#if you focus too much on the plot it explodes

[orangez3st]

Coruscant's Hottest Gossip

Entry to @clonexocweek - 02.10.25: Introduction | Event Masterlist

Part 1 of 5 | Next to Part 2 ↦

Summary: Meeting the galaxy's most famous actress is now labeled as ‘most inconvenient and useless interaction’ in Wolffe's book. Not to mention the predicament against her toxic ex boyfriend that eventually leads him to stick with a fake dating agenda at her behest. He can endure a tenday campaign easily, but gossip and neverending media spotlight? Not so much. Tags & Warnings: fake dating, the return of artist!wolffe, crack treated seriously treated as crack, same universe with author’s other pairing (rex/sho’cye), swearing, clone shenanigans, suggestive themes, angry kissing, wolffe boutta explode, clone shenanigans, celebrity life Pairing: Wolffe × Nic Erlonna (OFC Muse Actress) Word Count: 13.5k A/N: Soo with that word count, my clone x oc pairings in this event are plot-heavy, but they're all fresh fics you can read starting here! (I absolutely did not make them on the spot since the event's announcement) And! If you're the one who couldn't wait for this pairing, here's your treat at last. Enjoy!

𝑴𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒖𝒓𝒕 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒏

— False Idols - The Weeknd, Lil Baby, Suzanna Son [X]

Wolffe left 79s earlier, leaving his fellow squad members who initially registered for the weekly karaoke night. Partly because he's got other errands, and partly is… well, he's not really into singing.

Their brothers from the 212th happen to be planetside today as well – both battalions with both shore leaves lined up. Wolffe didn’t catch Cody at the bar though, leaving him to easily speculate either it's about overloaded reports or something else involving his prim and proper Jedi General who Wolffe isn't interested enough to keep up on hearing about.

It's okay, they could always meet some other time.

Speaking about reports, Sinker joked earlier about piling stuff Wolffe must have hadn't tended to – jokes on the sergeant because he had, just moments before getting dragged to the bar for a couple pints of beer, actually.

The prickly warmth of Coruscanti night air spells nothing like peace. It���s got some gritty quality Wolffe can't relay out loud, eventually leaving it with just the kriffing pollution.

That's what one gets for living on a planet with 7 trillion people in it with artificially controlled excuse of a climate, anyway. But at least they've got winter at the end of the year and the first two months of the next. Wolffe always likes snow. He likes the cold. He prefers his drinks and shower and bed sheets cold. Winter provides him an excuse to put on some warmer and thicker civvies while chilling in his own quarters all by himself.

Shame it's summer night air smacking him in the face now instead, as he strolls down the street to that little art supplies shop he frequents.

With his basic allowance on subsistence – BAS – isn't directed to top shelf drinks at 79s, they go to more flimsi sheets and various styluses. Funny how the given credits, that are totally for daily sustenance like getting better food in the commercial districts or for entertainment indulgence, goes to his hobby.

Wolffe picked up sketching when he was a cadet. Their trainers in Kamino urged most of them to pick something between poetry, painting, sketching, and literature analysis to divert the battle-hardened focus to something relaxing and to relieve the restlessness within their system. And, oh well, it works well for him.

His collection grows over the years. There are thick piles of folders and binders on the side table in his quarters, all filled with his stylus sketch pieces. An artsy endeavor involves hours of tracing and shading on the flimsi while sitting down with whatever reference he could find in the holonet. He's done some with colored styluses, too. And even some watercolors, when a break is lengthier than usual. Everything turned out great. Always satisfies him and grants him relaxation after every mission or writing reports late at night.

Mostly it's for his own indulgence, to quench that curiosity if he'd draw this in another angle, draw that in different pose. Rex’ika is always rooting him on – always been, since they were but cadets – that when they're both planetside the blond would ask how much has been added to his ever piling sketchbooks, a shy question to hang out in his bunk just like old times while catching up and admiring more drawings.

Wolffe ducks into the small humble art supplies store, acquiring whatever is on his mental checklist, exchanging small pleasantries with the nice elderly Nikto who owns it, and leaves with a paper bag in hand. With the night getting later, the eagerness to try out new styluses in different hardness on the fresh sketchbook, and an obvious home destination in mind, Wolffe trudges through the bustling sidewalk.

On one or two occasions people nudge his shoulders in passing, roughly brushing against his grey leave uniform and making him scowl in annoyance. He's not one to wear patience on his sleeves, alright. Though he understands these people's hastiness, he'd hope they'd understand physical boundaries as well. Unanticipated touches just irk him, okay?

So when suddenly a woman sidles up next to him and grasps his bicep close, Wolffe stiffens.

“Just keep walking.”

Yeah no.

Keeping his strides strong, Wolffe makes a move to yank his arm away, but she holds on tight, fingers clutching onto the fabric-covered crook of his elbow and into his skin.

The woman keeps up with his speed. “Will you help me?”

“Too late to pop the question, lady,” he scowls underneath his hat, “What the hell are you doing?”

Beneath various neon lights and a wisp of blond hair underneath the hood, within a glance, Wolffe finally takes in her anxiousness, almost fear, latching onto the olive green fractals of her eyes.

As if afraid that they're about to get caught, her gaze frantically flicks to the street across and behind them in wariness. Glaring at him now with urgency, she presses on, “Will you help me? Yes or no?”

Wolffe makes a discreet move to pull away again while putting forward the littlest bit of courtesy that hopefully conveys how uncomfortable and offensive it is to his personal space only to fail again. The harsh sigh coming out of him is totally capable of making Mace Windu himself squirm in his seat. “Lady, I'm not gonna–”

“You're not gonna help me?” she asks in disbelief, her features twisting into bafflement.

As if she's surprised a stranger's gonna help her–

Alright, okay, when she puts it that way, that ain't right, okay? That makes him, on the spot – tight spot – trying so hard to channel whatever peace of mind and all that Jedi osik his General tells him about once in a while.

“Depends on what kind of help,” he eventually answers with seriousness, a bit gentler but leaves the sharp bite somewhere in that sentence to, y'know, convey how disturbed he is ‘cause he loves his me-time especially during hard-earned leaves like this, thank you very much.

She scoffs, “That how you act when people ask for help?”

Stars, and he's been trying to be polite. Something tangible within an arm's reach is definitely about to kriffing snap if in five seconds she's offers no explana–

“Nico, hey!”

The woman stops walking, making Wolffe stop walking as well. Curiously, warily, he sees her visibly cringing, shoulders going up to her ears. Then she looks up to the sky and sighs heavily as if tossing why me? to whatever divinity that exists in the cosmos, before quickly striking a totally fake smile that Wolffe suddenly finds the talent quite impressive.

“Shon!” She had turned around and curiosity took over Wolffe even more. Despite her cheery tone, her grasp onto his uniform tightens and is wrinkling the fabric. “What are you doing here?”

A Pantoran male, silver hair and golden facial markings shimmering in neon lights, grins up at her between pants catching his breath, evidence of having to run to catch up. “Caught you from the other side of the street,” he says, jabbing a thumb backwards in general direction, “Couldn't resist to at least say hi.”

The woman lets out a flat laugh. “Okay.”

Another awkward pause of staring in silence with the Pantoran looking at her hopefully like a wet massiff in front of one's door. Wolffe makes no move.

“Now that you've said your hi, goodbye!”

Spinning on her heels, she tugs Wolffe along.

“That’s it?”

Wolffe clicks his tongue in annoyance as they stop again. Look, man, he just wants to go back to HQ and sketch late into the night…

“Yeah why?” The woman sharply turns around, a long stream of blond tress escapes her hood and sits over her shoulder. “You've done your business, which is saying hi to me, so it's time for me to be going about my own business, right?”

Wolffe can practically feel her tense body since she's stuck to him, sensing frustration bleeding off her shoulders.

“I don't just wanna say hi, Nic,” the Pantoran shakes his head sadly. He takes a step closer, hands in front of his chest aiming for a peaceful resolve. “Look, for everything that we had–”

“I don't wanna hear it, Shon.”

And with that, it clicks with Wolffe. The running into ex and latching onto strangers pretending to be the new guy to get out of the situation situation. The woman, Nic or Nico, makes it crystal clear she doesn't wanna see this Pantoran guy Shon. Quietly sighing, and ultimately deciding to play along just in case he needs to meddle in when someone's about to get hurt, Wolffe reluctantly dismisses his personal frustration for the time being.

“I said it,” the woman – Nico – continues, now seething, “I put my foot on it. It's done. For good, Shon. You get me?”

Shon groans. “C'mon, you're just playing me being like this.”

She recoils in mock shock. “Who says I'm playing?”

“Maker, I just miss you alright? Just quit playing this game, please?”

“Who says I'm quitting on playing?” Her tone rises angrily, stomping forward to make her point clear, “We're over, Shon! Fuck off! I don't wanna see you again!”

Shon, now positively fuming, clenches his fists and nears their guarded vicinity. “You know you don't mean that!”

At another step from the Pantoran, Wolffe shoves himself forward. “If the lady says she doesn't want to see you again, that means you should leave now.”

Shon stares at him aghast, as if just noticing that the sidewalk never belongs to the bickering not-couple after all. Onyx eyes bulge in shock, as if the cruel world betrayed him of many credits, and flicking back and forth between the clone and the woman behind his shoulder.

“Who's this?” Blue hand pointing slowly. Golden facial markings twist in evident disgust. “New boy toy? So fast after throwing me away?”

“Great!” Nico quips cheerily. As if accepting the assuming scenario wholeheartedly, her hand is now grabbing Wolffe's, the notion apparently is too much to his reflexes that he twitches. “Now that you're aware we're already over, go home and fuck yourself. Goodbye!”

“A clone, Nico?!” Shon yells in disbelief just as they turn around. Several passersby turn in their direction at the raise of tone. “Wow.” Fists clenching, the Pantoran scoffs and shakes his head offended. “Your standard's been free falling, huh?”

Wolffe is half-expecting Nico to march forward and smack the blue son of a droid across the face, but her blasé expression betrays his confident assumption, as if already used to this sort of altercation every single day.

“You know what,” Nico snarls, “I've been kind enough not to shove a kriffing restraining order in your face!”

“I just want you to wake up!” Shon protests, emotion blaring behind onyx eyes, “We were so good together, we were perfect! How'd you end up with a clone, out of all people?!”

Wolffe rolls his eyes. That restraining order sounds like a good idea just about now, actually. The whole ordeal is just fucking disgusting. And oh, right, the piece of kriff said something as if they're objects lacking relationship standards. Just another Taungsday.

“Well maybe because I like him! Maybe because of the fact that we're already over! You hear that?! What we were is a far cry from what you see as perfect.” Nico pants over frustration, every word spat as if toxic. “Go home, Shon. Don't make me call the police!”

Wolffe bites the inside of his lip to hold his smirk in. No he’s not humoring himself with the absurdity of the scenario, but it's just amusing to watch the former couple bickering in the middle of the sidewalk. So much fighting over disagreement, and then there's him, a war front-liner himself, fighting over another kind of disagreement.

So using that persona, Wolffe joins in on the fun and puffs out his chest, putting on his most disgusting scowl, and takes a menacing step forward to the already cowering Pantoran.

“I'm gonna ask you to leave now.”

Just this once. Then he can go back to being disgusted by the entire predicament as he's supposed to be, like usual, like how his vode describe him. Civilians are weirdos anyway.

One of few things Nico is grateful for today, next to sneaking out to her favorite Corellian buckwheat noodle joint in the lower levels without being noticed, is the clone who she randomly chose to be her escape and savior of the day is finally picking up on what's going on.

He’d been stiff and even tried to yank his arm away earlier, a quick glance to his sharp features showed he was actually ticked off that she threw herself onto him… in her defense, she needed it. Anything to avoid Shon. That blasted son of a gundark just can't suck it even after breaking up a year ago.

Now the clone stands tall, shoulders and back rigid and fists clenched loosely by his sides, an easy scare to anyone as scaredy as Shon.

“You're gonna regret this, Nic.” Shon’s onyx eyes flit in her direction, nostrils flaring. “You and your clone boyfriend.”

Nico huffs boredly. “Yeah?” She decides to call the whole thing done, so she reaches out to the clone and tugs on his sleeve. “Can't wait to see what you're gonna do, Shon.”

“I'm going to fucking destroy you!” the Pantoran shouts as they're already two buildings away.

“Yep, looking forward, bye!”

Nico counts to ten just in case Shon's still standing there gaping in all his toxic obsession, before she removes her grip on the clone and slides in front of him.

“I’m really sorry for all that,” she immediately says with a small smile that she hopes is apologetic enough, guilt overcoming her for dragging a stranger into her mess. “Can I, uh, treat you to something to make up for it?”

The clone shakes his head. “No need. Just doing what anyone would've done.”

“C'mon, I insist!” Nico urges, readily jostling her shoulder bag in instinct to brandish a payment card. “That was a jerk ex with an obsession, and you handled him like a hero.”

“Sorry, but I have to refuse,” he says firmly. Nico catches some kind of an authority inflection in his deep voice. “And I should be going back to the barracks by now.” His feet shuffle a little as if ready to ditch her on the spot and scurry back to HQ.

“Oh well.” Nico shrugs. To be honest she almost forgets that he's also a war soldier. She’s just used to seeing Corries stationed on-world. “At least, if you'd like, walk me back to my apartment? S’not so far away from here.”

He's conflicted, that Nico can see. She never gives much care towards clones, let alone see one so close without their buckets. Amber brown eyes that seem to glow golden when light hits from a certain angle, sharp facial features under the hat that comes with the leave attire, and battle experience carved onto their features in soft facial lines. This one however, got a cybernetic fit into his right eye, an accompanying vertical scar tells the misfortune of losing the real one in a close combat.

Weird thing is, he acts like he doesn't recognize her. He'd been tense when she practically hugged his side but she brushed it off assuming he was just stunned to call her out. But now, where there's no more running into ex disturbance and the likes, he's clearly annoyed by her presence, meddling in his downtime and screwing his relaxed walk in the city, but can't really bring it up and throw the harsh facts into her face without all due respect.

Curious. He doesn't know her? She's just as famous as Jabba the Hutt! Butting heads in the ranks of fame, yeah, but she wins in the entertainment section by a landslide.

Nic Erlonna the actress, galaxy's sweetheart and most famous.

And this one clone doesn't even know her, though she's sure there's a lot of pin-ups of her somewhere in the army barracks.

A big sigh comes out of him before, “Alright.”

Nico claps her hands startling him. She holds back a snort. “But, uh, one quick stop, is that okay?”

“Only if I can make the whole trip plus the trek back to headquarters before 2200.”

She promptly ignores his flat dismissing tone. “Should be enough.” As they continue down the street with her in the lead, she then asks, “Can I at least get your name?”

“Best not.” His answer is abrupt, followed by a quiet but certain, “Sorry.”

Nico chuckles awkwardly. “Ah well. Stiff rules in the army, huh?” She's met with silence. He's not even looking at her, just at the path straight ahead. But she's not known to be silent either. “To be honest I don't really know what's been going out there. Just about there's a big galactic war and that's all.”

The clone shrugs subtly. “Don't really expect people to know so much.”

Nico hums. Makes sense. Like herself, case in point. “You fight in the front lines, trooper?” she asks again, earning a curt nod and nothing else that follows. Absentmindedly reading the neon signages as they pass, she decides to let it drop and leave him be to privacy. The least she can do for dragging him out of that very privacy not ten minutes ago, anyway.

They stop at a shop absent of any colorful neon signages. Tinted windows and an ornate decoration on its entry door, the amber neon sign only displaying a name of its owner, leaving passersby curious of what may be offered inside.

Nico’s gaze flicks momentarily to her involuntary companion. “Okay, here we are. Wait out here for a bit, if you don't mind.”

He wordlessly tells her he doesn't, and dutifully so near the store windows with one hand behind his back almost in parade rest, the other clutching his own paper bag. Then, she enters the shop with the knowledge that it may or may not be a newly purchased sketchbook in the paper bag he keeps close guard of. Heh. Clones with artsy hobbies.

An art supplies store, the top shelf kind. She's seen this often during her discreet commute, especially on her way back to her apartment. Pricey equipment and high quality paints worth of credits and more incoming credits if the artist that makes art stuff with these sells it to the highest bidder.

So when Nick walks out with a bigger paper bag in hand with nearly a tooka-like grin, she pretends the clone isn't looking at her suspiciously at all.

“Okay, all good. Let's go.”

The walk ain't long, much to Wolffe's surprise.

When they marched down the sidewalk in what he realized as the most high-end residential area in the heart of Coruscant, a looming apartment building kept jutting out amongst many others, the most lavish looking out of them all. And the longer they walked, the closer that particular apartment got. It took him another moment to realize that they really were walking in that direction.

“How’s your commute back?” Nico casually asks him as they approach the lobby, warm amber light illuminating their figures.

“Walking,” mutters Wolffe.

“Wait. Seriously?” Nico exclaims, peeking into the lobby through the glass doors to see the chronometer on the wall. “Why not get a cab?”

Credits spent on that aren't worthy when a five minute walk to the nearest shuttle headed to HQ.

“I prefer walking.”

An unamused scoff escapes her lips. “I hope you're joking. We’re not having that. I'm not having that.” Suddenly she takes off running to enter the building. “I'll call a cab for you! Hang in there, alright?”

His protests fall deaf on… well, nothing. Nico is already inside leaning over the receptionist counter, vigorous movements of hands and head nods and hasty smiles to make quick of the endeavor… calling a cab home for a clone.

And Wolffe just really hates it where he's got to be polite from now on that somebody is paying for his convenience. Like he's owing them. And he can't pay back since he's got nothing on him. Indebted. It's as if the floor and the ceiling are pinning down on him. Why the hell did he even agree to walk her back if it's gonna come to him owing someone? Owing her?

“All good!” Nico runs back outside to meet him. “Cab headed to GAR will be here in another minute.”

Wolffe sighs, guilt swallowing him even deeper. “Ma'am, really, I–”

“No, no, my words are final. Don't worry about anything,” Nico interrupts him, “You get in a cab to your HQ, and with this.”

The bigger laminated paper bag he’d forgotten about is suddenly thrust into his hands, the size and the texture of the carrier itself looking comically different to the humble one he acquired from his usual art supply store. Never being so generously gifted, he can only gape, mouth slightly parting and the insides of his stomach whipping up emotions alien to him.

Kark she bought this… for me?

“Please just take it as my gratitude for standing up against Shon,” Nico says abruptly, her tone almost commanding, before words of refusal leave his tongue. “But if it's against your rules and stuff then I dare you to chuck it down the lobby.”

Judging by the look of the bag and how weighty it is, it makes him wonder what could be inside… Yeah no.

“...Thank you.”

No regulations explicitly stating on owning personal belongings anyway. The least he can do then is to accept it… and not be a dick. Those are possibly hundreds of credits in his hands. It could've been bottles of alcohol. So yeah, no chucking it down the lobby.

The cab arrives. Wolffe has never been so desperate to be home after a night out before.

“Get home safe, trooper,” Nico says after he climbs into the seats, ducking to the cab's window level so she can bid him bye.

Wolffe stares long at her, noting how the hood of her poncho had come off and spilling blond hair everywhere about her shoulders. He gives a curt nod. “You too, ma'am.”

She smirks. “Well I'm already here.”

His ride ascends to the skylane zipping along the traffic. Wolffe leans back, neck rested against the padded cushion as he mulls over what the heck just happened to him tonight… A week long extraction mission to the Mid Rim, returned, and… whatever this is.

He reaches for the paper bag. The lux one.

“Kriff,” he mutters under his breath, gaping wholly to the contents inside.

Five high-grade non-smudge flimsi sketchbooks (the label says it's imported from Kashyyyk). A portable sketching kit. A dozen fine liner styluses of various widths. Three dozen high-quality graphite styluses of various hardness. A sizable organizer clutch that could definitely hold every single tool that's left cluttered inside a single shelf under his desk. A watercolor paint set of 108 shades. And all those are of high-end brands he'd only get to hear so much about, but never been able to buy.

As a humble and barely-hanging-on artist, all those are just… dreams come true.

Reaching further, Wolffe peels off a sticky flimsi note and, under the low light of the cab, examines it.

Saw your sketchbook(?) Hope you're into drawing or this is gonna be a really awkward gift –Nic

As if it's entirely made out of glass, Wolffe gently put the bag next to him on the seat. All that was definitely worth hundreds of credits… and knowing her just tossing money for someone as unworthy and insignificant as him…

Let's rewind then. He went to buy more supplies, Nico sidled up to him, Shon happened, walking her back, and that's when it got worse.

She spent hundreds of credits after apparently catching a glimpse of his little shopping endeavor and called him a cab home, all in her tab. She's stupid stinking rich.

Now here he wishes it was liquor instead so he can sober up from the overwhelming and unnecessary kindness. But to be honest, it'd be blatantly thankless and stupid of him to reject gifts…

He's a clone. He'd never been gifted abundantly by anyone ever, anyway.

“WOLFFE YOU SLICK SON OF A DROID!”

Wolffe slurps on his pureed soup. “Mornin’, Boost.”

“MUST BE A GOOD MORNING TO YOU, SIR.”

He sighs. “Look, if you don't stop screaming, m’gonna pull rank and make you run ‘round the shipyard, get it?”

Boost snickers. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” He plops down on the bench across the commander. “But with all due respect, respectfully sir, would you kindly tell me all the good juice about your date last night?”

Wolffe stops halfway slurping. He swallows.

“Date?”

“Don't play dumb, sir,” Sinker guffaws next to Comet. He brings up a datapad. “Here, take a look. Should help you. It's all over the holo–”

“WHERE IS HE?!”

Heavy, stomping steps boom throughout the bustling mess hall. It's not even 0800 yet, and Wolffe sighs at that particular voice pitch, at the slight hoarse quality of it. Within a slight turn of the head in the direction of the door, is a sight of his brother in all his 212th white and orange glory, fuming as if he's been foul-played and is now begging for justice. And of kriffing course, being in possession of most excellent eyesight out of the command bunch, Cody picks the slight movement out of the crowd, definitely catching Wolffe's permascowl too, and he's grinning maniacally that his temple scar creases as he immediately makes his way over. 

“WOLFFE YOU BIG UGLY SON OF A DROID!”

At that very moment, Wolffe is certain his sanity is depleting as quick as the cheap beer in 79s during collective clone trooper leaves.

“Can everybody stop yelling and just tell me?!” he snarls, making sure it reaches neighboring tables. He sharply turns to Cody and half-exclaims impatiently, “What d’ya want?”

Cody pauses a few steps away, his armored shoulders heave in deep determined breaths, expression hurt and utterly betrayed.

“YOU WENT OUT WITH NIC ERLONNA?!”

Wolffe recoils, his frustration simmering to the brim. “Who the hell is Nic Erlonna?”

“You don't know?” Comet voices his shock, sharing a baffled look with the other two. “That's the girl you went out with last night!”

“I didn't go out with anyone!” It may look like a weak ass response but whatever, as long as it's the truth. There was Nico but… can't be the same person, right? He eyes his squad members. “And what's it got to do with me? How the hell did you even find out?”

“It’s all over the holonet.” Sinker finally nudges the datapad in his Commander's direction, having been held by Cody's imposing presence. “Here,” he says, biting down on his lip to not laugh. Wolffe glares at him but he doesn't waver, amber eyes under dyed pale hair twinkling with mirth. “Seems you made headlines and hot news and everything gossip, sir.”

Wolffe's cold glare remains two seconds longer before he observes the presented article.

⚝── ⓗⓞⓣ ⓖⓐⓛ ⓒⓞⓡⓤⓢⓒⓐⓝ-ⓣⓔⓐ ──⚝

𝐍𝐢𝐜 𝐄𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚: 𝐎𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐢𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲?!

Surely a surprise to the whole galaxy, but a welcome one! Reported just last night in Triple Zero, Nic Erlonna was seen walking down the streets in one of the commercial districts arm in arm with– wait for it… a clone trooper! Honestly, that grey uniform is trademark downtime clone fashion already – it means they're on leave after an off-world campaign! Aside from that it could've been a romantic-patriotic motive (to which maybe some of us wouldn't complain because we understand that these boys really do have charms, okay?), is Nic making a bold move onto politics with our boys in white? Diplomatic much, Nic? But maybe MAYBE she just fancies them the way some of us do? Our zine is absolutely not pro-Shonic, and hasn't been, long before they broke up last year (good riddance!), so we're already flocking to this unexpected pairing! #clonic

Cody now definitely and intentionally is doing things to irk him further, peering over his shoulder to catch the article on the datapad making Wolffe half tempted to drive his elbow back and hit the di’kut in the crotch. Swear to kriff he can feel Cody's glare burning hot plasma holes into the back of his head.

“Can't believe I’m betrayed as kark,” Cody says, his voice trembling with childish resentment. “And I call you my brother.”

Wolffe exaggeratedly rolls his eyes as he returns the datapad. “I don't owe you anything, Cody.”

“Wrong, vod. You owe me everything.” Both of Cody's hands clap onto Wolffe's shoulders, startling the Living Force out of him. The gloved fingers slip between his armor plates and start massaging. “How’d you meet her? You two been goin’ a long time? You two kriffin’ yet?”

