it feel sittin’ up there? Feeling so high but too far away to hold me You know I’m the one who put you up there Name in the sky Does it ever get lonely? Thinking you could live without me Thinking you could live without me Baby, I’m the one who put you up there I don’t know why (yeah, I don’t know why)

Anger and resentment. It was all so draining. You found yourself as an empty shell before the mirror. Your smile was gone and the life in your eyes and long been dulled over. You blinked and opened your eyes, this was your reality. You returned to bed and scrolled your phone, a name pinned to the top of your chat so it was more accessible to you anytime and anywhere. You unpinned it and blocked it.

You scrolled through the messages of comfort from your friends and colleagues; even your boss and manager sent you their regards and understanding. You chuckled bitterly. Instead of wallowing in sorrow and drowning yourself in anguish, you should really change things up a bit.

So when the light from outside blinded you and a second chance was given to you. You let go of that boy, that teen, and that man that was once your whole life.

⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧⬪⬧

The dream of you leaving, the sight of your cold gaze, the indifferent attitude you held towards him. It was all an endless nightmare for the Shadow Monarch. This was nothing compared to the war waged between him and the Monarchs to ensure humanity’s safety. He thought he could handle everything when he returned, that your innocent smile would greet him once high school started.

Oh no no no I don’t know what moved me You know that you are everything that I’ve ever wanted Hey, before you bring the hammer down on me Give me a chance you know you’re all I’ll ever need

Yet all he met was the horrifying realization that you had all your memories of the past intact and made an effort to separate the reunion between the two of you. You weren’t in the same neighbourhood, you weren’t in the same school, you weren’t in the same grade. Nothing of the past was the same when it concerned you. The chance he thought he had was nonexistent from the beginning. It was all wishful thinking on his part.

Oh! Don’t look at me like that Not again! I’ll change it! I swear that I’ll repent! Show me a bit of mercy, stay the execution please If just this once forget these deeds of mine

You spared him nothing, not even hatred, when he was finally in the same school as you. College was the only way the two of you could meet, as it was hard to justify him changing schools or neighbourhoods to his parents. It was something his patience needed to bear for his mistakes. He dug his own grave after all. 

So carefully form the perfect crime Build my defense and plan my tight alibi But even so it seems you can’t be fooled Even with all my tricks, I’m falling No no no!

He built himself a reputation―became a track star that even other schools would pay attention to. All in hopes of gaining even a mini bit of attention from you, but in return, you merely ignored it all and stayed far away from athletic news or anything related to it. Yes, he met Cha Hae-In. And yes, he helped her when she was in need, but that kindness he received, he wished it from you. Don’t give up on him or his love for you!

So now you’ll pass the verdict for crimes of passion How bad are the charges they’re going to list? Down and pleading after my final remarks By powers here you gave the sentence and I was guilty

Though, as popular as he was, you held your own fame. In the academic side, you used your past memories to your advantage and was dubbed as a genius. You won awards and was praised by your peers, even looked up to by the younger ones. As if to show him you didn’t need him in your life, you were blooming with success and happiness in your time without him.

Oh no no no! This verdict is the worst I don’t know what I’d do if ever that you’d leave me If that’s so well then at least I’ll go out by your hand Throw me away into the darkness let me fall

Talk of you and Choi Jong-In as a couple was all over campus. It irked him and made his chest tight as if a giant was crashing him in its grasp. He saw the two of you together. In this life, you were closer to Jong-in more so than the last, the title of childhood friend, best friend, and now boyfriend, all belonged to the former fire mage. He was nothing in your life, just the one that broke your heart in the past.

Oh Jesus! The evidence is clear I’m to blame it looks like I won’t talk out again But on the other hand there’s much worse a fate than to be trapped Here by your side at least I’m close to you

His Shadows pointed him toward where you were and his legs brought him to you. His loyal Shadows aimed and aided in his quest to return to your side and prove his fault. Even his Shadows bore the fate of their Master of being shunned by you, they knew you more as they were tasked with your safety, even before Hae-In was in the picture. They would have stopped their Master if they knew the reckless move he’d make that day. Even they knew that their Master would one day learn to regret it.

Now, they have to help their Master no matter what. They much preferred you over that woman. You were the only one by their Master’s time and time again, through his weakest and strongest. You never let him go until he was the one that said so. You had been in his world for the longest and you should have. They wondered how their Master couldn’t understand that. This loyalty, this devotion, this love, was not something that could be thrown away so easily.

Because their loyalty was set in stone to belong to Jinwoo when he commanded them to join his army. Yours was special and unique. A priceless treasure that should have been revered, appreciated, and maybe hidden away from the world. That was what Jinwoo should have done without mistake!

My stupid flaws and mistakes I make That one mistake, I thought no way I could lose But now I see that you’re not coming back Though I may kick and scream it’s all a waste You won’t be hearing me

With Jong-In by your side, Jinwoo’s place appeared to have been taken. The shock that the rumour of you two being a couple stunned him. This must have been what you felt when you saw him with Hae-In in the past. His Shadows was enraged that it wasn’t their Master who was by your side, that it wasn’t their Master that held your hand. Jinwoo could only watch Jong-In drag you away and you spearing him an uninterested glance, he could only wish for your gaze on him once more.

What kind of perfect love crime would make us both cry? So far is the distance between you and I The one who gave love, and one that can’t get enough Let’s tie our fates and reach an ending together here at last

Give him a chance, just one chance, to correct the wrongs. At least let him atone like the criminal he was. The victim needs their justice and he’ll serve it. Please, don’t let him off the hook so easily. 

Like his prayer was heard by whatever god there was, you gave him what he wanted and he took it. He didn’t care if your schedule and his clashed where he couldn’t catch you. He’ll use his powers to his advantage. He’ll have a Shadow in his lecture and record everything so he could still know what was going on, meanwhile, he’d be with you in your lecture so that he could stay by your side.

He’d listen to everything you’d share, even make friends with your friends so they could lend him a helping hand. He’d show you that you were the only one on his mind to court, not anyone else and especially not Cha Hae-In. He’d swap his electives so that he was attending the same class as you, he’d go wherever you were, even if you were going to a literature book club or an idle stroll. He’d be there. Whatever you do, just let him into your life.

You’re suddenly interested in a band? He has concert tickets and he could even give you a ride on Kaisel to get there. You wanted to try a restaurant but your friends are too busy to hang out? He can fill in and pay for your meals, even eat what you dislike so there’s no waste! You’re very into an Otome game? He’ll… grudgingly study it and give you the best tips to get what you want!

No matter is too big or insignificant when it involves you. Jinwoo would smile and provide you with absolutely everything.

Pass the verdict for crimes of passion Let’s hear all the charges you’re going to list I’ll repent it by spending my life with you I’ll see it through we’ll be together ‘till death do us―

You, being the same as you were, slowly started to cave and let Jinwoo near you. Even smiling and joking like the past. You knew Jinwoo knew his efforts were paying off and at some point, you and Jong-In had ended your little joke as each other’s significant other. Of course, Jong-In was immediately crowded with proposals and confessions, then you and Jinwoo would laugh and tease the flustered guy.

Somehow, Jinwoo fit into your group and became an honourary member even though he was in a different department. Jong-In, who was once wary of Jinwoo because of his Shadows, also warmed up to the outsider. You were the odd one out since you were the only one that appeared to have bad blood with Jinwoo still. 

“I am sorry for what I did.” Jinwoo said one day when you told him you couldn’t let go of the fear that history might repeat itself. “It was wrong of me.”

Those words had an effect on you, an effect you thought would have been long buried the day your heart was broken. Your mind raced, debating whether you should open your heart again and let him have your weakness. Love is a double-edged sword. It could protect and care, but it could also destroy and harm. 

Will you give Jinwoo that sword?

Here’s the secret from trying passion I’m glad that you taught me the life I should live Faking crying you lay down the penalty

“I guess you leave me no choice.” You hummed and spun on your heel, hiding a goofy smile that would give away your joy and relief. If you’re giving away the key to your heart, you might has well hold his. “We’ll only be a trial couple. Just so I could see the Shadows again.”

Jinwoo smiled and laughed with you, “Alright. Whatever you say, Love.”

You smiled slyly and gave the sentence

And laughing you said That I was guilty

“And that was the hardest trial of My Liege and your father.” Beru finished his tale with a claw raised in the air. “Remember, Young Lord, your mother is the only person you can never cross!”

“Ohh. Mommy is scary…” Your son, Suho, nodded in agreement to Beru’s warning. “But Daddy was wrong first! If it was me, I will punch and kick! And push Daddy out of the house so it’s just me and Mommy here!”

“Our Liege did deserve at least that much.” Bellion chimed in with a solemn nod.

Igris sighed, as he slowly backed into the kitchen, what was about to happen next would not be pleasant.

Behind the three of them was an enraged Jinwoo who had just returned home from work and you covering your giggles with both hands. Jinwoo had picked you up from your workplace and the two of you went for a little shopping since the three strongest Shadows of Jinwoo was watching your son. Though, the scene you two returned to was not good, at least, for Jinwoo who was the man of the house.

Jinwoo cleared his throat loudly and the three on the floor slowly turned their heads to the front door. The imposing father crossed his arms with a hard glare and the smiling mother―that was you―laughed aloud like no tomorrow. Jinwoo’s tried his best to maintain a stoic and angered expression, but your laughter and shaking grip on him was breaking his character. “Beloved… Please…”

“Haha, alright, I’ll go check up on Igris who’s the only good Shadow who wouldn’t gossip behind your back.” You chuckled and went into the kitchen, sure enough, there was Igris doing the cooking preparations. He gave you a courteous nod that you returned, “You guys are never letting Jinwoo down what that mistake, huh.”

Igris nodded again.

You giggled like a child, “Hehe.”

This peaceful and joyful time was the ending of your little love story. The mixture of screams and laughter from your son and the embarrassed scolding from Jinwoo, then there was you enjoying everything with a smile. Never would you imagine this sort of life back with Jinwoo.

~Song Use Credit~ (don't tell me you guys didn’t notice...)

Reader’s POV Song: {Without Me} by Halsey

Jinwoo’s POV Song: {Love Trial} English Cover

Base by Will Stetson Supplementary by JubyPhonic (give both a listen if you haven’t heard them before~~)

Note: And this is the last part! Honestly, when I first read the request, I genuinely thought it was going to be the one part with the song reference. But noooo, ideas just kept popping up more and more… So, oh well, a series it is~ The ending feels more like a recap to me, but I was determined to put the song in!!! 

Also a little trivia, Reader’s/your past and POV was written like so last minute before this upload. Don’t like why, but it felt so right to put it there. I realized Reader’s POV on what happened kind of was never detailedly mentioned but Jinwoo’s was. But then I didn’t want to separate the posts, so I just mushed it into one (else it’ll be a part 6 as the end).

Anyways~~ Thanks for reading and waiting for this series’ updates~ We're at the end of the road. See you in the other stories!!

Happy Valentine’s Day guys~ Hope this would brighten your day or give you a smile. My chocolate gift to you~

𝕮𝖎𝖗𝖈𝖊 𝖄.

Taglist: @rozuburedo @ariseverdark @skylar896 @o-qi-shisme @my-arietta @mydearestbeloved @the-dumber-scaramouche @mochinon-yah @waka-babe @ditmemay1234 @mangooes @cottonbeeeeeeee @gurlie919 @j1yuji @knucklesdeepmingi @amayakurusu13 @rjasmin2021 @needsleep3000 @backgroundcharactera @mushy-mushroom04 @sxftiebee @tanspostsblog @izaquix078 @lilliana-14 @simpforskz143148

[cb-writes-stuff]

Other worldbuilding question!

What are the landmarks of Kem lon-Dalan, like what’s the structures that kids say to meet up at cause people know where they are

I’m glad you asked! Again!

Gates are very common meeting places. There’s the North Gate, which is exactly what it sounds like: the gate leading north out of the city. Likewise, there’s the East Gate. The so-called “East District” is the part of Kem lon-Dalan atop the Brother (the eastern cliff of the Twins). It’s kind of a pain to get there, though. Your options are go around the cliff, or climb stairs. In contrast, the Sister (the western cliff) just has fortifications for defensive purposes.

The Market District runs along the western edge of the city and has three gates, namely the High Market Gate in the north, the Low Market Gate in the south, and just the plain Market Gate in between those two. (There used to be a high wall around the Market District, like there is around the Living District. Since the wall was torn down centuries ago, all that’s left are arches with gates that just always stay open, hardly more than ornamental.) There’s also the docks, of course.

The Living District is a big bulk of a district in the southeast of the city, pressing against the cliff and coast. It has three gates as well, the Pearl Gate in the northeast, the Iron Gate in the northwest, and the Dirt Gate in the west. Different parts of the Living District are nicer and more expensive to live in, and the name of the gate generally corresponds to how nice or not nice it is.

I am tired of talking about gates. If I have to say gate one more time, I’m going to scream.

The Red Beach is, as the name implies, a walled-off beach with red sand. According to the stories, a king from a far off land came ashore on that beach, riding a tide of his enemies’ blood. Natives know that it’s really an execution ground. Old traditions saw that those on death row had their blood drained onto the beach after death. That hasn’t been done for a long time, though, and the smell of iron is gone. It’s still entirely red, which is both disgusting and terrifying. Great for dumb kids to test their courage. It’s smack dab in the center of the coast, quite possibly the least welcoming sight for visitors.

The Veika ta-Lilasen is the grand square below the steps of the Veika ir-Jai, the palace of the tyrant king who supposedly ruled the entire Vandeth Desert some 1500 years ago. The stories go that a star fell to the teph*, where the Veika ta-Lilasen would be built, hence the name: “The Star with Us”**. Apparently, the tyrant king used the star to create not only the Veika ir-Jai—Wisdom’s Star—but the whole of Kem lon-Dalan, all on his own. But that’s preposterous. A story is all it is.

*The planet’s name is Teph (/tef/). If there’s a word with “earth” in it, it’s replaced with “teph”.

**The Vandeth language has no articles; rather, they are inferred from context.

And yeah! Those are some of the major landmarks in Kem lon-Dalan. There’s probably others, but to be totally honest, I haven’t thought of those yet.

[hauntingblue]

THEY TOOK ACE'S CUNTY BOOTS AND GAVE HIM SOME FUCKING LOAFERS!!!! THAT SHOULD GET !!!THEM!!! EXECUTED

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Dp x Dc short idea

Jason is Danny’s dad

Warning: Language

Jason had just returned to the family publicly about two weeks ago. It hadn’t even been that long for him to settle before something happened. The press weren’t even off his ass and he has Alfred requesting he return home for an urgent matter immediately, which is butler speak for get your ass here right now!

The family was happy but adjusting to everything. They had mandatory family dinners at least twice a month and voluntarily got together more frequently, mostly just the siblings, but every once in a while Bruce would sneak in for a movie in the family room.

Alfred was pleased with the progress the family has made over the course of many years. It finally felt like everything was coming together and maybe settling down. He knew he thought that too soon when he answered the buzzer at the front gate. They weren’t expecting any visitors and looking at the video feed it was a young woman with hands on her hips glaring back at the camera. There were two large bags with her and surprisingly enough a young child playing in the grass just a short distance behind her.

“Wayne Residence, Alfred Pennyworth speaking, how may I assist you, ma’am?”

“Lettin’ me in for starters,” she says back with venom on her tongue.

“My apologies, but you do not have an appointment.”

She snorts, “Nah, but ya see, I saw that bastard on the news and thought I’d drop off what he gave me.”

To get her point across, she turns and looks back at the little boy not paying her any attention.

“Danny!” She snaps and he jerks his head to look at, who Alfred is assuming is, his mother. “Come here.”

He hops up at his own pace and dusts off the grass on his knees before trotting over. She leans down to angle the young boy away from the camera and pushing back his hair.

He couldn’t see it well before by the way the boy was positioned before, but Alfred could clearly see a prominent patch of white hair on the left lower section by his neck. Just like the white batch on Jason.

“You gonna let us in now?” She asks rudely.

Alfred has already determined he did not like this woman. He still buzzes them in. He contacts Jason immediately followed closely with Bruce.

Alfred then helps the two carry in the bags, while subtly checking for any weapons or explosives. Instead he finds things meant for a child.

He really didn’t like this woman.

Bruce is the first one to arrive down the stairs, pausing towards the bottom. He glances at Alfred and can see the displeasure in the butler’s eyes.

“Hello, ma’am. I’m Bruce Wayne, nice to meet you.”

“Fuckin’ everyone knows who you are, Brucie Wayne,” she huffs with a roll of her eyes.

Bruce glances down at the very young child who is hearing the foul language. He couldn’t be more than five, and completely oblivious as the little boy runs a hand along the wall and looks around at everything. He particularly keeps going back to the shiny chandelier above their heads.

“Who might you be?” He asks the woman, coming back to her as she almost touches the vase on the entry table. She draws her hand back to fold her arms across her chest.

“Grace.”

The name seems ironic compared to her behavior.

“And how can I help you, Miss Grace?”

“Your thought-to-be-dead son left something of his. I’m here to return it.”

It took no detective to determine she was talking about the boy currently using the door frame to the sitting room as leverage to rock back and forth, holding on with his tiny hands. Bruce could see the splash of white among the dark hair from this angle.

Bruce hums.

“Is that so?”

“I’ve already contacted Master Jason. He should be arriving soon. Shall I prepare some refreshments in the drawing room?” Alfred informs.

“Thank you, Alfred. Right this way,” he says to Grace, directing her toward the left while pulling out his phone to ask Tim to prepare the proper equipment downstairs.

“Danny!” The woman calls with impatience. She glares at the little boy who calmly turns to look at her, then skips behind them.

Grace huffs but doesn’t say anything else as they enter the room. She sits herself in the middle of the love seat and Bruce takes one of the chairs across from her. The boy, Danny, explores the room thoroughly, walking around without pattern and investigating every nook and cabinet to keep himself entertained. Very curious little child.

Bruce tries to engage her in conversation to dig up more information, but she firmly wanted to wait for Jason before divulging anything. He did however find out that Danny is four and needs to be enrolled in kindergarten next turn. Grace works night shift but wouldn’t say where.

Alfred came with three waters, one in a smaller plastic cup for Danny, and a plate of crackers and cut up fruit.

Grace eyes the butler with a raised brow. However, the first words Danny has spoken in their presence is a cute, “Thank you, mister,” before munching on a cracker and sipping from his cup. His curious eyes flick over the fruit and wanders over to his mother who picks at a rip in her jeans. He taps her knee and she sighs.

“What is it?”

“What’s that?”

Danny points to the fruit.

“What’s what?”

He creeps forward to point directly at the blackberries mixed in with the blueberries and strawberries.

“Blackberry,” she answers shortly.

“What’s it taste like?”

“Why don’t you try it and find out?”

He must have approved of that suggestion and reaches in to clumsily wrap a tiny hand around one of the dark berries. He flips it over in his hand for a minute, observing it at all angles, feeling the texture of the little bumps, before shoving it in his mouth. Danny leans his body over the coffee table to drag the bowl closer and rummage through it for more goodies.

Really looking at him, Bruce could see Jason’s freckles and the few other similarities like his square jaw and lip shape. He hasn’t seen it yet but Bruce bets Danny has the same crooked grin as his son.

He has the woman’s pale complexion and nose shape. His hair was straight like hers instead of Jason’s curls, but Danny took his dark coloring compared to her light brunette.

The boy was an adorable mix of both his son and this woman. He almost felt the test was unnecessary, but he didn’t stop Alfred from replacing the plastic cup and take it back to the kitchen where he knew it would be handed off to Tim.

Thankfully it was a day where there weren’t any meetings for either of them to attend.

Surprisingly, it isn’t Jason that enters the room first, it’s Damian coming home from school. The fourteen year old, almost fifteen, holds a leash in one hand with Titus standing patiently next to him, ready for his after school walk.

“Father, I heard we have guests.”

The teen stops in the doorway and Danny turns with interest until he spots the animal, then his eyes bug with excitement.

“Mommy, doggie,” he whisper shouts.

She just hums in affirmative, looking the new arrival up and down.

Danny grabs a blackberry from the bowl and trots over to Damian. He holds out the piece of fruit.

“This is a blackberry,” he states proudly.

Damian blinks down at the small child. Titus tilts his head, his nose working hard.

“I’m aware.”

“You can have it, if you let me pet your doggie,” he negotiates like he needed to give something in order to receive permission.

Damian looks up to his father for answers.

“Jason will be here soon,” is what he gets instead, his father’s lips twitch.

Damian looks back down in sudden realization when he sees the similarities between the man and this boy. He sighs tiredly.

“Pennyworth. A wet washcloth if you please.”

“Right away, Master Damian.”

“Next time, you only need to ask to pet Titus, you do not need to give me anything in return,” he tells the child.

Danny looks down at the berry sitting in his stained hands.

“So you don’t want it?”

“…Maybe later.”

“Okay!”

Danny skips back to carefully set the berry off the side on the tray, as if to save it for Damian for later like he said. He jogs the short distance back to them.

“Can I pet your doggie now, please?”

Damian takes the washcloth Alfred hands him with a nod and crouches down to get level with the boy.

“We must wipe our hands first. We don’t want anything sticky in his fur,” he explains as he holds out the washcloth for Danny’s hands.

The four year old looks down at the stains to see what he means and then places his hands on the washcloth for Damian to get the juices off.

The teen then calmly explains how to properly approach a dog he does not know by letting Titus smell the back of his hand first and then to always stay calm and confident.

Titus, the gentle giant that he is, had no problems letting the tiny child pat him and run small fingers through his short fur. It was endearing to hear the giggles when Titus used his big nose to sniff at the child’s face and neck. Sitting down, Titus was taller than the child standing up, which would have been scary to some kids, but Danny seemed to love Titus instantly. The little boy easily telling the dog what a good boy he is even with the dog sitting there doing nothing.

“Titus needs his afternoon walk now,” Damian informs.

Titus stands at the word walk, clearly ready to go.

“Oh, okay.” Danny turns to the big dog to reach up and pat his head twice. “Bye-bye, Titus. Have a good walk.”

The two leave and Danny skips back over to hang over the arm of the love seat his mother sits in, typing on her phone.

“Mommy, did you see the doggie? His name is Titus. He’s a good dog.”

“Uh-huh,” she comments without really listening.

“Do you like dogs, Danny?” Bruce asks with a smile.

Danny looks at him like he forgot the man was there, tilts his head as he studies him for a moment. Bruce waits patiently until Danny deems him okay and perks back up with bright eyes.

“Uh-huh! I love dogs! Mommy says we can’t get one ‘cuz our ‘partment is too small and they’re dirty. You’s guys are lucky,” the boy rambles as he wanders around the coffee table to get closer to Bruce and away from his distracted mother.

“How do you feel about cats? Damian has a black and white one around here somewhere.”

Danny shrugs and they continue to have a rather pleasant conversation about different animals and foods and each of their houses. It takes up the amount of time for Jason to walk through the door, seemingly already informed of the situation from Alfred.

Jason was… flabbergasted. Bewildered. Caught unprepared. He was a lot of words. Mostly he was scared.

Did he really have a child? A son? If that was true then he missed so much. He missed all of his firsts. First words, first steps, first laugh, first everything.

Would the boy even like him? What if he saw all his scars and was scared of him? What if he didn’t want anything to do with Jason after not being in his life this whole time?

But the boy might not be his. There’s that. That could be… Jason didn’t like the disappointment that thought brought.

Grace was the first one he noticed. Her ripped jeans and low cut top being out of place among the antique furniture and Persian rug. She scowls at him, putting her phone down.

“Finally decided to show up?”

He bites back a comment. He broke several traffic laws to get here, it wasn’t his fault he was fourty minutes away at the time he got the call.

He glances over at Bruce and instead his eyes zero in on the child standing by the armchair Bruce was sitting in.

Just one look and he knew the boy was his.

He looks to Bruce anyway for confirmation, since he has no doubt he sent off a sample to Tim hiding like the troll he is in the basement. The man nods. Jason sucks in a deep breath and suddenly needs to sit down.

He sinks heavily in the matching armchair next to Bruce’s, separated only by a round end table. Jason can’t stop staring at those big, blue eyes that are filled with such curiosity and innocence he almost breaks down right then. But he can’t. He has to be strong. He can’t just walk away to get a handle on his emotions. He’s a dad now.

“You’re a hard man to find,” Grace folds her arms over her chest.

“I’ve been busy,” he answers lamely.

She humphs and looks away with a shake of her head.

The boy, Danny Alfred said his name was, creeps around Bruce’s legs to get closer, obviously seeing something in Jason enough to investigate. The room is quiet as they wait to see how Danny will react.

Coming to a stop right before his knees, Danny stares up at the large man with lots of scars and muscles from what he can see. He wasn’t scared. There was just something familiar that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He looks… he looks like… and he also feels almost like…

Furrowing his brows in a pout, he knows his Mommy doesn’t like it when he does it, but he still makes his eyes burn with green.

The man gasps and his eyes also swirl into an angry green.

“Daddy?” Danny asks with hope and joy.

Daddy swallows and then nods.

“Yea, buddy, I’m your dad.”

“Daddy!” The boy cheers, jumping in place with a wide smile. “Daddy! Mommy, look! It’s Daddy!”

Danny wastes no time climbing into the man’s lap and wrapping his arms around him as far as they’ll go (not very far) to press his ear to Jason’s chest over his heart. He’s practically vibrating with excitement and Jason makes sure to set a large hand on his back to hold him close.

“I fuckin’ knew it,” Grace hisses, her eyes wide at the display earlier. Both of their eyes had returned to their calmer blue and teal color, but everyone in the room saw it. “I knew he got it from you.”

His eyes narrow in warning, pulling the boy closer to his chest. He sets a hand over Danny’s exposed ear to protect him from the harsh words he’s probably already heard before.

“Do you have any idea how creepy it is to deal with a tantrum when your kid has fucking glowing green eyes?”

“Did you hit him?” Jason growls, the vibrations seeming to settle Danny even more.

“Please, I’m not my mother,” she dismisses with a sneer.

Could have fooled him.

“Everything was fine until he started doing freaky shit. I don’t know how to raise a meta kid, alright?”

“What are you talking about?”

Now he was just confused. What stuff was Danny doing that Grace thought he was a meta?

“Don’t try to pretend you don’t have powers too,” she points viciously.

“I’m not pretending. I don’t have powers. I don’t have the meta gene. What can he do?” He demands while being transparently clear.

She just glares back at him, obviously not believing him. That didn’t exactly matter at the moment.

“What can he do?” He repeats with emphasis.

She puckers her lips like she’s tasted something sour and then lifts her chin.

“Why doesn’t he just show you, huh? Danny- Would you stop babying him? Danny, show him the things you can do.”

After Jason takes the hand off the boy’s head, Danny turns to his mother warily.

“But you don’t like it,” he reminds, like she forgot.

“He wants to see it, so show him,” she waves a hand at Jason like he just asked for something he would regret.

Danny leans back to look up at his dad.

“You won’t get mad? Or scared?”

He sounds so unsure and scared. As if Jason could ever hate him. Jason really wants to punch something. Preferably something with her face on it.

“I promise I won’t.”

Another parent might have something more profound to say to reassure their child, but Jason was just starting out and honestly, it was more than Bruce would ever say.

Danny thinks for a second before wiggling to get down. He looks back once more at his mother who gives him a ‘get on with it’ motion.

The boy fidgets a little before covering his face with two hands like he’s playing hide and seek, then- disappears. Jason jerks at watching his son blink out of sight like a Martian.

“Boo!” Danny pops back into view, exactly where he was standing before with his hands out like any child on Halloween.

Jason blinks and then starts laughing. This was karma. Danny could literally become invisible, something the Bats train to do for years.

“That was good, buddy,” Jason chuckles, ruffling the kid’s hair.

Danny hesitantly smiles back, a bit of hope and pride in those eyes.

“There’s more,” Grace interrupts, seemingly uneasy with how well Jason reacted.

“Yea?” Jason directs to Danny, his focus on his son.

Danny gives a shaky nod, glancing over worriedly at Bruce who is just silently watching. Jason could see the tension in his shoulders but also the intrigue.

The boy places a hand on the coffee table and focuses on his hand. It took a few minutes of concentration before Danny’s hand went through the table like he was just dunking his hand in a pool instead of through a solid object.

He pulls his hand out and they could see it be slightly translucent.

“That one’s harder to do when I want to,” Danny mumbles.

“You mean it mostly happens on accident?”

Danny nods.

“I drop a lot. And get stuck sometimes.”

Yea, Jason can see how that could be a problem. He can’t imagine how terrified Danny was the first time a body part got stuck in an immovable object. He really wishes he could have been there for him in his panic.

“The last thing is hard too. But I’ve been practicing. Watch!”

Danny jumps once, twice, and on the third time he lingers in the air, coming down slowly like someone in water or astronauts on the moon. Danny pushes off the ground a fourth time, this time floating steadily higher like gravity meant nothing to him.

Despite the kid obviously have done this before and enjoying it with his giggles, Jason stands under him in case he falls. And falls he does. Suddenly, like the strings being cut and gravity taking hold of him again, Danny plummets into Jason waiting arms. The boy grunts on impact and then smiled sheepishly up at his dad.

“Sorry, Daddy. I promise I’m doing better.”

“That’s okay, squirt. I’m glad I was here to catch you.”

Jason plops back into the chair with his child in his lap.

“Anything else up that sleeve of yours?” He teases but is equally as serious.

Danny shakes his head enough to make his hair fluff. Jason looks to Grace for confirmation and sees she is still recovering from Danny’s fall out of the air. How many times has she had to catch him? Or wasn’t able to catch him?

She clears her throat.

“I don’t know if it’s part of it, but he never gets sick. Never even had a cough.”

Children always get sick, that’s how they build immune systems. For Danny to have never gotten even a cold, Jason doesn’t know if it’s worrying or a good thing.

“Any allergies?” Is the first thing on his mind, thinking of what Alfred will need to know.

She shakes her head with a negative hum.

“In one of the bags is a folder with all of his documents. Birth certificate, immunizations, doctor visits. I also made a list of some favorite things and things he hates. It has foods on there too.”

That was… honestly more than he was expecting from her. But it also cements the fact that she intended to drop him off with him and then never see them again. She raised him for four years and she doesn’t even want visitation? Does she not understand there are legal documents she needs to sign to transfer custody properly?

“There are some things you need to sign, but it will take some time to get it sorted,” Bruce chimes in all business.

Long nails swipe through the air like signing her rights away was trivial.

“My phone number and address are on one of the documents. Just tell me when and where.”

She stands to leave and Jason can feel Danny tense up.

“Are we leaving?” He asks worriedly, climbing down from his seat on his dad’s lap. He didn’t want to go.

“You’re staying here. With your dad,” Grace says shortly, not once looking at the boy.

“Are you going home to get the rest of our stuff?”

“No. I’m going home. You’re staying here. End of story.”

Danny visibly thinks on that for a second then scampers after his mother as she leaves the room.

“Is it like Robbie where his mom lives in one ‘partment and his dad lives in a different one?”

Grace sighs and runs a hand through her hair. She’s clearly flustered and is showing it as irritation, but Jason can’t help but trail behind in case she says something that she shouldn’t.

“No, Danny, it’s not like Robbie. I- I am leaving you here and I’m not coming back, okay?”

Jason takes a step forward to draw her attention and send her a look that says ‘choose your words carefully, this is a conversation he will remember for a long time’.

“But- but why? Is it ‘cuz of my things? I’m sorry I scared you, Mommy. I didn’t mean to. I won’t do them again, promise.”

Jason grits his teeth at how desperate his son sounds, trying to keep his mother with him. Even making a promise he can’t keep.

Grace finally looks at her baby. Sees the turmoil and tears in his baby blue eyes. She gets down on her knees to get level and places her hands on his tiny shoulders.

“You will do them again and that’s not a bad thing. Your things are part of you. That’s okay. You’re not in any trouble. I just- I’m in over my head here, Danny. I can’t take care of you the way you should be taken care of, okay? But your dad can, I hope. So I’m leaving you here. With him.”

Danny’s lip wobbles and she has to restrain herself from not hugging him like she always does when he’s upset.

“Then- then you’ll visit, right? Like Chase’s grandma visits him?”

Why is this so hard?

“I don’t think so, baby. I don’t think you’re gonna see me again. I’m sorry.”

Danny is silent for a while. He wipes his eyes and sniffs.

“Are you goin’ ‘way like Jamal’s dad?”

The ten year old in the same building as them lost his dad in a wrong place wrong time type situation. Jamal had told Danny his dad went away forever so he couldn’t see him again. Grace had told him that when people go away forever, they get put among the stars he loves so much to be remembered.

Grace wears such a pained expression Jason half thought she was about to burst into tears.

“Kinda,” she nods. “So give me a big hug, okay?”

Danny was in her arms before she finished speaking. Jason didn’t exactly know why she wanted to stop all contact, but he had a theory that if Danny really was a meta (and with his powers he was leaning toward believing it) then Grace would want to distance herself as much as possible to protect them both. He met her in Crime Alley, he knew they didn’t live in a good spot. If any one of those crooks saw Danny use any of his powers, they could steal him easily from his single mother. She didn’t want to give those kind of people leverage to get Danny and sell him off. She wasn’t trying to be cruel, she was just trying to do what was best for her kid, even if that meant cutting her out of his life.

He had a strange new respect for her he didn’t want to acknowledge.

Grace takes a heavy breath and pulls away showing Danny’s tear stained cheeks. She wipes them like it would do anything.

“I gotta go now, Danny.”

“No,” he cries and Jason’s heart breaks a little more.

“We gotta say goodbye now. Please.”

Grace is just barely hanging on. Jason knows as soon as she walks out that door she’ll break down.

“I don’t want to. Don’t want you to leave,” Danny whines, trying to keep a strong grip on his mother.

She holds his hands in hers and gives him a serious look.

“You’re going to be fine. You’re gonna be just fine with your dad.” She leans in and whispers, “You’re not alone, Danny. You are never alone. Just look up. Look at the stars, baby, and you’ll be okay.”

Danny pouts, but thinks about those words.

“I like the stars,” he mumbles.

She smiles, probably the first one in a while.

“I know you do.”

She kisses his forehead one last time and stands. Danny whines. She steps away.

“Bye-bye, Danny. I- I love you.”

“Mommy,” he cries, tears and snot coming full force now.

Jason can’t take anymore and picks up his son to hold on his hip.

“It’s okay, buddy. I got you,” he assures. He turns to Grace who is having the internal battle of her life in the foyer. “I got him.”

It’s an assurance to her too, that he will take care of Danny, that he would be there for him. It was a promise.

Grace sees it for what it is and leaves out the front door without another word.

Danny screams and cries and struggles, but Jason holds on tight, scared he’ll fall or use his powers to get away and disappear. The man walks back to the drawing room so his son wasn’t staring at the door longingly.

As soon as Jason sits down, Danny struggles harder since they stopped moving. So Jason stands again, adjusting the boy in his arms and starts pacing a path around the room.

Bruce has already disappeared, not knowing what to do with a heartbroken child crying his eyes out. Alfred has cleared away the tray of snacks, leaving two waters on the table, one in a small, plastic cup. Jason spies Damian poke his head in for a second to see what the matter was, and upon seeing no immediate threat went off wherever. Other than that, father and son were alone to figure themselves out.

Danny was going through a lot for a toddler and Jason didn’t exactly know how to handle what happened either. He tried his best with speaking reassurances into the boy’s hair, but he didn’t know if Danny even heard him over his own crying.

It was a rough first meeting to be frank, but after a while (what felt like ages) Danny cried himself to sleep and Jason felt it safe to finally sprawl out on the loveseat with the boy laying on his chest. Compared to a grueling patrol, that was definitely worse. He never wanted to have to go through that again, but knew as a dad it was part of the job description.

[okasuka]

Fake Dating – Damian Wayne x Reader

Summary: You’ve practically been living at Wayne Manor, acting as Damian’s secondary Oracle and part-time medic when Alfred isn’t available. After a mission, you’re patching up a flustered Damian when he suddenly tells you he needs you to fake date him at school—because some girl won’t leave him alone.

The Batcave was quiet, save for the occasional dripping of water and the steady rhythm of your movements as you patched up Damian’s arm. He was perched on the med bay cot, scowling at the gauze in your hands like it had personally offended him.

“You’re lucky this isn’t deep,” you muttered, pressing the bandage against his bicep. “A little higher, and you’d have needed stitches.”

“Tt. I would have handled it.”

“Uh-huh,” you deadpanned, securing the bandage before reaching for the antiseptic. “Hold still.”

Damian shifted slightly, his shoulders rigid as you dabbed at the shallow cut near his collarbone. You were close—closer than usual—and you could see the way his jaw tensed. He wasn’t making eye contact, which was strange. Damian was always direct, always unwavering.

“You okay?” you asked, raising a brow.

His expression flickered, something uncertain passing over his face before he abruptly muttered, “I need you to do something for me.”

You blinked. “Yeah, sure. What is it?”

There was a pause. Damian exhaled through his nose, as if bracing himself.

“I need you to pretend to be my significant other.”

Your brain short-circuited.

“You—what?”

His ears were pink. Actually pink. Damian avoided your gaze, eyes fixated on some invisible point in the distance.

“There is a girl at school,” he said stiffly, as if it physically pained him to say it. “She refuses to leave me alone despite my clear disinterest. I have concluded that the most effective way to rid myself of her is to make her believe I am already involved in a relationship.”

You stared at him. Then blinked. Then stared some more.

“Damian.” You placed a hand on his uninjured shoulder. “You could just tell her ‘no.’ Like, verbally. With words.”

“I have.” His scowl deepened. “She does not seem to comprehend the meaning of rejection.”

“So you want me to be your fake girlfriend?”

He looked at you then, expression composed but the tips of his ears still betraying him. “Yes. Just until she ceases her pursuit.”

Your lips twitched. “And you thought asking me while I was literally sewing you back together was a good time?”

“You are a captive audience,” he said, as if that explained everything.

You snorted, shaking your head. “Alright, fine. I’ll do it. But if I have to fake date you, we’re doing it right.”

His brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”

“It means hand-holding, flirting, maybe even a pet name.” You grinned at the immediate horror on his face. “Oh, relax. It’s called commitment to the bit, Damian.”

“Tt. This was a mistake,” he muttered, but he didn’t take it back.

You tied off the bandage, patting his arm with a smirk. “Too late. You just got yourself a girlfriend.”

Damian sighed. This was going to be unbearable.

Fake Dating – Damian Wayne x Reader

(Part Two)

The second you stepped into Gotham Academy the next morning, you knew this was going to be fun.

Damian walked beside you, his usual composed self—shoulders squared, uniform immaculate, that constant look of disinterest plastered across his face. The only difference today? You were his fake girlfriend. And, judging by the way some students were already glancing in your direction, the news was spreading fast.

“Alright, beloved,” you teased, nudging his arm as you walked through the front gates. “How are we playing this?”

Damian visibly flinched at the pet name. “Do not call me that.”

You grinned. “What? It’s a classic. Do you prefer babe? Sweetheart? Dami-bear?”

He shot you a look so sharp it could cut through steel. “Tt. You are enjoying this too much.”

“You knew what you were getting into,” you said lightly, looping your arm through his, just to mess with him.

His whole body went rigid.

“You have to act natural,” you reminded him, biting back a laugh. “If you act like I just stabbed you in the ribs every time I touch you, no one’s gonna believe we’re dating.”

Damian exhaled sharply through his nose, but he didn’t pull away. Progress.

You continued walking, scanning the halls for any sign of her—the girl who was apparently harassing Damian to the point where fake dating was his only option. It didn’t take long to find her.

Near his locker stood a girl with perfectly curled hair and an expensive-looking manicure, whispering with her friends while occasionally sneaking glances your way. The moment she made eye contact with Damian, her face lit up.

You had never seen Damian look more unamused.

“Here we go,” you murmured, tightening your grip on his arm. “Ready, love?”

“If you do not cease with the pet names—”

“Damian!” the girl interrupted, striding up to him with a dazzling smile. She completely ignored your existence. “Good morning! I was just thinking—”

And that’s when you really committed to the bit.

Before she could finish whatever sentence was about to ruin Damian’s day, you turned toward him, placed a hand on his chest, and, in the sweetest, most obnoxiously affectionate voice you could muster, said:

“Baby, you didn’t tell me you were this popular!”

Damian tensed under your touch, but—bless him—he didn’t pull away. Instead, he placed a hand on your waist (awkwardly, stiffly, like he had never touched a human before), and gave the girl a blank look.

“I am spoken for,” he said simply.

The girl’s expression faltered. She glanced between the two of you, disbelief evident in her eyes. “Wait, you’re dating him?”

You beamed. “Mhm! Isn’t he just the cutest?”

Damian closed his eyes, probably regretting every life decision that led to this moment.

The girl frowned. “But you’re always just… around. Like, you’re not even—”

“Around?” you interrupted with a laugh. “Oh, sweetheart, I practically live at Wayne Manor. Didn’t you know?”

The girl’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.

Damian, to his credit, took the opportunity to put an end to the conversation. “If you are finished, we have matters to attend to.”

And with that, he steered you away, leaving the girl gaping after you.

The second you were out of earshot, you burst into laughter. “I am spoken for?” you mimicked, grinning up at him. “Dami, you sound like a medieval prince rejecting a marriage proposal.”

Damian scowled. “It was effective, was it not?”

“Extremely,” you admitted. “But man, you are so bad at this.”

He huffed. “Tt. This was a mistake.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you teased, nudging him again. “But hey, boyfriend, you’re stuck with me now.”

Damian sighed, long and suffering. “I am going to regret this, aren’t I?”

You just smirked.

“More than you know.”

Fake Dating – Damian Wayne x Reader

(Part Three)

You and Damian barely made it to his locker before a group of guys—some of Damian’s more tolerable classmates—descended on you like a pack of hyenas.

“Okaaaay, hold up.” Colin Wilkes, one of the few people Damian actually acknowledged at school, squinted between the two of you. “Did I hear that right? You two are dating?”

You leaned against the lockers, smiling sweetly. “Yup.”

“Like… real dating?” added Maps Mizoguchi’s older brother, Kyle, who was watching the interaction like it was a live episode of Gotham’s trashiest reality show.

Damian crossed his arms. “Tt. Would I lie?”

Colin raised a brow. “You tell me, dude.”

“Wait, wait, wait—since when?” another guy, Elliot, chimed in. “You two have been best friends forever, and you expect us to believe you’re suddenly a thing?”

You shrugged. “It just happened. Right, babe?”

Damian twitched at the pet name but nodded. “Yes. It was… inevitable.”

Kyle snorted. “What, like fate?”

“Precisely.”

Colin squinted. “So you’re telling me the Damian Wayne—the same guy who once told a girl in math class that ‘romantic advances are an evolutionary weakness’—is dating?”

Damian looked unimpressed. “That statement remains true.”

“Okay, but why?” Elliot pressed. “Like, no offense, dude, but you don’t exactly scream ‘boyfriend material.’ How did this happen?”

You grinned. “What can I say? I like a challenge.”

Colin blinked. “Are you into emotionally constipated guys?”

“I am standing right here,” Damian deadpanned.

Kyle ignored him. “Okay, so since you two are so in love, I gotta ask…” He smirked. “How’d you confess?”

You opened your mouth—

“It was mutual,” Damian cut in before you could spin something ridiculous. “We reached the conclusion that our relationship had evolved beyond friendship and decided to act accordingly.”

The group stared.

“You decided to date?” Elliot repeated.

“Yes.”

“Like it was a business transaction?”

Damian frowned. “Would you rather I describe it as a primal urge?”

Colin choked on his water.

Kyle cackled. “Bro, you suck at this.”

Damian looked seconds away from murder. “Tt. This is absurd.”

Elliot ignored him. “Y/N, what was your perspective?”

“Oh, it was totally romantic,” you said dramatically, sighing. “One night, while I was patching him up, he just looked at me with those big green eyes and said, ‘Beloved, my heart belongs to you.’”

Damian visibly flinched. “I did not say that.”

“Shhh, let me paint the scene.” You leaned into his space, smirking as he stiffened. “He cupped my face, stared deep into my soul, and whispered—”

“Enough,” Damian snapped, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away from the group before you could say something even worse.

Behind you, the guys burst into laughter.

“Love you too, sweetheart!” you called over your shoulder, just to mess with him.

Damian muttered something in Arabic under his breath, face burning.

You grinned. This was gonna be fun.

Fake Dating – Damian Wayne x Reader

(Part Four)

Damian did not appreciate how much fun you were having with this.

It had been a grand total of four hours since the ruse started, and you had already called him babe, sweetheart, love, and—Gotham forgive him—Dami-bear. His reputation was in shambles.

And worst of all? It wasn’t working.

The girl—Annabelle, or She Who Must Be Vanquished, as Damian had mentally renamed her—was still trying to get his attention. She was persistent, he’d give her that. But you? You were determined.

Which is how he found himself in his current predicament: pressed against the lockers with you standing far too close, eyes sparkling with mischief as Annabelle watched from a few feet away.

“She’s still looking,” you whispered, resting a hand on his chest.

Damian scowled. “This is ridiculous. Why will she not simply accept reality?”

“Because she thinks you’re just saying we’re together to get rid of her.” You tapped a finger against your chin, pretending to think. “I think we need to be a little more… convincing.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “No.”

You grinned. “Yes.”

And before he could stop you, you grabbed the front of his blazer and pulled him into a kiss.

Damian short-circuited.

It was quick, just a soft press of lips, but he was not prepared. His brain flatlined, his entire body tensed, and for a solid three seconds, he forgot how to function. His hands hovered awkwardly by his sides, and oh, Gotham, why was his heart racing?

You pulled back with a smirk, watching his dazed expression like it was the best thing you’d ever seen. “You okay there, boyfriend?”

Damian’s face was on fire.

“Tt. You are insufferable,” he muttered, averting his gaze in a pathetic attempt to regain his dignity.

But it didn’t matter. Because when he snuck a glance toward Annabelle—who was now standing slack-jawed in utter defeat—he knew you had won.

She scoffed, flipping her hair before stalking off, grumbling something about “psycho couples” under her breath.

You grinned. “Mission accomplished.”

Damian exhaled slowly, willing his heartbeat to calm down already. “I despise you.”

“You kissed me back,” you pointed out.

“I did not!”

“You totally did.”

Damian scowled. “Tt. Let us leave before I am forced to endure more of your foolishness.”

You just smiled, intertwining your fingers with his as you walked down the hall.

And Damian, despite himself, didn’t let go.

Fake Dating – Damian Wayne x Reader

(Part Five)

A few days had passed since The Kiss, and things were… weird.

At school, Damian was as composed as ever—standing by your side, playing the role of the devoted boyfriend when necessary. But the second you left campus, something shifted.

He became distant, avoiding you at the Manor, cutting conversations short, barely even looking at you when you spoke. It was like he had slammed a wall between you overnight, and the worst part? You had no idea why.

It wasn’t until after patrol one night that you finally snapped.

You were in the Batcave, patching up a shallow cut on Damian’s hand while he sat rigidly on the med bay cot, eyes locked on the floor. The silence between you was thick, heavy with words unsaid, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Alright,” you said, pressing the gauze against his knuckles a little too forcefully. “What’s your deal?”

Damian stiffened. “Tt. I do not know what you mean.”

You scoffed. “Really? You’ve been acting weird since Monday, Damian. Distant. Cold. And I know it’s not just ‘brooding’ because I know you.” You softened slightly, glancing up at him. “Did I do something wrong?”

His jaw clenched. “No.”

“Then talk to me,” you urged, placing a hand over his. “Whatever it is, you can—”

“Stop.”

His voice was sharp, cutting through the cave like a blade. You flinched.

Damian exhaled harshly, pulling his hand from your grasp like your touch burned him. “I do not need your concern, nor your pity,” he bit out. “This arrangement was a means to an end. Nothing more.”

You stared at him.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The words settled between you, cold and cruel, and for the first time in a long time, you felt something crack inside you.

“Right,” you said quietly, swallowing the lump in your throat.

You stepped back, your hands curling into fists as you fought to keep your expression blank. “Got it.”

Then, before he could say another word, you turned on your heel and walked out of the Batcave, heading straight for your room.

Damian sat there, unmoving, the weight of his own words crashing down on him like a collapsing building.

And for the first time since this whole thing started, he wished he could take something back.

Fake Dating – Damian Wayne x Reader

(Part Six)

The next morning, Damian was heading toward the car, adjusting his school bag, when Alfred stopped him with a simple, “Miss Y/N will not be attending with you today, Master Damian.”

Damian paused mid-step, his brows furrowing. “What?”

Alfred, ever composed, merely handed him his lunch. “She is unwell.”

Something in Damian’s chest tightened.

“Unwell?” he echoed, gripping the strap of his bag.

Alfred gave him a pointed look. “Unwell,” he repeated. “As in, she has taken the day off to rest. Now, if you do not wish to be late, I suggest you get in the car.”

Damian hesitated, his fingers twitching, but nodded stiffly and left for school.

But he couldn’t focus.

All day, his mind drifted back to you—wondering if you were actually sick or if you had just wanted to avoid him. And if it was the latter…

He deserved it.

The weight of his own words from last night sat heavy on his chest. He had hurt you, pushed you away, all because he was too much of a coward to deal with his own feelings.

He had been distant because—Gotham help him—he wished it was real.

He wanted you to call him ridiculous pet names. He wanted to hold your hand like it was second nature. And that kiss? He hadn’t meant to kiss you back—but he had. Because deep down, he wanted nothing more than for you to be his.

And instead of confronting that, he had lashed out.

The second the final bell rang, he was out the door, barely waiting for the car to stop before heading straight to your room.

He knocked once.

No answer.

He knocked again.

Still nothing.

Sighing, he took a breath and opened the door.

You were curled up on your bed, staring at the ceiling, bundled under a blanket. You didn’t even bother looking at him. “Go away, Damian.”

He swallowed. “No.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Of course.”

Damian stepped further into the room, his usual confidence replaced by something… uncertain.

“I…” He hesitated, fists clenching at his sides. “I was an ass.”

You snorted. “No kidding.”

He exhaled sharply. “Tt. I am trying to apologize, Y/N.”

Silence.

You finally turned to look at him, eyes tired. “Why, though?”

He tensed. “Because I regret it.”

You sat up slightly, arms wrapping around yourself. “You regret it?”

He shut his eyes for a moment, then met your gaze.

“No. Not it. I regret… lying.” He clenched his jaw, his voice quieter now. “I was distant because… I wish it were real.”

You blinked, breath hitching. “What?”

“I want it to be real,” he admitted, his hands gripping the fabric of his blazer. “I want you.”

A beat of silence.

Then, before he could say anything else, you were in front of him, eyes wet with unshed tears as you grabbed his face and kissed him.

This time, he kissed back immediately. No hesitation.

His hands came up to cup your cheeks, warm and sure, and when you finally pulled away, breathless, you were smiling through your tears.

“Took you long enough,” you whispered.

He huffed out a small laugh, pressing his forehead to yours. “Shut up.”

You grinned. “Make me.”

So he kissed you again.

Fake Dating – Damian Wayne x Reader

(Final Part)

The next morning, when Damian arrived at school with you by his side, something was different.

For one, he looked happy.

Not his usual smug, I’m-better-than-you smirk, but a genuine, real smile—the kind that softened his sharp edges, made his eyes brighter. And more importantly? He was being blatantly affectionate.

Which, for Damian Wayne, was unheard of.

You had barely stepped into the building before he casually pulled you against his side, an arm draped around your waist like it belonged there. And if that wasn’t enough to make people gawk, the way he looked at you—soft, like you had personally placed the stars in the sky—was definitely causing a scene.

“Okay, what the hell,” Colin muttered as you both approached the lockers, watching as Damian adjusted your bag strap for you like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Since when are you all… clingy?”

Damian merely raised a brow, unimpressed. “Since when is it your concern, Wilkes?”

Colin pointed aggressively. “See?! That! You’re, like, content. That is not normal.”

Kyle Mizoguchi strolled up beside him, nodding. “Yeah, you smiled earlier. A real one. I almost called the paramedics.”

Elliot scoffed. “I knew the fake-dating thing was sus. You guys totally liked each other this whole time.”

You grinned, leaning against Damian’s shoulder. “Guilty.”

Colin stared between you. “Wait. So this is, like, real now?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Clearly.”

“Okay, but how?” Kyle pressed, crossing his arms. “Because last time I checked, Damian sucked at emotions.”

“He still does,” you teased, nudging him playfully. “But he’s learning.”

Damian huffed, but his arm around you tightened slightly. “Tt. I despise all of you.”

“Sure you do, lover boy.”

Before Damian could threaten bodily harm, Annabelle—the same girl who had been pestering him for weeks—walked past, glancing at you both.

She paused for a moment, observing the way Damian was practically wrapped around you, before rolling her eyes and walking away without a word.

You smirked. “Mission successfully accomplished.”

Damian hummed, watching her disappear down the hall before turning to you, eyes warm. “Indeed.”

Then, in front of everyone, he kissed your forehead.

Audible gasps.

Elliot looked like he was about to faint.

Colin smacked Kyle’s arm. “Dude.”

Kyle shook his head, defeated. “I have to text Maps.”

Damian ignored them, pressing his lips briefly to your temple before pulling you closer, satisfied.

You just laughed, heart full.

And as the school buzzed with whispers about Damian Wayne and his girlfriend, you simply held onto him, knowing that—for once—none of it was an act.

[oneofreid]

Close for Comfort

Summary: A new hot tub is installed at your apartment complex. You find yourself sneaking a dip at the same time as a particular BAU agent. But how much room can steaming water truly hold for two?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Warnings: (18+ Content) Typical smut except heavier? and Spencer being a perv/slightly unhinged while being horny lol. Slight degrading. Descriptions of fingering, handjob, and unprotected p in v sex (wrap it before ya tap it). Public sex like damn get a room.

A/N: lord…….first ever fic. i think i might’ve blacked out with this. read my other fics here

Glistening sweat formed a thin line above your hairline, a few drops slowly running down the nape of your neck.

The heaving of your chest as you wiped the remaining sweat off your face. Still in need of a dip in the newly installed hot tub that was just emplaced at your apartment complex. Your body bruised and aching from how intense the workout you had just finished was.

A shade of purple and blue spots aligned various spots on your body. Some held a greener tint due to the start of healing. You hated the look, but nonetheless, you were one of the strongest agents on the team. Therefore, you got beat up pretty badly trying to take down different unsubs at times.

Slipping on a your favorite bikini, the fabric was snug accentuating your curves. A towel in one hand while another held a water. Closing the door to your room, making way towards the other side of the apartments. It was late at night, nearly one o’clock. You knew everyone else was bound to be asleep or at the very most, doing their own thing.

At least that’s what you hoped.

Sliding the back gate shut before passing the in-ground pool that had also been splurged on by your landlord. The cool marble of the backyard patio on your feet with every step. Only to halt at the sight of someone else in the hudson bay spa.

His chocolate brown eyes turning at the sound of your footsteps, his attention now all on you. Arms rested on the tub’s edge like an eagle spreading its wings to fly. The muscles in his biceps visible, a few veins poking out as well. Your eyes dropped down to his chest, strong pecks on full display. The dips in his broad shoulders giving away the idea that although he was lean, he was fit and worked out quite frequently.

“I thought I was the only one awake during this hour,” The sound of his velvety-voice snapped you from drinking him in. His eyes still completely on you.

Your cheeks heated up, a faint blush painting them red with embarrassment. Mentally kicking yourself for gawking at the man in front of you, not only was he your undeniably hot next-door neighbor, but your nerdy and charming co-worker at the BAU as well.