Wolffe roughly shrugs him off and without looking, he actually drives his elbow to hit Cody in the crotch, only to meet air, as Cody jumps out of the way and casually pops up on the other side.

“We just met,” he grumbles, turning back to his pureed soup, “Nothing more and nothing less about it.”

Boost humors him by chuckling. “Yeah, you met the dick ex Shon, right?”

He wishes it wasn't just a ‘met’. He wishes it was more than ‘met’. Like, decking the Pantoran toxic crybaby across the face, maybe. It would've been a funny story to tell at the moment.

Then of course he gets reminded by the lavish art supply gifts, still untouched on his desk and everytime he looks at it he still feels kinda guilty.

Wolffe sighs and goes to rub his eyes. Look at him. Not even 0800 yet and he's exhausted as kark, especially with Cody's irking presence. He suddenly understands Fox's rare yet loud sleep-deprived complaints when they get on holo. Though the Corrie definitely doesn't share Wolffe's current further exhaustion and frustration catalyst, but damn is the feeling similar.

“Look,” he grumbles into his hands, “Now that I'm apparently the talk of the rotation, I'm gonna clarify that there's nothing going on.” Then he turns to Cody and emphasizes every single word; “I. Don't. Even. Know. Her.”

Cody's loud dramatic gasp startles even the neighboring tables. Not even one of them knew the Marshal Commander of the 7th Sky Corps is capable of dramatics. No matter how unbelievable that is, anyway, must’ve gotten it from the general, and emphasized by the other general and Togrutan padawan.

“YOU DON'T KNOW NIC ERLONNA?!”

“Fuck’s sake–!” Wolffe swats him in the stomach. Cody is not even dodging. “Stop yelling!”

“YOU DON'T KNOW 14 TIMES OSK’ARR NOMINATED AND 5 TIMES BEST ACTRESS WINNER NIC ERLONNA?!”

Patience running thin, Wolffe swiftly turns around and starts swinging his arms.

“Get the kriff out Cod–! oof–” Cody’s knee suddenly slams into his vulnerable stomach, and Wolffe stiff-arms him again, trying his best not to hit the table behind him and spill this morning’s bowl of pureed soup onto the table. “Fuckin’ hell–”

He manages to stretch, swinging his other leg over the bench, and in a split second triumphantly thrusts his leg out into Cody's knees, all while sitting down and sending Cody reeling backwards in surrender. A victorious smirk slides into Wolffe's face, only not to last long as Cody suddenly aims for his head in blinding speed, the sudden assault he manages to block with both of his arms save for Cody's other hand that quickly slips through the defenses and successfully smacks Wolffe across the head.

Laughing while finally walking away like the little shit he is, Cody turns, going backwards in his path. “M’gonna holo Rex and scoop up more juice from the 501st,” he announces, then he cups his hands around his mouth, “Letting vod'ika know that his ori’vod is dating galaxy's famous!”

Wolffe swallows as waves of realization storm him at that moment.

Nic Erlonna… Nico… Nic… that little sticky note…

Kriff does that mean…

Hood over her head. Lavish apartment. Lavish gift. People talking.

Fuck me. That was a real kriffing celebrity.

“You look… unhappy about all this, sir.”

“It’s paps,” Boost says to Comet, “Paps are never fun. Invading your privacy and all.”

“And the fact that the whole thing wasn't going in my favor at all.” Wolffe turns and sits properly again at his firstmeal tray. The protein cubes suddenly look unappetizing. He sighs, eyes sweeping across his three squad members. “It was just a small altercation and I had to step in. Bet you know why.”

“Shon Vatore is her co-star in various holos,” Sinker resourcefully chimes in again, “His obsession with her eventually became too much and she broke up with him for good just last year, but he hadn't been taking it well, as you could see.”

“Crazy ex,” Comet shakes his head, “Couldn't leave her alone. I mean they broke up last year. Someone should've admitted him to a psych hospital or som’n.”

Sinker swallows his food. “Not issuing a restraining order against him is what I don't understand.”

Kark me they're just as bad as Cody. Just how invested are they in Nic Erlonna?

“Yeah you gotta admit the ex was creepy as kark, Wolffe.” The commander looks up from his carbs at the call of his name. Boost looks at him expectantly. “You met him. Thoughts?”

There's a royal string of curses and disrespectful names lined up already.

“Delusional. Intrusive,” Wolffe answers instead (because he's still got dignity and exemplary traits in him that he needs to exhibit to his men). He huffs. “Stupid.”

“Most of the galaxy agrees with you, don't worry,” Sinker laughs. He then nods at Wolffe with respect, and a teasing glint in his eyes. “Very heroic of you, Commander.”

“Believe me, I didn't even speak more than two lines to the di'kut when it happened.”

“No, no, that may be true, but you and your scary-looking presence are helping the media to cook exaggerated stories to gush over in the morning after,” Boost unhelpfully offers.

“It's just news,” Wolffe shakes his head dismissively, “Something that people are going to forget after four-five days. Or maybe even three.”

The trio shares a look, already knowing just how wrong their commander's statement would be. But for now, they spare him a quiet firstmeal, before more people would definitely flock to him and throw teasing questions about the alleged relationship in approximately… two hours, minimum.

Or maybe in fifteen minutes the moment they stroll down the corridor.

“How did you even end up with a clone, Nico?”

She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Mummy, that's the tenth time people's been saying to my ears today and it's not even 0900,” she sighs, “I was in need of a way out. He walked past, then I thought a clone was a good idea.”

“Alright I understand then, honey,” Mummy speaks softly. Nico imagines her mother pouting, arms on the railing of her parent’s bedroom's balcony. “Those paps weren't going easy on you, were they?”

“Like they ever did,” Nico huffs, picking on her breakfast, “I wasn't even aware of them just across the street. According to that still’s angle in Ecumenopolitan.”

A straight amateur shot towards the altercation, but it was clear enough to catch her face even underneath her hood and his underneath his hat, with Shon was fuming as kriff. Must've been during the last moments where the clone positioned himself in front of her.

“They've got a clear shot on this clone too,” Mummy mulls again, “That huge scar over his eye, ugh.”

“Cybernetic,“ Nico supplies, “How many clones do you think in the army fitted with cybernetic eye?”

Mummy hums. “Not much, I think. What cut him so bad he lost an eye?”

Nico stands, having cleaned her plate, and heads to the kitchen. “Beats me, Mummy, but I've got Veeli to go look for this clone.”

“Okay then,” Mummy sighs dramatically, “Gotta go, honey. Your father's waiting. Remember what I taught you; people who help you when you're in trouble–”

“–are the ones we should pay back with kindness. Talk later, Mummy.”

This morning so far has been filled with her overthinking and brooding about the circulating rumors, and specifically feeling bad for the clone. The unwanted attention must be most undesirable for him. For a clone, called ‘property of the Republic’... Yeah that's definitely gonna cause more problems that haven't risen, demanding her management's attention to act in urgency. Like, summoned by the head of the government for meddling with what's theirs…

“Your ingenious move now puts you in all these delicious rumors.”

Her manager Titus strides in through the elevator, Veeli in tow. Veeli is a Mikkian, always in her hand is a datapad, being Nico's personal assistant and all, scarlet skin painted with neutral and all-business facial expression. The accompanying yellow-skinned Zabrak, however, sports an enthusiastic grin across his tattooed face as he rubs his hands together.

“Right?” Nico calls out from the couch, watching them marching in. Her tone changes to actual concern, voicing her inner turmoil. “Though I really didn't mean to. I think I'm putting the clone in too much trouble already. His identity hasn't leaked yet, right?”

Titus shoves his hands into his pockets and shrugs. “If those clones have social media they haven't ratted him out yet.”

Veeli butts in, datapads clutched close to her chest, “Well, to answer Nic's question; no, but it's gonna be any second now if anyone would interview a single clone trooper.”

Nico holds her scoff in. “How could anyone possibly identify a single clone trooper anyway? Even within their ranks? What are the chances?”

Veeli looks hesitant for a second. She trades a look with Titus who had taken his liberty to sit on the couch across Nico. He shrugs. Veeli lets out a breath. “For starters,” she begins, “The guy last night was a Clone Commander in the army.”

In a second Nico hunches forward, elbows on knees.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“I'm not,” Veeli answers seriously, now tapping in her datapad, “I had a friend in the GAR medwing who was willing to look through the medical archives. Turns out not everyone lost an eye due to lightsaber wound, so the archive search was unnecessary. His number is CC-3636.”

“Um… Number?”

“Identification number. Serial number. Whatever you wanna call it.”

Nico lets out a noise at the knowledge. Right, they're dubbed as products, anyway. Born with serial numbers makes sense.

“He got a name?”

Veeli is scrolling now. “Hang on… uh, yeah. Army Clone Commander Wolffe of the 104th Battalion.”

“Either way the whole kriffing galaxy now thinks you're dating a clone,” Titus asserts, arms now splaying over the top of the couch. He subtly points at Nico. “That sends political impressions to the public, so I think you need to prepare for shit thrown at you.”

Nico rolls her eyes. “Oh come on, that's the classic Centaxday for me, Titus.”

“Nic, this is huge, okay?” the manager leans forward ardently, “Who knows someone up in the Chancellor office requests you for attendance? You were interacting with their property and now everyone's eyes are on that clone and you!”

“Yeah, and we can't forget Shon either,” Veeli butts in again.

A groan escapes Nico. Both hands scrub down her face as if able to just wipe her quiet frustration away all together. Feeling bad for the elusive clone commander by drawing attention to him, in addition to her auditions and modelling being scrammed together with daily workout sessions, and now, the audacity her ex seems to have yet again to approach her last night and it definitely wouldn't be the last.

“I think this is an opportunity.”

Titus is found grinning wickedly at her once she peeks through her fingers. Nico loves her manager alright, everything is in perfect control thanks to his excellent time management, but sometimes his ideas can be just too creative and daring to execute. See, that kind of smile, among his tattooed face and horns around copper hair smugly slicked back with a concerning amount of hair gel, is the face that manifests such ideas just exactly. But Nico always indulges him anyway.

“What do you mean?”

“Okay, hear me out.” Titus scoots to the edge of his seat enthusiastically. “You want Shon to be ridiculed for his treatment and obsession with you. You want the galaxy to hate him. And you're ‘dating’ this clone.”

Nico blinks. “Okay?”

“So show the media you're in a happy relationship with the clone.” Titus spreads his arms triumphantly as if having just pitched the most brilliant idea in the galaxy. “Drive every single love and attention to both of you, leave them gushing all over you, and Shon will be out of the picture soon enough because how good and happy you both are.”

Veeli is facepalming.

Nico shares the sentiment as she looks at the Zabrak in disbelief. “You can't be serious.”

Titus holds her gaze. “I’m as serious as I could ever be.”

“You want me to fake date a clone commander in the galactic army?”

“I want you to use the given gossip to your advantage. You can do anything, Nico. At a given opportunity. And this is it. Plainly handed to you.”

Titus may be great with time management and multitasking solely for her personal branding and public image and all, but sometimes his ideas and encouragement are just…

Nico is actually thinking about it. She can, can't she? 

“Besides I think the clones don't look too bad,” Titus shrugs, “And he's a commander. He's the best one can get. We can schedule an appointment to talk to the Chancellor about this, or I don't know, wait for an attendance request from his office, whichever’s faster. Farfetched, not to mention ridiculous, but as far as I know, he's a fan, so we'll see if he could go around the rules for a bit?” He laughs gushingly into his hands. “Maker, new power couple smacking everyone in the face.”

“I can't believe you're shipping her already,” Veeli grumbles, her floating tendrils flicking the air almost in disappointment.

“Hey, not gonna lie, they look great! I dunno how friendly this guy is, but there's certainly chemistry going on already!” Titus laughs, “And that Hot Gal Coruscan-tea ship tag is genius. I know I've always liked them. They came up with hashtag ‘clonic’ for clone and Nic, but now that we know the commander's name, the fanbase better be prepared for-” he makes a whooshing noise while wiggling his fingers around “–Nicolffe.”

Collective groans from both ladies. Utter disappointment from Veeli. Flustered woozy feelings from Nico.

Oh yeah that's right. She's falling for it already. Look at her, she's blushing. Seeing how pinkish Nico's face is, Titus is feeling absolutely victorious right now. Proud of his own (very serious and strategically pitched) joke remains an understatement.

Not gonna lie. Physically speaking, they are oh so excellent. Fit physique – she's almost as tall by a few inches. Killer cheekbones that she could cut herself slapping that face. Jawline game running strong. Those wide shoulders. Exotic bronze shade of skin. Deep, rugged voice, tinged with steadiness and military harshness and wartime experience. Brown eyes that shine when light hits them in a certain angle as if the doors to the heavens above open during the golden hours.

She clears her throat. Blame it to stupid infatuations happening in under 24 hours.

“Okay I admit these copy paste faces aren't that bad,” she mutters sheepishly, voice muffled as her hands still pressed against her face.

Titus barks a laugh. “So you admit it's a good idea! And it's not like we can hire a bounty hunter to off your ex.”

“We can. She just doesn't wanna,” Veeli pitches in.

“And so social resentment is the only way,” Titus says matter-of-factly. “And you've got a galaxywide fanbase! Use it, Nico!”

Before allowing herself to think thrice about it, determination whirrs to life inside her, and Nico finds herself smirking.

“Think I could put up a smug face in the Chancellor's office?”

“Are you kidding me? Of course I would!”

“REALLY?!”

“Sure! It's gonna feel like autographing holoposters, I guess. These gunships wouldn't be any different. I'd do anything to make the 104th famous and glorious as I am.”

“Ugh, I love you so much, Nic.”

“I know babes, I love you too.”

“Alright, lines done. Gonna have a hard time choosing your dress… or maybe swimsuits? Oh, uh… sorry.”

“Babes, choose whatever item of clothing you want! Just don't paint me stark naked. As much as I want the Republic to win the war I don't want the Seps to write off the cause of death in their casualty reports with ‘inappropriate body exposure.”

“HAHA! Oh stars you're so funny. Think I'll do swimsuits later.”

“As long as you get my boob size right! I'll be offended otherwise!”

“Any favorites from your Nedd Gala red carpet?”

“Hmm… Oh, that's gotta be that royal blue one with the cape and silver headpiece.”

“The off-shoulder one with a lot of tiny silver stars and thigh slit?!”

“That's the one!”

“YES! MY FAVE TOO! Stars you were an absolute goddess in that one…”

Wolffe expects every single thing to happen this morning (fellow 104th troopers flocking to him, Cody's occasional hazing, Rex's bland and sheepish holo messages, Fox's sleep deprived rants, Bly’s lovesick rants, General Koon’s paternal check-ins with the boys) but never, ever, the sole source of his week-long misery as mentioned above casually merry-making in the 104th hangar with his men as early as 1000.

Especially not about autographed gunship nose art.

Of her stupid famed holomovie gloriousness.

Nor about how his general is standing nearby, hands on hips, looking so terribly proud of the boys’ art endeavors.

As he approaches closer, helmet clipped to his belt, he spots multiple empty drink carriers stacked on top of a crate, and– Force’s sake, Warthog is slurping on a stupid pink drink with a spark of spoiled childish excitement in his eyes. Comet is munching on some snack with orange powder on top of it that makes Wolffe do a double take thinking it's a royal sprinkle of goddamn spice.

Nic Erlonna, reeking pure feminine charm and expensive perfume, is gracing the hangar with her presence; blond hair loose and done in soft curls, sunglasses perched on top of her head as if expecting a royal star fighter ride out under the sun, and some iced drink in her hand (who drinks iced drinks at 1000?). Her statuesque figure, wrapped with some monochromatic smart casual getup. Wolffe registers a certain shade of grey in her attire that looks too familiar…

Oh.

Stupid rich people and their tailored making-a-statement clothes.

Of kriffing course the grey matches his battalion’s markings with incredible accuracy.

And to be honest it goes well with her hair and her eyes–

“Hey, darling!”

Before he can register who-where-what, ohshit happens. That reeked perfume suddenly gets too close to his nostrils than moments ago as he realizes the devil lunges herself into him, affectionately touching his chestplate and pecking him in the cheek.

It all happened in under four seconds.

Then his fight or flight instinct kicks in.

“Geroff–!” He shoves her away from his beloved personal space by her shoulders, only earning a nonchalant toothy grin acting as if the hostile gesture didn't happen. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“An impromptu meet and greet with your brothers. I didn't know you clones could be this fun!” Hopping up and down on her feet (those are Force-forsaken damned heels) she excitedly gestures behind her, his own men waving back at him with elated expressions on each and every one of their faces as if winning a million credits in the lottery. Wolffe scowls back (in greeting too). Kark, he's never felt this betrayed before.

“And before that, a quick meeting with your general.”

Wait, what?

Plo Koon suddenly appears next to her.

Wolffe blinks. “Ah. Uh… General, sir.” He half-assed straightens, still completely thrown off by the whole thing.

The General looks at him in utter amusement. “I’m afraid I have other business to attend to, Commander,” he says, “I trust you to accompany Miss Erlonna until she sees it fit to leave the establishment?”

Kark me.

Resisting to roll his eyes, Wolffe clears his throat. “Yes, sir,” he grits out with all due respect, “Until she leaves.”

She kriffing giggles at that part.

The General turns to the woman. “Wolffe is my confidant. You’re already in good hands, Miss Erlonna.”

“Don’t I know it, sir. If something happens, it wouldn't be the first time for him to be the hero of the day.”

Nico’s smile seems genuine as it reaches her eyes, or maybe it's the acting skills to sweeten her behavior around government (or Jedi, whatever) figures. 

They bid goodbye; Nico opts for the go-to have a nice day and Wolffe with a curt nod to the Jedi, and the Kel Dor himself with a friendly wave of the hand to them before marching away.

He wonders just how much time Plo Koon has wasted surfing on the holonet.

And then Nico slurps on her drink noisily next to him, making him slowly turn to her in disbelief.

Olive green eyes lazily blinking up at him. Then, she sighs, that confident and gleeful upbringing crumbling apart as Wolffe isn't backing down from glaring at her.

“Okay.” Her shoulders slump even further. “I understa–”

“Respectfully, you don't,” Wolffe sharply interrupts. He folds his arms across his chest. “Start explaining. Now.”

“I was just about to get to it before you interrupted, darling,” Nico smirks impishly. “Now, how about you take me on a walk so I can start explaining?”

Wolffe grimaces at the idea of walking around the premises with the gossip still running hot among the clones. “No. I want it here and now. What were you doing with General Plo Koon?”

“Talk,” Nico shrugs, swirling the ice in her drink. “Something about a mandate from the Supreme Chancellor himself upon my request.”

He snorts. “The Chancellor abide by your request?”

“I suppose because of my talent and charms!”

Kark me. Stupid famous rich peop–

“–so it's not surprising he's a massive fan of my holomovies and that he keeps up with the gossip.”

Okay look, he's been living the past week like a kriffing celebrity himself. It's a whole load of nightmare. Walking down every single corridor, heck even attending a session in the war room, grants him teasing glances from his brothers. It's driving him crazy. His only escape is no longer gunning away the targets in the shooting range, but locking himself inside his quarters doing certain things with stylus and flimsi.

Wolffe really hates when unanticipated things get thrown his way. Not a single briefing and they expect him to freestyle himself out of the situation. Sure he can do that with the CC programming and all, but if the news isn't as fun as the words request and Chancellor and gossip weaved into a single sentence with the source of his weeklong misery saying all that to his face, he'd be far more grateful. At least it'll spare him another grey hair. Looking back at himself, Fox is probably having the best month of his entire life right now.

And so as he registers it, processing it again and again, he just knows the entire world hates him right now.

“What did you do?”

Nico sips on her drink again. The straw comes off her lips with a pop. “This is going to be a really lengthy and serious discussion but with me in these heels, I'd really hate it if we're not sitting down. So, you have somewhere in mind?”

Sighing heavily and resolutely groaning, Wolffe turns around and storms out of her vicinity. The click-clack of her heels resound through the durasteel flooring of the hangar as she catches up to him half running. Wolffe scoffs. In four inches? It's impressive. It's a wonder she hasn't tripped yet. He quietly hopes she'll stagger or something.

She doesn't. She follows him in stride, hurried pace matching his own albeit a few steps behind. A few passing clones gasp and call out to her in adoration, to which she answers in passing.

“Sure, hand me a permanent stylus, I'll sign your armor!

“I’ll catch up to you later babes!

“A still? In a minute, okay, babes? He's walking too fast, haha…

“Oh yeah, with this getup I do support the 104th fully. And the entire Grand Army of the Republic!

“Where am I going? Oh y'know, somewhere private.”

Holy kriff. She did not just say that.

Wolffe slams his fist into a panel to one of the assembly rooms, the door swooshing open at his proximity. Both then enter, the click-clack of her heels now is a false and horrendous symphony to his ears, tickling the big bad resentful beast down in the bottom of his gut. The noise stops, followed by a soft grunt and another noise of plopping down a cushioned seat. When Wolffe turns around, Nico is already situated, one leg over the other, eyes on him in serious anticipation.

Frustration still comes out of him in heaving breaths as he bores down to her. “You have exactly three minutes.”

“Very commanding, but I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that.” Nico clicks her tongue dismissively. “I believe you've heard what's been circulating around the holonet?”

At that, Wolffe scowls. His arms cross over his chest. “S’not been going in my favor.”

Her grin grows even wider. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She subtly points her drink cup at him. “So the word is, the galaxy's most famous actress is dating a clone trooper of the army. How did they meet? How could she set her bar that far too low? Well, it's simple. I fell in love and swooned over your patriotism and heroism, and now the whole Grand Army of the Republic is under my patronage as well because of my kindness and compassion towards these clones.”

Wolffe laughs. Swear to Force laughs. “Have fun dreaming. You just fabricated that the moment you woke up this morning.”

Nico giggles along. “Exactly, darling. But, hm, it's last week actually. But! We're dating now, whether you like it or not. Well I, for one, like it.”

“I don't,” Wolffe grunts, the dry humor dissipating completely from his eyes.

Nico doesn't reply. With the smug smile gracing her painted lips, she sits there almost contentedly, olive green eyes seeming to assess the moment and taking every smallest movement he makes as his reaction. The drink in her hand is almost empty leaving the ice, with red lip stain on the top of the straw. 

“I'm not finished yet,” she says to him, still smiling, maybe to show how nice she is (she really isn't she's a kriffing devil), with an additional ounce of seriousness, “Allow me to backtrack. The morning after that encounter with my dick ex Shon, you bet the holonet was full with pictures of you and me and the devil himself at that side of the street. People speculated, and somewhere in those twelve hours, you and me became us.” 

Sighing deeply, he shuts his eyes.

“Now the whole purpose of this pretend relationship setting is to take Shon Vatore out of the picture. He's narcissistic, he's obsessed with me, he's disgusting, he's a dick, alright?” Nico goes on determinedly. “I want him out of my life, and you might be the only one who could help me.”

Wolffe’s eyelids crack open. He's sure he was just hearing the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard in his life. There are certainly other ways to do it that don't involve him.

“If you want it so bad to ‘take him out of the picture’,” he suggests darkly, “why not hire a bounty hunter instead?”

Nico is unfazed. “Both my assistant and manager have been coaxing me to do exactly that since ex and I broke up last year, believe me,” she shrugs, meeting his gaze, “But if I do that, my reputation will crumble and my good public image will cease to diabolical. My fans wouldn't hate me for that but all tracks would obviously lead to me, and I'd be helpless in the court of law.”

Wolffe shakes his head, laughing in disbelief. “You big figures always have something up your sleeve if it comes to that.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, darling, that's not how I roll.” The straw plucks into the corner of her lips, and she sips noisily, eyes distant. Finishing, she inhales deeply. “I’m clean, believe it or not. Save for the tiny case of spice I use in desperate situations to numb the nerves and everything.”

“Get to the point,” Wolffe huffs impatiently.

“Hey you threw the ball,” Nico raises her hands, “So since blatant murder won't work in my favor, I've been relying on social resentment. I want people to hate him and forget him, and so I think you can help me with that.”

“I am a commander in the galactic army,” Wolffe growls, his feet carrying him forward dominantly. Nico hasn't fazed. “I fight war. I don't fight toxic former partners, and I'm not teaming up with the alleged innocent side of the story. I'm not gonna be your personal bodyguard.”

“Ah ah, there's a difference between bodyguard and boyfriend and you, my darling Commander, are the latter.”

“Tomato tomato, woman. I'm not–”

“I’ve proposed half of my annual earnings to the Grand Army of the Republic.”

She had shot up to her feet. He's still trying to register the words that came out of her when she joins him in his vicinity – too close for his own liking, her heels clicking too loudly, too close.

Nico stares him down, the impish look diminishes from her features and is replaced by intense seriousness. “That means from this year forward, I'll be financially supporting your military funds and your personal wellbeing and needs,” she says lowly, “Some or few, if not everything, will be under my name – effective immediately whenever the discussion comes around to a close in the next Senate session.”