Spencer continued, “you can join me, if you want. Hot tubs like this one are made for two people. And they actually have a lot of health benefits like reducing stress, improving quality of sleep, and relieving pain….which can help with healing your bruises quickly.” The water lightly splashing around him as he talked with his hands, again over sharing.

You nodded, smiling lightly at him. Placing your towel and water bottle down before nearing towards the tub. Carefully sinking down into the water, the heat instantly burning your skin. Sighing in content. You leaned against the back wall. The scorching temperature numbing the ache in your exhausted limbs.

Opening your eyes to make instant eye contact with the man in front of you. A smirk pulled his lip, relaxing further back into the tub with a puff in the chest. Pushing his pecks further out, the defined lines of his abs peaking beneath the water.

“You still haven’t spoke a word to me. Are you enjoying yourself honey?,” He spoke after a moment of silence between you two. Nearly choking at the weak use of a pet name he used for you.

Eyes slowly dropping to admire your chest, the cups of your top pushing them slightly hire. A sight that secretly always drove Spencer nearly to the edge.

Clearing your throat at the sight of his chest slowly rising up and down with a trickle of sweat running down, “Yes, the water actually feels very nice.”

“It feels very nice,” his voice slightly mocking yours, “I like the heat…against my thighs,” His voice suggestive, dripping in lust.

Your breathe hitched at his flirty remark. Clenching your thighs together in need, forcing yourself not to drop your eyes any further. Noticing his damp curls sticking to his forehead with droplets of sweat forming. Every bone in your body fighting to run your fingers through his dark colored hair.

You guys were always close, dare to be nothing more than best friends at and outside of work — and unfortunately in this case, neighbors at the same apartment complex. Yet, the sexual tension that had been building between you two these past few weeks was inevitable. It started with lingering glances during briefings, he would look at you like he wanted to devour every inch of you. You thought you were overreacting at first until Penelope…and Derek had pointed it out. Noting that the chemistry the two of you had shared was gradually getting deeper. Spencer always yearning to be close to you, sneaking touches here and there. Whether it be a light hand on your thigh as you glanced over crime scene photos, or the way his hand would sometimes slowly travel down the curve of your back. You knew there was something there, you just weren’t sure….who would make a move first.

A deep cough snapped you out of your filthy thoughts, his thick brow quirking at you. Posing a question of ‘what are you thinking?’ yet he remained silent.

Both of you scrutinizing each other, drinking in each other’s appearance. Atmosphere around you growing thick and heavy, yet all you could do was blame it on the heat. His eyes never leaving yours as you sunk further into the water. The temperature engulfing you like a warm blanket on a cold winters night.

Shutting your eyes closed, in hopes that you’d brush away the burning heat that traveled its way to your core. Along with the dirty images that flooded your mind.

The slosh of water snapping them open, Spencer’s body now right next to yours. Stiffening at his sudden move, you turned to look at him. A smirk still plastered on his face.

“Can I help you?” You asked, a bit more blunt than you intended to.

“There’s too much clothing on,” Spencer drawled.

“Excuse me?” Your eyes widened at his reply, caught off guard by the sudden surge of confidence from the one-and-only, Spencer Reid. The man who was known

“You have too much clothing on.” His eyes slipping from your face to stare at your breasts, covered in thin fabric.

“I don’t understand how exactly that’s a problem here.”

“Oh, honey…” he breathed, twirling a piece of your hair with his finger, “I see the way that you look at me. You crave intimacy but most of all, to be touched by me.”

The air knocked from your lungs at his bold statement, your chest tightened as he exposed you. Confused on how he of all people would know about your deepest desire. To be completely and utterly fucked at the hands of Spencer Reid.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you choked.

His intense gaze burning into your side, mentally forcing yourself to look anywhere but him. You needed to get out. Yet, your legs stayed mounted to the charcoal tub.

Intoxicated by his smell, a hint of cologne and cypress with every inhale you took. A staggering breathe from how close you were to the inviting man beside you.

Lips lowered to the shell of your ear. “Oh. I think you do, my love, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” The little pet name he picked out for you easily rolling off his tongue.

Closing your thighs shut, you attempted to scoot away from him. Desperate to get out before he could tantalize you any further. Hearing the snap of his finger before the material of your top disappeared along with the bottoms.

Yelping in shock, you quickly turned around. The devious look of him amused at your embarrassment.

“Relax, my sweet girl, I prefer you this way. Naked and on display, for my pure enjoyment,” he teased. Eyeing your bare breasts, nipples hardening as a slight breeze blew by.

Bubbles arose blasting at the quick speed that projected into the water. Just your luck, the jets had turned on.

Giving you slight coverage in attempt to cover your bottom half. The fast pressure massaging your muscles as you still remained in shock over what had just occurred.

You felt completely exposed to the man in front of you who held no shame.

A few bubbles had splashed up, dripping down his chin while he waited for your next move. His eyes hunting his prey like a meal in need of devouring.

The look he sent you sending electric waves to your core. A burning sensation stirred inside of you, a temperature that even the water inside of the tub could not satisfy you. The familiar ache of yearning to be touched and pleasured by a man growing by the second.

Your next words even surprising you, a surge of confidence leaving as you spoke. “Well, come fuck me then.”

Closing the distance between you two, moving each leg to straddle his lap. His fingers sliding down to grasp the side of your hips. Grinding your cunt to ease any friction against his swim trunks. A moan leaving your lips at the rough material and growth of his erection from underneath you.

Palming his clothes length, a strangled moan could be heard against your ear. Earning a smirk from you, satisfied with the reaction he gave you. He was withering under you and you both knew it.

Slowly lifting yourself up off of him, “I’m afraid that you have too much clothing on,” you whispered. Reversing the tables and mocking him this time.

Moving a hand down to tug the waistband of his swim trunks down, setting his aching cock completely free. Taking it in your hand before slowly working in a pumping motion, up and down, gripping slightly harder every time you made it to the top. Repeating the movement hastily. Gliding a thumb over his tip, beads of his pre-cum mixed with the body of water that held you two.

The water becoming a lubricant of its own, slipping through your nimble fingers with ease. Taking note of how easily your soft touch affected him. His breathe staggering with every jerk of your hand.

Spencer’s hand tugged your own. Releasing the hold you had on his cock, it was his turn. He needed to touch you.

“Allow me,” he murmured.

His lips attaching themselves to the side of your neck, hungrily sucking the sweet spot below your ear. A mixture of sweat and salt water. Moaning in approval at the magic of his tongue.

Grazing your folds, he delicately ran his fingers through them. Even with the water that submerged you two, he could feel how slick and wet you were for him. Just from his presence alone. Teasing you with one last draw of his finger before slowly dipping one inside of you, your walls welcomed his touch. Adding another digit, pumping it and out, a moan leaving you every time in a serene of pleasure.

Digit after digit. He pumped four fingers inside of you.

Moaning with every pump of his delicate fingers, getting lost in not only his touch but the feel of his lips on your skin. The slick of his fingers sliding in and out of you. Sucking the flesh of your neck to mark up your breasts with delicate kisses.

Pulling his fingers out swiftly, you whined at the absence. Suddenly feeling empty. Chuckling at your reaction, he knew how downright bad you were for him in that moment.

He had you right where he wanted you.

“Such a needy little one, you are,” Spencer crooned at you.

The bubbles stilled around your naked bodies. Your bikini and his swim trunks long forgotten, completely chucked to the side. Both of you drenched in a mix of salt water and sweat.

“Spencer….,” you cried. Your arousal still building up inside of you, the tip of the iceberg. Yet, that wasn’t the tip that you needed.

“I need you….I need you, Spencer,” you began to beg.

Feeling utterly humiliated as you pleaded for out of all people, your fucking co-worker to fuck you. Your body craved to be full of him. To feel his cock fill you up till he fully stretched you to your limit.

Reid snickered, a sense of dominance that he never knew he had coming over him, “Look at you. Begging for my cock. Is that what you want?,” his hand grazing your jaw before gripping it slightly so you could look at him, “For me to fuck you? Fill you with every inch of me until I have you screaming, pleading so that everyone knows who you belong to.”

His mocking words fired something inside of you, arousal practically dripping as it soaked your folds. Nodding eagerly, you began to grind your hips ferociously against him. A spill of ‘yes’s’ and ‘fuck me please’ coming from you.

Pulling you up from the hips, Spencer practically drooled at the sight of the water that dripped from your breasts. His mind spiraling, completely filled with the ideas and images of him fucking you until you couldn’t walk, or even better speak.

Your focus shifted from leaving kisses on the trail of his neck to centering his cock at your entrance. Gently running his shaft along your soaked folds, earning a moan from the both of you, before slowly sinking down. His girth stretching your walls leaving you to fully adjust, taking every inch of him.

A shaky breathe left your lips, never feeling this full before. “Are you okay?,” Spencer asked sincerely. Grabbing your chin, searching for any doubt in your eyes.

He knew he was above average so he gave you a moment to take him all in. You bit your lip, nodding at him.

“I’ll be fine,” you whispered. Slipping a hand behind the nape of his neck, you steadied yourself for support. Running your fingers to through the soft, damp texture of his curls.

Beginning to bounce up and down, the water sloshed around you. Your eyes never leaving his in what is now the most intimate moment you have ever had with Spencer Reid.

“Fuuuuckk…Spence, you’re so big,” you panted.

Your praises fueling his ego, boosting him with pride.

Spencer thrusted beneath you aiding you both to reach your climax. The tip of his cock piercing your cervix with every bounce from you and thrust the he made.

His grunts and moans filling your ears, a mix of your own joining with him. If nobody could hear you before, they definitely could now. Both of you too lost in the pleasure of ravishing each other to care about all your neighbors and people down the street who could hear.

Up and down, you continued to bounce on top of him. You were never a huge fan of riding but suddenly with him, it was the best thing in the world. Your breasts at his eye level while he looked up at you like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and you are.

His hand fell down to circle your clit. Adding another source of stimulation to your nearing climax.

“Come on, sweet girl….don’t be shy. Let me hear how good I’m making you feel, let’s put on a whole show,” he coaxed in your ear.

Quickly pulling out his dick before turning you to face the wall. You clamped a hand over your mouth, muffling the scream that had just erupted from you. The sudden change in position hitting a different angle, a different spot than before. Your chest was flushed up against the wall of the hot tub as Spencer pounded into you from behind. His attempts at getting you to be more vocal succeeding as your pleasure was heard for the whole world to witness.

Moan after moan, shout after shout, the spews of you telling him to go harder and how big his dick was, you cried after each thrust. Each one hitting harder than the last. Tears spilled out of your eyes at the brutal force that Spencer used to help you reach your climax.

Fuck, he heard you tell the girls how you liked it rough.

“You feel so good, taking all of me like this. The good girl that you are,” Spencer praised. Wrapping a fist full of your hair around his wrist. Tugging it ever so slightly which earned another moan from you in return.

Water splashed with every hurried rock of his hips against the flesh of your skin. His heavy balls slamming against your ass, destined to create even more bruising from the grip he had on you.

The sound of waves crashing around you drowned out by the heavy pants and whimpering moans that left both of you.

“My pretty girl,” you felt yourself tighten around him, “Is that right? You’re my pretty girl, you look so beautiful filled with my cock.” He moaned.

Thrust after thrust, his dick disappeared inside of you. Pulling out just before the tip only to slam right back in. It was rough and you knew tomorrow you’d wake up bed bound but damn, it was worth it. Your body jerking every time he forced himself back in while you gripped onto the ledge for dear life. His sweet praises, compliments, and slight taunts tipping you over the edge.

“F..fuck..Spence, I’m gonna…I need to cum,” you panted.

Your stomach tightened, knowing you were almost close and he was nowhere near from slowing down.

“I know, sweet girl, I can feel you,” he rasped. His own stomach coiling from the rapidity of his movements.

He placed a kiss on top of your shoulder blade. “Where…where do you want me to cum?” He panted.

Turning your head to look back at him, his dark curls framed his face. His face contorted in sweet pleasure, heavenly moans leaving his lips at the same time. Your walls clenching even harder around him at the scene of him pussy drunk over you.

“Inside. Cum…I want you to cum inside of me,” you managed to get out. Feeling drunk over his cock as well.

Spencer deeply inhaled, feeling his cock twitch aggressively as he coursed you with every thrust to cum. Screams and moans could be heard from the both of you, as his head fell onto your shoulder. Both of you chasing out a high that you had never felt before.

After performing a couple more lousy thrusts, Spencer rested his head on you. His chocolate curls laying to fall on your shoulder, feeling his chest fall up and down behind you. Your own vision falling blurry at what you could now say was the best sex of your life.

A mixture of both of your cum slowly slid down your leg, his length still buried deep inside of you.

“That was….,” he breathed.

“Amazing,” you finished the sentence for him.

Earning a laugh from the both of you. Spencer slowly pulled out of you causing you to wince, “I’m sorry,” he kissed your forehead.

You turned around placing yourself back on his lap, moving to snake your hands around his neck. “It’s okay, I like this side of you,” you smiled at him.

Both of you exhausted yet still relishing in the presence of each other. His hands rubbing in a circular motion on your hips.

“You know I’ve thought about this for so long,” Reid admitted.

“What? Fucking me in a hot tub outside of our apartment complex,” you teased. Splashing him lightly with the water, watching it glisten and hit his chest.

“No,” he laughed, shaking his head as he continued to stare at you. A look that he had never given you before.

“Turning our friendship into something more than just being friends. You know since we first joined the BAU, I always had this thing for you. Everything about you was just so…so magnetic and captivating. There was just somethin-“

You cut him off, babbling and over explaining being a bad yet adorable habit of his. Closing the small gap that was between you, connecting your lips with his as you finally gave him a true and passionate kiss.

Leaning back you took him all in, “It’s a date. Tomorrow, we can head to the coffee shop that you love down the street before work.” This would be the start of something new.

[rhaenyra-storms]

STOPP your drabble of cregan was adorable, we need more stories of him!! i would like to request something for cregan, where the reader is his lady wife and is introduced to jacaerys for the first time!! it’s up to you whether they have children of their own or it’s just rickon (cregan’s child from his first marriage), i like to think lady stark!reader would become eager to talk to jacaerys and his dragon!!

thank you so much!! i literally love writing for him omg. and i would definitely freak out too if i was able to see a dragon!! :,)

it got a lot longer than expected, but i hope you enjoy!!

pairing: cregan stark x wife!reader warnings: cregan is a little overprotective, that's it, just fluff words: 1.7k

You didn't want to believe it at first.

Cregan was sitting in the Great Hall of Winterfell when the news arrived. A few scouts had spotted a dragon flying north at a rapid pace and tensions were high in the castle.

Winterfell was far away from King's Landing, as was the coronation of the new King Aegon, but the Starks and the North were still sworn to the Targaryens. You and your husband had already suspected that sooner or later, you would be dragged into their mess as well.

Judging from the little time you had spent at court in the South, you knew the Targaryen family was a horrible mess. When King Viserys made the decision to name Rhaenyra heir to the Iron Throne, you knew it would be catastrophic as soon as the old King would pass.

"Do we know who the dragon belongs to?" Your husband's deep voice pulled you out of your thoughts. Cregan always asked the right questions, to the right people, but this time... everyone seemed a little clueless.

You placed a hand on your husband's arm, giving it a little squeeze. "They will not attack alone and without an army. They don't have reason to," you said in a quiet voice, just for him to hear. Cregan gave you a soft smile as he looked over at you, but his eyes were filled with concern.

While an attack was highly unlikely, he couldn't really exclude it entirely and that was already enough reason for him to worry. He wanted to keep you safe and all the people in Winterfell.

"We should still proceed with caution," your husband answered, his hand finding yours and giving it a small squeeze in return. He then pushed himself out of the chair, towering next to you, before he addressed the rest of the people in the room. "We will welcome the dragon rider into our home. With caution. I do not want to start a war with the crown, not when we have more important things to worry about."

Cregan knew the next winter would not be far and he needed to make sure his people were well-prepared and his men were strong. You had always admired your husband for his composure and his natural talent for ruling.

Two hours later, you welcomed the oldest son of Rhaenyra Targaryen into your home. Your husband had talked to him alone at first, using the Godswood as a sight of common ground and when a servant informed you that he wished for you to join them for dinner, you knew their conversation had probably been a positive one.

"Lady Stark," Jacaerys nodded his head at you as soon as you entered the Great Hall. He was a pretty man, his black curls a mesmerising sight. However, you couldn't deny that all the rumours you had heard about his father might be true then. He didn't have the signature Targaryen white hair and from the few times you had met Lord Harwin Strong, he seemed to resemble him quite clearly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, my Prince," you greeted him with a smile. Jace gently placed a kiss upon your knuckles.

"The pleasure is all mine, m'lady."

Cregan watched Jace closely as you two introduced yourselves to each other, but after their short conversation he felt like he could trust Jacaerys. He had been kind enough not to threaten him with his dragon. Said creature was now waiting outside the Winterfell gates and he was sure the people of the castle couldn't take their eyes off it. The Lord of Winterfell himself could only describe the creature as mesmerising and a sight to behold. And he knew that his wife would probably love to meet a dragon.

The dinner went by quite fast and the conversations were lighthearted despite the general situation of the realm. Jacaerys didn't mean to only talk about the conflict between his mother and Aegon, but he knew that he had a chance to win Cregan Stark over for their cause. And winning over his wife as well in a way would be beneficial too.

"Have you ever seen a dragon, my lady?" Jace asked you after he placed his cup of wine back on the table. You could feel your husband smile next to you. He was very aware of the fact that you had always been fascinated by those creatures. Their freedom to fly, their strength and their sheer power. Dragons were pure magic in your eyes.

"Unfortunately not, my Prince," you answered, leaning back in your chair a little. Jace had mentioned "Vermax" throughout the conversation and you knew the dragon was waiting outside the gates. Its roars were hard to miss throughout the day.

"But I would love to. One day."

"Then today might be the day. If you wish to, of course," Jace gave you another polite nod and an inviting smile. The prospect of meeting a dragon had you ecstatic in seconds, but you knew your husband would suspect danger in this situation. He was more than right for that.

"I would love to accompany you two then." Cregan sounded determined, but still polite. A subtle sign for Jace to understand that he was good-willed, but still cautious.

The support of the North was vital to Rhaenyra's cause, so Jacaerys really didn't intend to mess it up.

"Vermax is a kind dragon. As long as you mean no harm." Jace waited for your husband to push his chair back and stand up first. You followed right after, hooking your arm with Cregan's as you made your way outside.

The sight before you was stunning.

It was already dark outside, but the dragon could hardly be missed. His olive green scales appeared almost black in the dark and your husband grabbed a torch from a guard as you approached.

"Relax, Vermax", Jacaerys spoke in Valyrian, making you raise your eyebrows for a moment. You wished you would have paid more when your family's maester had tried to teach you a few simple words in Valyrian.

"They're our friends."

Vermax' eyes turned into slits for a moment, studying both you and Cregan. The dragon was probably evaluating if you were a threat despite his rider's kind words.

"I've seen more outgoing dragons than Vermax, but he's a gentle one at heart," Jace explained.

It was fascinating to hear about dragons having different personalities and being a little more like humans in a way. Some were impulsive, others were shy. As a child, you had always wished for a dragon as a pet.

"It's... He's wonderful," you whispered, feeling your husband's arm wrap protectively around your waist. Cregan would rather throw himself in front of the dragon's teeth than watch anything happen to you.

"I know. Do you want to touch him?" Jace asked, his voice soft and inviting. "Only if you want to, of course. I do not wish to make you uncomfortable in any way."

Excitement bubbled in your stomach. You could feel the heat rush to your face. All your childhood dreams seemed so close now – meeting a dragon, touching a dragon and pretending for just a moment that you could be a dragonrider too.

Cregan's grip around you tightened, a small reminder of how all of this could backfire. A cold wind blew by and you took a deep breath.

"I will be fine," you assured your husband, taking the time to plant a kiss to his cheek. A small attempt to calm him, but you knew that he would always be worried for your safety. The Lord of Winterfell only knew you were safe when you were in his arms, sleeping safe and sound.

Slowly, you made your way over to the dragon. It seemed to smell your anxiety and retreated for a moment. Jace put up his hand, a sign for Vermax to calm down – to relax. There was nothing bad that would happen.

You gave the dragon time, your heart beating wildly in your chest as you couldn't take your eyes off the creature in front of you. It still seemed wary, but after a few short moments, the dragon eventually bowed down a little, lowering itself to the ground. It was a silent invitation for you to come closer.

But you still wanted to get reassurance from Prince Jacaerys who quickly gave you a nod and beckoned you closer.

It felt like your heart was about to jump out of your chest when the dragon sniffed your hand.

Your husband was on the edge of his nerves behind you. His hand was already positioned at his sword, as if he would stand a chance against a dragon. "Careful, my love," he mumbled. He was feeling increasingly uneasy as he watched you and he let out a small gasp when you eventually laid your hand on the dragon's head.

Vermax closed his eyes slowly after he had eyed you enough. You weren't a threat. Not to him and not to Jace.

The dragon's skin was warm and hard, rough against the soft palm of your hand. "Seven hells..." you mumbled, watching in fascination as Vermax continued to relax.

Jace placed his hand on the dragon's wing for a moment, stroking it softly. "I told you he is a kind one. I would offer you a ride, but I think your husband might fall over dead if I do." It was a small jest, but it made you laugh softly.

You turned your head a little, spotting the Lord of Winterfell as he was tensing up more and more behind you. He forced a smile to his lips, trying to look more relaxed than he was. Cregan wanted you to fulfil your dreams, but he needed to keep you safe as well.

However, seeing you as happy as this, as your hand laid upon the dragon's nose, he couldn't help himself but smile a little more genuinely. His hand remained at his sword, but his shoulders relaxed nonetheless.

Seeing the joy in your eyes as Jace told you more about Vermax and the dragon seemed to be content with your presence, Cregan couldn't help but think about how many more days he wanted to spend like this. Seeing you happy was the biggest light in his world.

He'd do anything to see that beautiful smile. Over and over.

[formula-nyoom]

I'm Proud of You

Pairing: Platonic!Grid x Fem!Driver!Reader

Summary: Being the youngest and newest driver to the grid is not an easy adjustment to make and it ends up taking a toll on you. Thankfully some of the other drivers on the grid are there to look out for you.

A/N: Was going to wait till Saturday to post this, but I had a shit day today so I decided to post it now. Hope you enjoy!

~~~

No one really knew what Mercedes was thinking when they announced that they were signing you, an F2 rookie who placed 6th in the Formula 2 Championship, as the one to take the 2nd Mercedes seat. Everyone expected you to be named a reserve driver, so that you could prepare for the jump to F1. Yet here you were, jumping straight into the deep end. Even after you heard the news that you would be racing in Formula One, you were left more with shock and confusion rather than excitement. 

Sure, you had done a couple of test drives for Mercedes and had participated in an F1 practice session or two, but you didn’t think that was enough to put you in contention for a Formula One seat. 

But the media thought otherwise, and so did Mercedes. 

Both your friends and family tried to reassure you that you were good enough to race in Formula One, and you had seen countless interviews of Toto Wolf saying that he had made the right decision in signing you.

But none of that could take away the fact that all eyes were now on you. 

The first female to race in Formula One, and now the youngest on the grid.

The season hadn’t even started and yet you felt like Atlas holding the world weight of pressure that was placed upon your shoulders. You now have something to prove. And everyone was waiting for you to either fly or fall.

Maybe that’s why you couldn’t find the courage to cross the turnstile that led into the paddock during the first race weekend of the season. Crossing over would make everything real. And you would be doing it alone, as both your family and your manager weren't able to get to the track till later in the day. 

“Did you forget your badge on the first day?” A voice said from behind you. You turned to see Charles and Pierre.

 “You can just jump over the gate. Yuki does it all the time.” Pierre said. 

 “No, I have my badge…I’m just nervous to enter the paddock.” You said, motioning with your head to the turnstiles.

 “What makes you so nervous?” Charles asked.

“There’s a lot of people. And cameras. And people with cameras. I feel like I’m gonna get swarmed as soon as my foot crosses the entrance.” You said.

 “You’re not wrong. The media doesn’t really know the definition of personal space.” Charles said, taking a sip of his coffee. “If you want, I can act as a buffer and draw the attention away while Pierre helps you get past.”

 “Would that work? I just want to get to the Mercedes hospitality.”

“Oh trust me, the media loves Charles. They’ll be too focused on getting pictures of him to see us walk by.” Pierre said. You looked back at the people past the entrance and there seemed to be more than when you last looked. 

 “Well…if you’re sure it will work then we might as well try.” You said. Charles smiled and gave you a nod. He then took the sunglasses that were hanging on his hat and put them on before entering the paddock. Immediately, the people that had cameras flocked to Charles and started to take his picture as he tried to walk through the paddock. You and Pierre waited a couple moments to build enough distance between you and Charles before the two of you entered the paddock. You clutched the straps of your bag tightly, expecting the nearby paparazzi to turn around and immediately start taking pictures of you and Pierre, but they were too focused on Charles.  

Pierre’s hand hovered over your shoulder as he tried to block you from most of the cameras while guiding you through the paddock. While the two of you managed to pass Charles without getting noticed, you couldn’t help but feel a bit claustrophobic, seeing Charles surrounded by so many people trying to take his picture. Eventually, you and Pierre managed to make it to the Mercedes hospitality building.

“Is it always going to be like this?” You asked Pierre.

 “Unfortunately, yes. Especially since you’re the newest on the grid. I recommend you invest in a good pair of sunglasses. But I’m proud of you for getting past your first swarm of paparazzi.” Pierre said, ruffling your hair. You laughed and swatted his hand away as Charles walked up to the two of you.

 “Whew! Thank god Lewis walked in. I felt like those reporters and paparazzi would never leave.” Charles said.

 “Sorry for making you go through that.” You said, feeling a bit guilty. 

“Pas de soucis. I’m used to it and know how to handle them. Though I will advise that you never enter the paddock by yourself. The reporters are like vultures.” Charles said. “Anyway, we will see you at the press conference, no?”

 “Yep. I’ll see you there.” You said. Charles patted your shoulder before him and Pierre headed to their own team's hospitality. 

~~~

You were beginning to hate the press conferences that you had to go to. Any question that was directed towards you involved your performance on track, or lack thereof as some reporters like to put it. You were getting tired of having to answer questions that made you feel like a failure.

“This question is for (Y/N). We’re now five races into the season and you’ve been continuously out qualified and out placed by your teammate, George? Is there a certain struggle that you’re having with the car that may be the cause of this?”

If you could walk away from this question, you would. But instead you stayed in your seat and picked up the microphone next to you. Damn Mercedes PR training.

 “There’s still some learning with the car. The engineers have said that the car isn’t up to the standards they want it to be, so I am struggling a bit on track.” You said, giving your best PR approved answer that you could manage.

“But would it be safe to say that you are under performing at Mercedes in comparison to your teammate?” The reporter asked. You tried to steal your expression and act like the comment didn’t bother you.

 “What kind of question is that?” It wasn’t you that asked it, but Lando, who was sitting to your right. You looked at him with some confusion. So did the reporter.

“Is there something you would like to add, Lando?”

“Yea. You can’t say she’s underperforming when she’s a rookie that has only completed five races.” Lando said, an upset expression clear on his face. The reporter cleared his throat.

 “I’m just saying, some have doubts that Mercedes were too hasty in signing an F2 rookie and I wanted to know if that was being reflected in (Y/N)’s driving.” The reporter said, trying to control the situation

 “I think we already know your opinion on Mercedes' decision based on the questions you ask.” Carlos said, who was sitting next to Lando. “I agree with Lando that it’s unfair to judge (Y/N) based on her first five races.”

 “I’d say she’s actually doing pretty good for a rookie, considering she’s been able to score points in two out of the 5 races she’s done so far.” Lando said.

 “Much more than you have ever done.” Carlos said to the reporter. You tried to hide the smile that was slowly forming on your face but inevitably failed as you picked your microphone back up.