Wolffe has been breathing noisily he hadn't realized, shoulders heaving to stow his aggravation as if contending against the worse fate of hers. No. His is much worse. He didn't ask for this.

“The length I choose to go through, Commander,” Nico continues. She takes one more step. Their chests now are barely touching. “I sacrifice my riches, a handful of my sponsors, my future projects, and probably half of my supporters throughout the galaxy turning into haters, just because I choose to strike a deal to play date with a clone.”

Before he can resist it, he averts his glare.

Nico sighs softly, “That means it says something about my political views, as I abandoned all of the above. Promises of something nice.” Her menacing tone dissipating, Wolffe hears. He focuses his eyesight on something else. “But this is nicer, even if it takes to play this game with you to get rid of my toxic ex boyfriend. And to be honest Commander, I'm not even mad about it.”

That makes him turn sharply to face her. Nico's jaws are no longer tense and nostrils no longer flaring. Mouth slightly agape as she exhales through it. For the first time that day Wolffe maps her countenance in close proximity, and finds himself baffled to the absence of the usual mirth and smugness.

Nico is pleading, though she doesn't say that out loud. Wolffe doubts she's the type to show weakness out loud. Instead, she sacrifices almost everything – all the luxurious privileges she owns. Career, profit, fame. Money, power, glory. All the winning hand, she forfeited some. Believing in another wave of luck that waits if she won't give away anything.

And now this is her set of cards – a hopeful, daring hand. If this order really comes straight from the Chancellor's office, with the official mail awaiting, he wouldn't have much choice anyways.

“All that for your ex?” Wolffe finds himself speaking. He shakes his head. “Not even worth it.”

A twitch of a smirk in her lips. “I play stocks, my credits are everywhere and limitless,” replies Nico, “And as long as I have a roof over my head and water to survive and a clear blue sky to look upon in hope, I'll live.”

Wolffe scoffs under his breath.

Nico ignores his input. “I approached the Chancellor with my proposition,” she says, smugness returning to her tone bit by bit, “Lucky he's a big fan. Big green from him. In return, by his wrinkly kindness, the old man agreed that I could borrow a certain asset of the Republic to fit my personal agenda.”

“You’re an idiot for even doing this.”

“You don't have a say in this. It's happening.”

“I’m not deaf.” With all courteousness thrown out of the airlock, he jabs a finger into her shoulder. “Just satisfied to say that to your face.”

Nico grabs his hand away and squeezes. The smugness makes its full return to her person as she smirks. “You're not my first hater, Wolffe. Whatever curse you're gonna hurl my way won't break me, and it certainly won't satisfy you.”

Kark, he hates that she's right. He's unsatisfied. Angrily, he breaks free from her grip. “I hate that we met that night,” he seethes.

“Such a whiny baby. You know what? You don't have a choice in this.”

“As if I’ve ever been presented with any.”

That gets her to shut up.

Wolffe takes a step back, relishing how the realization breaks into the countenance. This time it's his turn to smirk.

“Would you just… focus on the trade? I'll be direct about this, okay?” she shakes the confusion away, folding her arms on top of each other in weightiness. “We’re dating now, and me being in the spotlight every time I come out of my penthouse, once your name is out, you are too. I need you to follow all these social cues, the basics of it. What we natborns usually do, not bound by the code of your institution. You don't get it, you ask me, and I'll tell you what to do. Is that clear?”

He growls. “Are we always a property to you?”

Nico blinks. “It's… what's stated in the law.”

“Of course. I'm your slave now, mistress. Tell me what to do.”

“As if you're not a slave to the Republic yourself.”

“It’s different. We serve the Republic with a purpose!”

“The Republic you're serving is the same Republic whose military funds I aid very generously!” she raises her voice. “Wanna up me on that, or do we agree to disagree?”

There it is. The silence. That gets him to finally shut up and dismiss his upcoming protests.

Nico squares her shoulders and pretends to fix the buttons on her sleeve. “You’re allowed to come by to my place and spend time with me whenever you're on leave. Your general is coordinating your usual errands to be shared between your captains as we speak so everybody's prepared,” she continues, watching every twitch of reaction in his face, “So for you, no need to worry as much as you usually do about the upcoming campaigns. You still go out there, I won't hinder you, and I'll be your good little girlfriend waiting for you to come home. When you're on leave, you're allowed to be your own person.”

Nico is thankful she came to the Chancellor prepared, thanks to Titus and Veeli’s help.

The Commander still can't accept the truth. There's doubt still, she can see it. His glare is unwavering, and the way his jaw tenses and twitches in annoyance every now and then somehow spurs her on to defeat him in this useless argument.

To get him to see what more there is, she changes strategy.

“Commander,” she starts, “I did this for your men too. I pay for better rations, I pay for your men's needs starting from socks of higher quality, I pay for comfier mattress in your barracks, I financially support every single one of your brothers stationed on Coruscant. As the patron of the GAR, I'll make sure every single need is fulfilled. For the wellbeing of these men. And all you have to do?” Her arms spread, smirking. “Be my boyfriend in the fake dating scenario. And I assure you, Commander Wolffe, I'll be attending to your needs too. No matter how difficult. I'll give you anything you want.”

That gets Wolffe to not so subtly look up to meet her gaze.

“Anything I want?”

She rolls her eyes. “Just don't get any ideas about wanting the war to be over as we speak.”

It's not like he'd be left with a choice of what to do after the war is over, anyway. He's made exactly for that purpose, after all.

Wolffe is crumbling apart. Nico pushes further.

“Anything you think I have control of. Tell me, and it's yours. You just have to agree.”

He scoffs. “‘Just have to’?”

She nods up at him questioningly.

“You said it yourself,” he scowls, “It's as if I have a choice.”

“I don't either, okay?!” she yells, breathing sharply. “I wish it wouldn't be this difficult. I wish it would be just a random civilian so I wouldn't have to sacrifice my career prospects and a lot of my possessions, but the fates have been playing funny that they chose you. A clone commander of the army bound by so many rules, that I'd have to put on a forced smile and drink tea from a fancy set of cup and saucer in the Chancellor's office to practically ask for this stupid arrangement.”

Wolffe meets her gaze apathetically. “As I said,” he reiterates, turning around, “It’s been working in your favor only. Not mine.”

At the downward infection of his tone, she laughs. Laughs. She's certain Wolffe is just playing games now, and it's kriffing funny. His resolve has crumbled and he's denying shit now.

“Okay, Dramatic Closing Line. I see you've always been this horrible person.”

Silence, before a quiet, “Correct.”

“Not my first Kessel Run, I'm afraid,” she quips.

Wolffe hasn't moved further to the door, seemingly contemplating.

Nico sighs, her schedule swarming her mind. “Look, I'm tired, I still have to meet and greet more of the clones ‘cause I've promised, not to mention possibly running into another unit as we go, I've got modelling at 1500 and a dinner reservation at 2000.” Her heels click against the flooring as she nears him again. Softly, with her gaze drawn to the back of his black skirt thing, she speaks, “I just want this thing to go well in public. Put on a mask whenever we're out, you can hate me all you want behind closed doors. I just want you to act like we're the most powerful couple in the galaxy.”

Wolffe finally turns to face her again. The scowl is ever permanent on his face, still etched into the bronze tone of his skin. Nico wonders if he's been born with it and how his face isn't twitching in muscle soreness already. 

It's an expectant scrutiny. Wolffe is expecting something from her.

She sighs, looking down to her heels this time, and internally goes wrecking-balling her smugness altogether.

“I'm sorry, for dragging you into this. I didn't have a choice, especially not when the media in Coruscant is this strong,” she gulps in sudden nervousness. Wolffe might be a bit… scary up close, especially with that scar. “And we have to work together… either way. So uh, why don't we start to warm up with a proper introduction first?”

Nico bats away her nervousness and cranks up her confidence again as she offers a hand.

“I'm Nic. Those close to me call me Nico, short from Nicosalis,” she says, smiling a bit and shuffling on her feet, “You can call me Nico too.”

Wolffe stares at her hand, frowning and all, as if deciding if it's toxic to the touch. With a sigh of his own, he probably decides to internally call for truce, seemingly fighting with his own morale.

He takes her hand, shaking it but firmly. “CC-3636.”

She blinks. “Huh. That's it?”

“Our given Basic names are sacred.”

“But I know your name already.”

“An adverse leak of information.”

“Don’t blame me for being famous due to butterfly kissing with a lightsaber,” she rolls her eyes. Wolffe meets her gaze, alarmed. She grins. “Being the most famous person in the galaxy even surpassing the Chancellor means having connections everywhere, my darling Commander.”

Wolffe rolls his eyes skywards, his head almost lolling back. Nico hides her snickers behind a hand.

“And since we're dating each other, Wolffe.” She goes as far as calling him by name now. “I’ll have to ask you that we need to be convincing. With occasional… public display of affection.”

Wolffe gives her no reaction.

“Is, um, is that a problem for you? You've got experience with this kinda stuff, right? You ever engaged in a relationship before?”

He sighs heavily. His voice is quiet when he admits, “Never romantic. Never long term.”

“Ah right, good ole stress release.” Nico nods genuinely in understanding. “I wish I could say I don't wanna make you uncomfortable for doing this, but I need us to look like we're completely in love. Not as sappy as children's fairytale, but I think you get it.”

Before she can register it, Wolffe suddenly drags his feet forward, boots thumping against the flooring. Their chests touch again.

“Public only,” he proposes.

“Deal,” Nico says quickly with a nod. Then, with a smirk, “Well, aren't we in public?”

Wolffe recoils slightly, a look of surprise – not disgust – on his features. “The hell? You horny or somethin’?”

“No. Maybe? Maybe not?” she finds herself giggling and arching her back to the heat suddenly and pleasurably pooling at her core, “Anyway, just saying.”

Wolffe shakes his head, his gaze serious. “You... always like this?”

“Depends on what ‘this’ means.”

“You’re considerate in one moment. You act like you care,” he contends – his words hold weight in a single moment for the first time in their entire conversation, “Then you act like you don't care next. Is using people to your benefit a hobby of yours?”

She scoffs away his accusations easily. “I’m a public figure, Wolffe. I want people and their attention to benefit me, if that isn't clear enough.”

“You’re asking for attention?” he growls, the voice coming deep from inside his chest, “That what you want right now?”

“If I say yes, would you indulge me?”

With her challenge, Nico leans in, their noses touching. The Commander isn't recoiling or moving away. Excitement blossoms inside her chest as she looks forward to the prospect of teasing the kark out of him and finally getting him to give in, to see what kind of man she's dating.

Disappointingly, Wolffe leans away. His jaw tenses.

“Not giving you that satisfaction.”

“Yeah?” Nico continues prodding him, giving him a sultry look that always works in adult zines, eyelashes batting against her cheeks. “I'll let myself know I'm dating a coward, then.”

The last thing she sees before she turns around is his shoulders heaving, long, harsh breaths coming out heavily and noisily out of his nostrils.

A hand clasps on her shoulder, roughly yanking her towards him. A blink and a second later, she gasps, eyes blown wide in shock when another hand wraps around her throat, fingers clamping down onto her pulse points, her own hand coming up to clutch the perpetrator’s wrist.

Wolffe's breath is tickling her lips, their noses rubbing. A faint, rough sound emits out of his chest with every exhale of breath. They're but separated in just another inch, with either of their favor to lean in and get lost in abrupt, careless, selfish desires.

Once the sensation seeps in – her own pulse beating urgently under his gloved fingers, the fabric scratching against the bare skin of her neck in every pulse, heat crawling up her jaws and entire face – the smallest of moans squeezes out of her throat and falls off her lips. Upon the sound, the amber in his irises constricts, blown with heat.

“Nice. You've found out I'm into choking,” she rasps, features loosening to succumb to the lust, “Buy me dinner first before this turns into hate fucking?”

He jostles her. She whimpers not expecting the movement.

So that's the man he is. Peeling his layers off, getting him riled up, sprinkle the ongoing talk with seduction, and she has him. Or is it him who has her? The man who has her is a man who outrightly acts once he spots insubordination.

It fits her just perfectly.

Her lips part, tongue coming loose and nestles just before the edge of her bottom lip. He glances down at it and draws a sharp breath.

“I did tell the clones we met in passing that we were heading somewhere private,” she murmurs, the delightful sensation of her own head swimming with blood struggling to circulate properly is hauling her up to new heights. “Might as well play the act?”

Wolffe growls. “Shut up, woman.”

“Or what?” Nico challenges, struggling to keep her eyes open and bore down into his because it just feels so good she just wants to close her eyes. It excites her to get him riled up, to challenge his place. “Just a little kiss, Commander. Doesn't have to turn into a full make out session unless you want to, of course. I like where I am now.”

His grip on her falters for a split second as he licks his lips.

Nico huffs a triumphant laugh, her breath mingling with his an inch away.

“The length you chose to go through won't get you anywhere,” he growls lowly, teeth gritting, look hazy behind half-closed lids.

“Gets me to seduce a commander of the galactic army,” she taunts him, nearing the touch of his glistening lips despite his grip. “Gets him to steal a kiss any second now.”

The tension breaks the moment Wolffe releases his grip, and with Nico falling into him, he crashes his lips into hers halfway. A pleasant groan rumbles in her throat as she tastes him on his lips, her body instantly melting into him and his armor. He grabs her by the shoulder, yet the moment he drags his hands upwards to cup the sides of her face, his lips part and openly accept her gasping mouth, catching her lips again and again, and fiercely so.

Her own breath catches in her throat. Wolffe is unstoppable. She underestimates his strength. One of his hands weaves into her hair, pulling her even closer and making her even more breathless. His grip on her is too strong to push away for a mere intake of breath. Dark grunts rumble from his chest as he sucks and nips on her bottom lips relentlessly, proving his point, standing his ground, settling on top of the food chain and reminding her who's over who.

They break away, but solely for his own need to draw more air into his lungs, before devouring her mouth again out of hunger. Not lust. Vengeful hunger.

He's angry, at her, for pushing him over the cliff of this very predicament of her own making. Nico can feel the pent up frustration bleeding out of him into every sharp bite to her lips, into every sudden nudge of the tip of his tongue.

Then, something hard presses against her thigh. Nico doesn't need to look down. A timid hand trailing down from his chestplate stops at his utility belt, reminded of the rigid crotch part of his armor she hasn't found the term of, though she's certain he couldn't be not hard.

Deciding not to do it in here, Nico fights back, pushing into and leaning away from his attacks on her mouth, brushing her own lips against his thinner ones, his stubble scratching against her skin. She playfully bites down once, but he, stronger with his carnal vengeance, harshly returns it twice as if a punishment – the fleeting thought alone and the sting from the bite strikes a new wave of heat between her thighs, her walls clenching around nothing and she moans into his mouth at the misfortune.

Big mistake. Just as her mouth opens, he remains untiring with his prodding tongue and violently shoves himself inside, harshly brushing against her own. She gasps, mindlessly starting to accept him in battle. Wolffe rocks his hard-on into her thigh, unscrewing a deep grunt out of him and into her mouth, the sound making her moan again.

Kriff, had they been in her apartment instead of one of these GAR meeting rooms…

Wolffe pulls away first, the movement abrupt and carries him two steps backwards and away from her touch, seemingly sober all of a sudden. Nico watches him take off his glove while still breathless, dragging the pad of his thumb across his swollen lips – the sight, her handiwork, making her draw a sharp breath – and wipes off a smudged carmine red stain.

Wordlessly, Nico digs into her pocket and offers him a handkerchief.

As he uses the condensation on her drink cup to scrub the stain away – with several questioning glances for her to check and equal responses of a head nod and shake and a finger pointing to where he missed – yeah, she definitely needs to retouch too before they leave the room.

Another five minutes consisting of them finally trading verbal conversation – albeit timidly – to find a close equivalent of a mirror in the room, several pat downs, and a couple swipes of lip retouching later, in the middle of the stage, Nico clears her throat awkwardly. It catches his attention as he fiddles with his glove.

“You're living a trillion trillion people's dream, Wolffe,” she says, gaze fixed into him. “Act like you're special. The entire galaxy would've done anything to be where you are right now.”

After the brief argument they traded earlier, she decides to swallow the I want you to… back and leave it unsaid. It gets her actually thinking during the lull of their cleanup, internally fussing already over just how far the treatment they've received until the slave jokes are but usual sarcasm that inflicts pain no more.

Smugly, selfishly for a bit, she thinks; maybe proposing patronage over the GAR – over the wellbeing of its clone army, to be exact – has been a good idea after all? Next to making out with her arranged commander boyfriend, that actually makes her feel great and confident about her position.

“Wanna head out now?” Nico nods towards the door, a hesitant smile gracing her lips.

Wolffe is looking a bit more tolerant than several minutes ago during their headstrong and suggestive stand down – the situation finally gets into him, or it's the kiss that's that good. And it really was good, if she'd say so herself. Judging by his shoulders and jaw no longer tense, he'd probably agree as well.

They slip out of the meeting room together, now side by side unlike the way they come in. Nico manages to pull a straight sabacc face as if they'd just having a proper verbal discussion that doesn't involve making out at all, while Wolffe is a bit struggling. Though she's sure he's one talented enough to cover his true countenance, probably it's because of the helmet because there's an unconvincing frown between his brows now.

A few troopers in passing throw them a knowing glance. It's enough for Nico’s external wall to crumble and make her cheeks fluster.

They reach the hangar. The 104th boys still in their spots, either actually washing the gunships like they're supposed to do (most of them are), or going to paint the nose of the transport vehicle (one of them is already graced with her image, wearing some silver sequin gown she thinks she had in one of the awards she attended a couple of years ago), or chilling around with the snacks she brought in.

Wolffe is taking in the sight too. He's a bit relaxed at the sight of his brothers, she notices.

She clears her throat, gathering his attention. She smiles sweetly at him. “Guess I'll see you at 2000.”

Grunting, the look he gives her is a combination of annoyance and confusion. “Care to make that clear?”

Nico looks at him in disbelief.

“You didn't catch that?” she huffs a laugh. “Dinner reservation, my darling Commander. Heard it's called a date nowadays.”

Taglist (Form): @yoursrosie @hellfiresky @ladylucksrogue @msmeredithrose @filamentlights

[randomnameless]

I've been wondering this for a while, but has anyone been able to come up with an in-universe reason as to why the Crest of Flames disappears at the end of CF, or even how Byleth can survive without it when it was basically a replacement heart for them?

My best guess for the first question is that Rhea dying is what caused it to break, but that's blatantly contradicted by other routes where the exact same thing can happen but the crest is unnafected, and i genuinely have no answer for the second one, which is a shame; i really like what that moment means on a thematic and symbolic level, but the logic of it all is very flimsy, even more so if Byleth S-supports Sothis.

Pff

Trying to find continuity? In Tru Piss Fodlan games?

Some people theorised it's Sothis basically telling Billy to fuck themselves and how she leaves the world after the events of Tru Piss - but given how she can have brainsex afterwards with her host it's not really plausible.

Half-joking wise, it's because Tru Piss is Supreme Leader's fanfiction, so Billy loses all of their visible icky subhuman, I mean, Nabatean traits and returns to the state of being a super normal human, without Nabatean parts, and it just works because fix-it AU powers.

More seriously, I don't even know.

Maybe it's the first option (S Support ignored because it's just player pandering) with the twist that Sothis gives up on Fodlan, makes a last "present" to Billy because true to her words they chose their own path, so she "fixes" them with magic but won't stay around, and makes them lose enlightment and her powers because clearly they're not wanted anymore, and she sure doesn't want to support/witness whatever is going to happen next -

even if it totes contradicts the Sothis we have on Nopes, who's all "I'll be back and when I do I'll erase you all" as her death quote, but w/c.

The only thing I can be sure of is, as you pointed out, it's not tied to Rhea's death, since she can kick the bucket in 2 of the 3 other routes and nothing similar happens, so it should be something Sothis herself willed or did...

but player pandering and uwu pandering means Billy has to survive because they have to marry Supreme Leader or Sothis.

Now, a Tru Piss where the crest stone vanishes after a heartfelt (lel) moment with Sothis in her consciousness as she tells Billy she cannot support them anymore, especially after this - aka where Billy dies at the end of Tru Piss, both because they betrayed Sothis but also to fit with the "World for Humanity" and add more sacwifices for Supreme Leader's ideal and a lot of sad uwus resulting might have made more sense, but what is even the point of FE16 if you can't uwu?

Unbelievable!

[heirofnight]

meddling, pt. 2

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 1.4k

summary: the next little installment of pure preciousness revolving around these two. no plot, just fluff. azriel is smitten with the idea of doting on reader - he's just pure and sweet and wants to make her life easier. reader wears azriel's sweater, and his heart almost explodes. azriel then rearranges the entire library for reader because she can't reach her favorite books. enjoy!

a/n: thank you so much for all of the love revolving around this little drabble-turned-series! this is another example of me sitting down and just writing until i feel like stopping. no plot, just cutesy fluff. i hope you love it! also lightly edited, sorry for any mistakes. <3

read part one here

six months ago, you'd arrived at the house of wind. for the first two months, you had gone to great lengths to isolate yourself from the high lord and his family. while you'd had no initial negative feelings towards the group, you'd prioritized cultivating a peaceful environment for yourself after the past you'd so narrowly escaped from. this involved keeping to yourself, finding solace in the private library a few doors down from your rooms, and not speaking to anyone else.

four months ago, you'd been tricked into attending your first family dinner in the dining hall on the second floor. funnily enough, the house itself - along with one of az's stray little shadows - were the reasons why you'd ended up frozen in the archway of the dining room, every instinct in your body screaming at you to flee to your chambers. after polite coaxing from rhys, and encouraging nods from azriel, you'd felt welcomed as a new member of the tight-knit inner circle by the end of the meal.

you still found yourself looking back on that evening and smiling fondly.

now, this evening, you were perched on your favorite chair within the library, book in hand. you'd cycled through several different series over the last few months, and tonight, you were beginning a new trilogy that you'd found tucked at the top of your go-to shelf. the tall, wooden display of books contained a myriad of novels in every genre you could imagine. you struggled to reach the top row of books, which - of course - contained your favorite genre: romance. you briefly wondered if the males that resided here had sequestered books about love in this hard-to-reach spot on purpose. you'd had to grab a footstool and still stand on your tip-toes to reach the novels you'd desired.

alas, you'd finally grabbed them - all three at once, to save yourself the exertion of all but climbing the entire shelf when it was time to move onto the other two books in a few days.

you were snuggled comfortably in your favorite armchair, large droplets of rain pelting the side of the library's windows. it was dark, gloomy, and the perfect reading weather. a fire burned brightly within the hearth across from you, warming your legs and toes. dim fae lights and candles flickered a relaxing glow into the space.

you nuzzled into an oversized, lived-in, charcoal grey sweater. it belonged to azriel - well, it had - and his scent still lingered as if it were woven into the threads themselves.

he'd silently approached you last week, same sweater folded neatly in his hands, politely extending the fabric your way. you'd abandoned the focus on the book in front of you to meet his gaze, brows cinching together in silent confusion.

"you said you were always cold," he started, voice quiet. he always spoke to you so quietly. gently. and he wasn't wrong, you truly were always freezing - a fact the house had learned, too. it made sure to always have the hearth burning in any room you were occupying.

you smiled fondly up at him, nodding once. "i'm surprised you remember that, az," you said, a faint rosiness creeping onto your cheeks. he noticed your blush, and it made the corner of his full lips quirk upward.

he huffed out a quiet breath in response, extending the sweater a little further towards you. "i thought maybe this would help. i don't ever really need it - illyrian blood, you know. i'm always warm. anyway, i understand if you don't want it. but i promise it's clean, and when i have worn it, it's always kept me warm. so...-," he trailed off, realizing he was rambling, full of nerves. now it was his turn for his cheeks to turn pink, and he cleared his throat, breaking the eye contact.

a wide grin spread across your cheeks as you reached forward to take the large, soft sweater from his hands. "thank you, az. really. this is perfect," you whispered shyly, holding the fabric against your chest. he smiled proudly, a dimple peeking out.

and that was that - he walked over to his preferred spot within the library, wings perked in pride. he made himself comfortable with a book of his own, and you both read in silent companionship.

tonight, you'd adorned that same sweater as you let the sound of the rain outside become the soundtrack to your escapism. out of your peripheral, one lone shadow twirled through the door of the library - your favorite little tendril. you glanced up as it approached you, swirling around your right hand as it always did in greeting. you smirked, knowing its master was not too far behind.

sure enough, in strode azriel shortly after - the rest of his shadows lazily twining around his form. his eyes found you immediately, and his steps faltered as he realized you were wearing his clothing. that dimple made another appearance as he smiled shyly, cocking an eyebrow upward.

"keeping you warm?," he asked, taking in how cozy and well, adorable you looked like that. in his clothing. reading a book in the candlelight. azriel was in trouble, and he knew it.

you nodded, sitting up straighter as you took him in. his hazel eyes were nearly glowing. "very. it's my new prized possession," you smiled, and that comment nearly made azriel's heart burst.

he hummed, quite pleased. "good. it looks like it was made for you," and he meant every word. maybe he should give you every piece of oversized, warm clothing he owned. they looked far better on you, anyway.

you looked back at the open pages of your book, smiling, trying to hide the blush creeping from your neck up to your cheeks. he noticed anyway - he noticed everything.