“To my two fellow drivers points, I think you’re discounting me too early. I will admit that there is still a learning curve and with the continuous upgrades that Mercedes keeps bringing to the car, I am constantly having to adjust to all the new additions while also trying to get used to driving a Formula One car every other weekend.” You said, making direct eye contact with the reporter. “But I will eventually get used to the car. And when I do, I think I will be able to match George and possibly start out qualifying.”

That seemed to silence the reporter, as he sat back down. It also seemed to signify the end of the press conference as reporters started to pack their things and you and the other drivers sitting on the couch with you got up and left the room.

“Mate, I’m so proud of you and how you handled that reporter.” Lando said once you were out of the room. He placed his hand on your shoulder and pulled you into a side hug.

 “I was ready to walk out of the press conference when I heard that question. Why do these reporters always have to compare me to George?”

 “Because that's what they do. All of us get compared to our teammates because our teammates are seen as our biggest competition.” Carlos said. “You’re gonna get it more because you’re new.”

“Just remember that you can refuse to answer any questions that make you uncomfortable.” Lando said. 

 “Even the sexist ones?” You asked. Carlos and Lando nodded their heads.

“Especially the sexist ones.” Carlos said.

 “Better yet, I’ll answer them for you in the most ridiculous manner so that way they’ll stop asking you questions like that.” Lando said, making you laugh.

~~~

So many more races. Too many races. How does a Formula One driver get through all these races and have a chance to calm down? You were used to things going fast, but lately you just wanted a chance to slow down and breathe. 

That’s how you found yourself sitting on the floor in an empty VIP room, looking out the window at a mostly empty racetrack. Phone in hand. Staring at the clock that displayed the timezone back at home.

2:00AM. Your parents are definitely asleep right now. It’s not a good time to call them, no matter how much you want to. 

You were so focused on staring at your phone, you didn’t notice that Max had walked in.

“Sadly I don’t think drivers count as VIPs at the races they have to participate in.” Max said as he sat down next to you, a Redbull in his hand.

 “It’s the only place that I can find privacy and some peace and quiet.” You said still staring at your phone.

2:01AM.

You turned your phone off and let out a sigh, placing it down next to you.

 “Something the matter?” Max asked. You hesitated. You didn’t want to burden a 3-time World Champion with your upset thoughts, that was for your non-existent therapist. But then again, maybe talking to someone who has been in your position before may make you feel a bit better.

“I haven’t found a good time to call my parents since the start of the season.” You said. “They were able to make it to my first race, which was amazing. I was really glad they could come…but with so many races on the calendar, it’s hard for them to come to all of them, and all the changing time zones makes it hard to find a good time to call them.” You told him. “I miss talking to them.”

Max looked at you, took in how you were hugging your knees. Max sometimes forgets that you're now the youngest driver on the grid. On the track he sees you as competition, but now he sees you as the overwhelmed rookie that you looked like right now.

“I understand what you're feeling. It does get overwhelming a lot of times.” He said. You turned to him.

 “How do you deal with it?”

“No matter what country we are in, I try to find a day or time where I can get the farthest away from being a race car driver. A spot that’s farthest away from the track where I’m not “Max Verstappen, The Red Bull Driver”, but just “Max”.” He said.

 “Don’t you get recognized wherever you go?” You asked

“Absolutely. But being away from the track, even for an hour, makes me less overwhelmed. And in regards to wanting to talk to your parents, yes finding a time to communicate is hard, but sometimes you just have to throw timezones out the window and call your parents. Even if you can only talk to them for five minutes, it’s still five minutes that you get to talk to them.” Max explained. 

You thought about what Max said. It would make you feel a bit guilty, waking your parents up in the middle of the night just because you wanted to talk to them. But at the same time, sometimes they’re the only people that could make you feel better. You looked back down at your phone.

2:05 AM

You’d be ok with just five minutes.

 “I think I’m gonna call my parents.” You said to Max. He smiled and gave you a nod before standing up.

 “I’ll let you have your privacy. But my driver’s room is open if you want to talk about anything except racing.” Max said before leaving the room. You smiled at him before calling your parents.

~~~

Finally you had finished a race with what you thought was a good race result. P6 was your highest placement so far this season and it was something you should be proud of. But even if you thought it was a good result, you knew that people were going to comment that George had gotten P4, placing ahead of you again. To you, it felt like no matter how high you climbed up the grid, if George finished in front of you, your result wasn’t something to be proud of. 

You were knocked out of your thoughts by someone bumping your shoulder. It was Oscar walking alongside you. The fact that he was looking directly at you made you assume the bump was intentional to get your attention.

“Proud of you.” Oscar said. “This was just like that one season of Formula 2 we raced in together.”

You scoffed but smiled.

 “Yea, except I now have the knowledge not to shunt the car into the back of yours.” You said. You spent most of thid race chasing Oscar’s rear wing and were glad that you didn’t do what you had just said.

“That time was an accident. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.” Oscar said. The two of you stopped walking as you got closer to where the podium interviews were taking place. The two of you watched as Charles was getting interviewed about his winning result. 

“So am I gonna see you up on that podium this season?” Oscar asked. You didn’t want to shake your head, but your body acted on instinct. You have been shaking your head a lot these days.

 “That seems unlikely. I haven’t been able to match George’s pace at all and he keeps out qualifying me.” You said. Oscar looked at you confused.

 “What are you on about? You were only 2 seconds off George and that was only because I was in between the two of you.” He said. You sighed.

“Yea but it was still 2 seconds behind George. It doesn’t matter how much time is between the two of us, if I’m behind him that’s all the media is going to care about.” You said. “I’ll never have the pace to pass him.”

“Hey!” Oscar grabbed your shoulders so that you would face him. “You have the pace. You’ve been building it up this whole season. At the start you were what? 10 seconds behind him? Now you’re two. Soon there’s going to be no gap because you’ll be ahead of him at some point. It’s bound to happen.”

Maybe it was the adrenaline finally wearing down, or the fact that Oscar was saying something you had been wanting to hear from your race engineer, or your team princpal, or hell, even it’s something the media should be noticing: that you’re catching up and proving your pace. Oscar’s words were making you feel like you belonged on the grid.

 “You think so?” You asked, needing the confirmation. 

“I know so. Screw what everyone else says.” Oscar said. “Are you proud of your P6?”

 You looked back at your car, then at the car of your teammate’s before your eyes landed back at Charles. You’d be in his spot at some point this season, you just knew it.

 “Yea. I’m proud of myself.”

[wheres-mylove]

puppy love - modern!cregan stark x fem!reader

Summary: Searching for peace in a quiet town takes an unexpected turn when your neighbor’s dog decides you have to be his new best friend. One look at the neighbor and you’re totally fine with getting a two-for-one deal.

Disclaimer: English isn't my first language!

Word count: 2.5k

A large painting of a wolf pack hung over the fireplace. (Y/N) stared at it, biting her lip.  

She wasn’t even sure she knew how to light the damn fire.

Was this whole thing a bad idea? Trading in her modern King’s Landing studio for a tiny house in Winterfell? A big city girl in a small town. Yeah, she might’ve officially lost her mind.

“I hope it’s to your liking, dear,” came the sharp but grounding voice of Mrs. Glover, snapping her back to reality. The elderly landlady was already fastening her fur coat.

“It’s... cozy,” she replied with her best smile. Didn’t want to admit to herself that she was feeling wildly out of place.

“Good.” Mrs. Glover nodded, satisfied. “Now, remember, once the snow hits, you’ll need to keep that fireplace going. Northern frost is a bitch.” She placed the house keys on the small wooden table. “Rent’s due by the tenth.”

“I’ll remember,” (Y/N) said quickly. “Thanks again for lowering the price.”

Mrs. Glover waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t even mention it. I’m in a hurry to get to Essos, and these silly umbrella cocktails are calling my name.”

The old woman paused at the door. “You sure you can handle moving everything in on your own? I have to head out, but the Stark boy lives just across the street. Strong lad, good arms, I’m telling ya. Handsome, too. He’d help, if you ask nicely.” She winked. “If I were only a few decades younger…”

“All good, ma’am,” (Y/N) cut in, her face heating up. “I don’t have much. A few boxes, really.”

“Well, if you say so, Miss Independent. Good luck!”

With that, Mrs. Glover disappeared with a screech of tires in her flaming red car, leaving (Y/N) standing alone in front of her new home.  

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She could absolutely do this. She’d unpack before sundown, get settled, and everything would be fine. Better than fine, even. This place was going to be a fresh start. An escape from the Big Disaster, also known as her last relationship.

She’d find the meaning of life in the wild North or however that saying went.

She was currently standing in front of her open trunk, debating what to take first. And then something licked her hand.

Slowly, she turned her head, still not fully registering what was happening, and met the gaze of big brown eyes belonging to a fluffy creature as black as the night. A light pink tongue paused halfway, as if waiting for her reaction.

“Oh, gods,” she whispered, frozen in place. “Are you a dog or a wolf? Please, be a dog. A friendly one.”

Her new friend barked in response and rolled onto its back in the universal gesture of please love me.

“You’re a dog,” she sighed in relief, dropping to her knees to give him a good belly rub. “A boy, huh? A beautiful one. But where did you come from?”

Animals don’t talk apparently. The girl glanced around instead. She’d left the gate open, sure, but he had to come from somewhere.

The dog let out a low grumble, tail thumping against the ground. She scratched his head, laughing softly. After a few minutes, he got up, shook off the dust, and placed one paw on her car.

“I’m moving into this house,” she informed him, picking up one of the smaller boxes from the trunk. She liked talking to pets, even though they couldn’t offer much in the way of conversation. “I’ve got a lot to do, but after that, we could—”

And just like that, the dog vanished as suddenly as he’d appeared. (Y/N) stood there, blinking at the empty yard.

“Bye?” she called out, shaking her head in disbelief. He probably went home.

She continued unpacking, but on her third trip to the car, she saw him again, this time with a tennis ball clamped between his teeth. He had so much hope in his eyes.

“Do you want to play?” she asked, amused. The moment she said the magic word, his ears perked up in excitement. “Where are you even from?”

She should have been unpacking. She knew that. But how could she say no to a cutie like him?

“Good boy!” (Y/N) laughed as the dog leapt into the air and caught the ball in his mouth, mid-throw.

“Excuse me, is he harassing you, lady?” she suddenly heard a low, masculine voice behind her.

The dog dropped the ball from his mouth, adopting a tragic, martyr-like expression.

She spun around, heart pounding, and found herself face-to-face with a man who looked like a classic Northern lord from the past. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark, wild hair and a beard that framed a strong jaw. He had these gray eyes that were both piercing and soft.

“He’s mine,” the stranger explained with a half-smile, clearly catching her staring.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to steal him, just so you know” (Y/N) finally spoke up, cheeks flushing. “He just... showed up. With the ball. So, I thought…”

Her awkward explanation was interrupted by his laugh, loud and kind.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t think you were kidnapping him,” he said, hands in his pockets. “I was just making sure he wasn’t bothering you. He must’ve jumped the fence. I saw you two from across the street.”

Ah. The young Stark. 

“No, not at all,” she reassured him, finally getting her words in order. “He’s well-behaved. What’s his name?”

The dark cloud of fur came closer and laid at her feet, cementing their new alliance.

The man hesitated for a moment. (Y/N) looked at him expectantly.

“Frosty,” he finally mumbled, looking at the ground.

It was the girl’s turn to laugh.

“You named this huge black wolf-ass looking creature Frosty?” she asked, scratching the dog behind his ears. He was absolutely delighted.

“He likes the cold,” Stark offered with a small shrug, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “And you are…?”

“(Y/N). I’d shake your hand, but I’m doing something important. Nice to meet you though.” 

“Cregan,” he said, placing a hand over his heart with a grin. “Nice to meet you too. Frosty’s obviously on cloud nine. He’s usually not that trusting. Friendly with other dogs, sure, but picky with people. You must be special.”

Her heart swelled at those words. What an honor.

“He’s my first friend in Winterfell.”

Cregan smiled and looked at her car, noticing the boxes still inside.

“So, renting from Mrs. Glover?”

“Yeah, I just moved in from King’s Landing today.”

“City girl, yeah?” He whistled, leaning against the side of the car with a thoughtful look. “You’ve come a long way. But hey, I’m not complaining. We’re neighbors now. I live across the street.”

(Y/N) flashed a smile. “I’m not complaining either.”

“Please feel welcome to ask if you ever need anything. I’ll give you my number, just in case.”

Smooth, Cregan, smooth.

Rolling up his sleeves, Cregan walked over and hefted the biggest box out of the trunk like it was nothing.

“Now, let’s help you with that.”

That old hag was right. He had good arms.

The Northern frost was, indeed, a bitch.

But the warmth of the fire, the soft couch beneath her, and Frosty’s massive, fluffy body draped across her lap made the afternoon bearable. (Y/N)’s hand had long since gone numb from petting the dog, but his fur was addictive.

Her phone suddenly rang, breaking the peace. Frosty, naturally, didn’t move a bit. Not even a nuclear explosion could wake him.

Sighing, (Y/N) reached for her phone on the table, already knowing who it was. 

Helaena Targaryen.

“How’s the grass-touching and vet-seducing going?” came Helaena’s voice, sugary sweet and teasing, before she even had a chance to say hello.

“First of all, the grass is frozen solid,” she shot back, shifting slightly to keep her lap from completely losing circulation. “And second, again. There is no seducing happening.”

“Sure, smarty-pants. And you’re totally not babysitting his dog right now.”

“I mean,” the girl sighed with a reluctant smile. “said dog kind of invited himself here. And Cregan gave him a backpack full of snacks and toys, like he was dropping him off at daycare.”

He had also scolded him earlier for having dirty paws, saying that’s not how he raised him. The dog liked her, and she liked both him and his owner. Cregan turned out to be a veterinarian with a small clinic in town. He was working late today, so she had offered to look after his friend. Home office benefits.

Hel snorted loudly on the other end. “Oh my, he’s ridiculous. I love it. By the way, I did a tarot reading for you,” she announced, suddenly taking on a serious and spiritual tone. “The message is clear. Go after Cregan, let him chop wood and start the fire in your—”

(Y/N) groaned, facepalming. “You’ve got to stop. I’m not ready for this. And he’s just kind.”

“Kind of having a crush on you. You’re still hurting after that Gwayne situation, aren’t you?”

The mention of his name made her feel sick. “It’s not about him. I’m just... done with dating for a while.”

“Well, he was a moron,” Helaena said bluntly, her tone shifting from teasing to fierce in a heartbeat. “For the record, we all stopped talking to him. Aemond wanted to beat him up, but I told him karma would do the job.”

(Y/N) winced, though she appreciated Targaryens’ loyalty. “I’m tired of men.”

“You’re not tired of men,” Helaena corrected her. “You’re tired of idiots. Is Cregan an idiot?”

She knew he wasn’t.

“Hey, if you don’t make a move, I will.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Kidding. But please, please, for the love of gods, make him chop some wood for you.”

A strange noise woke her up.

It sounded like something was scratching at the front door. (Y/N) rubbed her eyes, groaning as she crawled out from under the warm blanket. A quick glance at the digital clock. 5:58 a.m. The sun hadn’t even thought about rising yet. The scratching persisted.

“If this is some kind of monster, I swear I’m not in the mood,” she mumbled, her voice heavy with sleep. Then came a familiar bark, and she frowned.

Frosty?

She cracked the door open, and sure enough, there on the porch stood Cregan’s dog, barely visible in the early morning gloom. Frosty barked again, hopped down the steps, and turned to look at her expectantly.

He wanted her to follow him.

“Hold on, buddy, let me grab my shoes,” she promised, her voice a mix of anxiety and sleepiness. She hurriedly slipped on her shoes, her mind racing. What if something had happened to Cregan? Was this a “dog leads the way to an emergency” situation? With a quick grab of her hoodie, she went after the dog. Frosty kept looking back at her to make sure she was keeping up.

In no time, they arrived at Cregan’s house. The door was slightly ajar, and her heart raced as she stepped inside.

“Cregan?” she called out hesitantly.

“Yeah?” came his voice from the right, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Cregan Stark stood by the kitchen counter, looking mildly confused with a steaming cup of coffee in hand. He was clad only in gray sweatpants, the silver wolf pendant around his neck glinting in the soft light.

“Are you okay?” she blurted out, still trying to catch her breath.

“Feeling great. Want some coffee?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

(Y/N) pulled out a chair and plopped down, staring at Frosty, who was wagging his tail like he had just saved the day.

“Am I a joke to you?” Frosty tilted his head, giving her an innocent look. "He came to my door like some heroic rescue dog. I thought—” She sighed, running a hand through her messy hair. “I thought something had happened to you. I figured you’d, I don’t know, passed out or something. I’m pretty sure I just aged ten years.”

Cregan cast a side glance at Frosty, lips twitching as he tried to keep a straight face. "Frosty, man, what’s the deal?” he asked the dog, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes. “This is not funny.”

“You really got that worried?” 

“Yes! And here you are, in perfect shape. Alive,” she muttered, her eyes trailing over his very much alive form, pausing on his very defined abs. “And half-naked. I might cry.”

That did it—Cregan turned away quickly, but she saw the grin he was trying to hide as he moved to make her coffee.

“Should I put on a shirt?” he asked, a little more serious now, glancing back over his shoulder. “If it bothers you.”

“No, you’ve got some nice muscles on your back,” she blurted out without thinking. Frosty rested his head on her knee, looking up at her with his big eyes. “And you,” she added, giving the dog a playful glare, “are lucky you’re cute.”

Cregan placed the mug in front of her.

“Thanks for the compliment,” he said with a smirk.

“Thanks for the coffee,” she replied, feeling the tension melt a little.

Cregan sat across from her, watching her for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face.

“You look good,” he said finally, sounding genuine. “Want some breakfast?”

Suddenly, it hit her. She was here, no makeup, hair a mess, and still in her pajama pants. She cringed, remembering her earlier comment about his fucking back.

“Uh, no, I’m good,” she mumbled, suddenly self-conscious.

“Dinner, then? Later. With me. I know a place. If you’d like, of course,” Cregan suggested quickly, his tone slightly tentative.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in surprise. Was he... blushing?

“Are you asking me out?”

He let out a soft laugh. “I’ve been trying to ask you out since the first time I saw you. Not sure if you noticed,” he admitted. Just then, Frosty went up to him and nudged the owner’s hand with his nose. “Oh, great, emotional support,” Cregan muttered, scratching the dog’s head affectionately.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking her head in disbelief. “Yes.”

“Yes?” he echoed, hopeful.

“Yes,” she affirmed, her heart racing. “Just let me know what time, and I’ll dress up.”

He flashed her that charming grin, but then his expression shifted. “I’ve got an appointment with a chihuahua that bites people. I’m actually not sure if I’m gonna make it.”

She liked him so much.

“Do you think it’d be alright if I kissed you before the date, Cregan?” 

“Oh, please do,” Stark replied, voice and expression desperate.

Without overthinking it, she ended up sitting on his lap, being kissed like there was no tomorrow. Held by the strongest pair of arms that were also so gentle.

Frosty placed an approving paw on Cregan’s leg.

Well done, human.

[thesuperiorrobin]

New Year’s resolution~

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Fem! Reader

Summary: Damian’s stuck with a plan for the next year.

Word count: 1.0k

Warning: none.

He’s got everything set in his head. After your first day a few years back, Damian knew you were the one he wanted to spend his life with, the one to grow old and be buried side by side for all entirety with. The word love was such a foolish thing to hike growing up, it was something he was taught by his mother and grandfather: “Love is a blinding thing and is nothing more than a weakness to all,” and it stuck with him until he met you, both 16 on New Year’s Eve just a few minutes before the time struck midnight—out and about far away from his family.

No lie, Damian Wayne was an angsty teen. At the time, he wanted nothing to do with his rowdy and chaotic family, along with the drunken strangers that seemed to be coming and going through the minor, seeing as his father was throwing yet another charity event. He managed to escape them that night, slipping away through the window and past the gates. Damian takes a stroll around the Gotham streets. The streets are never this quiet, but everybody’s with family, even the night's villains. He can hear the yells and laughter through the thin walls of the building as he passes by, and all he does is roll his eyes and kick a rock down his path.

A figure runs by, and it catches his eye, and as curious as ever, he follows, all that training comes in handy. He makes no sound, footsteps as quiet as ever, and his breathing barely makes a peep. He follows them up the Stoop of a building that leads to the top, hiding himself as he goes unnoticed by the person. That person pulls their hood down, revealing a you, a young woman around his age, their bag is thrown onto the ground as they kneel, unzipping it open to reveal food. Food that was meant for cats.

He watches for a minute, and not long after he hears the faint meows of multiple cats coming out of the shadows, some older and some much younger. They all gathered around the you, happily enjoying the food while some rubbed their heads against your leg.

"You can come out now. I know you're there," you call out, but it doesn't startle Damian. Although he is a bit shocked that you knew he was there, he clears his throat, revealing himself to you as you keep your back turned for a minute before glancing over your shoulder. Your eyes locked in with his green ones briefly before humming and looking away. "What’s the Damian Wayne doing out and about at this time just a few minutes before the new year starts? Shouldn't you be at the charity event?"

"I'm not suited for those things" his voice is quiet, but not quite enough for you to not hear "And you? Shouldn't you be with family at this time, it's almost midnight"

"Nosey are we?" You tease slighting leaving Damian to roll his eyes at you "My parents work with you Dad, so they're at the charity event too"

"They left you behind?"

"No, it was more of I didn't wanna go, big crowds with people I don't even know and pretending to be nice to me aren't my thing" You shrug slightly, and it goes quiet for a second before you look over your shoulder once more "wanna help me feed them? They won't bite"

Damian stays silent, as he moves forward and finds himself kneeling beside the you, the sound of crumpling paper could be heard from underneath. They find warmth, as they cuddle up closer to him, some finding their way in his coat and he lets them. Damian had always had a soft spot for animals. He takes a glance that you, soft smile painted on your lips as you hand feed a baby cat that’s cuddled up in your coat for warmth.

“My name’s y/n by the way” You take a glance at him, catching his staring and he turns his head to the side embarrassingly.

“Y/n….” He repeats, your name rolling off his tongue well, “Well you already know my name” his tone wasn’t cocky, no, it was more of an annoyed one. You hum, glancing down at the newspaper Damian seemed to be kneeling on, and as ironic as ever, his face was plastered on the front with a headline.

“Don’t think I can miss it when your face and name are practically everywhere” you chuckle softly pointing at the paper below him, and as he looks down Damian frowns slightly before glaring back at you.

“How hilarious” rolling his and a comfortable silence falls between the two of them, and it isn’t long before it is disturbed by loud ‘booms’.

Damian’s startled, taking action and going into a fight stance positioned. There wasn’t a single sign of threat anywhere near, just the sudden boom noises repeating over and over.

“Oh look!” You shout, catching his attention as he follows your gaze up in the sky “The fireworks!” The sky’s filled with color—and not the type that turns them red, orange, and yellow but the type that turns them purple, pink, blue, and green. You glance down at your phone, time reading 12:01. “Can’t believe I started the new year with Damian Wayne…” you chuckle, glancing back at him but frowning “Why are you standing like that? You look like you're ready to fight someone”

Damian clears his throat, awkwardly fixing his position as he glances at you with a scowl “This will be the first and last New years we’ll spend together”

“I wasn’t expecting another New Year with you” you shrug “wanna feed the dogs next?”

You two, did in fact, spend the next seven New Years together.

Two as friends and the rest as lovers.

And as the ball drops to the countdown from ten to one, you two share a sweet kiss when everybody wishes one a happy New Year and as you two pull apart, Damian stares at you lovingly as you smile back. The only thought in his head was thinking of ways he was going to propose to you the following year, or maybe he’d do it sooner.

Well…… I'm so late but HAPPY NEW YEARS. This was actually supposed to be posted on the 1st of January but I lost track of time I'm sorry 😭

[ikkyfics]

What If It Was You?

dad!James Potter x f!teacher!reader

Summary: It all started innocently enough. James noticed how kind you were. But over time, he began to notice things he probably shouldn’t have. The way your hair fell over your shoulder as you wrote something on the board. The soft sound of your laughter. The way your eyes sparkled when you looked at Harry. And for a moment, James let that forbidden thought take shape again: you at home with them, laughing, caring, belonging.

Warnings: muggle!au, suggestive, no use of y/n

Masterlist

The school gate was nearly empty when James finally arrived, the late afternoon sun tinting the sky with shades of orange and pink. He was late — again. The traffic, work, single father life… there were so many excuses, but none of them seemed enough when he thought of the disappointed look he might find on Harry's face.

He adjusted his glasses and took a deep breath, crossing the small stone path to the entrance. The place seemed incredibly quiet at this hour. He knew he should hurry, but his steps slowed when he saw you through the half-open door.

You were facing away from him, crouched down next to Harry, and the two of you were laughing at something he couldn’t hear. James felt a pang in his chest as he watched the scene — something he couldn’t name, but that grew with each passing day since you entered their lives.

It all started innocently enough. He noticed how kind you were, how you seemed to genuinely care for every child in the room. But over time, he began to notice things he probably shouldn’t have. The way your hair fell over your shoulder as you wrote something on the board. The soft sound of your laughter, which seemed to light up the room. The way your eyes sparkled when you looked at Harry, as if he were the center of the universe for a moment.

And then there was the damn ring question. James never knew exactly why his eyes sought your left hand, but they always did. Always. And every time he didn’t find a ring there, he felt a relief that left him ashamed of himself. But the shame was never enough to erase the relief. Today, however, a new and dangerous thought struck him. He didn’t just want your hand to stay ring-free. He wanted there to be a ring there. One that he had placed. One that told the world you were his, that you were part of the small world he and Harry shared. But then you looked up, and his eyes met yours. Reality hit like a cold splash of water. You smiled at him, that warm smile that made his stomach flip, and James felt as if all his thoughts were exposed in the air between you. “You’re just in time, Mr. Potter,” you said, your voice light and sweet, but with a teasing tone he recognized. “I thought Harry was going to demand I adopt him if you didn’t show up.” The sentence hit him hard, like an unexpected punch that left him breathless for a moment. Adopt him? The word echoed in James’s mind as he looked at you, feeling a sudden and overwhelming wave of thoughts he couldn’t contain. You adopting him. You, in their life, not just as Harry’s teacher, but as… something more. He blinked a few times, trying to process the whirlwind that had formed in his mind. A brief and intimate vision appeared, so clear he could almost feel it: you, sitting next to him at the dinner table, helping Harry with his homework. You laughing as Harry tried to explain a drawing he made at school. You holding a baby in your arms — his baby — with the same sweetness you gave to every child in that classroom. James felt the air getting trapped in his lungs, a heat rising to his face. He had never considered having another child. Life as a single father was already a minefield of challenges and surprises, and he always thought it would be enough with just him and Harry. But now… now he could picture himself looking at you with a mixture of fascination and love as you held a child with unruly hair and bright eyes — a perfect mix of him and you. Harry had already mentioned how he would like to have a sibling. And you would look beautiful. He knew that. He could see the image so clearly it made his chest tighten in a nearly painful way. You with a rounded belly, full of him, wearing one of those light dresses he thought suited you. He imagined himself placing a hand there, feeling the baby move under his fingers, and the thought hit him like an electric shock, making him avert his gaze for a moment, as if he could hide the intensity of his own desires.

“Mr. Potter?” Your voice called again, laced with a hint of concern, and James realized he had been silent for too long.

“Oh, of course,” he replied, clearing his throat and forcing a smile. He ran a hand through his hair, an automatic habit whenever he was nervous. “I hope he didn’t give you enough trouble to make you reconsider.”

“Not at all,” you said, and that gentle smile he adored returned. “Harry’s a sweetheart.”

James felt something in his chest tighten again, because he believed it. He knew how special Harry was, and knowing that you saw it too, that you treated his son with such care and affection, was more than he knew how to express.

For a moment, you two just looked at each other in silence, and the world around seemed to slow down. There was something in the way your eyes met his, as if a silent current of understanding and something more was passing between you. It was intimate. Warm. A spark he didn’t know how to extinguish.

“Dad, are you going to keep staring at her forever, or can we go home?”

Harry’s voice sliced through the silence like a blade, snapping them both back to reality. James blinked quickly, looking away and feeling the heat rise to his face. He looked at his son, who was staring at him with an impatient air, though there was a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“Sorry, champ,” James replied, clearing his throat and letting out a nervous laugh. “I think I’m more tired than I thought.”

You laughed softly, and the sound was like music to his ears. “I think we’re all tired. Have a good night, Mr. Potter. Harry.”

“Good night!” Harry replied cheerfully, giving an enthusiastic wave while holding his father’s hand.

James looked at you one last time, struggling against the urge to prolong the interaction. But he knew he had to go, even though every part of him wished to stay just a little longer.

“Good night,” he said, his voice softer than he meant, before turning and starting to walk out with Harry.

As he left, he felt his son squeeze his hand and heard his excited voice say, “Dad, I really like her. I think she’d be a great mom.”

James stopped in his tracks, his heart leaping in his chest. He looked at Harry, who was staring at him with that disarming innocence only a child could have.

And for a moment, James let that forbidden thought take shape again: you at home with them, laughing, caring, belonging. He didn’t say anything, but squeezed Harry’s hand a little tighter, thinking that, no matter how impossible it seemed, he couldn’t agree more.

[arting-block]

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | vi x f!reader

❝maybe it was a good thing that she was angry at caitlyn. then she wouldn’t feel so bad, thinking about fucking you.❞

summary: you've seen vi around as a kid. always at arms length, observing from afar. now she's back, angry and bitter after her stunt with the kiramman heir. you see each other once more. this time as an opponent in the pit. or rather vi and reader fuck each other's lights out.

pairing: pitfighter!vi x pitfighter!reader

warnings: ARCANE S2 ACT 2 SPOILERS, SMUT, angst (unhappy ending whoops), porn with too much plot, depictions of violence, reader has tattoos and scars, afab!reader, mentions of alcohol consumption, unhealthy coping mechanisms, boxing being used as foreplay, switch!vi, switch!reader, slight brat taming, oral (vi receiving), biting kink, spit kink, knife kink (if you squint), light bondage, finger fucking, vi is obsessed with your tongue, you're obsessed with her fingers

words: 10.2K

a/n: i've crawled out of the trenches and spat out a smutty fic for my glorious muscle queen. there's some plot in there, but it's mostly just filler to bring out the tension teehee. if there's demand, i'll make a part two, maybe more ;). post divider credit: @cafekitsune

Your body felt cold as the nerves settled in. 

The crowd’s uproar can be heard above you, wild cheers and screaming that blends into nonsense. The thumping of shoes on the ceiling above you syncs with your wild heart. The announcer is amplifying their excitement, spewing out the bets in place. Two thousand golden hexes and five hundred silver cogs for you—Arachnid. You instinctively reached for your shoulder, where the design of your tattoo was exposed. The skin along your back rises as the cheers for you overwhelm the arena. Investors from Zaun come together for their favorite fighter. Yours keeps you on a tight leash, pushing you into each fight to get more, more, more.  

You adjust the bandages around your knuckles. You twist your body, stretching the aching muscles until you’re loosened up. Occupying your time before the gates to the tunnels lift. Your heart races, pounding against your ribs. You’ve been a pit fighter for a little over two years. Before that you were tumbling through the undercity engaging in street brawls for food. Fighting wasn’t new to you, yet you were bouncing off the walls with anxiety. 

You were in relatively good shape to fight. A few days of rest and some shimmer got you back on your feet from your last fight. Black Hog was a beast up close but you managed to put up a good show. Normally you wouldn’t be put up against someone of a different weight class, but you were desperate for money. You won the fight with a broken rib and bruised face. Your investor, Parvata, had a gleam in her eyes that soured your victory. 

“Seems as though the spider likes big game,” she drawled, taking a long drag of her cigar. “We’ll see how well you fare against Gord’s fighters. I hear he’s got a prodigy in his ranks. A girl, ex-enforcer, I hear.”

Gord was talking up a storm about his fighters, but you had a feeling the feud between Parvata and him went deeper. Your stunt with Black Hog proved to her that you had skill. A chance for her to settle the score. 

Parvata didn’t know much about Gord’s prodigy. You, on the other hand, had an inkling of who she was. 

You can’t exactly say you were friends with Vi growing up. Your parents knew Benzo and in turn knew Vander as well. Vi and her friends were often away, either in Piltover or across Zaun to gods know where. Interactions with her were rare and short-lived; cordial and surface-level. You exchanged names, glances, laughs, but you weren’t friends. You’ve heard whispers over the years. Vi getting arrested and going to Stillwater. A few years later she is barreling down Zaun with the Kiramman heir. Now the whispers are saying she’s back in Zaun permanently. Fighting in pits for low wages and shit beer. 

You crack your neck, feeling the bones pop and shift. Was she still the spitfire kid you’d see running through the slums? Does she still have her choppy hair brushed to one side? You roll your shoulders back, flexing the muscles, feeling them tighten under your damp skin. 

Will she even remember you?

More cheers erupt as the announcer lists off your opponent’s bets. One thousand golden hexes and eight hundred silver cogs. You have a feeling that more money would be added at the split second before the fight begins. You force yourself to take a few breaths. Focus. Focus. 

You hear the familiar blare of an alarm. A sharp, loud sound that cuts all noise. Your heart spikes—the start of the show. The walls start to vibrate with the noise of the crowd. 

The announcer taps his mic, bringing the attention of the people eagerly awaiting 

Metal gears whirr and the bright lights of the area spill into the tunnel. 

“Spinning webs of tangled limbs is her name!” the announcer says. “Speed and lethality is her game! Give it up for Piltover’s all-around champion—Arachnid!”

You step into the area with all the masked confidence you can muster. The sounds of the crowd are deafening. Hundreds of people crammed into their seats, pushing against one another to get a clear view of you. In their hands they wave black tickets with a red spider in the middle. The air is thick with sweat and alcohol. You pull on your bandage again, tightening the wrappings around your hand. Light patches of blood are dotted along your knuckles. 

“And now for the whirlwind that took this pit by surprise…” The crowd is at the edge of their seats, the noise is bordering on ear-splitting. “The Iron Fist of Zaun!” the announcer yells. 

The gates across from you start to lift and you see a shadow approaching the pit. Your breath catches in your throat. 

Haunting. Everything about Vi is so unlike what you imagined that your brows rise. Dark hair dye is messily applied to her usually vibrant pink hair. Smudges of black were smeared across her face like she applied it with her eyes closed. Your eyes can’t help but drift along her exposed neck, collarbone, and arms. Tattoos and bandages scattered across her skin. 

Vi’s step falters. A wave of shock passes her face before a narrow look settles into her features. 

The wide-eyed, toothy grinned girl was gone. Her dark lips curled down, her nose scrunches slightly as she takes apart the view of you. Wherever bandages don’t cover, you see an array of purple bruises and silvery scars along the canvas of her skin. The harsh lighting of the pit cuts her muscles in such a way that makes her look carved from marble. 

Your breath catches in your throat at her heavy, predatory gaze. Bright blue eyes never leave your face. 

DING!

The starting bell shocks you out of your nerves. In an instant your anxiety evaporates and an odd thrill overtakes you. Instinctively you raise your hands near your face, letting your arms and legs feel loose as you get into a fighting stance. Vi’s expression is unreadable as she leisurely walks the perimeter of the arena. Her eyes dip towards your body. She lingers on the spot near your exposed stomach, a jagged scar that disappears under your pants. 

You take the opportunity to attack. Vi mirrors your raised hands, expecting you to hit her head on. Instead, you duck at the last minute, colliding your shin to her knee. 

— — —

The bag of coins is hefty, more so than you’re used to. 

Your finger digs through the gold and silver; one thousand and fifty golden hexes; four hundred and fifty-five silver cogs. More than enough to cover rent and food for the next three months. 

You don’t bother with a jacket to shield yourself from the heavy downpour, opting to skip the festivities and head straight back home. Your usual thirty minute commute is delayed by the aches in your hip and abdomen. If you weren’t so well versed in getting hit, Vi’s punches would’ve been lethal. 

Gord had every right to brag about his fighter's prowess. Vi was by far the deadliest opponent you’d ever faced. The aim of the game is the knockout, not to kill, but you know the refs aren’t going to get between two skilled fighters with a lust for blood in their eyes. You were all teeth and nails, more animal than human in that pit. It was hard to get into Vi’s blind spots and even harder to accurately land any good punches. You were backed into defense for most of the fight. Vi probably hoped to tire you out before delivering the finishing blow. 

You can tell if someone fights because they enjoy it. There’s a crazed look in their eyes as they try to trap you into continually dodging or blocking their assault. You fight for survival, even if you have some love for the game. Fighting is what kept you alive all these years. It pays the bills, keeps a roof over your head, clothes on your back, food on the table... 

Vi is clearly using fighting as an outlet. You were just unfortunate enough to be her punching bag. 

In a maneuver that damn near pulled a muscle in your back, you used the wall for momentum to jump on top of Vi. Your legs wrapped securely over her hardened biceps and your arms locked her head. Your chest pressed against the hard planes of her traps.  You could feel the heavy thud of Vi’s heart. Choking someone out wasn’t as near of a spectacle as Parvata would’ve liked, but you won the fight without a concussion. 

The rain poured harder as your shaky hands fumble for your keys. The fight ended an hour ago. You let out a string of curses as you try to find the correct key you needed. Cold air stiffens your fingers and your exhaustion is starting to take over. Or so you tell yourself. 

Sweat, blood, and alcohol. That was what the pit smelled like. Thick and hanging on your tongue like smog. 

Your fingers finally latched onto the right key, jamming it into the lock and forcing your way inside. 

Vi was a furnace. Her back radiates warmth as if to scorch you alive. The imprint of her arms still aches between your thighs. Like the pit, she too smelled of sweat, blood, and alcohol. Bernie’s Brew, the cheap shit from the bar above the arena. But there was a sweet musk to her skin. More intoxicating than any liquor. 

The speed at which you rip your clothes off makes your already overused muscles burn more. There’s an inexplicable urge to scrub your skin raw, erasing the phantom smells of Vi off of your skin. You let the cold water fall onto your heated skin. 

You wondered if Vi could feel the burn of your core on her lower back. 

— — —

It takes one week for Parvata to start hounding your ass about returning to work. 

Pit fighting wasn’t all that you did, though it made you the most money. In between brutal takedowns you would run errands around Zaun for her. Debt collecting. In the sweaty arena, at least there was glory to be had when fighting. In the damp houses of the undercity where everyone is barely scraping enough money to even live, it sours your mood for the entire day. There’s no glory to forcing a single father to cough up his last few golden hexes. Which wouldn’t even make a dent in his debt to Parvata. The sight used to make you feel guilty. After a few years of it though, you’ve gotten used to the angry yelling, the sob stories, the begging for one more week to get more money. 

When you find yourself back into the pit, it wasn’t Vi you were up against. 

You ignore the pang of disappointment and let yourself run loose. All the tension and frustration from your day was unleashed. One of your better performances. A right hook slammed into your jaw and a knee found its way into your ribs. But you delivered a well-placed kick to the side of their neck. The lanky man with snake tattoos fell to the ground with a satisfying thud. 

DING DING DING

The ring of the bell announces you as the winner. You hear the chant of your name, the howls of laughter as Rondo is dragged off the floor still unconscious. 

Tonight’s crowd is exceptionally packed. Friday nights usually are. The harsh lights above you make the masses of people blur into a single entity. Various warbles of words blending together. You don’t know why you scanned the crowd. You don’t know why your eyes immediately drifted to your right, pulled by an unknown magnetic force. But it does. 

First you see a burly man with his arms crossed. His face is hard and his physique is like a brick; rectangular and sturdy. He’s looking at you in curiosity. 

Then you see the dark outline of Vi. Your skin burns when you realize she’s already staring at you. It’s hard to tell what she’s thinking. She doesn’t seem to be particularly impressed by you. Her hands are in her pockets as she holds your intense gaze. The man next to her leans over and whispers in her ear. Her eyes never leave yours as she replies. Their conversation is muddled by the cramped people around them. 

For a second, the smell of the pit mingles with the memory of you pressed against her. Her strong back flexing beneath you as she tries to buck you off. The wild look in her eyes when she realizes what you were doing. Your heart beats faster, and not because of the adrenaline. 

You break the spell between you, stomping into the tunnel and weaving towards the exit. 

— — —

It carries on for a few weeks. 

You can never tell if Gord is pushing Vi to fight more or if Vi willingly puts herself through hell every other day. The Iron Fist of Zaun is always in rotation, more so than any other fighter. It’s gotten to the point where people are betting how long Vi could remain undefeated. You’d assume that Parvata would try to push you to fight her again, just to win the bets against her. She doesn’t. With it, no good pay. 

You find yourself settled in the crowds instead of in the pit itself. You don’t join in on the cheers or booing. Guy after guy, match after match. A few missed punches, a nice fist to the face, and the sharp ding of Gord’s bell. Just when you think that there will be no more matches for the night, Vi comes slaughtering in view. 

You hate how you immediately perk up, watching how she goes for a punch that knocks a metal jaw off of someone. A single punch. In less than a minute the fight is over and the crowd goes crazy. Vi’s sweaty back faces you. Her entire upper back is exposed and you now have a clearer view of the beautiful tattoo that adorns her skin. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. A cruel, taunting voice whispers that you wish to trace the wet muscle along the inked skin. Smelling her, tasting her—

You were unprepared for Vi to turn around and hone in on your spot in the crowd. As if she knew you were there, watching her from the shadows. You can’t help but observe the steady rise and fall of her sweaty chest. A bead of sweat making a tantalizing trail down her cheek and dropping between the swell of her breasts. Your mouth dries, suddenly parched. 

Something hot and wanting stirs inside of you. Vi must’ve seen it on your face because her usual scorned face shifts to a teasing smirk. 

A referee motions her towards the tunnels and Vi’s gaze momentarily leaves you. The spotlight is stripped away from you and you feel like you can finally breathe. Your clothes feel too warm—too tight along your body. Her gaze alone is a fire and you want to feel its burn. 

You part the crowd, trying to find the familiar door that leads down to the gate tunnels. 

A rough hand shoots out from behind, yanking you towards the exit. 

— — —

In a strange twist of events, Parvata ends up finding use for you outside of the ring. J’kepie’s bloodied body is dragged into the stale office and Parvata drips off the badge on his jacket. She drags you by the collar and jabs the pin into your leather jacket. Her insignia; a mountain range with a star above it. Head debt collector. 

“Consider this your promotion,” she growls, blowing smoke into your face. “Do well and you’ll get double the pay. Triple if you don’t ask questions” 

You know better than to fight her on this. So you nod. 

— — —

An entire month passes before you find yourself back in the pit. 

Debt collecting—you soon realized—was a misleading title. A glorified mercenary. If that bastard were still alive you would use your mechanical webbing to string him out on the lamppost by his neck. A client paid good money for J’kepie’s services, only to fail miserably. You weren’t allowed a day of rest,  swept up in Parvata’s circle. Caught in the webs of political alliances, drug wars, and hush money payments. After weeks of slaving away, you had finally stomped out the last of the client’s enemies. 

Your reward? Thirty-thousand golden hexes and a weekend off. 

You were at your wits end. The money you earned paled in comparison to the headache of cleaning up J’Kepie’s mess. You were constantly relying on yourself to do the work of over twenty people. You didn’t know how Parvata made it this long with such incompetent drones. At least she always kept true to her word. With the money you have saved up, you were able to buy a bigger home with a working shower. Food isn’t a scarcity anymore and your clothes were brand new.

You don’t know why your mind constantly drifts to the smelly arena tucked in the slums of Zaun. It’s not like you particularly loved fighting. It’s something to keep you occupied. Zaun was a vicious cycle of violence; of dirty tricks and guerilla warfare. In the pit, the only rules were to use your fist, your brain, and nothing else. Your only chance to take control of that cycle and make something out of it. 

Between the long days with blood caking your face, your mind wanders. Not to the thrill of the fight or the satisfaction, but to the angry phantom with piercing blue eyes and a warmth that rivaled the sun. She appears in your dreams with rough hands, calloused from years of fighting. Her fingers dance along any exposed skin; tracing your tattoos with the heavy weight of her tongue. Your back would arch, chasing her touch that she would so readily give you. Hoping that she catches your skin with her teeth, marking, biting—

Morning slips into night and your worn shoes carry you from your (somewhat) cushy apartment to the graffitied building that vibrates with music. Parvata doesn’t accompany you or even mentions for you to continue fighting. Too many loose ends to burn off. With her gone, no substantial money will be placed in your favor.  

You didn’t want the money. You were angry; itching to let off steam. To gather up your frustration and let it boil over the surface until there’s nothing left of you. 

At least that’s what you’re hoping for. 

“Sorry kid, all available fights are booked up.” 

You force an inhale, keeping your voice as even as you can. “C’mon, you know I’m one of Parvata’s. One fight that’s all I ask.” 

The old lady doesn’t lift her eyes from her book. Her eyes drift from one side to the next at a snail’s pace. “I know who you are, kid. Seems like you’re without your owner too. Doesn’t budge the fact that all fights are booked. Can’t you read?” She jerks a thumb to the sign next to her. 

NO SLOTS AVAILABLE

Below the sign was a list of the available matches. Your heart spikes at the words, “Iron Fist” being scribbled in for the first match. Her opponent is none other than Rondo. 

Gears start to turn in your head. 

With a final huff, the old lady tugs a metal string, pulling a sheet of metal over her kiosk. Your nails dig into your wrapped palm, trying to keep yourself from punching the glass. If your fist doesn’t connect to someone’s face soon, you are going to end up in Stillwater by midnight. Not even Pavarta would come save your sorry ass. 

“Fifteen minutes before it’s showtime!” the speakers blare out. 

People have already started to make their way inside through the front entrance. Red tickets in their hands, waving them around excitedly. A recurring color you’d see as you pass by. The sounds of music and cheering can be heard inside, enticing you in. 

You were going to fight whether that old bitch likes it or not.

— — —

Going through the crowd of people was going to shave down the limited time you had. There were multiple entries into the building reserved for staff and VIP members. Fighters typically use the main entrance or go through one of the VIP doors if they’re accompanied by their sponsor. Parvata was away doing gods know what and you didn’t want to fumble through sweaty bodies. The shortest route would be sneaking into the kitchen. 

The lock to the kitchen easily clicked open after a few twists of your hooked pin. Fridays means more people to feed so most of the staff were preoccupied enough to not care about you sliding between them. You breeze past chefs and waiters as you make your way through. A bit far removed from the main event, but you still have ten minutes before it starts. On the other side of the kitchen was a discreet door with small red trim on the bottom. No one looked your way as you opened it. 

The air is considerably colder here. You let muscle memory carry you through the damp corridors until the familiar waiting room comes into view. The door to the room opens and a tall man with snakes coiling his neck steps out. You quickly press against the wall, out of sight. 

A gruff voice calls out to the man: “Will you be back in time? Ten minutes is gonna go by real quick.”

“Just gon’ take a piss,” Rondo grunts, flicking the end of his cigarette to the floor. The door slams shut and he retreats further down the hallway.  

You use the shadows to your advantage, following him like a ghost.

— — —

Vi downs the last half of her beer. The third one today.

Her fifth fight this week. By anyone's standards, that’s too little time to recover. A restless night between each match and shit beer won’t do her any good, but she can’t find it within herself to care. Loris does at least. That’s good enough for both of them. The burn the beer leaves behind gives her the buzz she needs to carry on. Not enough to get her shit-face (not yet at least), but just enough for her body to feel loosened up.

To ease the pain Cait had left behind. Even if it’s only temporary. In the early days, all she could see was the dark blue hair and sharp face of Cait hiding between people. Her face lingered, festering the hurt in her chest until all she could do was sob into her pillows at night. She stopped, only because something else was distracting her. Keeping her afloat in the sea of her grief. 

Another ghost of her past. A hazy memory from bygone days. Where Powder was still her sister; Claggor and Mylo were still pains in her ass; Vander would pour her favorite juice after a successful trip. Sometimes Vi would come home to see you perched up on the bar. Your legs would swing on the stool as you talked to one of her friends. She would mostly see you with Ekko, letting him rattle off your ear until he couldn’t breathe. Rarely would she interact with you, let alone talk to you. She never would’ve admitted to it then, but she was intimidated by you. A pretty, shy girl with a bright smile is enough to make anyone fumble over their words. You were her first crush, for years she was haunted by you. She realized that far too late when your parents had died. You drifted from them. From Ekko, Powder, and her (even if you didn’t know it). You kept in touch with Benzo for a while before he too died. 

Vi wasn’t close enough to know where you’d gone. 

Her fondness for you lingered. During her years in Stillwater she thought of your animated conversations. Short-lived as they were, Vi replayed those talks in her head. Your laugh would tease her in dreams. Your soft hands tracing the scars along her body with love and care. Your kisses would be as sweet as your laugh. By the time Cait had busted her out of that dingy cell, the dreams fizzled out until you were just another memory in her mind. 

Cait was different. While you were just a daydream, Cait was something real to Vi. It wasn’t just a simple crush between the two of them. Not love either, but something different. A trust in each other. Someone to count on when the world turns against them. When the end of her gun slammed into Vi’s abdomen, it felt worse than any punch to her face. Cait took the trust between them, ripped it with her teeth, and spat it out without a second thought. When Cait left Zaun, a piece of Vi went along with her. 

Pit fighting seemed like the only natural outlet for Vi. Why not take the only thing she’s good at and use it to distract herself? It seemed like a good plan at the time. Loris didn’t say much about it, but he knew that she was stubborn enough to follow through with or without him. It worked well enough. Loud music and cheers drowning out the pounding of her heart and the whispers of Cait’s voice. 

But then you appeared across from her. A ghost turned real and tangible. The shy girl who would scream at the sight of any bug had grown up to be a fighter. Outwitting her strength in a way that stole her breath—literally. You were deadly, even as Vi had you cornered with whip-fast punches. When you jumped on her back, compressing her body between your legs, her head at the mercy of your arms, Vi’s anger evaporated. In a mere five minutes you did what no other substance could: make her forget about her heartbreak completely. 

Maybe it was a good thing that she was angry at Caitlyn. Then she wouldn’t feel so bad, thinking about fucking you. 

— — —

Vi enters the pit in sync with the announcer. 

Per routine she automatically starts to rake through the crowd. A mesh of excited faces with their mouths open, screaming her name until their throat grows hoarse. Vi would see your face at every match, watching like a hawk. Your visits grew shorter and shorter. A month ago you stopped coming. Still, Vi grazed over the seats, hoping to see you lingering in the shadows. 

When her eyes fail to see you, her shoulders sag imperceptibly. 

“Get ready for the Piltover Boxing Leagues’ middleweight fighter—Rondo!”. 

Her brain short-circuits when you walk to the arena. The crowd goes wild at your appearance, shouting your name in hopes you would look their way. Instead you held Vi’s shocked gaze. Something is different about you. A look of hunger flashes in your eyes, a determination that was absent when you first fought. Vi forgets about Caitlyn’s betrayal; the feeling of her lips pressed against hers; her toned, lithe body molding against Vi’s torso. 

Vi forgets it all when you stand in front of her. It was forever ago when she had that childhood crush on you. All pure, sweet, and innocent. Something else blooms in her body. Not love, trust, or the fleeting whispers of her old crush on you. A different feeling. A steady heat that slowly overtakes her body. A curiosity that nips at her mind. The urge to pick you apart, analyzing everything that makes you tick. To back you against the wall with nowhere to run. 

Vi’s attention was solely on you. Only you. There’s a spackle of blood across your face and a fading bruise near your temple. She raises her hands near face and you do the same. A charged energy ignites between you two and with it comes a newfound passion. A desire to win. 

DING

Your muscles snap into place as you bolt forward. Vi meets you halfway, sending a hard punch straight to your face. 

— — —

The lights above you strain your eyes. A dull ringing is present in your ears and you feel your body involuntarily swaying to the bass of the music. Vi is not much better. She’s breathing considerably harder now with a fresh bruise on her chest. There’s a noticeable strain in her hip from where you’ve kicked. For the better part of five minutes the two of you were locked into a series of punches, kicks, and scratches. Vi’s body was more rock than flesh. You jabbed every sharp corner of your body into her, slowing her down enough to send your elbow to the side of her head. Vi retreats, putting distance between you two. One of Vi’s hand wrappings came undone thanks to your teeth, leaving her bruised knuckles exposed. 

You circle each other, trying to catch your breath. Vi is terrible at guarding vital parts of her body, but she makes up for it in explosive punches and a speed that rivals your own. Your body is tense, threatening to lock up from exhaustion. You keep your fighting stance, watching Vi’s every move in case she tries to pull another fast combo on you. 

You’re starting to understand why people have a passion for this—the fight. Not just showing off cool moves or delighting in beating someone up just for the sake of it. Not for survival or just as a way to let out all the pent up energy in your body. 

For the first time in your life, you’ve met an opponent who is skilled. In most circumstances you are engaged with people who utilize strength or weapons with little regard to finesse. You stood out to Parvata for your ability to out maneuver, outwit, and overcome opponents who otherwise have the bigger advantage. The thrill that came from a fight would wear off and slowly that high became less and less potent. Each fight felt the same as the last. 

Fighting became a chore, a job to do in order to get money. Pavarta signs and you show up. Dull. Repetitive. Redundant. 

Vi was your perfect antithesis. A break in a mind-numbing routine. Where you attack, she finds a way to block. When you falter she’s hot on your heels. You know she remembers you. You can feel it in the way her gaze keeps falling down your body and back up to your face. Even as you’re trying to knock her teeth in. She doesn’t let her familiarity with you cloud her judgement and you find yourself appreciating it. You’re glad to know that with each punch, she truly means it. 

A blink is all it took for Vi to come swinging once more. You twist out of the way and ram your fist into her side. Vi grunts out, elbowing you in the back. The sharp angle of her joint sends a wave of pain. You fall to the ground, barely catching yourself with weak arms. Vi doesn’t give you time to recover. Her steel-toe boot kicks your side, hard enough to make all the air leave your lungs at once. Pain shoots everywhere. 

With a huff you bring your leg out, swiping her ankle until she’s on the ground with you. It’s a struggle to try to get on top of her. Her mouth in a snarl as she tries to fight you off. 

Much of her intimidation comes with her being on two feet. On the ground, however, she’s flailing. 

You force yourself past her arms and settle your weight on her chest. Vi tries to punch your abdomen but you redirect her punch. Your nails dig into the wrapping and undo it. When her other hand tries to land a hit, you take the loose end of her wrapping and bind her wrists together; caught in a web of your doing. You slam her bound arms above her head onto the concrete. The sound is so crisp that the ringing in your ears cease. 

Vi is full-on thrashing beneath you. She jerks and writhes, desperately trying to buck you off of her. It doesn’t work, of course. You lean closer, taking in the messy makeup, the silver nose ring, the small scars across her face. She’s surprised, her mouth parts to let out frustrated huffs. Her once soft blue eyes are overtaken by her dilated pupils.

She stops shifting beneath you and it’s then that you realize that you’re fully seated on top of her breasts. Your core is settled on top of her sternum, the wild pulse no doubt could be felt by her. The heat is all consuming. A sickening shock goes down your spine and with it comes the familiar ache of arousal. Vi’s gaze is no longer surprised or panicked. Hunger is written as clear as day in her darkened eyes. 

The referee runs beside you, slamming his hand on the ground. Once. Twice. 

The final slam declares you the victor. 