"how's that one?," he nodded his chin towards the book in your hand as he got comfortable in his own armchair. his wings spread behind him in a relaxed fashion.

"oh, i can't put it down," you sighed, looking up at him once more.

he hummed, glancing around at the tall spread of novels that surrounded the both of you. "i've never seen it on the shelves", he mused, brows furrowed as he studied the closed cover of your book.

you took a sip of your tea, snorting in jest after you swallowed. "probably because it's tucked away on the highest shelf in here," you huffed a laugh, rolling your eyes fondly. "i had to use a step stool, and even then, i barely reached it."

he nodded once, studying you for a moment. he looked as though he was pondering something. the moment ended quickly, his own eyes averting to the pages in the open book before him.

the next day, you'd entered the library after breakfast - as always. what surprised you is that you weren't alone like you normally were around this time.

azriel was already there, positioned in front of your favorite shelf, pulling every single romance book down from the top row.

"...az?," you questioned quietly, trying not to startle him. "what are you doing?," you stepped forward, peering up at him. his large hands held a stack of books, most of which you'd already read.

he turned towards you, cheeks quickly tinting pink. "oh, y/n," he paused for a moment, looking from the stack in his hands and up to the top shelf before meeting your eyes.

"well, you said that the books you enjoyed were too high. so.... i rearranged a couple of shelves to make sure they were at a height you could reach," he smiled bashfully.

you froze in place, taking in the entire scene before you. and sure enough, he'd already moved most of the romance novels. and beyond that, he'd also relocated them to a shelf that was right next to your favorite chair. you could literally just reach over from where you normally sat, easily plucking your next choice from the row without having to move.

you smiled widely up at him, eyes twinkling, and he swore his heart was going to swell and float right out of his chest.

"az," you breathed out, "can i hug you?," you blurted, overcome with emotion.

he huffed out a laugh, carefully setting the stack of books in his large hands down beside him. he nodded then, opening his arms for you.

you stepped into his large frame, and he stilled for a moment. he shifted to hold you tightly, and his wings twitched with the sudden urge to wrap around you too. his arms didn't feel like enough, you should be closer.

instead, he settled for moving one hand to the back of your head, cradling you against his chest. he smiled to himself, another wave of pride flowing through his chest and limbs.

he could get used to this.

tag list: @stressed-reader @vhjlucky13 @scarsandallaz @victory-salads @weirdo-fun

if you'd like to be added, pls let me know <3

[whateverloomis]

Can I request for pussy drunk!Ada Wong cause she missed you so much while being away for her missions too long

I think the fuck yes! 🫡👅

Warnings: Oral (reader receiving,) fingering, squirting, overstimulation, Domme!Ada, straight up smut - pero plot (lol,) unedited

Reader: AFAB, no pronouns used

It has been nearly a month since she saw you. Ada had been in a mission and gave all her focus to the tasks in hand at the time.

When she arrived at the headquarters dorms and stepped inside your shared room she was met with the sight of you laying down on your bed with only a large t-shirt and a thong.

Ada bit her lip at the sight and closed the door loud enough for you to hear; “Knock knock,” she greeted softly and you turned around quickly, flashing a smile at her. The t-shirt you had on rose up your thighs and exposed your barely clothed half. The mound between your legs was prominent and Ada couldn’t help but linger her gaze there a bit too long.

“Hey! I heard you’d be back today but I didn’t know you’d be here so early,” you replied in content and Ada walked towards your bed, her heels clicking on the hard wood floor softly. The woman sat on the edge and smirked at you, “I thought I’d surprise my favorite roomie,” she replied and placed her hand on your upper thigh, rubbing it softly.

You gasped at the sensation. Her soft hand sent shivers down your spine. It wasn’t the first time you guys had fooled around and Gosh you were needier than you thought.

You spread your legs for her slowly and she didn’t waste time with you. Ada needed you. Needed to taste your cunt and feel you cum against her mouth. To hear those pretty little hushed moans of yours.

The woman kneeled down in front of the bed and pulled you towards her by your ankles, her face perfectly aligned with your center.

You placed your legs over her shoulders and she pulled your panties off with her teeth, smirking at you before squeezing your inner thigh softly, digging her red polished nails deliciously against your skin.

“Mm, I missed this cute pussy so much,” Ada said before kissing your center.

You moaned quietly and wiggled your hips slowly, needing more contact. It had been months since you’ve gotten your pussy ate good and you hadn’t hooked up with anyone else since your roommate had left. Besides, she’s your favorite out of everyone. Ada works magic with her tongue and that’s exactly what she was doing to you right now. The woman was practically making out with your pussy, occasionally sucking on your clit softly before tongue kissing your cunt over and over again.

She moaned against you and the vibration stimulated you further.

Ada couldn’t get enough of you and needed to taste more so she began licking her way down to your entrance and dipping her tongue inside you expertly, slowly licking her way up to your clit again and swirling the sensitive bud with her tongue before repeating the actions.

“Fuck… Please… More, please,” you begged and Ada ran her right hand down your thigh. She placed the pads of her digits on your pussy hole before inserting her ring and middle finger inside, rubbing your g spot in circular motion. The action immediately increased the pleasure she was creating with her tongue.

She picked up the pace and started to lick and suck your clit repeatedly while massaging your internal pleasure point. You were going to explode.

Reaching your orgasm, Ada noticed right away and started to edge you with her tongue while still moving her fingers inside you.

“Fuck! Please, I need to cum!” You practically screamed, not caring about your dorm neighbors.

She squeezed your thighs and practically fucked her face against your cunt. The obscene sounds of the licking and sucking echoing around the room.

It was torture. Delicious torture the way she stopped all her movements right when you were about to cum. It went on and on until you couldn’t handle it anymore and came without her even touching you. You nearly cried as you begged for her to finish you off even if you were in the process of orgasming. Eventually, that’s what Ada did. She used her tongue to intensify your high and you ended up squirting all over the edge of the bed and her mouth.

Ada cleaned you up with her tongue until there wasn’t a drop of your fluids left, overstimulating the fuck out of you. You drove her crazy, and your orgasm sure as hell didn’t stop her from burying her face again in your sweet cunt a few minutes later.

[k0nanharv3y]

Am I giving Tim too much power and making him almost untouchable with many plot holes, and in fact, nothing you read will make sense? Yes, I am doing that, is there a problem?

Robin Hood AU Part 1

Tim Drake Saved Gotham from Batman. Yeah, but lets say that he didn't do it becoming Robin

He Saved Gotham by becoming the focus of attention and method of anger release for Batman

///

And then there was a new rogue in Gotham. Batman didn't know who they were, what did they wanted, and why they seemed to be targeting only him. Inside and outside the mask, as Bruce Wayne and as the Dark Knight

He didn't have time for this, when he had them, when he found out who they were, he would destroy them, if necessary he would burn the world down, because his world burned with his son in that warehouse. Whoever the guy behind the attacks was, he would know the full wrath of the Dark Knight

But Tim was already hiding well from Batman right under his nose, Tim grew up following, watching and absorbing everything from the adults around him. But most of all he learned not to make mistakes. Tim would use the mistakes of the Joker, of Riddle, of each and every one of Gotham's rogues and learn not to leave clues, not to get caught, to hide right next to Batman, because it's a popular lie, Batman doesn't have eyes in the back of his head. The extra eyes he had died in Ethiopia

Tim had resources, time and only 12 years old, he was still moldable, he could fill any mold to perfection, so he forced himself to fit the mold of the rogue that Gotham would love. Because Tim wouldn't go for the city, he loved Gotham too much to destroy it trying to save a man who seemed to be digging his own grave, one in which he was dragging the city with him. Tim strategically targeted Bruce Wayne and Batman so that the man would get a slap in the face for his behavior. And if a building exploded, Tim would make sure that the people who worked or lived there would have good insurance and new jobs and compensation from Wayne Enterprises.

And Batman turned against the rogue who forced him to bury his own pain with his son and went to fight this guy who seemed to be virtually and physically everywhere. Batman knew the guy knew his identity, because the attacks were personal, lethal in any case, he was playing with him, mocking him. Until he seemed to stop

One day a letter on his door telling Batman how sorry he was and that "I had done what had to be done" and "I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. Wayne, but you were destroying the city with you" was all he got before the depressing silence of a quiet city -No, not a city, of Quiet Gotham-

The world kept turning and both lives continued

One next to the other

///

Steph became Robin long before because Batman was trying to open his heart to another child, Cassandra arrived just as she was supposed to, Steph never died because Batman was there and Dick made peace with the brother he could never love and loved his sisters and when Jason came back to life there was no vengeance in his blood because Batman never replaced him 10 minutes after Jason died. Yes, he was angry at the Joker and Batman's inability to kill him, but someone else did and Jason will embrace whoever did it. And when Damian got home everything was fine and he didn't steal the mantle from anyone because Steph was eager to give it to someone else and get Batman off her ass.

And Tim's life was lonely. His parents never stopped being absent, and the plane crash still happened because that wasn't because he was Robin, but because he was simply a living being. (Yes, I'm changing things up here) Janet was left in a coma and Jack died and in the end he was just a kid in a mansion that was too big, but so afraid of depending on someone (the last time he saw someone depending on someone else he had to blow up several buildings and cyberbully them to calm them down) who took the reins of Drake Industries and invented an uncle just to not be put in the system and still be off the bats' radar

And then Batman died

///

Hey you!, Yeah you!, Imagine that in the middle of the Bats' life, every time someone (a rogue) attacked Gotham, Tim would appear out of nowhere and digitally betray them to the Bats, and if Oracle isn't mentioned here, it's because you and I know that she would dismantle Tim from day one, so shut up, she's busy with her Birds of Prey or something, I DON'T KNOW, I'VE BEEN AWAKE FOR 26 HOURS

Part 2 of this bullshit

Part 3 cuz somehow I manage to make another one of these

Part 4

Part 5??????? Why????

Part 6 ma british accent write this

Part 7.5 We've gotten fanciers

[ambrosiagoldfish]

i’m going a teensy bit feral reading your adam x third spouse story so i guess im just asking for part five and for it to hopefully have focus on dad beat dad and how lucifer would react to seeing the reader again after so long and like what would happen n stuff 🤭🤭 ofc if this is dumb ignore it i like what you’re doing with the story already !! the part im most excited for is the finale tbh but there’s a lot of time in between what you have rn and then so i’m just yapping abt stuff that could be cool in between. thsi is so jumbled omg sorry i just wanna see more of your writing it’s so good

idk how to end this uhh i love you bye 🫡

Benefit of the doubt PT.5

Adam x 3rd Spouse! Reader

Warnings: GN! Reader, confronting the past, next to no Adam (I know, sad, but it’s for the plot), Reader focused chapter, this is set during ‘Dad Beat Dad’, swearing, the next 2 chapters will have a LOT more Adam DW ❤️❤️

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Request Box: OPEN

Word count: 4322

A/n: Hey everyone! Thank you so much for the support on all the other chapters. It’s been 8-ish months since the last update and for that I want to apologize. I’ll save it for its own dedicated post to not full int his page too much. But if you’ve saw one of my post from the other day, I have posted this on A03 and I’m giving myself 8 total parts. 7 will be the finale and 8 will be an epilogue styled thing (not even sure if I’m wanting to do it so when we get there, you guys can tell me if you want it!! ) so yeah, enough rambling, you’ve all been waiting so long for the next part so here you go!! <3

Reblogs are VERY appreciated!

(My posts have been flopping so much, I would love you forever if you did 😭)

Old memories have a habit of slithering their way back into a person's mind, and even sometimes, people

The first few months at fhe hotel were a lot more enjoyable than you originally expected. Most days went relatively the same, Charlie would choose an activity to do and you would observe the progress they made.

At first, progress hadn't shown much promise but as everyone grew closer, things began to look up. Angel had gone clean with his drug abuse and was distancing himself from his line of work. Sir Pentious started to actually trust the people around him and has done no major constructional damage to any buildings as of late.

Everything was going so smoothly that, when you had woken up one morning to the sounds of screaming, running, and just general chaos. You thought everything was finaly going into the ground.

You quickly run down to the lobby, thoughts of what could be happening run through you. Did one of Pentious experiments fail and explode? Were we being attacked by one of the many gangs in town? Did Alastor decide the hotel was actually boring and started destroying it, starting with the occupants? Whatever it was, you hurry faster to the lobby.

But what was meeting you there was… unexpected to say the least. Party streamers, banners, cookies. It looked like some kind of welcome party heaven would do, albeit with less flare and taste in decor. A banner that read ‘Wellcum Daddy’ was being hung up by Razzle and Dazzle, everyone was either cleaning or baking something, and Vaggie seemed to be ordering them around.

You look at the clock, huh, it’s way too early for any kind of Charlie’s trust exercises. Not to mention, she would have told you about the curriculum and there was absolutely not a 10 AM home-EC class listed on your schedule.

You quickly run up to Charlie who seemed to be preoccupied with helping Vaggie put something up “Charlie, what’s going on?” You tap on her shoulder, She jumps a bit before just realizing it’s you,

”Oh- Y/N, I’m so sorry, I completely forgot to get you!” She apologizes when Vaggie pops in,

“Don’t be, I told Nifty to go wake you up, but looks like she had better things to do” she points over at Niffty swifty stabbing bugs and removing cobwebs out of habit

“It’s fine, just… what’s everyone doing, what’s with all the party supplies and sweets?” You say, arms to the festive lobby around you.

“Oh well…” she took a deep breath “you know that The deadline is fast approaching and while we’ve made progress it’s not much” she paused, trying to even brace herself for what’s coming out of her mouth, “I have asked… my dad to come over and hopefully get us a meeting with heaven” she stops, completely caved in on herself.

“Wait, so… your dad is coming here?” you thought about the times she had asked you to get them a meeting with heaven but you had already explained to her that it would be next to impossible for someone like you. You had to practically beg just to monitor the hotel

Charlie Picked herself back up and looked at you with a shakey demeanor, “Yeah In about… 55 minutes”

You blink a few times before giving a small chuckle “Well, would you look at the date! I think it’s time I used my 1-per-month trip back home! If you’ll excuse me-“

“Wait! No-“ she trips over herself “We need you here, if dad can see, not only the progress we’ve made, but also that we already have an angel supporter, there’s no way he could say no!”

“Charlie, I don’t think it’s a good idea-”

“PleasePleasePlease! I will pay you back, promise! But I- we could really use you there!” Her eyes looked at you, similar to a puppy. She hands clasped together In plea.

You looked away in thought. Seeing him again was the last thing you wanted to do at this moment, any moment for that matter. The last time…well to be honest, the whole exchange hadn’t meant anything to you in quite a while. He could say whatever he wanted about you… it was the words he had to say about Adam that kept your heart ablaze in anger at the Morningstar.

Trash? He should really look in the mirror before saying that about your Adam. But… this could be a good opportunity for the hotel -as much as it pained you to admit- You can only sigh, “fine.. for the hotel…” You let out a small chuckle raising your arm in defeat.

Charlie jumped up and down with glee, repeating a matra of ‘Thank You’s’ before continuing “I get it might be difficult since you’re an Angel.” She tries to give some comfort. But that caught your attention.

“Because I’m an Angel?” You honestly didn’t mean to say it out loud but it came out as a question.

She looks at you confused “yeah, you know, considering I don’t think angels have too kind of thoughts to my dad for being… the devil” she laughs nervously

Oh. Oh. So that’s what she means. So she doesn’t know about your past with him? Not too much a surprise, I doubt Lucifer would bring up any of his failures. But that also made you realize one other thing. Charlie doesn’t know about your marriage with Adam.

Look, you didn’t mean to keep it a secret. In fact you had already assumed they knew. I mean you were sitting literally right next to him and Vaggie already knew who you were. You just thought she would have told Charlie, but knowing this now… it may be best to keep it a secret.

You let out a quick “I understand.” and with that, you all went your separate ways, you did contribute to the decor the best you could, as well as helping Sir Pentious and Nifty with the baking until finally, it was time for Charlie’s dad to arrive.

You walked over to a more remote place in the hotel lobby, look… you may have to interact with him today but you will not be doing it that soon. Instead, you decided your best choice of action was to sit and watch quietly until Charlie decided it was time for you two to meet. And in the meantime, you can mentally brace yourself.

Charlie sighs deeply “Okay everybody, it’s showtime!”

With that she swings the door open revealing the one, the only (thank Father) king of hell himself, Lucifer. Immediately Lucifer pulls his, obviously nervous daughter into his arms. He greets her with excitement before moving on to Keekee, and eventually Razzle and Dazzle.

He eyes the room, clearly covering up any distain for the hotels “character” to protect Charlie’s feelings. At least until he got to the bar which even he couldn’t lie his way through.

Even from the distant view you were from, you could see Alastor and Lucifer weren't going to be the best of buds anytime soon. As soon as they were introduced to one another they immediately got into it. Huh, at least now you have something in common with Alastor at least! If that’s even a good thing.

Their quarrel lasted a few minutes, everyone either waiting for it to be over, completely ignoring it, or enjoying it as entertainment. It lasted what felt like an eternity and was only interrupted when a short and plump woman by the name of ‘Mimzy’ came into the scene.

The old time-y dressed woman was one of Alastor’s friends, you honestly didn’t think he had those but you digress. Eventually once the commotion dies down, you see Charlie give you a nervous smile and wave for you, ‘that’s my cue’ you thought. Anxiety still felt taught in your heart but still you pushed through.

You walk out of your hiding spot, walking up to be next to Charlie. Still trying to keep your presence hidden for as long as you could, savoring those last few moments of peace before a wave of interactions.

Charlie clears her throat and puts on a more professional demeanor despite her nervousness, getting the attention from her dad, “And last but certainly not least, i’d like you to meet our Angelic sponsor-“

“Y/N!?-“ the fallen Angel suddenly started coughing, clearly having choked on his own words. He clears his throat “Sorry! I just wasn’t expecting… you to be here” he lets out a chuckle.

“You guys know each other!?” Charlie looked shocked, her voice pitching up in bewilderment.

“We’ve… met before,.” Your voice was low, But still you pushed through “Though, it’s hardly relevant to anything of importance now. Isn’t that right, Morningstar?”

Lucifer's face contorted into an uncomfortable shaky smile, fingertips digging into his Apple-shaped cane. Perhaps he felt some type of remorse for the way things happened back all those years ago, but even if that’s true, you had no plans to forgive him.

He clears his throat “Yes it’s- unimportant Sweetie.. “

You 3 stand in awkward silence for a moment, all you can do is glare daggers at the short ex-Angel in front of you. Eventually though, you couldn’t stand the scilence any longer, “Well Charlie, I have to get something done in my room and I’ll be back to help with the tour in a few minutes, if that’s ok?”

Charlie looked like she wanted to protest, for you to stay with her through the tour, but she knew you wouldn’t just leave and not come back. “Um, yeah that’s fine! Me and Alastor can get the tour started and you can meet us around the 4th floor?”

You gave a quick nod as agreement and make your way to your room. Sighing, you flop down on your bed, feeling the soft warmth as you sink into comfort. Pulling out your phone, you quickly typing a text to Adam but your thumb simply hovered over the send button, anxiety washing over you. Your message was simple,

‘I promise that everything’s ok, but he’s here’’

You were hesitating, should you even tell him that he's here? You didn’t want to worry him over something so insignificant. He has a show tonight, he wouldn’t be at his best if he was constantly thinking you would be in the same room as the devil.

Or even worse, he could just cancel the show completely and march down here and a cause a ruckus which at best would completely destroy the Hotel’s plans and at worse… No, you can’t think of that.

You look at the message again before just setting your phone on your nightstand. 10 minutes… that’s all you need before you go back out there…

…Lucifer was having… let’s just say a tinsy bit of a bad day. Not only has he been forced to interact with that insufferable yellow-toothed sinner but also, he has been reunited with someone he hadn’t seen in a millenia, you.

The anxiety of the day was only topped off with the added stress of being with his daughter. Don’t get him wrong, he LOVES his daughter and is always happy to see her, but the way she talks and acts with these sinners… Ugh, it reminds him too much of himself back in the day.

Her hotel too… He may have given her the place but he never gave it much thought beyond it being a pipe dream for her. He was just trying to do something for his daughter, especially with… Lilith being out of the picture. He just wanted to cheer her up, and unfortunately it seems ‘grandiose plans’ run in the family.

Even now as Charlie and that Red haired Buck show him around, Charlie explains excitedly about different things they have at the hotel. It reminds Lucifer about how she was when she was little, that glow of joy never seemed to fade away from her despite the conditions she lives in.

But even still, as much as he’s trying not to zone out and actually listen to his daughters rambles, his mind keeps trailing back to one, singular thought. You.

What were you doing here? He knows you were there to ‘support the hotel’ as Charlie puts it. But this is the absolute first he’s hearing about it. Why wouldn’t heaven tell him that another Angel was down here, let alone, you most of all. The last time he saw you was… not the best first meeting

Were you here in secret? You clearly weren't fallen, considering you still had your halo and you didn’t look like you’ve been damaged anywhere close to what you’d be if you had fallen. Not to mention… Adam, the exterminations were his idea so why would you even consider an alternative when you are his-

“Uh, Dad?” Charlie interrupted Lucifer’s thoughts, a look of worry on her face. ”You’ve got a little bit of… horn? Sticking out”

Lucifer looks up and sees that he’s subconsciously beginning to phase into his full demon form. He quickly takes his hand and pats the horns as if he was just dusting off his coat, causing the horns to seem to fade away like dust. Wow, today really seems to be getting to him.

“Ah sorry Sweetie, it’s nothing just… uh..” He thinks for a moment, he has to talk to you alone, just for a second. “*Ahem* I was just realizing I had to… use the bathroom, I seem to have had one too many drinks on the way here. Can you tell me where the… bathroom is?” He lets out a chuckle to hopefully cover his lie.

“Oh, it’s just down the hall and to the right, I can take you there-“

Lucifer quickly lets out a loud ”No!“ Before clearing his through again “I can get there on my own, just wait here and I’ll be back!”

Before Charlie can even answer, Lucifer rushes through the halls of the hotel, yelling a ‘I’ll be back soon’ to his Daughter before turning the corner. He lets out a deep breath as he lays out the plan in his head. Figure out why you’re here, and get back to Charlie as fast as inhumanly possible.

Picking his feet up again, he makes his way to the lobby of the hotel, he looks around for a moment before spotting the check in desk. ‘They usually keep visitor information there, right?’

He quickly scours the desk, looking for any forms or documents that have your room number, before finally setting his eyes on your room number. It didn’t take long to find you seeing as there were such few occupants in the hotel.

He memorized your room and repeated it to himself while walking to your door. Past the first, 2nd, then finally, halfway through the hallway on the 3rd floor he finds it. Before he can knock, a sudden wave of worry floods his senses. Seriously, Why would he hesitate now?!

He shuffled around nervously, starting to doubt this little mission of his. Should he really be doing this? Is he really worried about you being here or is the real reason he came here because he wanted to… apologize to you? It’s true that the guilt of what happened all those years ago was still there. But… Digging up old memories just because he’s selfish and wants to apologize to you? He takes a deep breath.

He had to make things better or… at least get some things off his chest. So, with a heavy fist and an even heavier heart, he gently knocks on the hard wooden door…

This had been the longest 10 minutes of your life, trying to decide wether to send Adam the message, or to even return to tour with Charlie at all. As much as it pains you to say, you still become anxiety ridden when he’s in the room or even the mere mention of him. That spark of defiance you had in the lobby earlier being nothing but a small bit of courage. But you remembered that you had promised Charlie you’d be there for her, and you certainly weren’t one to take back a promise.

Before you could decide what to do, you hear an ever so faint knock on your door. Curiosity peaked, You thought Charlie was supposed to be waiting for you on the 4th floor? Had you taken too long and the tour went south? You quickly made your way to the door and hoped you wouldn’t see a very angry Charlie on the other side.

As the wooden-door creaked open, your face slowly turned bitter at The short, impish man who stood on the other side. Lucifer Morningstar. To be honest, you much would have preferred the angry Charlie, TWO very angry Charlies over this.

The man shuffled awkwardly in place, gripping his cane. Neither of you could break the silence . He avoided any eye-contact with you and even you couldn’t hide The disgusted expression on your face when looking at him. Finally after what feels like 3x the eternity you’ve lived thus far, you spoke In shaky words, ”What do you want?”

Lucifer pushed out his words as well as he could, meek they were, but you understood what he said “Can we please…talk?”

Your fingers gripped at the door, nails embedding into the wood, leaving scratches. It took all you had not to slam the door right in his face, but even if you had, it wouldn’t have solved any pressing issues. If anything, it might make him against Charlie’s idea with the hotel, which you couldn’t afford. You take a deep breath before letting out a quick but unsavory,

“5 minutes”

The short demon shuffles his way into the room as you follow in behind him, locking the door to prevent someone like Nifty or Charlie from walking in. Lucifer stands timidly by your nightstand as you stand on the complete opposite side of the room, facing him. Lucifer runs his neck as he lets out a shaky sigh “I just want to know what you’re doing here…” he pauses, he looks like he has more to say but decided not to.

You can only laugh to yourself “I’m here because I believe I think Charlie’s idea has potential to be great. The exterminations, they have to end… that’s why I’m here”

Lucifer seem a bit… surprised? Surprised with your stance on the exterminations. you figured he needed more than that so you continue “I… I’ve never been one for the exterminations. I've been against them from the start. I just didn't know what else to do. Nothing else seemed…right.“

He stayed silent, processing what you told him. He really didn’t understand you, he had a completely warped view of you. “If that’s all you wanted to know I’d rather you take your leave-“

“No!” You step back at the sudden raise in voice but he quickly clears his throat “No, there’s another thing. I would… I’d like to apologize to you about how things went… when we first met.”

You stared at him, the silence once again feeling the air. You didn’t dare break it, you watched as the impish man looked around with anxiety, trying to find the right words. “It’s always been there, in the back of my mind. How we- I, treated you. It was unacceptable… Lilith kept telling me to let it go, that she was done thinking about it, but I just couldn’t.” He takes a deep breath “so, I’m so sorry for hurting you, Y/n…”

Lucifer Morningstar. The man in front of you looked more akin to a puddle than a person at this point. Sweat dripped from his face, a scrunched mouth filled with a sour taste. He wasn’t looking at you, focusing his attention to the ground. Finally, after many long seconds later. You step forward, grabbing his attention.

“As much as I appreciate the apology, I don’t forgive you.” Lucifer began to speak or at least say he understood but no matter what his reaction was going to be, you interrupted him ‘“-I don’t forgive you, because I’m not the one who deserves it”

To that, Lucifer's head was struck with confusion, “what do you mean?” He tried to make sense of your words, shifting eyes looking around in unease before landing on a framed photo of a candlelit man, an old and forgotten, yet familiar smile on his face… ”You mean… Adam?” Despite his best efforts around you, saying the first man’s name still dripped his words with venom. That same sour taste filling his mouth at the mere mention of him. ”What does-” he stops himself, he knows why.

You breathe in slowly, “What you said to me, all of those years ago, hasn’t meant anything to me in a long time. I’ve gotten through it 10x over and finally understand that I am more than those words” you take another step towards him, closing the gap, “so… there's no use for your apology to me. But Adam… you’ve hurt him more than you couldn’t possibly imagine“

The room was filled with dense air, like any sudden move could kill the king of hell or even you at any second but still you continue. “Adam deserved so much better than what he was forced to have from you, so if anyone deserves your apology, it’s him.” He goes to speak but you shut him down again “but we all know that you are too prideful to do so, and Adam… he’s too stubborn to hear it”

You don’t yell, scream, all of your words coming soft from your lips “So… what you’re going to do, if you truly mean what you say. You will go back to your daughter, forget this conversation ever happened, then you can march back to your big castle with your Loving wife, and leave us be, for the rest of eternity.”

With that, you step away from him, words that have been bubbling inside you for centuries finally having been let out. It felt like several hundred pounds had been lifted off of you. You begin to walk to the door to let him out, wanting the conversation to be over, When you hear him speak a faint ”Ex-Wife actually”

You pause, your teeth already biting your tongue. Honestly, if you really thought about it, it was poetic. The Angel who ruined two marriages, leaving Adam nothing but a broken heart and baggage, ended up with a failed marriage himself.

But even still, you still felt a slight pain of pity for him. Through clenched teeth you let out ”I'm… sorry to hear that. It must be hard.”

This kind of thing, no matter the person, is always tough. You knew the aftermath of it through Adam, even now he struggles with so many issues from it. In that regard, you felt pity for the ruler of hell, but the rest of you felt… glad? Glad that he finally understands just a thorn of the pain he inflicted on Adam.

“The 5 minutes are up so… go now… please.” Your voice shakes near the end, your will power for everything you’ve done starting to break. Lucifer looked equally as defeated, you could tell he wanted to say more but he just nodded his head before walking out the door. slowly, silently, you close the door back before sliding down it as your legs give out.

You wanted to cry, scream, do anything but sit there, but you couldn’t. Your voice hurts from talking, your feet hurt from standing, everything just… hurts.

DING DING DING

A luminous yellow light follows the sound, you lifted your head and saw your phone on your nightstand. Adam… You used all of your strength to make it to your bed, practically having to crawl to avoid any more tiredness in your aching body. You finally land on the soft mattress to pick up your phone, seeing the plethora of messages from Adam.

DIXKMASTER69

Yo Bitch, everything good??

You’ve been typing for like 10 minutes

Answer me

Hellllloooooo??????

Oh, that’s why he was texting. You had completely forgotten your half written message you were debating on sending earlier. You start to delete it and rewrite it when suddenly,

INCOMING CALL FROM DIXKMASTER69

You sigh at the screen, your phone vibration sends chills through your aching arms, it acts as a lifeline for you not to fall asleep on the soft plush beneath you. You press the answer button.

‘Fuck Babe, finally! Are you ok?!” Adam’s voice sounded angry but you know he was just worried “you’ve been texting for like 15 minutes”

“Yeah, don’t worry Adam, I... must have fallen asleep while trying to message you”

“It’s 12 in the afternoon, you dont normally fall asleep in the middle of the day” Adam questions, his voice having obvious worry for you.

“Today’s just been very tiring. But I promise I’m fine, it’s just happened a lot today.” You hated lying to him, your other half, but you know this is something that he shouldn’t have to worry about.

You hear him groan, “how many times do I have to fuckin’ tell you not to overwork yourself for those sinners”

“I know, I’m sorry” you pause “I… I have to go now but I promise I’ll call you later, yeah?“

He was quiet on the other side before he lets out “Yeah, just don’t overdo yourself ok?” His voice was soft, no hint of sarcasm or anger, just him.

You let out a small breathy laugh “I promise. Have fun at your show tonight. Talk to you later, love you.”

“Love you too”

CLICK

You sigh to yourself, you still have the tour to do. It’s fine, everything is fine.

Tomorrow will be a better day. it has to be.

-

TAGLIST: @tired-of-life-86 @nervoussystemss @qopia @lovelyemily @hcneyiced @v3r41ynn

@ghostdoodlen @nxptvne-13 @ximenavc-che

@edgyfluff @ericityyy @diffidentphantom @faimmm @slasher-whore69 @1-randomized @ozzersauce @fanlovedlt @alientee @pandaquick @white-00-7 @call-me-nyx @adamstruelove @jennieyeager @sillyycatt @solatiium @my-name-is-heartache @parisiterileymoon @titan-senpai @lovely-night-owl-86 @innergardentoadpony @animefan106sposts @starlightstarbrightmyfirststar @lovkayy @ilikedrinkingsoda @barrythestrawberry041 @deadpoolssweetchimi @asegirllovesreadingporn @ripashy @deleted-1-800 @sirenetheblogger @ur1nonlygabi @aweleyirene @n0tmentallystable

(I really hope I didn’t forget anyone if I did, just asked to be added in the comments!!)

Shoutout to these specific asked as well, love you all <3

[muzansfangs]

Game over.

Starring: Satoru Gojo x f!reader x Ryomen Sukuna;

Format: one-shot;

Warnings: nsfw, threesome, alternative universe– University AU, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex (Satoru!receiving), hair pulling, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, kind of power imbalance, rough sex, slut shaming, praise kink, creampie, use of pet names, language, dirty talk, impact play, size kink;

Plot: A basketball match. Satoru and Sukuna, two rivals ready to risk it all for winning the annual Cup. Becoming the head cheerleader comes with some peculiar duties and thus you found yourself pleasing Satoru right before the match. When he left you unsatisfied, Sukuna suggested to help you out in exchange of a ‘little favour’, in case he won the competition. You agreed, sealing a deal with the devil that earned you nothing but an extrosensorial experience, when you end up becoming the real object of the team leaders’s desires.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Your eyes were staring deeply into his piercing blue ones, his hand holding your ponytail so tightly your scalp felt numb, as he thrusted his hips forward relentlessly. Your make up was a mess at this point. Drool was dribbling down your chin, the tears brimming in your eyes were making your vision blurry and your throat contracted almost convulsively to adjust to the intrusion of his cock.

"Fuck— Are you sure you're a cheerleader? Taking my cock like that, you seem more like porn actress, you know?" Satoru hoarsely breathed out, gritting his teeth afterwards as he felt the tip of your nose pressing onto his navel. It was too much. Your jaw stung at that point, your mind blank, while you squeezed your eyes shut to focus on breathing through your nose.

Satoru grunted up above, his thrusts sloppy, by the time someone knocked on the door with urgency. The match was about to start and the squad needed their Captain to define the last details of their strategy.

Satoru Gojo, a myth, a legend around the Campus, was the Leader of one of the two basketball teams annually contending for the University Cup. The Blue Sorcerers had been winning for three consecutive years under the lead of Satoru. He did not feel any pressure for the upcoming match, choosing to fuck your mouth instead. It was a ritual, or so you had been told by the outgoing head cheerleader: before the match, whoever inherited that position had to please Satoru Gojo in the changing room.

You were kind of baffled by the unconventional duty weighing on you, but it was not like you were against it. After all, it was Satoru Gojo you were talking about. You had been daydreaming about him for a while now. Watching him training every single day under the scorching sunlight was not enough anymore. If you could get the chance to be bent over by him without patiently waiting for him to pick you among the crowd of his fangirls, well, screw your morals, you were totally in.

It had been quite simple to settle things up. Apparently, he already knew you had been chosen to be the next head cheerleader. Therefore, when you had subtly sneaked into the designated place for the filthy deed to be done, he was not surprised to see you. He had encouraged you to drop to your knees right away, claiming you did not have much time and now you still felt your cheeks boiling at the shameless way you had obediently fallen at his feet. Pathetic, was it not?

"I'm coming" Satoru sassed, his answer sufficing both for you as a warning and for the player calling out his Captain from the other side of the door.

A soft groan erupting from his throat was all your brain registered, when a warm, thick liquid flooded down your sore throat and he abruptly pulled out of your mouth with a pop. You almost gagged, the pads of your fingers wiping away the tears from your face as you swallowed whole, the salty taste of his seed making your tastebuds explode. You were a mess. The sky blue ribbon in your hair was undone, your panties were soaked, your clit throbbed in need and you had to go back to the girls in twenty minutes.

As you heavily tried to steady your breath, palms planted onto the floor, you looked up at him in a daze. How were you supposed to compose yourself and root for his team, when your pussy spasmodically clenched around nothing? You were surely going to be replaced as the head cheerleader, after the imminent failure awaiting for you in the gym.

“I ain’t got time for cuddles or whatever you want. I have a match to win, darling. — he promptly said, winking at you before grasping a towel and handing it to you in a hurry — I will get out first. See you later, alright? I might need to ask you for a second round or something” he fretted, before fixing his clothes and jogging towards the exit.

The sound of the door closing behind him made you flinch, as you sighed and stood from the kneeling position you were in. He had literally used you like a fuck toy and did not even worry about you reaching your climax. Well, Satoru Gojo was a selfish brat. The hot stud only chased his own relief, apparently. Tossing the towel away in frustration, you turned towards the mirror and hastily tried to give a sense to your hair and make up.

You could clearly hear the screams and the burst of applause to incite the teams to make their appearence, eachoing through the corridors. You definitely needed to get a grip and join your friends.

“Damn it” you hissed, dashing towards the door and opening it, only to bump your head against what felt like a wall, but actually was a broad chest.

You winced softly, hand massaging your forehead as you flicked your gaze up. The red hues scrutinizing your face were unmistakable, just like the red t-shirt he was wearing. The pink hair, the tattoos adorning his face and biceps, the smug grin he flashed at you.

Ryomen Sukuna.

“Watch out, doll” he croaked out, staring you down as he folded his arms against his chest, his imposing height making you feel like a hapless ant about to be squashed by a boot on the concrete.

“Yeah, sorry, I really have to go now” you replied, faking a polite smile as you whipped your head to the opposite direction and started to walk away from him. You did not want any trouble, especially with him, the new leader of The Raging Curses.

However, he was clearly not done with you. His hand suddenly wrapped around your wrist made you gasp. Eyes widening in panic, you twirled around to face him again. No good came from him, ever. Especially when he showed off that shit-eating grin you loathed oh so much. You had barely interacted since he had arrived at your Campus. You shared some classes with him and he always was that guy disturbing the professors.

“Was it Satoru the guy who ran out of the changing room less than five minutes ago?” Sukuna quizzically asked you, arching a dark eyebrow up as you felt your stomach churn in apprehension.

“No” you blurted out way too quickly for your own likings.

“Don’t fucking lie. I was waiting for him to check if the rumors were true. I have seen him fumbling with his sweatpants on his way out” he sternly said, his grip around your wrist tightening even so slightly as he tugged you towards him.

Stumbling on your feet, you glared up at him “Why does it concern you?” you asked him coldly, your heart drumming in your chest. Your breath was uneven and you truly feared you were going to collapse for the pressure. Well, Satoru not only had denied you an orgasm but he had also left you to deal with that brute everyone hated and tried to avoid all across the Campus.

“Actually, I am glad he had his dick sucked before the match. It’s well-known that sex before a competition is detrimental to the performance” he stated confidently, abruptly letting go of you, albeit he was standing still way too close for you to feel comfortable. You could smell his strong cologne and you recognized it to be Sauvage, much to your dismay.

That guy exuded masculinity and your hormones were making it hard for you to think straight.

Your upper lip twitched at his vulgar comment, though, and you fought back the instinct to slap him out of irritation. You were still tense, your hands trembling as you scoffed and tried to walk away once again “Okay, fine, good for you then. Bye” you dismissed him, forcing your legs to take heavy steps towards the stairs leading you to the gym.

Once again, though, his voice stopped you and this time you froze solid. Cold sweat collecting on the back of your neck, you faltered as you clenched your fists down your sides and hesitantly glanced at him from above your shoulder “What did you say?” you feebly inquired, hoping you had somehow misheard his question.

The pink-haired guy smirked and cocked his head to the side “He hasn’t even stuck a finger into your cunt, right?” he repeated himself, not a single ounce of remorse in his voice, the choice of words had been specifically oriented to achieve a certain kind of reaction from you.

You gaped, unable to move from where you were standing along with firing something back at him for several seconds. You had no time for that and, honestly, you were not in the mood to talk about your debatable sex life with a natural born bastard like him.

“Can you stop pesting me? Fuck off” you uttered, only for him to chuckle and ambling towards you with his typical jaunty step.

He was demonically perfect. You had to admit it to yourself, even though he was a despicable guy. A red flag, obviously, collecting hearts in his imaginary black-pitch jar.

“Come on, doll, I was kidding! — he started, winking at you before checking the area as if he was trying to detect any presence besides the two of you in that desert corridor — What if I want to help you out? It might be difficult for you to swing your legs in the air, landing in splits, or doing whatever shitty moves your choreography requires, if your clit throbs like that…” he seraphically said, the angles of his lips lifting upwards as his ruby eyes travelled up and down your frame.

Small. You felt so small and vulnerable under his attentive gaze. That wolfish grin never ceased to make your legs quiver in both dread and arousal. He was blatantly messing with your head, with your feelings and your body was screaming for that release.

“You are sick” you stated, trying to resist the temptation to give in.

“Isn’t what Satoru and you have done in there sick as well? Always jabbing your fingers at me, when he is just as devious as I am. — Sukuna chided you in a mocking tone, leaning his shoulder against the wall — I am serious, pretty thing. Would you like me to help you out?” he whispered, causing you to press your thighs together to relieve the pulsing need between your legs.

You hated him. You hated this. You hated Satoru for having put you in such a compromising position.

“We don’t even have the time for that” you hissed through gritted teeth, while the cheering crowd above you seemed to get impatient with every passing second. You were stuck in a whole other dimension, questioning your conscience and cursing yourself for having accepted to prostrate yourself at Satoru’s feet. Along with even considering the possibility of allowing him, the infamous Ryomen Sukuna, to please you in the middle of a corridor.

Your stream of consciousness, however, was soon interrupted by the player’s clarification.

“Oh, doll, I need less than two minutes to make you cream on my fingers” he remarked, causing your knees to buckle under his magnetic gaze.

The mere idea of getting rid of such a frustrating problem was surely giving you the incentive to agree and let him have his way with you, but you knew that if you gave him your consent to help you out, you would have also been expected to repay him in some wicked way. Was it worth it, though? And, above all, what could he ever asked of you to make you reluctant to keep your word?

“What’s the price?” you asked him through gritted teeth, mouth dry as he reached his hand out to grasp your hand and push you against the wall.

Caged between his massive body and the cool surface at your back, you knew your morals were completely gone at this point. Already bent by Satoru, they had been now disrupted by his rival. The moment his fingers crept up your thigh, smoothly slithering up to push the dampened fabric of your panties to the side, you lolled your head back against the wall and hooked your leg around his hip, granting him the access to your aching core.

“If Satoru loses the match, I want to fuck you” he declared, making your cheeks heat up at the mere thought of it happening.

You nodded your head, eager to feel his touch, to let his fingers explore your warm cavern and push you quickly over the edge. You were not worried about the deal, as you felt the pads of his fingers draw irregular figure eights on your bundle of nerves. You were sure Satoru was going to win. He always won. Soft moans falling from your lips, Sukuna grinned and soaked in the sight of you arching your back as his index and forefinger plunged deeply into your core.

“You think he’s going to win, don’t you?” he taunted you, thrusting his fingers into your soppy cunt.

Your eyes were half-lidded, thighs quivering as you choked out a brief answer “He has to win”.

Sukuna chuckled, speeding up his movements to reach that spongy spot within your walls that always drove girls nuts. Watery vision, you whimpered, not caring anymore if anyone passing by could hear you or see you like that. Your breath was erratic, his fingers curling into you made your mind go fuzzy as your hands clutched his t-shirt in your fists for dear life.

In a matter of seconds, your inner walls tightened around his fingers and you let out a strained moan of pleasure as the knot in your lower abdomen snapped. Your essence coated his fingers, your body finally relaxing as Sukuna smirked and slipped his fingers out of you. You were panting, flattening your back against the wall in the aftermath of a mind-blowing orgasm.

You watched him wrap his lips around his fingers, sucking them clean right before your longing eyes as he then hummed and took a step back from you “Now I am definitely fucking hoping Satoru will lose” he commented, before gesturing for you to see him later.

Fixing your panties underneath your skirt, you let the recent events wash over you, knowing damn wall that this little stunt had left you yearning for more. And when you ran up to your girls, white and blue pompons in hands, ready to cheer for The Blue Sorcerers, you realized that maybe Satoru deserved to lose, that your brain kept screaming in pain for wanting Sukuna, that letting his rival take you, the girl he thought was only destined to him for the season, was the right punishment for having been a presumptuous bastard.

Just like that, you led your team to the middle of the gym. All eyes on you, you began to dance for supporting Satoru’s team as if nothing had happened. But every single time you locked eyes with him, he saw defiance in your eyes. Swaying your hips, cheering the players up, you felt your heart thrumming in your chest in anticipation. Standing on the front line, you made sure to give it your best shot, while feeling Sukuna’s eyes trailing up and down your body in hunger. Maybe he was not just going to play for the glory, but for asserting his dominance on you, something Satoru claimed to be his and his alone.

When the two men shook hands, they coldly wished each other a silent ‘good luck’. The coin flipped by the umpire decided who was going to have the ball first and you closed your eyes, inhaling sharply as you heard Sukuna sneering. Only two words left his lips.

“Game on”.

Every time he scored a point, Sukuna made sure to look at you. Pride in his fiery eyes as Satoru cussed in distress, bickering with his fellow mates to focus and try to catch up with the opponents. Yet, when you saw a plethora of red and black flags waving and fluttering all around you, a shaky breath left your lips. Reality tasted bittersweet on your tongue as you lost yourself among the overjoyed crowd of cheering people.

Satoru Gojo had lost.

He was visibly baffled, shocked even, as he angrily tossed away a towel his friend Suguru had handed to him. His jaw was clenched as he kicked the door on his way out, people around you celebrating the victors as Sukuna’s eyes searched for yours among the crowd. A promise was a promise and your legs started to move almost under the influence of his demanding glare.

The dull sound of your back hitting a locker, knocking the air out of your lungs temporary, was just the beginning of the lewd act taking place after the match. As soon as he had gotten you alone, Sukuna had literally grasped your jaw and his tongue had invaved your mouth right away. The passionate kiss was meant to be a distraction from his hands roughly hiking your skirt up to tug your panties down your thighs.

The way he had picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, as he slammed your back against the locker had left you breathless. He was hungry but so were you at this point. Your hands gripped his shirt, prompting him to take it off to expose his chiseled abs to your lustful stare. Not much was said as he lowered his pants down enough to free his bulge from the restraints of his boxers and, while your tongue began to trace the patterns of his tattoos, he ran the head of his cock down your folds to collect your juices.

“What the fuck, you’re still soaked… You wanted this so badly, I could see the way you internally squealed out in joy when I scored. Maybe you should become my cheerleader, not his” Sukuna rasped out, pushing just the tip into your opening to test your reaction.

You whined, mouth hanging open as you tried to push yourself even closer to him to get another inch into you. You craved him, you needed him more than anything else right now.

“Fuck… You’re so needy. Here, scream my name, let them hear you” Sukuna rasped out, before snapping his hips forwards and sheathing himself completely into you. A strained moan erupted from your throat, as your walls clamped down onto him so deliciously, as you buried your head on the crook of his neck.

He groaned at your tightness, his hands squeezing your ass roughly, not caring for possibly leaving bruises on your skin as he began to set out a punishing pace. His thrusts truly left you breathless, his girth stretching you out so perfectly every time he pulled slightly out before thrusting in again. You were loud, too loud and someone clearly heard you, but you did not care enough about your reputation at the moment.

“Who are you?” Sukuna suddenly blurted out, his pace brutal as you whimpered out in pleasure and a sting of pain.

“W–What?” you meekly babbled out.

“Who are you, doll?” he repeated, hinting at something specific that only as he reached your cervix you realized.

“Satoru’s cheerleder”.

“And who is fucking you?”.

“S-Sukuna! Ryomen Sukuna!” you breathlessly said, right before the door banged opened and you both snapped your head towards the unexpected guess.

Your stomach dropped when a pair of sky blue eyes met yours, while you heard a dark laughter rumble from deep into Sukuna’s chest. Of course he was amused by that. Satoru closed the door with a foot, his eyes never leaving the scene playing before his eyes as he approached you. You did not know what to say, merely whimpering as Sukuna had only opted for slowing down his thrusts, not stopping them at all.

“I need her. Get your fucking hands off of her” Satoru flatly stated, earning a scornful glance from the pink-haired man.

“Ah, no, mate. There’s no way in hell I’mma stop now. If you haven’t noticed it yet, I’m balls deep into her. Waut for your turn” Sukuna grumbled, resuming his fast pace as you squirmed in total shock and on the verge of cumming all over his dick.

It almost felt surreal the way they talked about you, about using use as if you were not even there, as if you were a mere trophy to use to let them steam off the stress. Your vision was blurry as you clung to Sukuna, mewling at the way he held you still.

“S–Satoru, I–” you tried to retaliate, but it only made things worse as he gripped his hand and grasped a fistfull of your hair, earning a pained wince from you. His face was so close to yours you could feel his breath on your lips as he spoke.

“Shut your mouth, you slut. You could not wait until the end of the match to be stuffed full, could you? Fine, open that stupid, disgusting mouth of yours and make me cum” he hissed through gritted teeth, as Sukuna only pulled out of you to let you drop on your knees in front of his rival.

Was he willing to share? Were you going to be taken by them contemporary?

Your mouth watered and you had no idea of why your pussy clenched like that at the mere thought of pleasuring them both at the same time. Right, pleasuring them because you knew that once you became a piece of meat between them, your pleasure would have most likely became secondary. Did you want that, though? Yes. Was this something that could happen once again? No.

With your pleading out flicking up to lock with Satoru’s ones, you chewed on your lower lip thoughtfully, pondering what to do, before eventually nodding your head and watching as he tugged his pants down and knelt in front of you. Your mouth was right in front of the pinkish tip of his cock as he gave it a few languid strokes, before tapping with on your lips to part them opened.

“Man, you’re so pissed you might pop a vessel” Sukuna taunted Satoru before leaning his cock towards your core and sliding back into you with groan. His large hands gripped your hips possessively, as your moaned out around Satoru’s cock.

Drool ran down your chin as you swung your arms towards Satoru’s thighs for balance.

“Shut up. — Satoru deadpanned, pushing his cock into your mouth too quickly, causing you to almost gag around him — And you better be careful not to use your teeth, little slut” he then chimed, staring down around you sucking eagerly on his lenght.

The tempo they chose was mind-blowing. The sound of skin against skin echoed through the room like a pornographic soundtrack, as both Satoru and Sukuna’s grunts made goosebumps raise on your skin. Full of them, shared like an antelope between two vicious lions, you felt yourself driven towards your orgasm.