DING DING DING

— — —

Vi is no stranger to being roughly handled. Seven years in prison didn’t exactly go by smoothly. Hell, these past few weeks were filled with nothing but split knuckles and a mind-numbing headache. You were all coiled muscle and snapping teeth in the ring. Vi was wholeheartedly expecting to be dragged off to an empty room and be devoured by you.

But you continue to give her more surprises. 

“Let's get you cleaned up,” you say, leading her out of the building. A soft invitation that was so unlike your behavior when fighting. It’s the first time in years since she’s heard you speak. Directly at her, no less. Vi’s brows draw into a furrow and your lips tilt to a smile. “It’s a bit of a walk, but I know your place doesn’t have good heating.” 

The adrenaline from the fight starts to dissipate, and so does the innate want in her body. She can think clearly now.

Vi stops in her tracks, glaring. “Stalkin’ me much?”

“I’ve been fighting in that pit longer than you, Vi.” Her heart flutters with the mention of her name. You continue walking, kicking rocks out of your way. “It doesn’t exactly pay you much. I had two jobs and could barely keep the water running. Plus, you don’t seem to wash out that makeup.”

“I do.” She doesn’t. You give her a smirk to let her know that you see through her bullshit. You tug on her naked wrist. Warm and tender, like she’s a piece of glass. She lets you. 

You greatly understated how much walking there was to your place. Vi doesn’t complain in the slightest, especially if it means talking to you for longer. Occasionally you would point out a new restaurant that opened or a brothel that many Piltover elites would favor. You’re easy to talk to, she concludes. Sometime during the walk, your hands joined together. Wound tightly, swaying in tandem with your steps. She doesn’t deny that you’re an entirely different person, but there’s part of the old you that remains. You’re still talkative. A trait that Vi often finds annoying, but with you it falls under the category of endearing. Your smiles light up your face, as small as they are. 

Your apartment is better than Vi had pictured in her head. Spacious with high windows and modest furniture. It’s cozy, intimate. More so than when Vi entered Caitlyn’s home. In Piltover, Vi is painfully aware that she doesn’t belong. Everything bad in her life traces back to the gilded city with gleaming white buildings and blue skies. No matter how much money you seem to make (which Vi guesses is a lot more than you make it out to be), you’re a Zaunite through and through. 

Maybe the three mile hike through the Lanes was worth it, Vi thinks wryly.  

The lock to your door clicks shut and Vi is fully aware that she’s alone with you. 

You lean against the wall, kicking off your shoes. The perpetual twilight of Zaun makes your body glow. You peel off the jacket with that shiny gold badge, revealing your bruised body. Your tank top is tight along your chest, emphasizing your body in a way that makes Vi’s face darken. Her fingers curl inside of the pockets of her jacket, itching to touch you. 

“Something the matter?” you ask. A genuine question seeing as how Vi’s face is pinched, focused on you. The darkness of the room makes her look angry. 

Before you can open your mouth again, Vi crosses the room until she’s all that you see. Her hands, rough and calloused like you imagined, find the hem of your top. Your breath is caught in your throat, your body jolting at the contact. Her thumb gently follows the skin along your hip bone—the jagged scar that caught her attention all those weeks ago. You feel her trace imprint of your scar, her thumb teasing the edge of your pants where it continues. 

“Been wonderin’ how far this goes,” she murmurs. She flickers up at your face, hesitating just a bit. Waiting for your permission. 

Your face is warm and your smile is full of teeth. “Why don’t you fuck me to find out?” you challenge. 

Vi wastes no time in slotting your bodies together. Your response is immediate. Your hands slide up her abs, trailing upwards until they knot in her dark hair. Vi groans into you, and you take the opportunity to slide your tongue into her mouth. The sound she emits makes your spine tingle. Vi’s warmth is all consuming. Her hands are everywhere—your hips, the small of your back, your ass—mapping out your body’s topography with her eyes closed. She’s eager to have you close, to feel you, claim you. 

A bit too eager with the way she’s pressing against your lips so hard that you think they’ll bruise. But with the way she’s groping your ass you don’t even have the will to care. 

The leather jacket around Vi’s shoulders is pushed away by your hands. Using Vi’s hair as a leash, you tug her head back, forcing her to reveal her neck to you. You latch onto the soft patch of skin just below her jaw. Vi keens, gripping onto your hips like a vice. 

Her skin is still tacky with sweat. The salt dissolves with your open mouth kisses. Your teeth gently nip the hollow of her throat until the vessels beneath her skin breath. A mark; ownership. Vi jolts when she feels your tongue, hot and needy, drag along the column of her neck. If it wasn’t for your tight grip onto her, Vi is certain that her knees would’ve given out right then and there. 

You jerk her back, harder this time. Vi releases her hold on you. Her eyes are glazed over, her eyes dilated once again. You hook a finger onto a loop in her pants and drag her deeper into your apartment. Vi stumbles, trying her best to get her shaky legs to move faster. You barely felt her up and already she’s been reduced to a horny mess. 

Vi is far from inexperienced. She had a rotation of girls in her prison block vying for her attention, begging for a quick fuck in a supply closet or in the showers. She’s no stranger to being touched, to have a tongue slide into her mouth, or being groped. She doesn’t understand why it feels different when it comes to you. Why is she buzzing with excitement when the door to your room squeaks open? Why does her heart skip a beat when you shove her onto your bed? Why the fuck does she let out a pathetic whine when you lift up your tank top, revealing your bare chest to her? 

You crawl on top of her to kiss her again. It’s slower, precise, but equally as firm. Vi knows she’s strong enough to tug you closer, but the way your tongue keeps sliding against her own makes her head foggy. When you pull away, an obvious trail of spit connects you two. With a single hand you pop open the button on her jeans. Cold anticipation fills her. 

“Wanna take my time with you,” you say against her swollen lips. There’s a raw edge to your voice that lets Vi know that you’re desperate for her too. 

A glint of metal catches Vi’s eyes as you pull out a small knife from your pants. With the precision of a surgeon, you slice open the bandages that cover her chest. The muscles of her abdomen flex when your knife cuts a touch too close to her skin. The layers of wrappings fall open like a flower in bloom, revealing her bare torso to you. 

You kiss along her neck once more. Your lips carve a path down to the middle of her sternum. Wet, sloppy, occasionally accompanied by the glide of your tongue. Vi’s hips involuntarily jerk upwards, trying to alleviate the ache of her core. 

“You’re such a—ah—fucking tease,” she huffs. 

You hum against the underside of her breast. “So impatient,” you chide with a gentle nip of her skin. “Not unlike your fighting style.” 

All words of protest die in Vi’s throat when you take a nipple into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the sensitive bud, watching Vi arch into you. You can’t help but grin at her disheveled state. You palm her other breast, twisting the hardening nipple with your fingers. One of Vi’s hands flies to her mouth, trying to silence the higher pitched gasps and moans. 

You pinch her nipple a little harder. “Cover your mouth again and I’ll stop.”

“It’s embarrassing,” she whines. 

You cup her clothed pussy, digging your hand harshly against the crest of her slit. The moan that escapes Vi is music to your ears. “I’m trying to be nice Vi. I want to hear every noise you make.” You punctuate your words with another roll of your hand. “Can you do that for me baby?”

A few more slides of your hand and Vi gives a weak nod of affirmation. Satisfied, you continue your trail down her torso. You’re a drug. You must be. Your lips alone are undoing her, fanning the flames of her desire in a way that no one else could. With every tender bruise, your tongue gently prods it with a cruel grin. Vi keeps her hands fisted in your sheets, trying to please your demands of hearing her. She’s not used to receiving; being at the mercy of someone during sex. It’s as foreign of a concept to her as living her life in Piltover with an ivory tower and silk clothes. She’s not used to being beaten in a game she’s good at, especially not to the same person. Not with fighting and certainly not through sex. But you managed to do it anyway. 

You’re an enigma to her. Opposite to her in such a way that leaves her aching. Oil and water, yet you find a way to compliment her. Separated by time, but equal when together. Her match in a ring, and her match in bed it seems. 

Vi lifts herself on her forearms, watching you with rapt attention when your mouth leaves her body. You move to her feet, undoing the tight laces of her boots and tossing them onto the floor. Once her other shoe hits the ground with a loud thud, you’ve finally reached the faint trail of hair under her belly button with a soft kiss. Your teeth catch the fly of her zipper and pull it down. The sharp sound made her heart pound faster. You tug onto her pants and underwear, Vi lifting her hips to help you slide them off her body. 

Cold air hits her cunt and she sucks in a breath. Your lips part in awe, seeing the proof of her desire leaking out of her entrance. You settle between her legs, placing your hand on the corded muscle of her thighs to keep her spread for you. You watch her opening clench around nothing, practically begging you to put your mouth on it. Apparently, you were staring a second too long. 

“You gonna watch or are you gonna fuck me?” Vi snaps, already fed up with your prolonged teasing. Her cheeks are flushed as her eyes challenge yours. “Don’t tell me you forgot how to eat pussy.”

Vi grins at your displeased face, happy to see your assured confidence crack just a little. 

You give her a sharp glare, but that only seems to stir a spark of rebellion against your cruel tyranny. You certainly can’t have that. 

So you press your thumb against her puffy clit and watch as her jaw goes slack. 

“Could you repeat that?” you ask with mock innocence. You let your thumb gather some of her slick and gently rub her crest. A wordless gasp leaves Vi as you continue your slow ministrations. “Something the matter, Vi? Spider got your tongue?” Your thumb is pressing against her harder, almost to the point of pain. You shake your head with faux sympathy, clicking your tongue. “Poor thing’s been neglected. I barely touched you and you’re already ruining my sheets. Maybe I should leave you here so I can prevent a mess.” 

A strained noise of protest escapes from Vi. Too caught up in pleasure to see past your obvious bluff.  “Don’t you dare…f-fuck! Don’t you dare stop—shit.”  

“You’re not in the position to be making demands,” you state, emphasized with a light pinch of her clit. Vi bucks her hips into your hand, trying to get as much friction out of you. 

“‘M sorry…won’t do it again—ah—promise!” 

As much as you want to prolong her suffering, you’re too selfish to deprive yourself of good pussy just to prove a point. Next time, you think to yourself. If there will be a next time. You push down that thought, focusing on the growing slick accumulating in your palm. Vi whines when your hand leaves, but quickly swallows any scathing words when she feels your tongue drag along her slit. Kitten licks and kisses along her pussy makes Vi more desperate. But it’s not enough to release the pressure in her core. You continue to tease her even as she’s starting to grow frustrated. You would prod her tight entrance with your tongue, only to retreat a few seconds later. You watch with a grin at Vi’s mounting frustrations, wanting to test her patience with you. 

When you latch onto her clit, sucking it gently, Vi damn near sobs in relief. 

You’re a god. That’s the only explanation. Your saliva holds a magical elixir that sends her nerves ablaze and makes her mind go blank. If this was a ploy to get her to join your cult, she’ll be attending mass every day of the damn week just to experience your mouth on her cunt, no questions asked. Your firm hold on her thighs keeps her from crushing your skull between them. In a few minutes she’s already starting to shake. 

When you add a finger to the mix, Vi is making sounds she never thought capable of. It takes a few tries to find the right spot, but when you do, you’re merciless. Your finger and mouth working in sync to bring her to the height of her pleasure. The pressure between Vi’s legs threatens to snap. Her body winding tighter, tighter, tighter—

Vi chants your name like a prayer. Broken wails that plead for your grace; to give her sweet relief to the pain you had also caused her. “Please, please, please! I can’t…fuck, I need to cum! Please—”

Who are you to deny a beautiful woman’s cries? You add in a second finger, never faltering in your brutal assault. Vi’s pussy clamps down on your fingers—the only warning of her impending descent. 

The pressure explodes outwards. Energy ripples through her body in powerful waves until she’s left shivering. Vi’s back arches off the bed as she cries out your name, her eyes rolling to the back of her skull. Her strong legs wrapping around your head, suffocating you with her body and essence. Cum gushes onto your face and fingers as you continue to fuck her through her orgasm. Only when she parts her legs and starts to jerk her hips away do you stop.

Vi is left shaky, her chest struggling to inhale deeply. Still, she hauls you from her legs and pulls you in for a kiss. She lets out a groan at the taste of her sex on your lips. 

You give her one more peck before pulling away slightly. “Forgotten how to eat pussy, huh?”

The look in Vi’s eyes tells you that she doesn’t regret it one bit. “Worth it to have you prove it to me.” 

“You’re a brat, you know that?” you say, exasperated. 

Vi grabs hold of your waist and rolls you on your back. She doesn’t bother teasing you with nips and open mouth kisses along your body. You were right to call her impatient as she fumbles with your belt. There’s a fire behind those blue eyes of hers, a look of ambition and cunning.  

Before you could question her motives, Vi grabs both of your wrists and mounts on top of you. You feel the clink of your belt as Vi wraps them around your wrists, tying them to your metal headboard. In the span of a few seconds, she manages to secure you to your bed, completely at her mercy. Her slick core rubs against your stomach as you helplessly pull against your restraints. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you ask. 

Vi’s hand travels appreciatively down your chest, stopping you giving your breasts a squeeze. “Repaying the favor.” She wears the same look as she does in the ring. Halfway between a glare and a look of curiosity. 

Vi shifts off of you, relieving your body of her weight. Instead she settles between your legs, much like how you did before. 

You tilt your chin out, glaring up at her. “You think that you’re in charge now just because you restrained me?” 

“I do, actually.”

You’d be lying if you said you don’t find it incredibly hot to be at the complete mercy of someone like Vi. Still, you hoped to have your streak of conquering Vi to be undefeated, at least for the night. Vi is too busy tracing her fingers along your body, mentally counting all the scars she could see on your body. You try to not let it show that her seeking fingers have an effect on you, however your traitorous skin erupts in goosebumps wherever her finger travels. Vi takes her time visually appreciating her body. She enjoys the feeling of warm flesh beneath her fingers, the subtle shivers whenever she finds a particularly sore spot. 

“So beautiful,” she whispers, almost to herself. “Been wanting this for so long.”

A shallow chuckle escapes you. “Since you saw me in the pit?”

You whimper softly when she kneads the soft mounds of your breasts.  Her brows furrow and her movements falter for a moment. 

“Before that,” she corrects, in a serious tone that shocks you. 

It takes a moment for the implication of her admission to hit you. You almost laughed at the ridiculous notion. You wanted nothing more than to be friends with Vi as kids. But any advance was met with hesitation. She would constantly avoid any prolonged interaction with you. You tried not to take it to heart; she always had a lot on her plate. You assumed she didn’t think you were cool and you’ve learned to make peace with that. Even if Powder constantly assured you that Vi didn't actually hate you…

Oh.

“I just…I thought that…y'know.” 

“Y’know what?” Vi asks. 

You force a steady inhale. “I thought that you didn’t want to be friends with me. I grew up thinking you secretly hated me.” Suddenly the immediate chemistry between you two in the ring starts to make sense. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner? When I saw you again I thought that you wouldn’t remember—”

Vi shuts up your rambling with a kiss. A dizzying, passionate kiss that steals what little air you have left in your lungs. You wrap your legs around Vi’s hips, bringing her closer. She lets you press your pelvises together, groaning in your mouth when you start to move. Her hips move in sync with yours, grinding against your heated core with fervor. 

Vi breaks the kiss but doesn’t stop the movement of her hips. “I thought about you every night since our first fight.” You let out sharp gasps when her hands return to your chest. “When I saw you in the stands, I wanted to drag you to the bathrooms and fuck you against the sink” Her hands finds your hips and presses you down to her pubic bone, hard enough to make you arch into her with a whine. “Let me have you. Even if it’s just for tonight.”

“Do it,” you say, your voice growing hoarse, “take me. I’ll be yours.”

There’s the unspoken meaning behind that declaration. A line that separates you two, once crossed it can have the power to destroy you from the inside out. You don’t seem to realize the weight of what you’re saying. Vi knows her mind is still conflicted on Caitlyn. She can’t bring herself to commit to hating her, but she can’t deny the toll it’s taken on her mind. Poisoning her. With you, the pain recedes, forgotten and pushed away. A distraction. A damn good one. 

When Vi kisses you again, she remembers all of the reasons why she was so drawn to you. You were more than just a pretty girl that she admired from afar. Her antithesis. Should she accept your invitation, wholeheartedly, you will have the power to be a weapon of her undoing. Vi should be scared of that. Not too long ago she poured her heart and bled for someone who ultimately discarded her. 

But then you moan out Vi’s name—breathy and desperate. A longing to rewrite your shared past between each kiss. A call to action. To finally answer one of Vi’s biggest what if? 

Vi runs past that separation between you two. Just for tonight, she promises weakly. 

In her haste to get your pants off your body, she snaps the button of your jeans and yanks the garment off along with your soaked panties. Her fingers run along your slit, teasing your entrance with the pad of her finger. 

“Please!”

Vi slides her middle finger down to the knuckle, curving ever so slightly. You jerk into her hand and Vi knows she’s found your weakest point. It’s like her fingers were made your pussy. She gives an experimental press of her finger, slowly building up a steady pace. Your tough demeanor chipping away bit by bit with each drag of her finger. 

You’re panting heavily. The squelching sound of your wet cunt fills the space between your bodies. Vi sets a moderate pace, enough to elicit moans, but not enough to satisfy. Vi must’ve seen the look on your face. 

“Let me take care of you, baby.” Her hand moves a touch faster, but you’re so wound up that any difference makes you cry out. “That’s it—that’s my girl.”

 A steady ache builds in your core at the name. You pull needlessly against the tight restraints, hoping that one more tug would be enough to free your hands. You want to touch her, to bring her closer to you bodies and fuck you properly. 

Vi laughs at your struggle. “Too much for you? Should I slow down?”

You shake your head vehemently. “More…give—fuck, give me more Vi. Need you…need more of you!”

The moment you feel her lips on yours, you also feel the addition of another finger deep in your cunt. The effect is immediate. Vi could barely kiss you with how loudly you’re moaning; jaw hung open, head thrown back, and your hips furiously meeting her fingers. She grabs your open jaw and forces you to look at her. Vi’s spit hits the back of your throat. When she sees you swallow—mouth closing and throat squeezing—she lets out a string of curses. 

A third finger makes your eyes roll to the back of your skull. Your thighs seize up and your chest tightens. You’re so, so close. You need something more. Just one more push and you’ll fall off the edge. 

As if Vi could read your mind, her hand leaves your face, pressing below your belly button, right where her fingers meet the spot inside of you that makes you see stars. The pressure from her other hand combined with her feverish fucking was enough make you cum—hard. Your body twists in on itself, trying to ride out the pulses of pure feeling. Blinding pleasure rips through your body like lightning, hitting you fast and leaving behind a burn. Your cum rushes out of you like a dam, coating Vi’s fingers. 

“That’s it baby. You’re taking me so well. My good girl,” Vi coos, slowing down in her assault against your cunt. 

It takes a minute to come down from your euphoria. Your body slowly relaxes as Vi eases her fingers out of you. You can’t help but whine at the loss. 

In an executive act of mercy, Vi tugs at the belt restraint, freeing your sore wrists. 

You feel warm. A hot, pulsating nerve that’s been rubbed raw. Never in your life had sex ever been that good. You don’t even think you’re even capable of making yourself cum that hard. Vi collapses beside you, pulling you to her chest. You breathe in the scent of her; sweat, musk, and faint traces of leather. 

“We’ll shower tomorrow,” she mumbles into the side of your head. Exhausted. 

You feel the lull of sleep start to take you too. You bury your face into her neck, letting yourself trace patterns along the muscles of her back. Her strong arms wrap around your body, caging you with her warmth. Her soft, bruised, scarred skin enveloping you. You lay like this for a while, listening to the slow staccato of her heartbeat. Vi’s breath evens out and soon she’s asleep in your arms. It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep as well. 

— — —

At some point during the night, Vi twists away from you. You only notice when her voice starts to pull you awake. 

“Didn’t…didn’t mean to,” she whispers. Her face is scrunched up, pained. 

You’re unsure what the protocol is for someone having a bad dream. You want to smooth your thumb over her pinched brows, kissing her frown until her imaginary worries go away. But if Vi wakes up, would she talk about it? You’re paralyzed by the decision, you opt to simply stay on your side of the bed. If it gets too much then you’ll wake her. In the meantime, you’ll try to ignore her sleep talking. You only have the weekend off after all. Soon, Parvata will be knocking on your door, demanding for your services. The thought alone makes you exhausted. 

The bed shifts again and this time Vi’s arms find you. This time, your back is pressed against her chest, her lips ghosting over the top of your shoulder. 

“Sorry…” she murmurs into your skin. A longing spelled with each syllable. “Love…I love you.”

You’re frozen. Her arms around your waist feel like dead weight. A sour feeling is felt in your gut; the feeling that whatever comes out of her mouth will haunt you. 

Vi’s mouth moves again. Sounds pressed against your skin, trying to be let out. Then, you hear it. As clear as Piltover’s skies.

“Caitlyn.”

You felt your heart stop in its tracks. It’s the clearest word that came out of her ramblings. With it comes a shock of clarity that makes the room feel ten degrees colder. Caitlyn…why does that name seem familiar?

Kiramman. Caitlyn Kiramman. Vi’s supposed enforcer buddy before she would up in the pits. Responsible for the removal of one of the chem-barons and their followers. Not much is known about what exactly went wrong to have Vi end up back in Zaun. But one thing was clear. 

Vi was using you. To distract herself from the Kiramman heir. It wasn’t a desire to reconnect with you that led her to follow you. Seems as though sex was a better option than shitty liquor. You feel Vi nuzzle against your skin and you fight the urge to recoil from her touch. It’s not like you’ve staked your claim to her. She wasn’t your girlfriend. You didn’t establish any boundaries or attach any labels to what you were. She never accepted your invitation after all—”I’ll be yours”. 

You slowly maneuver your body until you’re facing Vi. She’s still sound asleep. The hard crease in the middle of her brows is gone, looking  more relaxed than you’ve seen her. You shouldn’t feel jealous. Vi isn’t your partner. And now you have confirmation that she most likely never will be. 

So you cling onto her. Pretending that just for tonight, she’s actually yours. 

[satoruhour]

Just thought of something FREAKY in class… Single father Satoru looking for a babysitter and you’re looking for a side income during semester break and the tension goes crazy!!!! “We should’t be doing this my son will wake up” I’M GONNA SCREAMMMM

BLISS, PURE BLISS

a/n: happy new year LMFAOOO. thank you for all the asks btw i promise ill answer them asap 🥹 / @shotorus @osaemu @shidouryusm @mysugu @hyomagiri ♱

wc: 6.4k

warnings: ‘onee-san’ used but more of just addressing reader as an older figure because saying babysitter is kinda weird lol (kind of like how chinese people use 姐姐 even if they are not related), fem!reader, dilf!gojo, age gap (gojo in his late 30s, reader in mid-20s), angst if u squint, bit of slow burn n tension, making out, use of ‘slut’ and ‘whore’, praise, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, clit stimulation, unprotected sex, p -> v sex, multiple rounds, consensual filming, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

“no fucking way . .” you mumble mostly to yourself, standing in front of the largest house of the gated community in roppongi, and while you knew the people here were excessively and obnoxiously rich, you’re never quite prepared until you’re getting a key card specifically mailed to your name just so you could enter.

you’re not even shameful when you take a video to send to your best friends, locking your screen almost immediately because you knew you’d never get to the job on time if you replied to them. with calculated steps, you’re walking up the house that’s designed with a modern structure, yet still retaining characteristics of a traditional japanese home. it’s less prominent at the front of the house, though.

“(y/n)-san, was it?” a voice startles you out of your ogling sessions. if the garden was already this nice, what would be in store for you when you went in? you’ll be finding out soon when your employer himself opens the door to you, a man with striking white hair and equally striking blue eyes that seem to look right into you. he’s dressed in a suit, probably no doubt ready to get to work while you’re out here taking your time. you cringe, immediately walking up to the door.

“y-yes! yes, i’m sorry sir, i was just uhm—”

he holds that intimidating stare just for a moment but then he breaks into a smile that mirrors the bright sun that shines down on the porch.

“it’s alright . . it’s not everyday you’re working at some rich guy’s house, right?” he jokes but that strikes a little ick into you — he’s already ticking the boxes of obnoxious and excessively rich, but you hate the effect he’s having on you.

“yeah . . no, i guess,” he hums in reply before sticking a hand out.

“gojo satoru,” he introduces himself, “call me anything but that sir shit, alright, doll?”

you nod obediently, trying not to let the little pet name get to your head because he probably does this to any babysitter who comes through the house, but either way, he’s welcoming you in and it’s like you step into a world unreal. it’s spotless, the floors shining under the sunlight, a large television in the living room, a spacious open concept dining-kitchen area, and this is just the first floor.

gojo takes his time to show you the house — where his kid’s toys were, where the food was, where the bathrooms and bedrooms were, it was never-ending. every step you took made you feel like you were walking the length of the nile, each turn only revealing more rooms and corridors.

and then, finally, his baby boy.

“he’s a cheeky one, takes after his dad,” even with all the cockiness he’s shown to you, you can tell he has a soft spot for his kid. the boy stirs from his father’s voice, gleaming in happiness as he puts out his smaller hands to be picked up. as he settles into his arms, it’s just sinking in how tall your employer is. he makes a toddler look like a baby with how small his son looks wrapped snugly.

“satoshi, hi,” he whispers, bouncing the kid in his arms, “want to say hi to your onee-san?”

you manage a small wave but all he does is turn to hide in his father’s arms, definitely scared from a random stranger suddenly talking to him.

“she’s going to be taking care of you for the next month or so, you know?” he mumbles, brushing a hand through the matching white hair, “be nice to the babysitter, okay?”

all satoshi does is hum into his dad’s neck before he’s giving you a sheepish smile. “he’s like that, don’t worry about him.” and you return the smile, thinking that he wasn’t that obnoxious that you thought and that maybe he’s really a dad trying his hardest for his one kid. you realise he’s taking too much time, though, and so you sought out to remind him.

“oh, uh sir— gojo-san, don’t you have to go to work?”

although he’s mentioned satoshi to be taking after him, the boy goes right back to sleeping when he’s put back into his bed so you follow gojo as he adjusts his cuffs and smoothes out his collar just outside the room and you make the mistake of glancing upon the mirror on the far end of the corridor — it was undeniable that you looked like a high-end couple who’s newly married and raising a kid. you try to shake off the thoughts of adjusting his tie for him.

“it’s not being late if you’re on top.” he smirks and you resist the urge to roll your eyes; at least you weren’t alone in purging the delusional thoughts from your head, he was basically helping you at this point and you struggle between characterising him as conceited and admirable. “but, yeah, i should get going.”

but he stands at the door with backpack slung onto one shoulder while he continues to explain satoshi’s routines to you, his habits and also had to sneak in a few cute photos of the kid while squealing repeatedly and you’re left wondering how this guy could be the CEO of a company.

it’s been like that for as long as you can remember — bidding goodbye to your parents as you tell them that you’re off to your part-time job over the winter break. they’re happy you’re even leaving the house, shoving your lunch into your hands with big smiles that you’re at least doing anything other than sitting in your room. the train ride to the gated residential was nice, too, apart from the very crowded subways for people going to work in roppongi.

gojo greets you every morning when you arrive, reminding you of satoshi’s feeding times and his favourite shows and everything a father should know but don’t have the luxury to experience with aforementioned kid. it’s a little bittersweet, every time you see him kiss satoshi goodbye that turns into remaining in his room, to holding your hand and saying goodbye to daddy from the second floor, to getting carried by you at the front door.

it’s slow but sure progress day after day, from watching his cartoons, feeding him at the kitchen island, playing with his toys, that satoshi feels more and more comfortable with you, learning that while he was a well-behaved boy, he definitely had hints of your employer in him. mannerisms, words, voice, you wonder whether he even got any part of his mother in his genes.

you’d never ask, though, but it was told. unexpectedly.