“Good girl… Coming on my cock already? Yeah, that’s it, give it all to me” Sukuna rasped out, landing a spank on your jiggling ass.

Satoru hummed and twitched into your mouth, sinking his foreteeth onto his bottom lip not to groan too loudly. But it was all too much to prolong it further, when Sukuna buried himself into you until the base, his heavy balls slapping your clit one last time, you came too and you shivered at the feeling of your juices mixing into you.

Satoru sighed, deciding not to let you feel as satisfied as you maybe wished. Right before he exploded down your throat, he pulled out of your mouth and let his cum drip down your face, down the length of your nose, letting it slide down your cheeks because he knew you were fine with it as well, because after all, you were a good head cheerleader.

And you had just fulfilled your mission.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! I am staring at the screen of my laptop not knowing what to say. Writing threesome is kind of fun, I got to say, albeit I hope I will be able to get better at it through the time. Let me know what you think about it!

As per usual, likes, comments and re-posts are greatly appreciated!

Until next,

X O X O

TAGS: @axesfordays @brittscafe @lawlerek @axeballs @sadmonke @cyberdazetragedy @some-thing-else-possible @genderfluidnuggettt @getoxmahito @levenlike11 @badbclub @natsukicookies @reinerbraunsodmgear @poisonssworld @allypercocett @sad-darksoul @superspideyparker @tamarasblogs @goose-peachy @fandomsinthegalaxies @lynnsemptymind @the-dark-creature @oneofthesevensins @devianisnottaken @omgimboredsoimhere @mirrormirrorpartii @dinomeow @eyeballpussy @camilalexa93 @huboi @teonawrites @o725v @kikosamus @rose-silk @flakeygod @sukunamylovexoxo @waiting4themoon @insanegirlbloging @ichikanu @tartagl @vimzya

[1chaerry]

Hello dear Chae, please could you write a (platonic) Kim Dokja x male!reader, the reader is a constellation and Secretive Plotter's husband, I hope I don't you mind , take care of yourself 🤍

hii!!! I love anything to do with ORV!! Okay, so this fueling my ORV obsession more. hope you like it!!

A Plot-Twist In The Stars

summary: a sudden sub-scenario appears for Kim Dokja and for some reason, all the Constellations seem excited for it. Kim Dokja skeptically accepts it.

c.w: fluff, fluff, FLUFF, a bit of plot [come on, it's ORV], sub-scenario, platonic love,

w.c: 2.7k

disclaimer: Reader is called 'Saram' meaning 'Human/Person.'

Kim Dokja had long since learned to distrust the Star Stream’s attempts at “entertainment.” So when the system announced a new sub-scenario with a flourish, complete with a suspicious lack of immediate death flags, he instinctively frowned

[A SUB-SCENARIO HAS BEEN TRIGGERED!]

Objective: Accompany [The Secretive Plotter’s Husband] for one (1) day.

Reward: ???

The chat room exploded with excitement.

⎡ Constellation Prisoner of the Golden Headband is rolling on the ground laughing. ⎤

⎡ Constellation Bald General of Justice eagerly leans forward, wondering how this will play out. ⎤

⎡ Constellation Demon-like Judge of Fire clicks her tongue, muttering something about romantic plots. ⎤

Kim Dokja's brow twitched. “Why do I feel like this is going to be humiliating?”

“What's wrong?” Yoo Joonghyuk said gruffly, arms crossed as he eyed the notification on Dokja’s screen.

“No,” Kim Dokja replied flatly. “Something about this feels deeply wrong.”

Before Yoo Joonghyuk could retort, the world around them shimmered, and Kim Dokja found himself somewhere else entirely.

The setting was surreal: a cozy, starlit garden with soft cushions and a low table laden with snacks. Across from him sat a man—tall, elegant, and exuding an aura of mischief. His eyes glittered with a sharp intelligence that made Kim Dokja’s survival instincts scream.

“Ah, so you’re the famous Kim Dokja,” the man said, resting his chin on one hand. “My husband speaks of you often.”

Kim Dokja’s brain short-circuited. “Your… husband?”

The man smiled. “I am [Halo of the Golden Sea], the Secretive Plotter’s beloved, or, Saram, if the moniker is too long. Don't worry, it's a false name, won't cause you probability.”

Kim Dokja stared. “The Secretive Plotter… has a husband?”

⎡ The Constellation Secretive Plotter coughs awkwardly. ⎤

The man—no, the Constellation—leaned back, clearly enjoying the spectacle. “You seem surprised. Did you think he was incapable of love?”

Kim Dokja did not say, Yes, absolutely.

Instead, he cleared his throat and asked, “What exactly is the purpose of this scenario?”

“To spend time with me, of course!” Saram replied brightly, before leaning closer, his voice dropping suggestively. “Don’t worry—I don’t bite. Much.”

Kim Dokja scooted back instinctively.

⎡ Constellation Abyssal Black Flame Dragon bursts into laughter, finding your plight amusing. ⎤

⎡ Constellation Secretive Plotter sighs but says nothing. ⎤

Throughout the day, Saram found every opportunity to fluster Kim Dokja.

While showing Dokja the starlit garden that seemed to exist between realities, Saram casually commented, “You know, for someone who deals with life-and-death scenarios daily, you have a surprisingly composed face. It’s almost… infuriatingly unreadable. Are you always this calm, or is this just for me?”

Dokja avoided eye contact, trying to focus on the nonsensical task of categorizing glowing star fragments. “I just… don’t let things get to me.”

Sarambraised an eyebrow. “Really? Not even when I look at you like this?” He leaned closer, his expression playful but his gaze sharp.

⎡ Constellation Bald General of Justice whistles approvingly. ⎤

⎡ Constellation Demon-like Judge of Fire mutters, ‘I ship it.’ ⎤

Saram casts a glance at the Constellations, "Behave, you children."

There's a silence from the Constellations which made Dokja gulp, wondering how much power this man had to quiet them all.

Dokja turned away, his voice clipped. “Do you always tease strangers like this?”

Saram laughed, the sound warm and unapologetic. “Only the interesting ones.”

As the day wore on, Saram grew bolder in his attempts to rattle Dokja’s composure.

At one point, he leaned against a tree, arms crossed, and watched Dokja struggle with yet another nonsensical task involving glowing orbs. “You know,” he said casually, “if I weren’t already married, I might have considered claiming you for myself.”

Dokja froze mid-motion, nearly dropping the orb in his hand. “Excuse me?”

Saram smirked, clearly enjoying the reaction. “What? Can’t I appreciate a brilliant mind and an unyielding spirit? Don’t tell me you’re completely oblivious to how captivating you are.”

Dokja’s face burned, though he quickly masked it with his usual deadpan expression. “I think your husband might have something to say about that.”

⎡ Constellation Secretive Plotter silently tightens his grip on his sword. ⎤

Saram laughed, completely unbothered. “Oh, don’t worry about him. He knows I like to keep things interesting.”

As the scenario progressed, Kim Dokja began to notice a certain spark in Saram's behavior that made him uneasy, and it wasn’t just the unnerving way he casually teased him throughout the day. It was the subtle but undeniable attention that Saram seemed to give him—like he was studying him, analyzing his every move with a sharp, calculating gaze.

Though the garden was serene, with a gentle breeze rustling the trees and soft light from the stars above, the atmosphere between them felt charged with something far more intense than just casual conversation. Every glance from Saram lingered just a little too long, and every comment was laden with something more than what was on the surface. At first, Kim Dokja brushed it off as part of the oddity of being in this strange scenario, but soon, he realized that there was an unmistakable curiosity behind those bright eyes.

Saram would often watch him intently as they sipped tea, as if waiting for Kim Dokja to reveal something of himself—his thoughts, his plans, his secrets. There was an eerie quality to it, like he could see right through him. And the way he’d occasionally smile, just the slightest curl of his lips, gave Kim Dokja the distinct feeling that he was being toyed with.

“Tell me, Kim Dokja,” Saram asked that afternoon, as they walked side by side through the starry garden, “Why do you always seem so guarded? Are you afraid of revealing too much?”

Kim Dokja stiffened at the question, instinctively shutting himself off even further. “I’m not ‘guarded,’” he replied stiffly. “I’m just… cautious.”

Saram chuckled, the sound warm but tinged with something mischievous. “Cautious, yes. But you’re not fooling anyone. You’re hiding something, aren’t you? Something important.”

Kim Dokja’s eyes narrowed slightly. He didn’t want to admit it, but there was an unsettling truth to what Saram said.

“It’s none of your business,” he shot back, trying to regain his usual composure, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the fact that every word out of Saram’s mouth felt like a carefully crafted move.

And that was when he realized: this wasn’t just a random Constellation. There was something strategic behind the way Saram spoke, something calculated in his interest in him. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that Saram wasn’t simply curious about him—he was intrigued.

The other Constellations had been amused by the sub-scenario, but Saram’s interest seemed far deeper. He wasn’t just playing along for fun. No, he was actively pulling at the threads of Kim Dokja’s life, his story, and perhaps even his own motivations. It felt like he was trying to understand the very fabric of his being, as if he could somehow use it for his own ends—or perhaps to simply learn about him on a more personal level.

Kim Dokja could tell that Saram was a skilled manipulator, one who thrived in situations where he could read others and subtly influence them. And yet, for all his caution, Kim Dokja couldn’t help but wonder…...

Did Saram actually want something from him? Or was this all just a game—one that Saram was determined to play to the very end?

As they shared a quiet moment, sitting beneath the stars, Saram leaned in just a little closer, his gaze sharp but playful. “You know, Kim Dokja… I find you fascinating. There’s something about you that’s both frustrating and intriguing. I wonder…” His voice dropped, almost teasing. “What would it take to get you to let me in? To show me the real you?”

Kim Dokja couldn’t help but tense at the question, feeling a surge of irritation mixed with something else. Was it fear? Or was it just the sense of being cornered by someone who could so effortlessly navigate the intricate web of his emotions?

“I don’t let anyone in,” he said, voice steady but the words betraying him. “I’m not a person you want to know.”

But Saram only smiled wider, like a cat with its prey. “Ah, but that’s exactly what makes you interesting.” He leaned back slightly, as if giving Kim Dokja a moment to reconsider, but the glint in his eyes never wavered. “You’re not as impenetrable as you think, Kim Dokja. Maybe, in time, you’ll come to realize that.”

The rest of the day unfolded with a constant undercurrent of this unspoken tension. Kim Dokja couldn’t shake the feeling that every word, every interaction, was another thread being woven into a bigger, more complex pattern that Saram was crafting with remarkable precision. As much as he tried to distance himself, it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the fact that Saram was interested in him—more so than any other Constellation Kim Dokja had encountered.

And it wasn’t just curiosity. No, Saram seemed to be quietly testing his boundaries, pushing to see how far he could go before Kim Dokja either cracked or completely shut him out.

The more Kim Dokja tried to maintain his distance, the more Saram seemed determined to break down his walls. It was becoming less about the scenario itself and more about the challenge of unraveling the mystery that was Kim Dokja.

By the end of the day, Kim Dokja realized that Saram wasn’t just interested in him because of the Star Stream or the scenario—it was because he saw something in Kim Dokja. Something that made him worthy of fascination.

Whether Kim Dokja liked it or not, he had unknowingly become a part of Saram’s plot—a plot he had no idea how to navigate. But that was nothing new for Kim Dokja, was it? After all, he had been thrown into enough convoluted plots to know that sometimes, the best way to survive was to embrace the chaos and play along.

The day was an utter whirlwind of chaos.

Saram insisted on dragging Kim Dokja through activities that ranged from mildly ridiculous (picking constellations to “adopt” as stars in their garden) to outright absurd (convincing Kim Dokja to play tag while the chat room provided commentary).

At one point, Saram raised a glass of wine and smirked. “You know, Kim Dokja, you’re not half bad. Maybe I’ll convince my husband to let me keep you.”

[ Constellation Secretive Plotter glares coldly. ⎤

Kim Dokja, somehow completely sober, replied, “I think your husband would kill me. Again.”

Saram only laughed. “He wouldn’t dare. I’m the only one who gets to torment you today.”

⎡ Constellation Secretive Plotter looks away, his ears suspiciously red. ⎤

As the day came to an end, Kim Dokja collapsed onto the cushions, exhausted but somehow… content. Saram lounged nearby, still radiating that chaotic energy, but with a softer, almost fond smile.

“You’re interesting,” Saram said. “I can see why the Star Stream loves you.”

Kim Dokja groaned. “I hate that.”

Saram chuckled, then stood. “Well, this was fun. But don’t think you’re off the hook. If you survive the next scenario, we might meet again.”

The world shimmered once more, and Kim Dokja found himself back with Yoo Joonghyuk and the others.

“What happened?” Yoo Sangaj asked, concerned.

Kim Dokja stared into the distance, his voice hollow. “I… bonded with the Secretive Plotter’s husband.”

The chat room exploded into laughter once again.

⎡ Constellation Secretive Plotter silently vows to make amends for the day’s chaos. ⎤

And somewhere in the Star Stream, Saram laughed.

The garden was quiet now, bathed in the soft, silver light of the stars. The stars above twinkled as if to remind Saram that time was still passing, even if it felt as though the entire world had paused for a moment. He leaned against a stone pillar, his gaze fixed on the starlit horizon, though his mind wasn’t on the scenery.

Behind him, the shimmering air twisted as a familiar presence appeared. It was a subtle distortion in the fabric of reality—one that only someone accustomed to the Star Stream’s constant manipulations would recognize.

"I see you’ve finally arrived," Saram said, not turning around. His tone was calm, almost casual, but there was a flicker of something more behind his words.

The figure that appeared behind him, silent as ever, stepped into the moonlight. The tall, imposing silhouette belonged to none other than the Constellation known as Secretive Plotter. Despite the heavy air between them, the quiet tension was almost… playful.

"Saram," Plotter’s voice rumbled, low and deliberately distant. "That was a rather… interesting day."

Saram allowed himself a small, knowing smile. "Interesting? Or just entertaining?" He raised an eyebrow, turning to face the other Constellation. "You didn’t think it would be easy to keep things simple, did you?"

Plotter’s expression didn’t change, but the glimmer in his eyes seemed sharper, like the gears of a complex plan were grinding slowly into motion. "You are… unpredictable."

"I prefer to think of myself as entertaining," Saram replied with a playful shrug, stepping closer to Plotter. "But I think you enjoyed it more than you’re letting on."

For a moment, there was silence. The kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled, because neither of them were in a rush. Plotter studied him, his gaze steady and unreadable.

"Why him?" Plotter asked after a pause, his tone quiet but cutting through the night air like a sharp blade. "Kim Dokja. Why go to such lengths with him? You know what kind of person he is."

Saram chuckled softly, eyes glinting with mischief. "He’s interesting, that’s why. He’s got this air of… complexity about him. You can never quite pin him down. Don’t you find that fascinating?" He tilted his head slightly, like he was watching Plotter carefully for any reaction.

Plotter didn’t answer immediately, but the corners of his mouth twitched, as though a rare smile had almost escaped him. It quickly disappeared, replaced by the usual, unreadable mask.

"You know him well," Plotter finally said. "But I wonder… do you see something in him beyond that? Or is it just the game for you?"

Saram met Plotter’s gaze unflinchingly, his eyes sparkling with something deeper. "Is it so wrong to want to have a little fun while playing the game? To see how long it takes before he finally cracks, or maybe—" He stepped closer again, his voice lowering to a near whisper, "—to see what lies beneath all those layers he’s so desperate to keep hidden?"

Plotter didn’t react, but the air around him seemed to crackle with the unspoken understanding between them. Despite his cold, distant demeanor, it was clear that Plotter had been watching his every move. And in that silent exchange, the tension between them was palpable. There was no need for words—both understood exactly what the other was thinking.

"And you?" Saram continued, this time leaning in ever so slightly, close enough for Plotter to feel his presence. "Do you ever let your walls down, or is it just me who has the privilege of seeing them crumble?"

Plotter’s gaze softened for the briefest moment, the faintest trace of something that could have been a smile playing at his lips. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the familiar, cryptic expression. "I have no need to lower my guard with you," he said, his voice low and controlled. "But you… you are something else."

Saram laughed, the sound rich with amusement. "I suppose we are something else together, aren't we?" He paused, then leaned in, his tone suddenly more serious, more intimate. "But don’t think for a moment I won’t be keeping an eye on you. This game of ours… it’s just beginning."

Plotter met his gaze evenly, his eyes filled with that same cool, inscrutable depth. "I don’t need your protection, but I’ll be watching, too."

They stood there for a moment, the starlit garden between them, both of them perfectly aware of the unspoken understanding that tied them together. It was a strange alliance, one forged in the midst of games and plots, but it was real in its own way. Neither of them knew what would come next, but neither of them was ready to let go just yet.

As the night air drifted softly around them, Saram smiled—a smile that wasn’t entirely light, but more of an invitation, a challenge. "Shall we see where this story takes us next, then?"

Plotter’s only response was a silent nod. He stepped back, his eyes lingering for a moment longer before turning to leave.

But Saram stayed, watching the stars as they sparkled above.

"Let’s see how far we can push this game," he murmured to the empty night.

[shycoconutt]

A Future With You (Gojo x Reader)

Summary: It's been a long time since Satoru and you talked, and there are some feelings that are threatening to come to light. Can you both move on from your tragic past?

Content Warning: MDNI (18+) smut, penetration (unprotected sex, finishing inside, oral fem receiving), fem reader, some angst, porn with some plot, praise, past betrayl. Takes place post night parade, pre season one.

WC: 5.8k

Notes: I did it! First semi-long fic for JJK! Requests are open, fyi :)

“Why do you do that?”

Saturo Gojo's voice pierced through the room, interrupting your focus on your paperwork. Ignoring him, you continued ticking off points on your mission checklist, frustrated by the tedious task mandated by the higher-ups.

Ugh, it’s so annoying that they make us fill these out every time. It’s pointless, they never even read them. 

 “Hellllllloooooooooooooooo,” Satoru sings in your direction. 

Glancing up, you find Satoru leaning forward in his chair, his white hair gleaming under the fluorescent lights of his office in one of the main buildings of Jujutsu High. His eyes are covered in thin, black material. To his right, Nanami is sprawled out on the sofa with his head resting on the armrest, one leg hanging off the side and his foot on the ground. He’s passed out, finished paperwork resting on his slowly rising and falling chest, oblivious to the world.

"My bad, I thought you were talking to Ken," you apologize, turning your attention to Satoru.

“Oh yeah, suuuuuuuure,” he pouts, “You always ignore me.”

“Not always, but most of the time,” you smile teasingly.

You were so used to Satoru’s presence, that ignoring him was one of the only ways to keep you sane. 80% of what he babbles on about is nonsense, and he knows it. He lives to tease you. The truth is, you’ve grown up together, faced death, lived and loved together. You don’t technically ignore him, you couldn’t if you tried, you just tune him down a little, like the radio.

After a brief pause, you relented, "Why do I always do what?"

Satoru smiles and leans back into his chair, pressing his fingers together. 

“That thing with your feet,” he smiles, pointing towards them. 

You draw your attention to your feet crossed on the coffee table in front of you. You only had your socks on, for comfort. Your brows furrowed in confusion, not exactly sure what he was getting at. 

Satoru scoffs, reading your face. “That thing!”

“What thing?!” you ask, bemused.

Satoru sighs and tilts his head back in frustration. Bringing his hands together again, he begins to rub them into each other in a haphazard manner. 

“This whole thing you do,” he continues to demonstrate, “It’s like your feet are making out!”

You begin to giggle as he becomes more aggressive with his hands. Your joy comes in waves throughout your body, thoroughly amused. Satoru knows how much you love his physical comedy, so he really hams it up for you.

Suddenly, he springs up from his chair and explodes like a firework, “You’re doing it again!”

“Argh, why are you yelling?” Kento grumbles from the couch, papers crumpling under his grasp as he sat up from his sprawled-out position. 

“Oh, sorry Kenny,” Satoru puts a hand up to his mouth and grins. Giggles are still escaping from you as Kento grunts in frustration, gathering his papers and brushing himself off from his slumber.

“I was just over here trying so hard to complete my important work,” Gojo continues, "but we have a little cricket in the room," he quipped, looking over at you with a playful glint in his eye. It’s a look you are all too familiar with. It’s a look that gets you out of bed in the morning.

God, he’s so pretty.

Satoru is the type of pretty that transcends human – part of you swears he is extraterrestrial. His skin was born without imperfection. His white hair, although sometimes wild, is shiny and smooth. His teeth look like they are made of pearls. His body is sturdy, yet aerodynamic. Then, of course, there are his eyes. 

His eyes are like mirrors facing a partly cloudy sky. Often you wondered if they would suck you in, spit you out, and watch you freefall.

Terrified of hitting the ground, you never fully give yourself over to him. You never released all of what was inside of you. If he was the sky, you were a single raindrop resting in a storm cloud, waiting to fall if the pressure of it all became too heavy.

But with him, at least on the surface, it rarely got heavy these days, so you were always able to float around in the bliss of ignorance. Maybe one day, the cloud would pass by, or evaporate altogether. Part of you hoped it would, part of you didn’t want to experience the pain that it could cause. A life without him seemed empty – a desert void of life.

But what came next threatened a downpour.

“Well, I’m out of here,” Kento huffs, “I don’t know why either of you let me fall asleep. You both know I hate staying here past five.”

“Sorry,” you start, “you just look so peaceful when you sleep. It’s a nice change of pace.” You smile, throwing him his jacket that rests next to you. 

Kento let out a small hum in thanks, putting on his jacket in one quick move, swiftly exiting the room without a goodbye. 

“Bye, my love! I’ll miss you every second you’re not in my arms!” Satoru cries out, running to the doorframe to wave Kento off. You scoff at his antics, turning back to your work, you finish off the rest of your checklist with disregard. Feeling the couch dip, you feel a familiar warmth on your side as Satoru makes himself comfortable. 

“You know what’s funny?” he starts, “I’ve always noticed they way you mush your feet together. You do it constantly, you know that?” Taking his blindfold off, he loops it around his pointer finger, pulling the fabric back with his other hand. With pinpoint accuracy, he slingshots the band around your crossed feet. “They release a tiny amount of cursed energy when you do, it’s almost like you have a pilot light.” Obviously pleased with himself, his lips spread in a tight smirk, making your face feel warm.

God, you loath Satoru Gojo. The way his single observation makes your stomach do flips. Knowing that he perceives you. That he recognizes your patterns.

Suddenly, your hair is being pushed behind your ear by Satoru’s long fingers, his arm stretched across the length of the back of the couch. 

“So soft,” you hear him mumble, barely audible. His fingers linger on the back of your ear, slowly gliding down to lightly pinch your earlobe. You watch him intently out of the corner of your eye, at a loss for words. Although his touches were light, they feel like they burn. 

“Satoru…” the noise that leaves your mouth is barely a whisper.

“Hm?” he muses, fingers leaving your ear to grip your shoulder. His grip is firm, almost uncomfortable as he turns you to look him in the eyes fully.

This is one of those moments – he is sucking you in and you don’t know where you are going to fall.

-

That is how you two always seem to navigate, pushing the limits of what defines your relationship with moments like this. You were friends, colleagues even. You work tremendously well together, which both you and the higher-ups discovered after the death of Haibara, then the following departures of both Geto and Nanami. With just you, him and Shoko left of your former teams, and Shoko staying behind on campus to further advance her reversed curse technique, both of you were usually sent out together on missions.

At first, your missions were always done in silence, both of you trying to heal your traumas internally. In both of your defenses, navigating without verbal communication went on without a hitch. You danced around each other, synchronizing your attacks and defending the other’s back. You didn’t mind him taking the lead in most cases, because you were always exactly where you needed to be when the moment struck. You hate to admit that his looks of approval are what kept you going during that dark period of your life.

It wasn’t until you were at death’s door when feelings bubbled up to the surface. What seemed like a routine mission turned for the worse when a gaggle of special grade curses were congregated in your area. You were cornered, and with no way out, Satoru was forced to use his domain expansion. You knew it well, understanding the rules of the infinite domain. As long as you were touching, you were safe. 

But Satoru cracked. In the fight leading up to the point of his release of the technique, he became high off of the feeling of exorcizing strong curses. He hates to admit it now, but his vision tunneled, and he forgot about you. 

At that moment, you were not observed. You were not perceived. You were not recognized. You were an afterthought – a casualty.

As quickly as the domain exploded around you, it released. Satoru realized his mistake in a quarter of a second, but at the time, he thought that was all it took. Barely escaping the area, he raced back to Tokyo with you in his arms, your body breathing but lifeless. You couldn't respond to his cries, his profuse apologies, his pleads to the gods to let you live. Satoru Gojo thought he killed you, and he swore to you that he couldn’t, and wouldn't, move on without you.

Turns out that over the course of your time together, your roots were intertwining – hope for a new life manifesting in each other's strength to continue forward, despite everything.

You were out of it for weeks in a bed tended by Shoko. She cared for you, studied you. She took note that you were conscious, but unresponsive. It wasn’t until after where you told her that you were, in fact, conscious – all your senses worked, but you couldn't get your body to move. It was like you were frozen, much like how it was inside Satoru’s domain.

Satoru was banned from seeing you, although he often broke that rule. Every night you could sense his presence at your bedside, his delicate fingers tracing softly over your exposed skin. Those fingers always happened to make their way to your earlobe, pinching you softly there – a small plea for you to come to life. For you to sit up and slap him across the face for being so damn stupid.

And he would let you. He wanted you to leave him bloody and bruised. He wanted to experience pain by your hand. It was what he thought he deserved. That over you not talking to him ever again. Undoubtedly, that would kill him.

He received punishment from the higher-ups for being careless, to which he bore with no complaint. To this day he states that he is unsure what he would've done if you hadn't made a full recovery. Maybe it would have all been too much. 

But you recovered, and you forgave. 

You understood completely, knowing it was an accident. Yes, it hurt a little bit to know that he forgot about you, even for less than a second. Truth is, you forever want to hold a permanent residence in Satoru Gojo’s mind. Quite selfish of you frankly.

After your recovery, time went on and your plates began to fill. Satoru gained students. Nanami came back. New roles were filled. Expectations changed. Your relationship with Satoru continued strong, but it plateaued.

You were stuck in romantic purgatory.

Or so you thought.

 -

“What are you doing?” you finally ask. You struggle to find the emotion hidden in his eyes. They seem excited, playful, yet serious. His brows are furrowed together, hair now fallen in front of them due to the absence of his headband. 

Satoru’s lips pursed for a moment before speaking, “I-” he pauses, seemingly going over the words in his head, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while.”

His hand has yet to leave your shoulder, his thumb slowly rubbing circles in the small divot located in the muscle there. It feels heavenly. Something about his energy seems so calming to you in this moment, and you acknowledge how respectful it is that he waited for a natural minute where you two would be alone. It was very rare these days. Whatever he wants to talk about, you know it’s important to him.

“Satoru, whatever it is, you know you can talk to me about anything,” you say with sincerity, placing your hand over his own.

Satoru gives you a soft smile, “I know,” his eyes travel and find their way to your hand on his, “but rarely does anything we talk about revolve around us.”

Us?

You can’t help the fluttering feeling that gathers in your lower stomach. Satoru was right, you barely had any moments to talk about anything other than work. Nanami and you were always away on missions, and he was always preoccupied with his students and Megumi. You had a moment together after the trials of the night parade and the aftermath of Suguru Geto’s death. You consoled him, took care of him for a short while. But, again, he was quiet. He was in mourning.

After that, when things turned back to normal, you asked Nanami if you could do your mission paperwork together in Satoru’s office from then on out. Any chance you had to check in on him was one you wanted to take. Nanami, being the angel that he is, agreed to this, knowing your intentions without even having to ask.

You have feelings for Satoru Gojo. You care about his well being more than you care for your own. The man labeled famously as God’s Favorite is simply just a man to you. No matter what he or anyone else thinks, you know Satoru is not invincible. He deserves to be protected too.

After a few beats, your stomach settles, and you continue on with more confidence than even he expected.

“Yes,” you begin, “we should talk about us.”

Satoru’s eyes widen by a millimeter, just enough for you to catch.

“Okay,” clearing his throat for a moment, Satoru continues, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you because I’m tired of just letting precious time pass by. You know I care about you deeply, right?”

You nod in reassurance. 

Satoru's eyes darken slightly. Taking his hand off you, he slumps forward in his spot, placing his hands under his chin, propping his head up. You watch as he looks forward out the school’s window, watching the pink skies as the sun begins to set.

He continues.

“You say so, but I don’t think you truly understand. When I thought that I took your life that day, like a dumb fucking idiot, I was prepared to rid this world of my presence completely. I know I’ve screwed up in the past, but I couldn’t screw up this.” Satoru gestures his hand back and forth between your space on the couch. “If I did, and I almost, I wouldn’t forgive myself. Things would have turned dangerous quickly.” The frown he bares hurts your soul completely.

“But we’re okay, Satoru,” trying your best to reassure him, now it was your turn to place your hand on him. Without much thought, your hand found its way to his thigh, gently rubbing the area with your palm. You felt his quad flex slightly at the touch.

Your hand is soon taken away to be held by both of his own, bringing them to his chin as well. His lower lip grazes the skin of your knuckles, sending a rosy flush to your cheeks. He pauses again, obviously finding it difficult to communicate his thoughts.

“Satoru, please,” your tone is soft, encouraging, “tell me what’s on your mind.”

What happens next feels like a whirlwind. One moment, you're sitting across the couch from Satoru, hand against his chin. Next, you are pinned underneath him with your head on the armrest, both his hands planted on either side of your face to hold himself up. Your legs are spread, the cold air touching the warmth of your panties under your skirt. His knee is in between them, pressing against the flesh of your inner thighs. Looking up, obvious shock sketched on your face, you meet his eyes.

Even in the shadow underneath his white hair, they shine with intensity. In the pools of blue, you can see that he is yearning.

You don’t try to move, you don’t protest his advancements. The closer he is to you, the more content you feel. Slowly, he brings his head down to yours, his forehead resting against your own. His breath is warm, smelling of sweet mint. With a lick of his lips, he continues again.

“I thought that you being alive was enough for me. That I could watch you go on, and just merely being in your presence, able to help when you needed me, would satiate my feelings for you.” You can feel the intensity vibrating off of his form. Satoru looks like a man who has starved for days finding his first meal. Is it terrifying? Yes. Do you love it? Yes. You can’t help the playful smirk that dances on your lips.

You don't know if you are going to regret the angle you are about to take.

“Then what happened, baby,” you purr, eyes challenging his own with a flash of pure lust. His eyes widen in what you can imagine is excitement.

“What happened?” Satoru chuckles, darkly, “What happened is I realized that I cannot go on if you are not mine.” 

Satoru’s lips crash into yours with ferocity. Although somewhat aggressive in his movements, his actual contact with you is soft and sensual. His kisses are unleashing his secrets, one’s that seem hard to keep. Parting your mouth slightly, you push your tongue forward to invite him in. Your tongues begin to dance slowly, mixing each other's spit to create a lustful potion. 

One of his hands comes down from the couch to under your shirt, tightly gripping your ribcage. Your hands come up to wrap around the back of his neck, your fingers playing with the short, velvety hair of his undercut. Satoru allows himself to come down slightly, resting his hips over your own. The corners of your lips turn up slightly at the feeling of the hard bulge in his pants against your core. A small moan escapes his lips at the contact. His body was reacting this way because of you.

How fun. 

You take it upon yourself to start undressing Satoru. You start by unpinning his uniform jacket, opening it and pushing it off his shoulders. Bringing your hands down under his white cotton shirt, you take a moment to press your fingers into his hip bones, then you slowly lift up the fabric. Satoru, in compliance, sits up and lets you lift his shirt over his head and up his arms. Shirtless in front of you, you can’t help but admire his long torso. He is lean, but strong. You notice one long scar that starts where his shoulder meets his neck and ends around his belly button.

Around his neck, there is a thin silver chain with a small pendant at the end. Instinctively, you take it between your fingers and notice that it is a small raw amethyst crystal. Hm, the crystal for the sign of Aquarius, I wonder- 

Oh. 

Your eyes move up to meet Satoru’s, and you give him a knowing look. The small smile he gives to you hurts your heart, as you can sense the obvious pain behind his eyes. He removes your hand from his necklace and lays it on his chest where his heart is. You know that this is his way of telling you that he is okay. 

Your breathing hitches in your throat as his hands come down to the top of your blue work vest. He quickly unbuttons the three buttons holding it together, opening it up, then grabs the bottom hem of your shirt and lifts it over your head, exposing your bra to him. 

Satoru comes down to gently nip at the squishy flesh of your upper breast spilling over. You hear him deeply inhale your scent, a small hum in satisfaction leaving his mouth. He quickly grabs the lace of your bra, tugging it down so your nipple is exposed to him. Trailing his warm tongue down the side of your breast, he latches on to your bud, giving it a small suck. 

The first gasp of the night leaves you, your legs tightening around his midsection in response to the stimulation. Satoru grabs both of your breasts in his hands, kneading them together while continuing his ministrations. You let your hand trail down his abs, passing under his waistband to find what you’re so desperately looking for. 

You make contact with the hard tip of Satoru’s cock, a bit of pre smearing across your fingers. You let your hand trail down further, wrapping your hand around the base of his length, giving it a small squeeze. Satoru lets go of your nipple with a pop, letting out a strained hiss at your touch. His hips instinctively buckle forward, causing your hand to stroke towards him. 

“Fuuuuck, baby,” he swears, tightening his grip around your chest. Not without protest, he shifts off of you, your grip coming back out of his pants. You give him a small pout, one he finds adorably sexy.

“I know, sweetheart, I know, but not yet,” he coos, cradling one hand in your hair, “I want to taste you first.”

Without hesitation, he quickly finds the zipper of your skirt, hidden in a fold on the side. In one quick swoop, your skirt and panties are off your body, down your legs and discarded to the floor. You are completely exposed to Satoru, now wearing nothing but your bra pulled off your breasts and your stockings. Kneeling on the couch in between your legs, you watch as he stares at your dripping cunt, a blush quickly forming on his cheeks. Now, you know Satoru is not the type to be bashful.

“What is it, Satoru?” you ask, shaky concern in your voice. Was something wrong?

“That’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he stares at your pussy in awe, his tongue slowly coming out to lick his lips.

You look down at yourself and your eyes go wide. Oh my god, I forgot.

Your hands come up to cover your face, your cheeks now burning hot. Of course this would be the case, of fucking course.

“I forgot,” you confess, barely a whisper, “my wax girl was always encouraging me to try something new. So when I went last week, I decided to go for it,” you gulp, “she told me all the different designs she could do for a landing strip, and I thought the heart one was the cutest.” You slowly begin closing your legs in sheer embarrassment, but Satoru quickly stops you, grabbing you by your knees and spreading you apart like a book.

If it was possible to Olympic-dive into a pussy, that was what Satoru just did. 

Satoru Gojo is sloppy. He is messy. Going straight for your hole, he snakes his tongue in as far as it can go, lapping out your juices and spreading them all over yourself. Wrapping his arm underneath your thigh, he brings it around to the top of your pussy to grab your mound, lightly pulling it back so that your clit is jetting out of your folds. Once satisfied with your wetness, he wraps his lips around your bundle of nerves, sucking rhythmically and flicking it smoothly with his tongue. Satoru’s other hand makes its way underneath him, coming out from under his chin to insert two digits into your heat. Once he finds the rough patch at the top, he makes a ‘come hither’ motion with his fingers. Your loud moans escape from you relentlessly. If this was a video game, Satoru Gojo knows all the lethal combos. 

You can feel the coil in your stomach tighten. Oh my god, you had no idea someone could make you cum this fast. Of course, Satoru Gojo is good at eating pussy, of course he is.

Hands coming down to grip his soft, white locks, you tilt your head back in pleasure. Satoru in between your legs feels natural – it feels right.

“Satoru! Oh-” you cry.

“Yes, baby, yes,” he says into your folds, not stopping the work he's doing to make you snap, “you going to cum, princess?”

“Yes! Satoru-” words escape you as you reach your limit. Cunt pulsing around his fingers, you fully give yourself to your release, crying out in pleasure as your juices spill over. Satoru grinds his hips into the cushions as your cum drips out of you, moaning himself, he makes sure to savor every last drop, scooping some out with his fingers and sucking them clean. His cock is throbbing in the confines of his slacks, begging to be inserted into your pretty folds.

You watch with half-lidded eyes as Satoru comes up from in between you, mouth and chin glistening with your juices. His face is flushed, hair in disarray from your grasp, chest heaving as he breathes in air after suffocating himself inside you. You feel yourself pulse again at the sight of him. He looks like an animal, and it sets off something primal inside you.

Sitting up from your position, not knowing exactly what is coming over you, you grab Satoru by his neck and guide him to a sitting position on the couch. Once he’s seated, eyes wide in shock, you swing your leg over his lap and straddle him, hand still remaining around his throat. His hands come up instinctively to wrap around your waist. His mouth is slightly agape, looking up at you with lust and, maybe, a little bit of fear.

At this moment, you don't give a damn if you look crazy. You need him.

“Satoru Gojo,” you begin, your voice laced with arousal, “I am going to fuck you so well, you’re going to go blind.”

All he can do in response is nod. Dipping your head, you bring your mouth to the crook of his neck, sucking and nibbling at his skin there. He moans, tilting his head away to let you explore further. Taking your hand off his neck, you work to open and unzip his slacks. Tugging at the waistbands of his slacks and boxer briefs, he lifts up his hips so you can pull them down to his thighs. You look down to watch as his cock slides downwards, caught in the band until you bring them down far enough for it to snap upward and smack his abdomen, Satoru letting out a pained hiss as it does. His member is long and thick with a pretty-pink tip. It’s quite beautiful, really.

You look up again to meet Satoru’s eyes with a devilish grin. You can’t fucking wait to feel his member inside you. With a couple of long, drawn-out pumps down his length, he tilts his head back over the couch to let out a long moan. It’s music to your ears. Bringing your hand to your cunt, you gather some of your juices and coat your fingers. Wrapping your hand around him again, you pump harder and faster this time, gliding with ease when adding your slick. Satoru can only grip harder into your sides.

“Oh, you’re going to kill me, baby,” he gasps, “please, sit down on my cock. I don’t know how much more I can take.” He brings his head forward again to rest on your chest, and you take the opportunity to kiss the back of his neck.

“Okay, okay, baby,” you comply, taking the fat tip of his cock and positioning your entrance on top of it. Satoru quickly looks up again, wanting to watch your expression as you take him in. Slowly, you lower yourself onto him, letting his tip enter the first ring of muscle. You can't help but let out a moan, bring your hands to Satoru’s shoulders for support.

“That’s it, that’s it,” Satoru coos, “take as much time as you need baby,” rubbing his hands in circles across your hips, he brings his mouth up to yours and slips his tongue in, to which you suck sensually. You can taste yourself on him, and it turns you on.

You lower yourself a bit further now that you have adjusted, and it feels euphoric. Although you know it’s probably best to wait a bit more, you can’t help but push yourself to the limit to fully feel all of him. You need him. Gradually, in one continuous movement, you take him to the hilt. Not breaking away from his kiss, you wrap your arms around his head and completely relax yourself. Satoru’s tip was resting on your cervix, and you decided to start off with a couple pulses for good measure.

Once he realized what was happening, he broke free from your lips and gasped, “Oh, you naughty girl. You could just do that and you would milk me for all that I have.”

“Another time,” you smirk and lift yourself about halfway up his shaft to then quickly slam yourself back down again. Satoru cries out, thighs flexing in response. “I want all of you.”

“Yes,” he cries out, “you have me, baby. You have me now. Forever.” Bringing his hand down to your heat, his fingers swirl around your clit. You let out a gasp as he takes your juices and brings it to your nipple, covering it with your slick. Satoru then leans down and sucks on it ferociously.

“Oooo, yes, baby, yes, I love that,” you moan out, allowing yourself to start riding him fully. “You have all of me too, baby. Forever.” You quickly find a good pace, the sounds of your bodies slapping together sends you into overdrive. You can hear your pussy squelching over his cock, making you more aroused at the lewd noise. Satoru’s hands have found their way to the plush underside of your ass, helping support your weight as you move up and down on him.

With his member pounding your cervix, his mouth working wonders on your breast, and his hands spreading you apart, you can't help but feel yourself starting to tense up, coil threatening to snap. Satoru recognizes this, feeling the familiar sensation of your pussy clenching much like it did around his fingers. He can feel himself starting to let go, but forces himself to hold it together long enough for you to explode. 

And that's exactly what you do. Holding him closely and shutting your eyes, your movements turn sloppy as you ride him to your release. 

“Satoru, Satoru, Satoru, yes, Satoru…” Crying out his name, you let go completely, giving yourself over to him.

Satoru moans out as well, and you swear you feel him twitch inside you, but nothing spills over. Opening your eyes and looking down towards him, you can see that he’s fighting to keep it together.

“Satoru-” you begin to question, but let out a yelp as he lifts you off of him effortlessly. The world spins, and you find yourself thrown over the armrest of the couch, head dipping towards the floor with your ass up in the air. Not more than two seconds pass before he’s grabbed you by the waist and is slamming into you from behind. 

“Ah!” you scream, tone somewhere between shock and pleasure, “Satoru!”

“Sorry baby,” he apologizes, but you can tell he's grinning from ear to ear, “but it’s my turn to fuck you.”

Satoru begins to pound into you without restraint. You can tell that he has one goal: to cum hard and fast. You’re obsessed with the way he lets his inhibitions go, knowing he can only be this vulnerable with you.

“Fuck, I-” he chokes out, “I- I love your smile. I love your eyes. I love your body. I love the way that you feel around me. I love your voice when you cry out my name. I love how-” his voice breaks again. You can tell that he’s reached his peak.

“I love you, god, I love you,” Satoru grabs you by your shoulders, lifting you up to him so your back is now to his chest. His arms wrap around you, engulfing you in a tight embrace and burying his face into your neck. His thrusts were not letting up, but they were getting sloppier. 

“I love you too, Satoru,” your heart swells, “You know I’ve loved you for a long time, baby.” You can feel tears brimming in your eyes and you quickly grab onto his forearms, craving more of his touch. You feel him nod into your neck. He knew, he always knew.

“You wanna cum baby? You wanna cum inside my pussy?” you coo at him. “Give it all to me, I want to feel you fill me up so good.” 

You felt Satoru tense for one last time. Slowing down slightly, he pauses every time he hits your wall. Bringing one of his hands down to your lower stomach, he presses into you to feel the sensation of him inside you. With one last thrust, he’s spilling over, and you can feel thick ropes of his seed coat your insides. If you felt full before, you were even fuller now.

Satoru came, but he didn't want to leave just yet. Very carefully, with him still inside you, he picks you up to bring you to spoon him on the couch. 

You laid there for a while, just enjoying the feeling of each other while you drifted in and out of sleep. While watching you intently and grazing the outside of your arm with his fingertips, Satoru decided then and there that he would formally ask you to be his girlfriend tomorrow, although he already wanted to call you his wife. He never thought he would allow himself to see a future with you, never thought he could forgive himself for putting you in danger. But now that he has made that step, there’s so many possibilities. All he knows is that he never wants to do anything without your support and love, and he will do anything to protect you. No one was going to take him away from you. He loves you, in every sense of the way. 

“Satoru?” you call out to him, still in a sleepy state.

“Yes, my love?” 

“You wanna sleep over at my place tonight?” You ask, a little shyly.

Satoru chuckles softly, “Of course, baby.” You feel him smile, hand coming up to pinch your earlobe.

The sensation sent you back in time. A time where you witnessed Satoru Gojo pleading for your future everyday at your bedside. You know now that he was pleading for something more – a  future with you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: Aye! Let me know what you think! <3

[sulumuns-dootah]

17. 10. Hickeys/Bitemarks - Gamigin

    ༺☆༻

⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽Helltober '24☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

    ༺☆༻

If there's something you love more than rainy fall evenings, it's those evenings spent watching a cozy movie snuggled up with your little dragon. Gamigin felt extra brave that evening and so you're both watching something more scary than your usual go-to Tim Burton classics. Apparently there's one that peaked his interest because a little boy goes trick or treating and punishes those who don't celebrate Halloween?

You've been trying to follow the plot, but there's three separate storylines and with the demon getting scared at every jumpscare, it's kinda hard to focus. Besides, you now regret the choice of your snacks for the evening. To introduce a bit more variety, you'd prepared fruit skewers, amongst which was also a pineapple and so now its juices are digesting your tongue, making it slightly sting.

Still, despite the fruit fighting back, you take one by one piece of fruit off the wooden stick and pop them into your mouth. It takes a one, especially juicy piece of fruit to explode in your mouth to the point where some of its juice starts making its way down your chin and all the way down you neck, to get the young dragon's full attention.

“Oh, you're messy, Y/N! Huhu, let me help...” he chuckles and his tongue darts out to lick a bit of the juice off your neck. Then, a little hum of surprise at how sweet the juice taste mixes with the natural sweetness of your skin, leaves the curious dragon.

Wanting to taste more, he dives in with more fervour and starts sucking on your neck, accidentally scraping your skin with his fangs a few times. You can't help but moan a little from the sudden sensation, making Gamigin blush, but keep on following the trail upwards.

After he's done, the demon turns his head away with a grin, from the looks of it, completely clueless of what he's just done. And just like that he goes back to watching that movie of his, that makes him jumpy.

The movie goes on for another thirty minutes, when another scare happens and Gamigin seeks safety in the crook of your neck. It's just as adorable as he is, making those scared little squeaks of his. The taste of your skin from before still remans on his tongue and he can't help but to nuzzle his head into the same spot he's sucked on previously, to absorb your scent.

As his eyes lazily open, the young dragon lets out a loud yelp, “Y-Y/N! You're all bruised up! Are you having an allergic reaction to something?!”, and he's quick to frantically look around the room to find his staff.

“No, silly... Those are the hickeys you've given me.” you try to hide your amused smile. Aw, he really is that clueless, huh?

“B-but..! I'd never...!” there's a slight panic in his voice.

“Gami, you can calm down. These - “ you run your hand over the blue and black marks, “- mean that the person who gave them to you likes you very much.”

“S-so... All those demons who wear these have them because of love and not because they got into fight? But... They're always so scratched up too, like they took on a pack of lions...”

“Love has many ways of being shown.” you're not really momentarily equipped to give Gamigin the BDSM talk, but some day you might. How he doesn't know anything about these things even from his step-brothers is kinda puzzling.

“Ah, s-so... Would you mind if I gave you more hickeys over the rest of your body?” his blue eyes are once again full of mischief.

    ༺☆༻

Shhh... The prompt for tomorrow is Moaning ^^

[jiminrings]

president rings what the FUCK!!! so u see i constantly click the patreon link on ur bio to see the descriptions/schedule of wat u post and. WHAT DO U MEAN. what do you mean ex-pornstar bf jungkook wherein he swore to leave that life behind but physically cheats on u by doing a video behind ur back. wdym. SNEAK PEEK NOW OR ELSE I WILL EXPLODE!!!

at your will sneak peek

Your chest swells with pride knowing that Jungkook is wanted by many, but he doesn’t want anyone but you.

To have him in the first place, much more as your first boyfriend, had already been a shot in the dark. He was a mutual friend of a mutual friend who loitered in your flower shop, just because he didn’t have an umbrella whilst it was pouring outside and didn’t want to fight with one of nature’s worst forces (a cold).

He wants stability and you want it as well, even if it’s from him; most especially if it’s from him.

Jungkook’s too much of an unorthodox, out-of-your-league guy — and yet you’re perfect for each other.

At the end of the day, however, you can’t reverse the fact that Jungkook’s much more experienced than you.

No matter how many nights you share with your first boyfriend, you can’t negate how many people he’s seen even if he sleeps with his head buried to your neck. You can’t just simply ignore the fact that you can’t tell how many times he made everyone else cum before you, even if it’s in a set or through a screen by simply watching him do his job.

In days like these wherein Jungkook’s shirtless as he makes you your breakfast or fixes something in your bathroom, you can’t help but think if it’s been a plot line to his adult films before. 

When he coos to your face and giggles at your silent confusion about how things work, you’re harshly reminded of the fact that you and Jungkook aren’t on the same calibre. You’re not on the same podium, you’re not verified with the same check mark, and you’re not used to the same bright lighting that highlights nothing but your pleasure — maybe even the sweet, occasional pain that Jungkook seeks.

No matter which way you look at it, you can’t deny how knowledgeable he is about pleasure and being the embodiment of it. You can’t ignore the number of condoms he has on hand, nor the array of toys he has, nor the natural ease he has to himself whenever you’re intimate. 

You can’t skirt around the fact that you feel out of place underneath Jungkook, or in whatever position he puts you in.

“My sweet doll,” he’d call you endearingly when you’re spacing out as you do the work you take home with you, and instead of being gratified by the pet name like usual, your stomach churns at the unspoken bother — how many other people has he called that?

“You okay, baby?” he’d ask you whenever there’s a frown or a furrowed appearance of brows on your face. The question had been your saving grace for the longest time since you got together, but when Jungkook asks you now, you only grow irritated — how many times has he whispered that to the ears of those who’d been under him before?

Jungkook’s yours, even if there had been many before you — even if there’ll probably be more after you.

“Going somewhere?” you ask sharply, the tone of your voice going unnoticed by Jungkook because he chalks up the edge to it to your workload.

“Mhm! Just meeting my old friends,” he chirps, dashing down the stairs in a frenzy.

Jungkook looks good. Clean. He’s pristine with the way he’s freshly-lathered and shaved, doused in perfume that’ll practically lure everyone close to him.

“Oh,” you swallow the lump in your throat, refusing to breathe Jungkook in even if he kisses your temple. “Old friends?”