“i’m home—” the last parts of his word die down into a whisper when he opens the door to see satoshi cuddled up to you, the last bits of home alone playing softly. by now you already know what happens in the movie so you’re texting your friends and laughing softly to yourself, jumping when your boss steps past the doorway. gojo winces when he checks his watch (“fuck. it’s already ten.”), toeing his shoes off and apologising simultaneously.

“oh— man, i’m so sorry, i had a late meeting with the CEO of our neighbouring franchise, i totally forgot about the time—” gojo’s quick to make his way down to the small pit of the house (he likes to call it the conversation pit), settling down on the side where satoshi had his head in your lap as his eyes linger on the movie. instinctively, his hands reach to pat his leg.

“oh, it’s okay, gojo-san, it’s the holidays anyway.”

“yeah?” he turns to you, one arm propped on the back of the sofa, “and why don’t a pretty girl like you have any plans?”

that catches you off-guard, among the many other times he’s called you pretty or sweets like no care in the world. you’re never quite used to it, too, seeking to fluster you. “you shouldn’t say stuff like that to me, gojo-san . .”

“why not?” he’s turned back to the television, now, and you take his place, staring at his side profile as the scenes of the movie move along his face. “i’m a single dad, aren’t i?”

“yeah but . . you could have anyone.”

“what if,” he turns and you chicken out, head snapping back to the front while he watches you and the both of you cannot deny the tiring dance you perform around each other all the time. the clench in his heart when he sees you carry his baby boy at the porch and the small smile he gives you every morning before he leaves for his job. he doesn’t want to go through with it and sighs.

it’s become hard to breathe around you. it’s become hard to hold himself back around you.

“i worked too much.” he suddenly says, facing the TV again. “i was too engrossed and . .”

confusion seeps in at first. yeah, it was no secret he worked his ass off despite being at the very top. your gaze falls to satoshi, curling more into your side like he’s cold and you adjust the blanket. you nod in recognition.

“we fought a lot. i tried— i tried to alter my schedule as much as i could, driving to and fro whenever she needed me, bringing satoshi to work as a baby when we couldn’t come to a compromise, but it was a lot. for her, for satoshi. he could sense whenever we were about to fight, on edge voices, items clattering to the floor . .”

by now, he’s leaned back, back of his hand resting on his forehead, “and he’d cry like he was interrupting us. cheeky, i told you,” and his eyes close, “we hardly reached middle ground. it was either this or that, hire a nanny or we take care of him, my endless job or the joy of life. i’m ashamed that i’ve prioritised my job more, and still do it now.”

“if you didn’t, i wouldn’t be here, would i?”

that draws a chuckle out of him, “correct.”

“she couldn’t take it, not when she was a businesswoman on top of that. she was out doing herself at every aspect in her job, going to greater heights, and while she accused me of putting work first, she isn’t entirely innocent, either. but that’s . .”

“you don’t have to say anything, gojo-san,” you mumble as you watch the reunion of the characters in the movie before the screen cuts the black, no doubt affecting him in some way at the warmth displayed by the movie that contrasts heavily with his situation, “the fact that you even told me is . .”

the heavy atmosphere is disrupted by satoshi gasping, “papa! you’re home.”

you exchange awkward smiles as you watch the boy fight his way out of the blanket to hug gojo, the latter huffing when the boy drops his body weight on him and you take it as a sign to give them a bit of privacy, standing up to clean up the popcorn and cups. laughter and your employer’s voice resonate throughout the place even as they go up the stairs, a rare occasion where gojo is able to get his son ready for bed.

it’s only maybe an hour later when the house falls into silence. mouth burning from the mouthwash, the heater in satoshi’s room turned to a high setting, one bedtime story was read (which, he fell asleep halfway), the boy was out like a light. you felt it inappropriate to leave without at least saying goodbye, but you also didn’t want to cut into their time together; at least, that’s what you told yourself.

so you waited with your things on the kitchen island, getting a risky text just as gojo comes down, still in his suit from work.

[11:02pm, nobara -> you] BITCH GET THAT DICKKKKK!!!!!!! 

and you yelp softly, slamming your phone down onto his marble counter. thankfully, he doesn’t notice, eyes close to shutting from fatigue. 

“oh, shit, you’re still here?”

“i thought it would be, weird, if i didn’t say goodbye,” you get ready to leave, slinging your tote bag on, “but i also didn’t want to intrude on your time with satoshi, limited as it is.” well, you did also wish something would happen, but you had too much pride to admit it to yourself.

“you got a ride home?” he yawns and you feel guilty for extending your stay already. you didn’t even need to worry about the front door, he lived in a gated community for christ’s sake!

“um, not really, but i can always book an uber home.”

“i’ll drive you home, it’s unsafe,” is all he says like he’s trying to convince himself, “let me just get changed and we can go.”

gojo doesn’t leave you any room to protest before he’s up the stairs again and you’re left with a pounding heart and dizzy head, not sure what might ensue. you know him to be honourable; you’ve seen him with his child, you’ve seen him interact with his neighbours, but a late ride with your boss sounds sketchy as it is.

but it doesn’t feel like it when you feel the tokyo wind blowing through your hair, a slight gap in the window bringing you the chills of the night as he silently drives you back home. sitting in your employer’s car most of all felt weird, but even more so when he’s reaching your home faster than the gps system had predicted. his knuckles are white.

“you—”

your head snaps to him, “yes?”

his car headlights are the brightest in the parking lot where every car is silent, quiet, much like his clammy hands and red cheeks. gojo satoru turns to you, feeling that familiar tug in his heart and lump in his throat for the first time in a while, and he can’t speak.

but you lean forward like your life depends on it and you leap inwardly when you see that he does the same. eyes trained forward, your stares boring into the other, waiting to see who’d close their eyes first. you just stop short of an inch, met with the hypnotising swirls of raging oceans in gojo’s eyes and you swallow when his eyes flit down to your lips and back up like he wouldn’t get caught.

with shaking hands, your fingers trace over his lips and you sigh when you feel just how soft they are, just like his skin, just like his eyes when they look at satoshi. your heart skips a beat when he just lightly kisses the pads of your fingers, and that encourages you to cradle his cheek, up his jaw, up his undercut.

“let’s just kiss, yeah?” he was afraid that if he spoke too loud, he’d shatter the glass, snap the string of tension, voice cracking until you swallow it, you stomach his nervousness with a lively, strong kiss from your lips to his, and he just melts.

gojo hums into the kiss, leaning forward over the stick shift and into the passenger seat before you counter it with your own movements: hand on his shoulders and pushing until you’re on his space of the driver’s seat and playing the game of tug that’s been going on for the past few weeks. you win.

“god, you’re so . .” gojo whines out when you climb onto him, whispering into your mouth while you get comfortable in your straddling position, cutting him off with a second, rougher kiss and you both moan softly, passion taking over in the evident way your arms scramble to wrap around him while he pulls you flush against his front.

the car is filled with sounds of your kissing, something that definitely shouldn’t be done in his home and yet you risk it all in your home’s parking lot. you break the kiss and hide in his neck, already starting the makings of a hickey there while your pelvis selfishly grinds into his front and he kneads your ass. in the mingling of breaths and moans, he’s left to stop the two of you when there’s a muffled ringtone coming from your bag and you swallow at the insanity of the situation.

“i’ll see you, monday, right?” gojo breathlessly says later, bulge still showing through his sweats while you hang outside the driver’s side, not wanting to leave. he takes your hand, planting a peck on it and then brings you in for another harmless kiss.

“yeah, gojo-san . . monday.”

you lose count of how many times you’ve swallowed throughout the night, but he says something to lift the mood just a bit.

“we just made out and you’re still calling me by my last name?”

you laugh lightly, “monday, satoru. i’ll be there, same time, on monday.”

gojo leaves a farewell kiss to the inside of your wrist, “attagirl.”

 but if you’re not careful, it might just happen in satoru’s house.

the remainder of your employment at his house is tiring. it’s so hard not to kiss him before he leaves for work, so difficult not to long for him while you take care of satoshi, so entirely harrowing not to claim him as yours as you watch him play after his work. at this point, you’re hoping school will just start soon and the rush of assignments and readings will take your mind off of it, but you cannot deny the excitement every time you leave your house.

“you’ll bring food and cook every monday, wednesday, friday, and i’ll order food for the both of you every tuesday and thursday, how’s that?” gojo thinks it’s time to introduce him to larger pieces of food, but it’s gone past that by now and to your meal arrangements.

“i’m okay with cooking, though!” you assure him, and plus, you loved your parents’ home cooked bentos that they give you everyday, “do we gotta?”

“sorting out meals is tiring, (y/n),” gojo takes the place beside you, leaning against the counter just like you before drinking out of his cup, “i want to at least help at little.”

“you already are.” you smile, “i can see you making the effort.”

“it’s not enough, though, i could be doing better.”

gojo hates how this scene sets up — like two parents just figuring out the best for their kid — it’s a callback to the memory in the same exact kitchen. at least all you do is kiss and make out, because he wouldn’t know what to do if you moan out his name in that same intimate way that threatens his walls to come down again. he loved sex, he loved the bedroom, but he’s riding a thin line the way he’s doing with you.

“you are,” is everything that you say, and you leap forward to kiss him. you do it so hard that he has to put down the glass to fully embrace you, walking you backwards to the conversation pit and he carries you so effortlessly because he doesn’t want you walking backwards down some stairs.

he hates how you bring him into your lips, he hates how gently he lays you down, and he hates how you accept the kisses down your neck and body. you, on the other hand, aren’t doing so well, either — it’s either a hit or miss with a broken man like gojo satoru, and you’re stepping on glass shards hoping you don’t say anything wrong with him because he’s trying his best but he just can’t see it.

“are you okay with this?” he asks halfway down your torso and he gets lightheaded from how well his hands cover your waist. “tell me to stop, and i’ll stop.”

“n-no . . keep going, satoru.”

he exhales shakily at that, fingers tugging your top up and his hands are so cold you resist shivering, but you do anyway from the sheer fucking craziness that gojo drives you into. one pop of your button, and you’re already lifting your hips off the couch for him to remove your pants but movement on the stairs make you halt.

“papa?” satoshi calls out sleepily, rubbing his eyes and pouting. you can see it, almost, with how much time you’ve spent with the kid, and you hope he can’t see you. “i . . i had a nightmare and i just— i wanna sleep with you.”

he’s started sniffling and you feel your heart break that he knows his papa well enough to know he would never sleep in his room. his job always has him sleeping out in the living room.

go. you mouth, kissing your fingers and pressing it to his lips before he puts on a show — yawning, stretching his arms, already making satoshi feel at ease with his theatrics before he’s stopping at the foot of the stairs to look back at you. you already know gojo satoru has redeemed himself a hundred times over. i’ll see you tomorrow. 

funnily, satoshi somehow does have some intervention powers, because each time the both of you attempt to go down on each other, he’s either saying he threw up, or he needs to use the toilet, or that he’s hungry. while you both love him to death, it’s also becoming difficult to hold back each time you see each other. his car in your parking lot is all he has and you dare not to go to his workplace where rumours would spark.

so after a tiring night of getting a hyper satoshi to sleep, you’d at least try. at this point, you know not to expect too much out of it, starting always with some talking. it was easy to talk to your boss, and when you phrase it like that, it did come off a little strange, but it was far from that when your boss in his late 30s looked just like he did ten years ago and that he had crazy blue eyes and insane white hair and was hot.

“thank you for taking care of him for the past month and a half,” gojo thanked you, leaning over to give you a peck to the temple, “it means a lot.”

“he’s a sweet boy, plus, i do need the money,” you giggle, nudging him, “and it did let me get to know you . .”

“certainly,” he mumbles. drunk off your scent, he leans in again, kissing you fully on the lips now. you hum softly, going on your tippy toes and wrapping your arms around his shoulder. swiftly, he props you on the kitchen counter and you yelp in surprise, unable to help the throb of your pussy when he slots himself in between your legs.

jokingly, he puts his hand to his ear. “no satoshi interruption tonight?”

you smack his shoulder, “don’t jinx it.”

he laughs, a proper laugh before he sighs shakily, fingers thumbing your sides gently. “you know . . we shouldn’t be doing this,” you feel your heart sink a little, but he quells it with hovering lips over yours, “he could hear and wake up.”

“then why have you been accepting all my kisses, gojo satoru?” your eyes challenge him, but you know one touch from him would have you submitting to him. his breath fans over your lips, and you can feel his pulse speed up when your fingers go over his neck, to his nape, to his undercut. you run your fingertips through it.

“you have too much power over me, simple.” that sentence has your eyes fluttering close. it’s too much for you and yet you welcome it with open arms, “it’s become so bad that you’re all i think about.”

“is that so?” you pull lightly on his hair.

he nods, foreheads touching now and he’s trying to hold himself back, but, “i’ve been holding back, entirely too much, baby, and i don’t think i can, anymore.”

“yeah?” you whisper, bringing him in with your legs, “show me, then.”

gojo satoru decides that maybe taking the leap isn’t so bad, so he fully gives himself to you, tugging your lips to his in a clashing kiss that has you groaning in pain just a bit. he giggles and apologises and tries again, and this time, it’s got your hips moving against him, whimpering into his mouth. gojo’s hard just from kissing, something that he’s desperate to relieve himself off so — he’s whispering for you to hang on while he slots his hands under your ass and lifts you.

satoru knows his house well, walking up with you in tow and lips still on yours, right into his room. you giggle when he plops you down and he’s already looking forward to ravishing you, but —

“let me check on satoshi for a sec.”

you laugh silently, “of course, satoru, go.”

and once your boss’ made sure his son is out cold in slumber, he’s all over you again and definitely showing you how much he’s been holding himself back. you’re the pure focus of the night, making you chase for more when he pulls away and kissing down your body. he worships it, tongue circling a nipple while his hand plays with the other, eyes staring holes into yours from how intense the blue was.

“s-satoru . .”

“yes, sweets, what is it?”

“feels good—” you whine, back arching into his hold once he leaves your tits and continues down your body. each kiss is like hellfire against your cold skin, and he pops a button and listens out again, both of you sighing in relief and giggling to each other when you don’t hear a knock on the door.

“does it? good.” it’s tantalisingly slow, the pace at which gojo peels your clothes off, but when your pants are finally off, he marvels at your beauty as he brings your legs apart. you’re shy, hiding yourself behind your arms and resisting his hands.

“aht, no, c’mon, show yourself, baby.” he only moans when he sees the dark patch at the centre of your underwear, pressing a finger into your clit and you’re ashamed at how intensely you react to it. gojo continues his torture, thumbing your bud just to watch your face contort into pleasure, “so, so pretty.”

you preen at the praise, even more so when he pulls your panties to the side and sucks slowly on your clit. it’s slow, again, and you’re clutching the sheets so tight when he lays his tongue flat against your pussy. satoru takes his time, savouring each bit of your cunt to make up for lost time, filling the room with the lewdest noises of your sopping cunt on his tongue.

“taste so fuckin’ sweet, pussy’s s’good,” he practically moans into your core, arms wrapping around your thighs to bring you closer while you try to keep your noises down to a minimum. little pants and mewls leave your lips, eyes never leaving the head of hair.

but he’s unpredictable, as gojo always is, so when he’s hovering over you just to give you a little innocent kiss, you think nothing of it, until he’s back in front of your pussy and starts eating you out like a starved man. you let out a loud moan, dragging it out until you’re gulping down your next sounds. it doesn’t help much, though, cause gojo’s slurping at your pussy like it’s the end of the world.

“s-satoru—! too much—” you moan but your hips grind into his mouth, your hands now finding purchase in his hair, “t-too loud.”

“mmf— don’t care,” he mumbles into your cunt, making sure he gets every drop of your arousal on his tongue while he abuses your clit, alternating between flicking his tongue and sucking hard and you think it’s the best head you’ve ever gotten.

“not when your cunt’s so perfect,” you only press his head deeper into you like it would stop his muffled sentences, but that only spurs him to suck harder before he just shifts down a little to plunge his tongue into your hole. you choke out a moan as his nose nudges your clit, clenching around his muscle.

“relax— mmhh, you gotta relax, baby,” he’s massaging your thighs but if anything it does the exact opposite, closing your thighs around his head in sensitivity.

“it’s— h-hard to,” you moan out, already feeling the coil in your tummy that’s approaching oh, so quickly when gojo eats you out like this. he shifts his attention back to your puffy clit, eyes flicking up to make contact with yours and you shrivel under his intense stare, “w-when you’re making me feel s’good—!”

you feel him smile into your cunt but he says nothing, taking note of the drop of your jaw, the scrunch of your eyes, the contractions of your stomach. your legs like to straighten out and shake when you’re close, he memorises. when you start to tighten your grip on his hair, he ingrains it in his mind.

“cumming— i’m c-close,” but it’s like satoru doesn’t even need it when his eyes digest the way he sends you over the edge with just his tongue.

“g— god! satoru!” your mouth falls into a silent scream after, head dipping so much into the pillow while you grind your cunt into his face, gushing all over his face with a renewed spirit and regret for all those times that men have rubbed your left lip thinking it was your clit.

“let it go, yeess . . that’s it,” satoru doesn’t hesitate to get sloppy, sucking up all your cum, gasping for air once he’s done with his meal, “pretty girl just came all over my face.”

you struggle to your elbows despite the words he utters, propped up just to catch a glimpse of him and the soaked bottom of his face that stretches into a smile.

“was that better than all the uni boys who’ve never felt the touch of a woman?” you laugh at that, making quick work of grabbing his chin and bringing him back to your lips.

“much, much better.” and you take the opportunity to flip the tables, trembling, shaking legs trying their best to wrap around his torso to straddle him —  but once you’re over, you’re not quite sure what to do apart from letting your hands roam all over the expanse of his shoulders and chest.

“and can she do it again all over my cock?” the obscene words sound almost taboo falling from his mouth that your mouth drops open in initial shock, but it subsides into anticipation soon enough.

wordlessly, you take matters into your own hands, fingers making quick work of his trousers while he removes his top impatiently. the scowl on your face is prominent when you struggle to work his belt out and he chuckles with helping hands, the burn on your face deepening.

“there,” gojo giggles and he pulls you in with a peck-filled apology, “don’t worry, we have all the time in the world.”

you hum, “not when your son could knock any time soon.”

that prompts a giggle that fades off into a loud moan once your warm hand wraps around him, something that he’d never tell you how many times he’s fantasised about. slowly, you stroke his cock, excruciatingly slow just like how he’s done to your cunt earlier.

you’re hovering over him, now, dragging his tip along your pussy and whining softly at the pre-cum that mixes together with your juices. you need him into you as soon as possible, and apart from your soon burning thighs, you’ve been wanting this for as long as you’ve stepped foot into his house from the very first day.

inch by inch, you sink down onto gojo’s weeping cock, getting the luxury of feeling his sensitive twitches with the plunge into your cunt. you’re glad at least he had offered to stretch you out just a tad bit earlier, the intrusion of his fingers already having you panting for his dick; and now, when you have the real thing, it drives your mind insane.

“’t-toru— haah . .” your body curls up from the painful stretch, lips muttering the nickname unknowingly as you grasp onto his shoulders for support, and while he helps you on, he never stops saying the most filthy things, grinning each time you clench around him.

“never thought i’d be here, fuckin’ the babysitter, but here we are,” your oh my god is whispered only for the other to hear, body burning up from the words before he grinds his pelvis into yours and you slump forward in pleasure. your words are a bunch of nothingness, a string of incoherence, “and her pussy’s just so fucking— tight!”

giving you one or two breaths of rest, satoru coos in your face, cradling it and littering kisses all over it before he’s moving his hips and you’re breaking the kiss to whine out, moving your hips to meet his as well. you move sooner or later, bouncing on his cock once you’re more used to him in you and the position only hits all your spots just right.

“f-fuck— you’re so big—!” you roll your hips into him, eyes stuck on how there’s just a small bump in your tummy each time you bottom out. your boss from across you is equally ruined, eyes struggling to keep open with wet hair stuck to his forehead. “feel so so g-good . .”

“yeah?” he breathlessly mumbles, hand squeezing and kneading your ass and trying to help you, but the warmth of your cunt around his length just feels too good. “bounce on that dick, baby.”

and you do, planting your feet into the bed and fingers creating bruises along his shoulders as you impale yourself on his fat cock, switching to relaxing in his embrace and letting your hips do the work when your legs start hurting. there, you indulge in gojo’s lips as you hump him, the delicious friction of your clit against his pubes sending you reeling.

“you’re going to be soaking my sheets from how much you’re leaking,” gojo jests, letting your moans take over his mind while his lips trace down your neck, eyes just peeking over to see your ass ripple from the force. “not that i mind. how’s she doin’?”

“she’s getting,” a choked whine interrupts you, “a little tired.”

and that draws a laugh out of gojo who does nothing but tease you, something he likes to do even in makeout sessions, and he doesn’t hesitate to reach over to his bedsie table to grab his phone, leaning back to bask in your glory. here, your body just looks heavenly as you try your best to move on his lap.

“hang on a little more for me, princess,” with one hand, his larger hand leave chills all over your body and the other points his phone at you, not before making sure you were okay with it, “and smile for the camera.”

you try your best even when his hand make his way to your mouth, pulling it open with his fingers to slot it in. you’re sure you look like a whore right now, but the camera pointed your way only turn you on more, like it’s beckoning you to put on a show. and you loved the attention, so you close your lips around his fingers and start sucking, grinding even harsher on his cock that has gojo stuttering.

“y—yeah, attagirl . .” he grins at the video he takes, “show the camera how much of a cockslut you are.”

you whine, bringing the hand to your clit while you shove two hands onto his torso to really work your thighs out, feeling that familiar curl in your stomach once he starts rubbing his saliva-filed fingers along you bundle of nerves. 

“r-right there, satoru—!” you swear under your breath, giving hooded eyes to the camera while you chase your high drunkenly, all sort of coherent thought banished from your head. “love your cock, love it, love it—!”

satoru swears he wants to cum from just watching you use him, and even holding himself back is proving difficult when you clamp and tighten around him until his fingers press particularly deep into your clit and you’re cumming with a loud cry of his name, body convulsing all over the video.

“tha’s a good girl . . cream my cock, yeeaaahh . .” gojo watches, hypnotised, as you lose control over your body, but the pleasure-filled whimper that you merge his name with is just too good, that he spills unexpectedly in you. the video is far from stable, so he only slaps the phone down to relish in his orgasm. gojo pushes his hips up and you gasp at the feeling, back arching when you feel his cum seep into you.

you’ve never even given much thought to pregnancy, but the feeling of his cum dribbling into you fogs your mind that you only want more after a mental note to buy the morning after pill tomorrow.

“n-need more,” you beg, fondling at his cheeks and undercut, “w-want more cum in me, satoru . .”

and it’s like a flip switches in him, because he’s flipping you over right after — he has to see his cum leave your pussy first though, taking the still ongoing video and putting it right up to your pussy, using his tip to smear your mixed juices all around.

“who knew i’d hired such a dirty girl?” he addresses the camera more than you, but he catches your flustered glance with a wink and after poorly setting up the camera on his bedside table (he just was too intoxicated on your cunt), he’s pushing back into you with a loud groan, not even caring for the consequences any more. his cum is just so much, too, spilling out the sides.

“only f’r you,” you mumble, grabbing at his forearms needily. your eyes flutter close as he bottoms out, your legs pushed right up to your chest as he folds you whichever way he wants to. at this point, if he wanted to own you, you wouldn’t object one bit, not when gojo satoru’s cock stretches your pretty pussy so nicely. “a cumslut only for you.”

“yeah?” he starts moving his hips and your arch into his hold, “i wonder how i got so — fuck — lucky.” everything is sloppy and wet and disgusting and you love every moment of it, even after he’s cummed in you the second, third, fourth time, you’re happy to be pumped full of his cum, giving him a tired, glistening grin that he returns.

“think i should be transferring over my life savings for a cunt this sweet,” you giggle at the compliment, but don’t protest when he’s pulling up the app to gift you with a hefty amount; both your salary and bonus, all from making gojo satoru fall helplessly just from your touch — something to brag about indeed.

[foldingfittedsheets]

We had the most egregiously evil little pony horse when I was growing up. I know everyone says that. Ponies are one of the animals that truly understand how to commit crimes but she was really deeply atrocious. One time she tried to murder me. Her name was Fancy.

I feel I should slightly explain here. See, my parents bought two acres with a house and a barn and pasturage and went “We’re farmers now!” They had absolutely no idea what they were doing. And at a certain point along that journey my mom got her hands on a horse. Technically she was half pony half horse so she was this weird middle size.

Fancy belonged to a friend of hers and he showed her how to saddle Fancy. And that was it. That was all we knew about this horse. So my mom brings her home and saddles her and we decide to go for a ride on this new creature in our lives. But Fancy, being the savvy bitch she was, was far too canny for our dumb asses.

Her maiden ride went to my older brother and ended rather abruptly when the saddle slid completely sideways and my brother toppled off her, miraculously unharmed but unwilling to ever try again. This made me like Fancy somewhat, because I hated my brother.

Those familiar with horse trickery would have caught her ruse but Fancy had deliberately held her breath to make the saddle seem tight enough. But in stride she let the breath out, the saddle loosened, and my brother came toppling down. She planned that fuckup.

I was a bit more game, being a dedicated horse girl. I wanted to succeed where my loathsome brother had failed. Keep in mind: none of us had ever ridden. We had no idea what we were doing, and in the only defense I’ll ever make of that hoofed demon it was probably not pleasant to have a human flopping on her back like a sack of potatoes. But I paraded around in a circle until she scraped my leg against a fence post. I lasted longer than my brother but had to admit riding an animal radiating malice at you is not comfortable.

We didn’t really ride Fancy much after that. She was a decorative aspect to the fields. Sometimes I’d sit on her bare back while she was eating. Every so often she’d buck me off for assuming familiarity with her.

But Fany's coup de grâce took several months. Most of the pasturage had electric fence running along it to keep the livestock from testing the fences or getting a taste for freedom. My parents were constantly moving fence posts and reallocating land to different purposes which is how one of the major gates ended up with electric fence running over top. During a move the wire got left up from the last border and now it was strung over what should have been an open passage.

I was taking a ride on Fancy, living in a fantasy that I had any idea what I was doing. My mom was out working in the yard, and as she passed through she left the gate open, forgetting the wire hazard. You know who didn't forget?

Fancy.

She beelined for the open gate and I realized a second too late what her plan was. I hauled back on the reins with all my strength but she powered through, charging at the wire. If I'd caught on sooner I could have tipped forward and probably cleared it.

It was roughly chest height. But she was too savvy, keeping a slow pace right up until the passage, and I didn't have time to react. The thought of getting electrocuted sent me down into a terrified backward limbo, desperately trying to flatten myself along her back.

Her assassination almost worked. But instead of beheading me the wire caught under my chin, pressing back into my neck like a garrote. The only good news was that the wire wasn't live, but I was still in terrible danger. I squealed and wiggled and managed to twist my neck enough that the wire scraped over my face instead of pressing deeper. Once we were through Fancy stopped and turned to regard me, disappointed that her murder had failed. My neck was bleeding but my head remained attached.

My mother was absolutely terrified and I was pretty shaken myself. We unsaddled Fancy for the last time, as full on attempts on my life were a bit more than I was willing to bear for the sake of pretending to be a fantasy hero on an epic journey. My neck still has a faint scar from her homicidal tendencies.

Fancy got to remain a decorative horse for many years after that, free of our attempts to ride her. Her last torment was when my mother decided to try to breed her to achieve an animal that was less interested in murder.

But Fancy, true to form, brutally attacked the stallion sent to service her, even when hopped up on horny hormones. There would be no foals from Fancy, and her saga ended when we sold her to another unlucky soul.

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

oh, baby | Tyler Owens x reader

Requested by anon / Summary: You’re pregnant with Tyler Owens baby. Lots of fluff. 

A/N: My first Tyler Owens fic. I hope you all enjoy. Also, the lack of Tyler Owens gifs is very upsetting. 

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

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********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

This one moment was about to change your entire life. You were terrified. Would you be a good mom? Would you be able to make a good enough life for the little growing blimp inside you? Your thoughts were running a million times a minute. Wondering how this would affect the rest of your lives. How this one moment just changed the rest of your life. 

You slowly sat on the edge of the tub, in shock, the positive pregnancy test in your hand. Your mind drifted to Tyler. Oh god. His tornado wrangler YouTube channel had began to soar in popularity. He and the team making a name for themselves. He had millions of views and a huge fan club. What would this do to his career? 

“Hey hun-” Tyler knocks on the door, jolting you from your thoughts. His hand jiggles the door finding it locked. He furrows his eyebrows, you never locked the door. “you alright?” 

“Y-yeah!” You rummaged underneath the sink, hiding the test under some towels. “One sec.” 

You knew Tyler was getting ready to leave, a few storms brewing before this upcoming weekend. You exit the bathroom and met with Tyler’s hard chest, “You leaving?” 

He peeks behind you, concerned and curious, “Yeah, why’d you have the door locked? You never lock the door.” 

You shrug, playing it off. You could wait to tell him when he got back, “sometimes a girl needs her privacy.” 

He hums in response, not completely believing you. However, he didn’t want to press you. If there was something bothering you, you’d eventually tell him when you were ready. He could respect that. He slips his arms around you, tugging you close against his chest. He was a mix of sweat and that musky sandalwood. It was calming and heavenly. “I’ll be back in a couple days. You gonna be able to hold down the fort?” 

You nod against his chest, tightening your arms around him, “I can.” You lift your head to stare up at him, “You better come back in one piece.” 

He chuckles with a nod, “Yes ma’am.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then your lips. “I will call you when we get to the hotel.” 

You walk him out to bid him and the team goodbye. Shielding your eyes from the sun, you watch him drive down the driveway. He hangs his hand out the window, waving goodbye. You return the wave, saying a silent prayer for a safe return of him and the team as your hands find your new growing womb. “He’ll be back.” 

~

You’d spent the entire weekend trying to figure out how to tell him. You’d called one of your girlfriends in tears, wondering how to tell him. Worried you would be ruining his life. She reassured you, “Tyler isn’t that kind of guy, y/n. You know that. He’s going to support you and be excited for this next step.” 

You heard the slam of the screen door, “Tyler must be home.” 

“Call me later.” 

You throw the blanket off you, meeting him in the foyer as he’s taking off the boots. “You’re home early?” 

He smiles at the sight of you, but frowns when he notices you’ve been crying, “Had a feeling I needed to come home to my girl.” He crosses the foyer to you in only a few steps before gathering you in his arms. 

At the first feel of comfort, the flood gates open, sobbing into his chest. damn hormones. 

“Oh baby..” He squeezes you tighter, cradling your head against his chest, “Talk to me.” 

You take a few seconds to console yourself. His large thumb wipes your tears away, waiting patiently for you. 

You gather yourself, taking a deep breath before you meet his eyes, “I’m pregnant.” 

His large hands cup your cheeks, his eyes light up, full of hope, “Yeah? You’re pregnant?” 

You nod and hiccup a sob, beginning to rant, “I’m so sorry-you’ve just started your YouTube channel and you guys are so successful now-” 

“No no no- Shhh.” He pulls you in a comforting hug, “This is incredible. I couldn’t be any happier.” 

He holds you against his chest, slowly rocking back and forth as you calm down, “I knew something was bothering you. I just had a feeling.” He kisses your hair, and then makes you look at him, “We’re gonna be parents.” He's hesitant, but places a hand on your stomach, “you’re gonna be an amazing mom..” 

~ 

You waddled into the room to find Tyler painting the wall of the nursery. His hat on backwards, jeans and shirt stained with paint. 

“How’s it going in here?” You take a seat in the wooden rocking chair, sighing in relief. Those stairs were beginning to take a toll on you. Your growing baby leaving barely any room for your lungs to breathe. 

“Almost done.” He sets the paint brush down, hands on his hips he admires his work around the room. “all I got left is this wall.” 

You rub a hand over your bump, wincing as you adjust yourself in the chair. 

Tyler noticing your discomfort, immediately is at your side, full of worry, “It’s not time yet-” 

“No no,” You laugh, “Just some discomfort. I’m fine.” 

He visibly relaxes, “He can’t come early. There’s way too much to do around here.” 

You roll your eyes, “It also could be a she.” You and him agreed to wait until the birth to find out the sex. He was convinced it’s a boy. 

“Daddy instincts.” He gets on his knees in front of you, hands on your stomach, “It’s a boy. I know it.” He flashes his pearly white smile at you. “a baby boy tornado wrangler.” 

“I think it’s gonna be a girl.” You shrug, “mommy instincts.” 

“We’re gonna prove your mommy wrong,” He says to your belly, “Right off the bat, you and I. I’ll finally be right on something.” 

Of course, the baby kicks at the sound of Tyler’s voice. Tyler grins, “See, he agrees.” 

~ 

“You’re screwed.” You whisper softly to Tyler. After hours of labor, you and Tyler finally welcomed your baby into the world. He’s seated in the rocking chair next to your bed, his bundle of joy wrapped softly in a blanket. --- a pink blanket. 

“There’s two of us now. You’ll never stand a chance.” You reach over and caress his arm. 

He looks at you with tear-filled eyes, “She’s only a couple hours old and she’s already got me wrapped around her finger. She could ask me for anything and I’m going to give it to her.”

“Like I said,” you say with a smile, “you’re screwed.” 

~

Comments, likes and reblogs are always welcomed and greatly appreciated. :)

[letstalkaboutshtufff]

A Love that Burns

Marcus Acacius x f!reader

A/n: You don’t understand the chokehold this man has on me ughhhhh. Anyway I hope you guys enjoy, I wrote this very fast!

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x wife character (I usually do x reader but I really like the name Aurelia so I used that!)

Warnings: fluff, angst, arranged marriage, Curse words, mention of fire, minor injuries, burns. A bit of suicidal ideation. Allusion to smut hehe. 18+ to be safe please. No minors!!

Summary: General Marcus Acacius’s new bride is troublesome, he doesn’t seem to mind though. After an incident occurs she pulls away from him and he can’t figure out why.

****************************************************

“He’s going to be furious…”

“Such a shame…do you think he’ll throw her out?”

“He might… we always knew she was trouble but this time she’s gone too far…”

“Poor dear, I doubt even her father will take her back…”

The roaring flames had long since died down, leaving now only crackling embers and dark clouds of smoke. How much time had passed you didn’t know. You hadn’t moved from the ground, knees planted on the hard stone, eyes glued to the scene before you.

What was once a grand structure, beautifully carved and molded for someone equally as impressive was now nothing more than a pile on the ground and it was completely your fault.

How had wanting to get a book out of your husband’s study and lighting a candle to see had gone so wrong?

You should’ve listened to your conscious, it told you that you shouldn’t go into your husbands private building but you knew he had an extensive selection and while you were newly married, barely even a few months he was your husband and you didn’t really think he would mind.

In the short time you were married the general had been accommodating and civil, more than civil actually, he had been doing his best to make you feel comfortable. That being said you did barely see him at times due to his duties and when you did it seemed all you did was cause him trouble.

Like that time you accidentally visited the animals one early morning when you were bored and didn’t shut the door behind you. Acacius had been abruptly woken up by the clucking of chickens ascending the staircase and running around the halls like it was a party. You had been redder than a pomegranate when you realized your mistake.

Or that time you lost your wedding necklace and spent hours wading in the lake where the laundry was washed thinking it fell there. You’d never forget the feeling when Acacius strode through the gates in tow with fellow commanders for a meeting but everyone froze seeing the comical sight of you, a highborn lady dress pulled up and soaking wet. That time made you want to drown yourself right then and there.

Oh and how could you forget the time you wanted to show your appreciation by baking his favorite dessert according to the maids and thought adding some cinnamon you’d bought in town was a good idea. Not even bothering to wonder why the kitchens didn’t have cinnamon in the first place… turns out the reason was a good one, the general had an allergy.

This time it was his face that was redder than yours… you didn’t face him for days after that..

There were so many moments like that but somehow each time he didn’t get angry like you expected. He didn’t yell or scold you.

When you bit your fingers nervously watching the servants try to catch the chickens he slowly walked out, surveyed the scene in what you could guess was mild disbelief and perhaps a bit of amusement, looked at you then turned back to go back to sleep.

When you were soaked in the lake he quickly regained the men’s attention, led them inside then a few minutes later reappeared with some haste. You didn’t get a chance to protest when he stepped in and pulled you out by your arm. Still he didn’t yell, he did start to scold a bit though because you were shivering, but when you suddenly yelped and squirmed reaching in your dress and pulled revealing a flopping fish with your necklace around it he lost all his words. You celebrated while he just started in disbelief.

And when you literally poisoned him you sobbed beside him as the healer frantically gave him several mixtures and an injection of some sort. You apologized over and over like a parrot. When he could finally breathe again, he closed his eyes exhausted but said, “Don’t cry, it tasted great..”

All those times he was so kind, unlike any other man you’d met before. To think you had been so afraid of the arranged marriage and now all you could think was how he deserved someone so much better.

He was older and saw you as a child you were sure of it. You wished you could act like the other wives, but you just couldn’t.

Your eyes glazed watched the flickers before you as if in a trance.

You’d burned his favorite place in the villa. A building constructed years ago that served as his study, his place of comfort, his safe space. He’d showed it to you when you first got married. You’d been amazed at how beautiful it was on the inside.

You could see on his face how this place made him relaxed compared to the rest of the villa.

And now it was gone..

The whispers of the servants were muffled around you but you caught them all the same.

You couldn’t find the strength to move, maybe you should have at least moved back, away from the falling ash and debris but you couldn’t.

You ruined everything, just like always…

There was some more muffling amongst the crackling, some sounds you didn’t register, couldn’t register… then a sharp yell. A tone you didn’t recognize.

“Why is she-!”

There was pressure on your shoulders but still you couldn’t look away.

All gone… all your fault…

You think you heard something loud but couldn’t understand it.

The pressure increased… so did the shouting but still you couldn’t look away.

It wasn’t until you saw the burnt pile get smaller that you realized you were being pulled- no carried away.

You felt so disoriented, everything in your vision jerking and you realized whoever was moving you was running.

The scene was still in view but further away, your eyes not daring to look away. You did however register that you abruptly stopped moving and were sat on something upright. The pressure returned to your head then arms then body.

Yelling, someone was yelling in your ear but it wasn’t until the pressure reached your face and you were forced to look away from the scene.

Eyes, wide and frantic, searched yours. Lips opened and shouted something you still could not understand. But the face you knew all too well. The one you wronged, the one you did a horrible misdeed to. Acacius.

You inhaled loudly, more of a gasp then coughed. Suddenly you felt everything crash into you at once, from when you were numb a moment ago now you burned in pain, lungs on fire, skin itchy and stinging, eyes feeling like the sun itself were upon them. You coughed and sputtered uncontrollably, breathing a foreign concept to you.

His strong hands at your back and arm. Almost cradling you was a strong contrast to his shouts that you could now hear louder than ever.

“Breathe, easy, easy- Dammit why did no one move her! Call the healer now!” He barked behind him.

Angry he was angry. Of course he was, even gentle and kind men like him had limits, limits that you’d crossed by battlefields.

Hot tears came, still you coughed, you wondered how long you could continue like that before losing consciousness, there were already spots in your vision. The sobbing now made it worse.

“Shh shh breathe it’s alright, just breathe for me wife, all is well, shh look I’m here, you’re safe” he pulled you into his lap holding you firmly in the hopes you’d calm down. He kept whispering to you, pleading and eventually the coughing stopped. You wondered how much more smoke it would’ve taken to kill you…

“That’s it, you’re safe, shh just breathe, I’m here” more tears emerged as you registered his words for the first time. How horrible you felt to have this angel of a man cradling you and comforting you when you just burned down his sanctuary.

It would have been easier on your heart had he yelled and thrown you aside.

“The healer is here!” Someone called out, your eyes were closed on his chest but you heard everything around you.

Swiftly you were lifted in his arms and carried to his chambers. The healer immediately got to work peeling back the fabric you only now noticed was dark as ash and singed in many places. Acacius stood behind her as close as he could without getting in her way. You watched as his eyes scanned your form, concern etched as he took in all the burns and scrapes. Your heart couldn’t handle it, he deserved a woman 100times better than you. You shut your eyes of the heartache ignoring the healer telling you to stay awake, moments later you were unconscious.

**************************************************

Stinging pain roused you, you wanted to cry out because your body was screaming at you. You were alone in the room, but by the moonlight shining through and how exausted you felt you didn’t think you had been unconscious long. Fresh tears escaped and you didn’t bother to wipe them.

You sat up in raw agony realizing just how many injures you sustained. Your skin was covered in loose bandages and shiny from salve. Sitting so close at the time you didn’t feel anything but clearly you were affected.

Shouting from below had your head whipping to the window.

With great effort and pain you stood on shaky legs and approached the opening peeking your head outside, you squinted and saw figured in the yard.

You choked out a sob when you realized what was happening. Acacius was yelling… yelling at the servants and guards for not moving you. Yes they put out most of the fire but didn’t bother with you. You hardly blamed them, you were a burden, an embarrassment of a lady to the great house hold. Perhaps they wanted you to die, actually it would have been easier if you did.

You couldn’t bare to listen to it anymore, guilt eating you alive. For some reason you had to see it again. To confirm what you had done…

You ignored all the pain and like a ghost descended the staircase.

When you reached the bottom you sucked in a breathe before walking forward where the smell of smoke was still heavy and thick.

And there it was, like a brand on your heart the scene of your crime. There were no more embers, just wood and ash. You walked closer until you stepped on something.

You moved your sandal revealing a silver medal covered in soot. You remembered how proudly it hung on one of the walls. And now it was beneath rubble and dirt.

Two hands found your mouth as you let out a cry.

“Heavens What have I done?” The strangled voice sounded stranger to you.

“What have I done, what have I done” you whispered achingly.

“Aurelia!”

You choked again hearing his voice, you couldn’t bring your self to look just yet.

“Aurelia what are you doing!? Why are you up!?” He rounded you hands finding your shoulders.

Acacius waited for your answer but you had none, only fresh tears. He barely hesitated before reaching down and scooping you up.

“I can walk-“ you tried to say but it was unintelligible through your tears, you didn’t want to burden this man ever again, not for anything.

He glanced at you for a moment but continued his quick pace to the bedroom. He laid you gently on the bed, his concern growing at the endless tears.

“Are you in pain? Let me call the healer back-“ he was already halfway out again.

“No-! no I’m fine I’m fine don’t call I’m fine!” You cried out but tried to collect yourself to not worry him more. The truth is your body was on fire but you would never burden this man again.

He hesitated but listened and approached you again, “Then what is it? Are you afraid? Everything’s alright now, your safe”.

You bit your lip to keep in the cry. How could he be so kind?

“Aurelia? Tell me please, what is it?” He kneeled beside you a helpless expression on his face.

“I-I I’m so- im so sorry, I’m sorry- I don’t know how- I was in there for a b-book and lit some candles I don’t even know how it h-happened I-I-“

Your breathing was becoming erratic again but once you started apologizing you couldn’t stop

“I’m so s-sorry Acacius I’m so sorry” you buried your face in your hands.

“Aurelia shh it’s alright, don’t cry, it’s nothing that can’t be replaced, don’t apologize, you need to breathe alright?”

You barely heard him, but you needed him to know how sorry you were, even if you didn’t deserve forgiveness.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry” you continued.

“Aurelia-“

“I’m s-sorry”

“Aurelia stop you’ll hurt yourself more!” He kneeled on the bed pulling you closer to him, worried that if you didn’t calm down you would go into another coughing fit.

“Shh it’s alright, I’m not angry, all that matters is you’re safe. Please calm down, can you breathe slowly for me? Look, follow my breathe…”

“That’s it, breathe in and out just like that, good girl…” he held you close and you felt your eyes begin to droop, exhaustion taking its toll. He sighed when your last words were a whispered apology.

***************************************************

The next day you were miserable, the burns although mostly shallow still caused great pain. Mentally you were a wreck, replaying the events over and over.

The healer told you you needed to rest for several days so that’s what Acacius made sure you did. He visited often but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak hardly a thing out of shame. Most times you just pretended you were asleep.

A week passed and you were allowed to get up as normal just to take it easy. Acacius had gone out for some business luckily because you didn’t think you had the strength to face him.

As you descended the stairs you tried to ignore the whispers of the servants. They all thought the same thing you were repeating in your mind.

Burden

Shameful

Useless

You sighed shakily nearing the now cleaned land where the structure once stood. His kindness made you feel horrible. You wish he would yell and scream at you, for you deserved all the bad words

You spent the day aimlessly wandering and thinking until you tired yourself out and retired to your chambers.

A jar of salve was left by your bed from the healer for the pain but you didn’t open it. You deserved every single sting and ache.

The next day you hardly felt like getting up so you didn’t. Food was brought, you didn’t bother eating it, instead you gave it to the birds outside the window.

In your solitude you came to a resolve. You would resist every urge, every inkling of your old reckless self. Acacius deserved someone who was 100 times the woman you were but since you were bound all you could do was at least not give him any more trouble. Another week passed, Acacius had been gone for some military business and it was easier that way.

It had been a whole nother week when Acacius finally arrived back to the villa. He dismounted his horse with a sigh. He did not want to be gone so long but he could hardly deny the emperors requests.

Tiredly he walked through the gates, scanning for signs of you. It was unusual to not see you flitting about.

A servant approached and helped him remove his cape.

“The Lady, how is she?”

The servant frowned a bit, “My Lady has been… resting these past weeks. We’ve not seen much of her.”

He frowned at that. Her wounds were not so terrible to have her bedridden so long. So what was wrong with his wife?

He nodded to the servant and made way directly to her chambers.

He knocked on the door listening for her voice.

“Come in” you called expecting a servant with food.

You were sat on the bench by the window staring out.

“My Lady..” he said almost hesitant.

Your head whipped to the side, eyes widened seeing your husband.

“A-Acacius… I didn’t know you were back…”

He walked inside and shut the door behind him.

“Are you well? The servants tell me you haven’t left the room much..” he stepped closer taking you in. Your sunken face, the way your eyes weren’t lit up with that sparkle he loved.

“I’m alright, thank you..” he frowned, not quite satisfied with the answer.

“Your wounds are healed?”

You nodded quickly.

He nodded then cleared his throat in the awkward silence that followed, “Then why haven’t you been out?”

You thought of what to say for a moment, “I… no reason, just resting I suppose”

Another answer that didn’t satisfy him but he decided not to pry. If you didn’t want to speak he wouldn’t make you uncomfortable.

“Well I’ll be in my chambers should you need anything…”

“Thank you..” and with that he left shutting the door behind him. You bit your lip forcing the tears not to come. How dare you cry when he’s the one who should be upset. Get it together.

Several more days pass and Acacius was growing frustrated. You barely left the room, choosing to take your meals inside even when he was home. He only caught glimpses of you here or there on the occasional walk around the garden but even that was becoming rare. Where was his wife who was always flitting around singing something off tune or getting into trouble. He recalled the time he awoke to clucking outside his door, and the time he found you skirts tied comically splashing in the lake, then of course when you so happily baked for him flour marks on your face. He smiled fondly at the memories, then frowned.

Why had you suddenly changed so much? Had he done something? He knew the fire shook you up but perhaps he said something unintentional? Did you overhear him yelling at the staff and resented him for it? He was going mad.

It took another few days before his patience finally ran out and he all but burst into your room.

“A-Acacius?! What-“ you startled dropping the book in your hands.

“Tell me what it is” he demanded a bit out of breathe.

“W-what?”

“Tell me what’s wrong or what I’ve done to upset you into seclusion”

“Acacius you’ve done nothing wrong I swear…”

“Then what is it? Why have you been avoiding me? What has upset you so much that you’ve locked yourself away?”

You didn’t expect this, so you really didn’t know what to say.

“I… I think it’s better this way…”

His eyebrows furrowed a bit trying to make sense of what you just said. “I don’t understand, what’s better?”

You fiddled with your hands and had a hard time making eye contact so you chose a lovely spot on the floor instead.

“It’s better that I don’t…. cause problems..” heavens was that a lot harder to say out loud than you thought.

This definitely took him aback.

“What?”

Oh no was he upset now? He surely looked it.. maybe you should have explained better.

“I-I mean… I’m always causing you trouble and getting into situations that I shouldn’t… I figured it would be better if I spent more time here….”

He was quiet for a while, his face undeniably confused and upset.

“And you decided this all on your own?” He said in a tone that you were a bit nervous about. Calm but hidden anger.

“I-I… yes..”

“So your plan is to live out the rest of your days between these four walls?” He couldn’t hold back a scoff. His annoyance seeping through his usually calm demeanor with you.

“….It’s better-”

He clicked his tongue in annoyance “Better? Better for who exactly?”

“Acacius all I do is cause you trouble! I’ve been embarrassing you since we wed, the entire household thinks I’m a burden and they’re right, I cannot-I will not burden you anymore especially after-…” you couldn’t bring yourself to mention the fire. With a shakey breath you gathered yourself and continued.

“I just don’t want to upset you anymore…” you confessed.

The silence was deafening, your heart squeezing so much you were afraid it was going to burst.

“You know out of everything that’s happened between us I think this is the only time I’ve been truly upset.”

You eyed him swallowing dryly taking in his clenched jaw and crossed arms.

“Acacius…”

“You don’t get to decide this all on your own, and you especially don’t get to decide how I feel.”

“…”

“Have I ever been cross with you? Made you feel as if you’ve shamed me?”

“Well no but-“

“Then why?” In two strides he was upon you looking down.

“Why did you suddenly decide that I would like it more if you hid yourself away?”

“Because if I’m here not causing you problems then wouldn’t it be easier for you…?” You wrung your hands together, anxiety heightening with every moment.

“Fuck that”

You jumped a bit startled that those words came out of his mouth.

“W-what?”

“Cause me problems”

“Acacius-“

“Break things, scream shout, bring the whole villa down if you wish it but you will not lock yourself up like a prisoner. You’re my wife, I’d like to actually have you around.”

“You… you’re just saying that because you’re too kind Acacius… but my heart can’t take it anymore. I did something so awful and I know you must be upset…”

“Is this about the fire then?”

“…”

“Things can be replaced, nothing that burned cannot be bought again or rebuilt.”

“B-but you loved that place. It was your sanctuary”

“I did love it, but it’s gone now and I hardly think about it, it’ll be rebuilt soon enough not that it really matters. What matters is that you’re safe and sound.”

“How can you be so kind? So patient so-so perfect” he scoffed at the last one in mild amusement.

“Acacius it’s true! I’ve never met someone so gentle and sweet”

“Gentle and sweet..I’ll be sure to add that to my title right after general or Rome”

“You joke but it’s the truth…” you look down at your sandals.

He sighed before lifting your chin up with his warm fingers then caressing your face, wiping away your tears with his thumb.

“Tell me something wife, have you seen me act that way with anyone else?”

“Well…” you thought about it. He was civil with everyone.. stern a lot, with servants and his men and well everyone else…

“And why do you think that is hm?”

“Well… I assume it’s because you see me more as a child…”

“A child.” He repeated.

You nodded.

“Aurelia you are never allowed to assume anything ever again”

“What?”

“You truly think that’s how I see you? That I treat you kindly because I pity you?”

“Well…then why?” You asked genuinely confused.

“Why treat my wife with care? Why worry for her? Why speak gentle words? Why shower her with gifts? Tell me Aurelia why does a man do those things for a woman?”

“I… I assumed-um well I believed that you were just..”

“Just what? Doing that out of duty? Is it so impossible to imagine that I love my wife and want her to be happy?”

“….” Your eyes widened larger than the sun. You hardly believed the words. So you asked him in a whisper.

“W-what did you s-say?”

Instead of answering he leaned forward closing the distance with a soft kiss.

“Does that answer your question?” He breathed in the few inches between your lips.

You shook your head no and leaned in. You felt the smirk against his lips. After several moments you pulled back to regard him.

“I never imagined you’d feel the same way…I still don’t think I believe it…”

“Like I said, you’re forbidden to assume things from now on wife”

“I… I’m sorry…” his hands settled at your waist, his smell flooding your senses.

“Make it up to me…”

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks but didn’t want to disappoint. You wrapped your arms around him pulling him into a deeper kiss full of emotion.

“Never allow such thoughts in your mind again, and you’re wrong, you’re not a burden. Yes I’ll admit you have a habit of getting into unique situations but I don’t mind, in fact I look forward to what surprises await me each day.”

“Do you really mean it? Even if I do awful things…? “

“Yes I mean it.. although I will draw the line at one thing, never do anything to put yourself in danger. When I saw you by the flames I-“ he paused sucking in a breathe.

And that moment you heart finally caught up with your head because no man could fake the emotions on his face like that.

You hugged him whispering an apology into his shoulder.

“You’ve apologized enough for a lifetime, come, dine with me, you’ve lost weight…” you nod letting him pull you by the hand out the door.

You heard some voices and frowned, anxiety creeping up again.

Ever the perfect man he caught on immediately.

“What is it?”

“The servants… it’s been hard to be around them… you might accept me for who I am but they haven’t…”

“I wouldn’t worry about it”

You cocked your head a bit at his amused tone, “why?”

“Because I fired them all”.

“Acacius!”

“Don’t protest, it’s done. I blame myself for not realizing what heartless people resided in my home. Besides I think you’ll like the new staff a lot better..”

You descended the staircase still confused why he seemed so smug until you heard voices you hadn’t heard in months.

“My Lady!”

“My Lady we’re here!”

“Oh how we’ve missed you!”

You couldn’t contain the loud gasp when your eyes landed on the familiar faces below. The staff that practically raised you was beaming up at you with joy.

“Oh my- Marika! Cicero! Diana! Felix! Ahh you’re all here!” You practically jumped from the staircase onto the group of your favorite people in the world.

Acacius couldn’t help but chuckle as the group enveloped you pulling you in, hugging and kissing you. Hardly the kind of servants he was used to but now he understood why you were so saddened to leave them behind. After your embraces you pulled back.

“What are you doing here? Is Father here?”

“You mean you don’t know?” The words would have worried you had everyone not been smiling ear to ear.

“Know what?” The general has employed us all here.

“W-what?!” You snapped your head to your grinning husband.

“B-but how did you- father must’ve been- h-how!?”

He laughed and descended the last couple steps, “I can be very persuasive if I need to be dear wife.”

“Oh- oh I don’t believe this!” you couldn’t contain your joy and parted from the group to jump on your husband who stumbled a bit but caught you of course. You kissed him then and there not caring who was watching- well in fact you didn’t care because everyone in the room were people you loved and felt safe with.

He was a bit surprised but when you pulled back his face was quickly morphed into fondness and satisfaction that the gleam in your eye was back.

“There she is..” you sighed happily hugging him once more then ran back to the awaiting group.

Well actually you made it halfway before pausing, turning around with an unsure look, and walking slowly back to him.

He tilted his head curious, “Acacius… will you… will you allow me to properly thank you… tonight? If that’s- if that’s something you’d like… or-“ your face that lovely shade of red he’d come to admire.

“Something I’d like?” He scoffed and for a moment you were afraid until you saw the expression in his eyes.

“Well I didn’t want to assume… you’ve forbidden it remember.” He smirked leaning down by your ear so only you could hear him.

“Listen well wife. This is the only exception you may always assume...” You shivered feeling his breathe caress your ear.

Gentle and sweet and now you had a new word to add, although you couldn’t quite find the right one just yet. But oh were you ever so eager to find out…

***************************************************

Is it getting hot in here guys?? No? Just me? Anywayyyy hope you enjoyed. I threw this up in one sitting so forgive all the mistakes. I finally saw the movie and wow, who knew they could fit so many hot men on one screen.

Also can anyone think of a better title lol😅