There’s a knot that forms behind your eyes and you fear that if you let Jungkook closer to you at the moment, your vision would turn white; that your eyesight would see past him and instead focus on the packaging of that one coveted brand’s pheromone perfume in the trash, or the box of ribbed condoms that you hate in his side of the bathroom dresser, or the way how Jungkook’s old work phone vibrates on his dresser.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head too much,” Jungkook mutters to your hair, a snort coming out past his lips belatedly when he mistakes your silence for embarrassment.

You can’t deny any longer that Jungkook’s more experienced than you in practically everything; in sex, in love, and in life — maybe even in lying.

.

.

.

HEE-HEE PLS DON'T EXPLODE ANYMORE!!! if u wanna read the full piece now + a lot more exclusive pieces + gain early access to general (pieces that are posted both on tumblr n patreon) fics, go to my patreon :D !!

[kxbsihd]

You're a laid-back student who has no interest in dating or popularity, much to your younger sibling's annoyance. Thanks to your overprotective dad, they’re stuck in a "no dating until you do" rule. Enter Tomura Shigaraki, your typical school outcast who’s just trying to get by. But when his friend Dabi ropes him into a wild scheme to win your heart, Tomura finds himself dragged into a mess he never asked for.

(idk where I got this silly idea of writing the literal plot of 10 reasons why I hate you but with Tomura x reader, but whatev, we ballin)

It all started with your sibling’s loud outburst.. you could've sworn you felt the walls of your house trembled.

“I canNOT believe this is happening!” they shouted, stomping back and forth like the floor itself was their enemy. Their voice echoed through the living room, drowning out the low hum of the TV.

You glanced up lazily from where you were sprawled on the couch, flipping through channels with little to no interest. “What’s your problem now?”

“You’re my problem!” they hissed, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “Because of you, my life is officially over!”

You raised an eyebrow, utterly unimpressed. “That’s dramatic. Even for you.”

They threw their hands in the air. “Do you even hear yourself? Do you even care that Dad’s dumb rule means I can’t date until you do?”

Now that caught your attention. You sat up slightly, pausing your endless channel surfing. “Wait, what? Why is this suddenly my fault?”

“Because!” they practically shrieked. “You’re impossible to deal with. You hate everyone, and you don’t date anyone. Ever. How am I supposed to live like this?”

You tilted your head, smirking. “Sounds like a you problem.”

“Oh my god!” they exploded, their face turning bright red. “You are the worst!”

Before you could bite back with another snarky comment, your dad’s voice cut through from the kitchen.

“Alright, enough,” he called over the clatter of pots and pans. “What’s all the yelling about?”

You looked over your shoulder to see your dad standing at the kitchen counter, stirring something in a pot with far too much focus. You’d learned long ago that cooking was his way of avoiding emotional conflict, which only made the situation funnier to you.

“Dad, this rule is stupid!” your sibling cried, stomping into the kitchen. “Why do I have to wait for them to date before I can? I’m not a kid anymore!”

Your dad didn’t even flinch. He turned down the stove, grabbed a nearby spoon, and tasted his sauce before replying calmly, “It’s not stupid. It’s called parenting.”

“No, it’s called torture!” your sibling shot back. “Do you even hear yourself? It’s like you want me to die alone!”

You couldn’t help but snicker from the couch. “Wow, they’re really going for the Oscar, huh?”

Your sibling turned on you so fast it was almost impressive. “Oh, shut up! You’re the reason this rule exists in the first place!”

“Me?” you asked, genuinely confused. “What did I do?”

Your dad answered for them. “You set the bar,” he said matter-of-factly, ladling soup into a bowl. “If you’re not dating, then clearly no one else in this house should be.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s my rule,” your dad said simply. “And it works. Keeps things simple.”

“Simple for who?” your sibling demanded. “You’re punishing me because they don't want to date anyone!”

“It’s not my fault everyone’s annoying,” you muttered.

“Oh, come ON! What about that cute guy from your history class? Or the girl who gave you her number after gym?” your sibling accused, jabbing a finger at you.

“Not interested,” you replied without missing a beat.

Your sibling groaned, collapsing against the kitchen counter like they’d just lost the will to live. “You’re impossible!”

You shrugged, getting up from the couch and heading toward the stairs. “Well, this has been fun. Let me know when you’re done having a meltdown.”

As you made your way to your room, you heard your sibling muttering under their breath, but you didn’t care enough to listen. You had no idea that their tantrum wasn’t the end of it— that they were already plotting your social downfall.

Later that night, your sibling sat cross-legged on their bed, phone in hand. Their room was a mess of scattered notebooks, open textbooks, and clothes tossed haphazardly across the floor. But their focus was singular as they scrolled through their contacts, looking for the one person reckless enough to help.

[Sibling]: I need a favor. Are you in?

The reply came almost instantly:

Dabi(yeah idk why I dragged his name here): depends. what’s in it for me?

[Sibling]: Name your price. I just need [Y/N] to date someone. Fast.

idk what motivated me to write this bs huhu but whatev😭 (this is my first time writing a smth like this (sooo this can be slight ooc)) (idk why I added Dabi there lmfao)

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

Hey Syn, do you have any tips how to write traumatised female characters and not make them total assholes?

It so easy to make them unlikeable but they are important for the plot and the MC kinda had a fling with her. (He wouldn't had done it if she is despicable)

Why is it so much easier to write male characters? 😭

So, this is kind of hard because it’s a super fact specific inquiry. There’s no real rules when it comes to writing, which is why the only real writing advice is to just write. Like, there’s no advice I could give that would be absolutely accurate or without exception.

That being said, I came up with a sort of broad, non-exhaustive list of things that come into play when I write? It’s more of potential strategies than anything. At the end of the day, though, focus on what works best for your writing because no two are the same when it comes to things like this.

1) Know why they’re traumatized and how it affects them.

I’m not positive if this is for original fiction or fanfiction, but the key principle is the same. What kind of trauma do they have? How old is that trauma? What happened to make them traumatized? Have they gotten help since then? If so, in what ways were they helped?

I’m always sort of careful with writing the symptoms of trauma in my stories because I often see it used in a way that’s sort of exaggerated or cartoonish. Trauma doesn’t always mean panic attacks or hysteria. Sometimes it does, but not always.

Maybe they had an abuser—maybe that means they struggle with hiding information from the people around them. A lot of people who were abused tend to hide information, to their detriment, even when it doesn’t make sense, because they’re used to hiding things for their own safety.

The thing about trauma is that it’s part of the messy soup that is human emotion and neurosis, so it’s not exactly logical, but it often makes sense. It can be frustrating when people almost pathologically hide information until it’s too late to fix the issue, but it makes sense why they’re like that.

It makes no logical sense to hide problems until they become bigger problems that could have been fixed easily if they had told someone. They sure aren’t doing it for shits and giggles.

They’re doing it because they spent some period of time in their life with someone who was irrational about problems. Someone who just exploded or hurt them or berated them over things most people wouldn’t care about. For that person, hiding things is a survival response, and it is a slow and painful process to turn that response off again.

Maybe they over-apologize. Maybe they lash out. Maybe they’re too sensitive or too aggressive. Maybe they have panic attacks or anxiety or irrational fears. It’s hard to write the trauma without knowing what the trauma is, so you have to spend some time getting to understand what shaped a character.

The thing about traumatizing situations is that they spike your adrenaline. And adrenaline scientifically fucks with your memory. A lot of adrenaline enhances your recall, so you remember your trauma in crystalline detail. Even more adrenaline fucks with your ability to form memories and recall what happened to you.

We are not nearly as rational beings as we want to pretend we are. We are beholden to the electric soup that is our brain, and trauma can fundamentally alter the pathways of that electric soup. People who are trying to unlearn harmful behaviors from their trauma are oftentimes trying to forcibly rewire how their brain works when their brain started working that way to begin with to keep them alive. It is a messy and difficult process. A character who is traumatized is often messy and difficult themselves, but that’s because their brain was trying to keep them alive during a bad time and doesn’t have an easy pathway to revert back to how it should be.

What happened to them to make them like this? How did they survive the source of their trauma? Could it be that the actions they’re taking now are residual survival instincts sending off signals that have nowhere to go? If not, what are they reacting to?

2) read their actions in the best possible light

This is like, my personal life philosophy, but I apply it to my writing too, and I personally find that it adds a lot of depth to characters.

Don’t assume the worst.

Everyone fucks up and does something bad or harmful that negatively affects someone else. It’s part of being human. My personal philosophy is that there are relatively few people out there that are actively malicious or callous when they act.

I think people get afraid, or self-conscious, or angry, and they aren’t their best self that day. They make bad decisions. Or maybe they made the right decisions, but there’s something external that makes it come off like they did something different. Maybe other people’s traumas are making them view a character and their actions in a more negative light than they are due.

I think that there are a lot of versions of us that live in other people’s heads, and some are bad, and some are good, and some don’t lean one way or another. No one is their best self every day.

So, say you have a character, and they do something that you as the audience makes you think “Wow, what an asshole.” What’s the best possible light you can put them in? Maybe they didn’t understand what was happening and reacted wrong. Maybe they were just being irrational and were reacting that way because they were afraid or upset somehow, and later regretted it. Again, while sometimes it is appropriate to ascribe malice to a character (or a person), for the most part, I think most people just need a fuckin break.

Think of all the times in your life where you did something you weren’t necessarily proud of and were embarrassed looking back on. What kind of slack do you wish other people cut you then? Give that to the character. They’re dealing with something. They’re not making the best decisions.

Then give that on to the audience. The writer is the filter that information about a character comes through—what do you want the audience to know about that character so they can understand why she’s not making the best decisions?

3) make sure the characters are more than their trauma

No one is the poor damp little meow meow who is all trauma and nothing else. Make sure you’re writing more to them than just the trauma. If you’re struggling with finding them likable, make sure that something else is something that makes them a little more likable to you while still being consistent with their characters.

Again, it’s hard advice to give because it’s very very detail specific. Character crafting is not a one size fits all endeavor.

When you have a character, think about whether they feel like a real person to you. I’m not talking about adding in personality attributes and hobbies like you’re reading off their stats list—give them experiences that make them feel distinctive and unique to you. I love coming up with silly little backstories for my characters. And I don’t mean the Capital-B Backstory, the big dramatic reveal that gets its own special episode—I mean tiny little stories about their past. The dumb shit you tell your friends about later.

I don’t know if you’ve read one of my current fics pez dispenser debris, but I started writing it while in a total spiral and decided to just let myself cut loose and write every fucking tiny little flashback that I wanted to that I would have normally cut because it didn’t affect the story. From a technical perspective, that fic is written very poorly. But that’s okay, because when I started writing it, I didn’t want to write a story well. I wanted to have fun writing it, and that’s what I did.

Like, I open the fic with a random scene that will have no overall effect on the plot. I am constantly getting sidetracked on random little anecdotes from the narrator about how one character went to America on vacation and was compelled by the spirit of Americana to try Whataburger and drove all the way to Texas to do it, where he somehow ended up winning a rodeo and had a drunken night out with three men who were all named Wyatt, or about how a different character’s family decided to kidnap his shithead brother back into familial bliss and no one told him until he was already in the car so he said “okay” and went with it. Both of those stories take specific kinds of people to do. They help build a sense of personality in a way that just saying “this person is spontaneous” or “this person will be unfazed even when he should be a little fazed” doesn’t.

This character had some kind of prior relationship with the MC—what random, mundane, mildly funny stories do they have together? What did they do when they hung out? What kind of person was she with him that made him want to spend more time with her?

You don’t have to include these in the story itself. Like I said, I wrote pez dispenser debris because I wanted to write the random bullshit side stories without containment. Almost every character I write in any real depth has a bunch of random backstories that will never surface in the story itself. I have a best friend (shout out to my moon wife) who is constantly getting info dump text messages about the backstory of this or that character that will never make the cut but I have to tell SOMEONE because the stories are too fun to keep to myself.

Anecdotes about a character help you create a more distinctive sense of identity which will make it easier to write your character in the long run. How would this character react to X? I dunno, how did he react when his family pulled up, waited until he got into the car, and told him they had his shithead brother in the trunk and weren’t letting him go until he picked up their calls again or someone died? Oh, he said “okay” and went with it? That may influence how we anticipate his reaction to X.

4) understand that steps 1-3 were futile and it’s absolutely impossible to make a character that’s not an asshole and just write them for you

The thing is there’s no way to make some objectively likable character. Like. People are going to take characters in different ways. I’ve written characters who I’ve loved and would die on the hill for their right to process their emotions in messy ways and had readers absolutely hate them. There is no real way to get unanimity from a crowd.

If you want to write a likable character, write a character you like, traumas and all. Chances are, you have someone in your life who has done something a little destructive because of trauma who you kept caring about after. Find a similar balance between traumas and things you like for this character.

I don’t have any female character specific advice, because I’ve never personally experienced much difference when writing different genders. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that gender has no effect on how I write characters, because gender does affect how we interact with society. A man is more likely to have been treated one way by a society or to have had certain experiences within it than a woman is than someone who is non-binary is than someone who is genderfluid is and so on. That could have had an effect on a character and how they interact with the world themselves. It’s just plays a smaller part in my writing than the other things.

If you’re struggling for writing different characters of different genders, it may help to take a step back and just really spend time developing for yourself the details of who this character is. The more distinctive of a personality they have, the less broad characteristics like gender come into play. Usually the characters that have a strong sense of developed identity aren’t the ones who get sent breasting boobily down the stairs.

I’m not sure if any of this is gonna be helpful. Again, the only real writing advice is to write, because there’s always an exception or a new reason to break the nonexistent rules when it comes to writing. Just have fun with it, and the story will always be good. Good luck with the writing!

[fishuus]

i guess this is a rec list of stuff i liked in 2024?? no particular order, i just wanted to yak about some things i had a good time with.

bang brave bang bravern: maybe this isn't a legit comparison but i keep thinking of it as "what if samurai flamenco had a significantly tighter story (tomokazu sugita is also there)". if you like giant robots, you might like this. if you like a completely straight-faced commitment to the extremely funny bit of contrasting hard military scifi with the absurdity of classic giant robots, you might like this. if you're interested in sugita playing a robot who's a bottom, and also there's a lot of gay shit and the earnest power of true love, you might like this!

digimon story cyber sleuth & hacker's memory: a really fun set of turn-based jrpgs. cyber sleuth took me a while to warm up to (the localization could be better, to put it generously), but i came to enjoy its slightly offbeat sense of humor. hacker's memory, otoh, i loved from the start. it does a great job showing how cyber sleuth's story beats happened in parallel while still keeping the focus on a fantastic new cast and their own plotlines. the first game is a more standard digimon story about saving the world, while hacker's memory widens the perspective and shows a bit of the systems at play in the background. just a super satisfying game on every level for me.

shin godzilla: personally i love logging off work and my many meetings and watching a movie about a guy who has to go to even more meetings. i'm kidding, this was really fun (on account of all the meetings). i'll get to his kamen rider and ultraman movies too at some point.

gilgamesh (gardner & maier, also the david ferry version): paying my respects to the original yaoi 🫡

judgment: i wanted to try a rgg game without committing to playing 8 of them in order. turns out this is a perfect standalone game. it's such a tightly written story and character study, and it's really fun to play. kimutaku is so good at playing yagami so low-key, so tamped down, that when he explodes you really feel how angry he's been all along. the english cast is also great -- i enjoyed greg chun's take on yagami as well. (i played lost judgment too but wasn't quite so high on it. alas)

siren: watched sgf's excellent lp and loved this horror stealth game. the motion-capture work for the faces is a pretty cool workaround for the rendering limitations at the time while adding to the off-kilter vibe. i'm also a huge sucker for when studios lean into mixed media and use photos of real props (magazines, IDs in wallets, letters, etc) in their games. the story is kinda obtuse – and literally requires you to read extra official content to get some of the answers – but for something with such vague, stilted cutscenes with equally vague and stilted dialogue, especially with the added layer of a classic ps2-era english dub, i became attached to the entire cast stuck in this extremely bleak and scary scenario. i guess the best way i can sum it up is that it's a game that knows exactly how to play you.

digital devil saga 2: finished right before the world is actually set to end in 2025 in the game lol. it's so good!! i'm grateful that even after all this time, i managed to go into this mostly blind, because the way the plot reveal recontexualizes so much about the first game and the absolute rank relationship dynamics between some of the characters just blew me away. probably has some of my favorite character designs of all time, and i also think it's sooo fun to play thanks to my having turn-based long jrpg brain sickness. such an all-timer of a duology.

nine sols: i'm still not done with it on account of it being a parry-focused metroidvania and me sucking shit at both platforming and parrying, but it's great! it feels so confidently produced, kinda wild considering how different it is from their previous two games, devotion and detention (both of which i also highly recommend). the art and design work are beautiful, and i'm really enjoying how bleak the plot is. you can tell they made two horror games before this lol. i also love story mode. thank you, story mode.

風林火山韻雷 -bring it back-: lmao. anyway, it's a super fun song and mv that packs in everything i like about akyr (mixing traditional with modern both in the song and the imagery, high energy, everyone's great ofc but takayuki kondo especially killing it with that bridge, akyr making aggro songs about murdering their enemies).

[raggedypina]

I really like this Band AU that you have going on, specifically the stuff that happened between Ragatha and Jax. Speaking of it, while most of the blame lies with Jax (because he was messed up), will you explore any of Ragatha’s wrongings? I mean, compared to Jax, she had every right to leave the relationship but I thought about it from his perspective too.

If we are considering canon, Ragatha is around the age of thinking about her future (like getting married, having kids, etc). However, Jax (being 22), would probably not desire these things for at least a couple of years or so. I feel like maybe when they were both at their highest moments with each other, they ignored the fact that they wanted separate things. Ragatha wanted to settle down and wished for Jax to do the same, while he wanted to just date his ideal image of her and live at his prime.

I think they both messed up and I was wondering if you’d ever explore that, from both of their perspectives? If not, that’s cool too! Anyways, Jax REALLY fumbled the bag.

It was actually funny to receive this now, because as much as I have to PHYSICALLY force myself to focus on other topics besides good old Bunnydoll to continue the narrative, a large part of the plot will be their relationship

So the next drawing would be a parallel to Ragatha's "Same Night", showing how he felt about all of this

AND YES. Just to make it clear, she was the victim, but she didn't abstain from mistakes either. This will be shown more than told, but from Jax's perspective, he wasn't doing anything wrong because she never expressed displeasure with anything he did until everything culminated and exploded.

[thescarletnargacuga]

So could you write a poly fic between Caine Jax and Pomni?

Maybe one where Jax and Pomni keep making Caine flustered (in their own ways) during adventures, so Caine decides he is going to be the one to fluster them for once during a private adventure between the three of them.

They all are in a consenting and loving poly relationship (just felt the need to say that with all the other crazy anons going around 😂)

A/N: always good to clarify! And thank you for letting me know that it's a throuple poly ship, because polys can work in a lot of different ways

MY TURN

A FUNNYBUNNYSHOW ONESHOT

WARNING: suggestive, power dynamic

~~~

"That was another great adventure, Ringmaster." Pomni flirtatiously emphasized Caine's title after everyone had received an award for participating in today's adventure.

Caine smiled, a light blush displayed around the sides of his face. "Aw, shucks, Pomni. Thank-woah!"

"We had a lot of fun sneaking off to be alone." Jax pulled Caine down by his foot until he was taller than the floating AI. "Too bad you weren't there to join us." He arched a brow suggestively.

Caine flustered, gripping his cane with both hands and holding it in front of him like he was trying to hide behind it. "Oh! Um, you know I can't. Eheh, The- the adventures are....are just for..." He couldn't focus on what he was saying. Jax and Pomni were closing in on him. He felt cornered, despite that he could teleport away at any time.

"What's the matter, Caine? Humans too hot for you to handle?" Jax chuckled, looming over Caine.

"I think we blue screened him." Pomni smirked.

"More like red-screened. Look how hard he's blushing." Jax slowly moved his hand up Caine's leg.

"Adorable." Pomni traced a finger down Caine's lower jaw.

"Uh!! I'm not-! Oh dear goodness-" Caine shuddered. "You two are being extraordinarily friendly today. I'm glad the adventure was to your.....liking." He was very much enjoying the touches.

"Like Jax said, we had time to ourselves. It's done wonders for our mood, and we wanted to thank you." Pomni kissed Caine's lower jaw while Jax kissed the side of Caine's upper jaw.

Caine's hat flipped off his head and a mushroom cloud of confetti exploded out of it, raining all over the three of them. He hovered low to the ground, eyes blue with white text scrolling across. His hat slowly wandered away from him.

Pomni laughed. "You were right, he did error out."

"Told ya." Jax and Pomni bumped fists. "We should totally leave him like this."

"That's so mean...let's do it." She and Jax bolted while Caine was still rebooting.

Caine came back upside down, confetti everywhere and his hat flying away from him. His code still felt all kinds of tingly to the point of making him lightheaded. "Gadzooks.....wait-" He looked around and quickly uprighted himself. "Where'd they go?" It slowly dawned on him what they just did. "Those two!! They-! Oooohohoho, so that's how it's going to be."

Caine's hat snapped back into place and he adjusted his suit. "It seems some of my cast members need a reminder of their place at the circus, and why I am the Ringmaster." He teleported away.

~

The next adventure, everyone except Jax and Pomni were sent off. The two trouble makers kept glancing at each other, wondering what revenge plot Caine had in store for their teasing the other day. They knew they were in for something.

"What's today's adventure?" Pomni asked innocently.

"You're about to find out." Caine snapped and a second portal promptly appeared. "After you." He gestures for them to go through.

Jax boldly stepped forward first. He went through the portal, only to find himself in a small restaurant. No NPCs, it was very quiet and quaint. Pomni came through a few seconds later and he gestures to the room. "Well, this doesn't look like much."

Caine came through and the portal vanished. "I would just like a little sit down with you two. When was the last time we were on a simple date?" He snapped his fingers and food appeared on the plates, no servers came.

"Okay, what's the catch?" Jax crossed his arms. Pomni wanted to know too, so she looked at Caine questioningly.

Caine smiled warmly, his hands behind his back. "Why would there need to be a catch? I would just like to enjoy a meal with my favorite humans." His voice was smooth as silk, giving nothing away.

Jax and Pomni looked at each other nervously. Caine's oddly calm demeanor put them on edge, but they sat at the table. Caine sat in the air between them. Jax inspected his foods suspiciously. Pomni didn't touch hers at all. Caine sat quietly, lounging back.

"Seriously. What have you done?" Jax pressed.

"Why so suspicious? Have you done something that deserves retaliation?" Caine asked with a smirk in his voice.

"Cut the crap.I know you're up to something." Jax narrowed his eyes at Caine.

Caine shrugged. "If you say so."

"Caine," Pomni spoke up. "We were just teasing yesterday. You're not mad, are you?"

"No, my dear. I'm not upset." Caine answered genuinely. "Yesterday was fun, if a bit ultimately frustrating, but that's the way the game is played."

Reassured, Jax and Pomni ate what was served. It was a very well prepared three course meal. Surprisingly delicious for digital food. They eased into fun conversation, putting aside their worries.

After dessert was devoured and after dinner drinks were served, Caine smiled at each of his partners. "Tell me....do you remember what Ringmaster means?"

"uh... That you're in charge of the Circus?" Pomni answered with a confused lilt.

"Indeed." Caine sat forward, resting his elbows on the table, his chin on his hands. "But do you think that's...it?"

Jax started to feel fuzzy. He slammed his drink down. "I KNEW IT! WHAT WAS IN THAT FOOD!?"

"Nothing. Calm yourself." Caine didn't even look at Jax and the rabbit immediately felt woozy. "I create everything in this world, down to the last pixel. Therefore, it is mine to command. And when you consume what is mine...I have influence over the code that makes up your very being. If only for a time."

Pomni felt it too. A warmth in her core spreading out and making her hot under the collar. "What are you...doing?" Her breathing became heavy.

"Showing you two exactly who you're messing with." Caine smiled to himself, focusing on the codes inside Pomni and Jax.

Jax tried to get up. "You...little..."

"Sit." Caine said firmly.

Jax immediately fell back into his chair and couldn't find the strength to get up again. He felt tingles up his thighs and chest, making him squirm in his seat. "[%$!#]" He moaned.

Pomni covered her mouth and gripped the table cloth. Her legs quivered as she squeezed them together. Muffled gasps and moans escaped her throat. The pleasure she was feeling was indescribable.

There was a subtle glow to Caine's eyes. "Good...very good..."

Jax gripped the table's edge, throwing his head back. "Nnngh! Caine-... you-" He gasped.

"Use your words, Jax." Caine said, relaxed as ever.

"More..." Jax whined.

"Pomni?" Caine looked at her.

She nodded, nearly crossed eyed.

Caine snapped and both his partners fell apart. They cried out in pleasure and fell out of their seats. Caine willed away the table and watched his partners catch their breath on the floor. "What have we learned?"

"To never say no to dinner." Jax laughed, still panting.

Caine snapped again. Jax and Pomni rose to their knees by Caine's telekinesis. He held them both gently by the chin. "I love both of you very, very much....but do that do me again, and I'll have to remind you of who I am, won't I?"

Jax and Pomni nodded, looking up at Caine with hazey eyes.