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viaviavie · 14 days ago

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OPERATION CINDERELLA-SABOTAGE [OCTANIVELLE]

in which he rescues you from your very short-lived wedding.

SUMMARY: due to a massive misunderstanding, a prince from royal sword academy is set to wed you at sunset. thankfully, your un-princely crush is here to save the day and crash this lovely wedding.

PAIRINGS: everyone x fem reader (separately)

WARNINGS: they're being a bit dramatic, characters are 18+, gaslighting (jade), floyd carries you, possessiveness (floyd)

NOTES: this is echoes the ghost bride event, but listening to this prompted me to write out this scenario instead. i made this for shits and giggles, so have fun with this! (gosh i had sm fun writing jade and azul's--- probably the most creative pieces i've had this month!)

There was no way you would be able to say 'no' now, not when there were hundreds of Royal Sword Academy students and even more members of a random royal family whose last names you cannot recall waiting outside that door. Aside from a completely oblivious Neige and Che'nya who was nowhere to be found, there was no one you could really ask for help to get you out of this mess.

You turn to your supposed betrothed with frantic eyes, shaking your head wildly. "I already told you, I'm not the one you danced with at the ball!" Your hisses fell on deaf ears. That damned prince from Royal Sword Academy was too busy making the 'goo-goo' eyes at you to even register what you were saying.

"I just happened to have the same shoe-size!"

Damn it, why did you have to agree to fitting some missing girl's shoe?!

Pierce Charmant, possibly the most delusional guy you have ever met in Twisted Wonderland, clung onto your calf with a stubborn expression. He had no intentions of letting you go, and neither did his five other guards that had blocked your way.

"You have to be her!"

"You don't even know my name!"

You were really counting on Grim to get someone, anyone, to stop this wedding. Yet, as you are walked down the aisle by the fair Neige, you are already planning out a divorce settlement plan. Based on the number of guests here, who had filled this entire venue from top to bottom, you would have guessed that this prince was rather rich. If it was to be an unhappy marriage, at least your wallet would be more than compensated.

You managed to convince this prince to send invitations to Night Raven College, but that didn't matter. He was so excited and in a hurry to marry, that your friends barely had any time to rescue you! There must have been so much traffic with the mirrors that they couldn't even use them! There was just no way that they'd make it in time now.

And so you consign yourself to readying some divorce papers within the next few weeks, and planning out how to avoid any more interactions with this guy while you were married.

You stood at the chapel's base, your expression exasperated than ever as you kept darting your gaze to the door. You've already tripped over the aisle a few times, fumbled the scripted vows, and even called for a bathroom break or two to stall.

And now comes the big moment that you were so desperately trying to avoid.

"Would you, Pierce Charmant, take the Ramshackle Dorm Prefect, as your lawfully wedded wife?"

The prince smiles so sickly sweet, and its the look of a man who won't change his mind.

"I do."

You grimace as the officiant faces you, just as blind to your annoyed expression.

"Would you, the Ramshackle Dorm Prefect, take Pierce Charmant as you lawfully wedded husband?" They didn't even use your name!

You pause, the image of your crush flashing before your eyes.

You would never see him again if you let yourself get married. Defiance returns to your face as you suck in a deep breath, ready to deal with the consequences of rejecting this delusional prince in front of hundreds of people.

"I—"

"I object!"

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

"Are you really really certain that the Prefect has feelings for me? This is not how I would have liked my confession to be presented, but I am always the opportunist. If the outcome is in my favor, I will uphold my promise to supply you with exemplary tuna for the following two weeks as discussed... Ha, this is quite the laborious tasks. Prefect, you will not be waiting for long."

Don't be so mistaken. Azul did go through the five stages of grief the moment Floyd came in nonchalantly mentioning your rather swift engagement to Prince Charmant. It didn't help that Jade confirmed this by turning on the television, shoving Magicam posts onto Azul's face, and delivering an updated newspaper with news of the upcoming wedding. He swore that you had found the love of your life that morning.

It had to take Grim spilling to him about your feelings to snap the poor octomer out of his spiraling thoughts. It was enough to boost his confidence into making a sound plan on how to retrieve you. After all, if this prince is truly not the one you fancy, then who is Azul to let the wedding happen without interference?

His plan is absolutely fool proof, and with a large audience of witnesses, he is mostly confident that he can secure your safety. Dressed in a fine suit, followed by several touch-ups to his appearance, he hastily makes his way to the cathedral in style.

Though, it would be worth mentioning that he does have a nervous breakdown over whether he made it in time or not.

It wasn't so much that you didn't expect Azul for some form of help, but rather, you anticipated that he would send the Leech twins to do his bidding. To see the tycoon-in-the-making himself, striding in without a hint of weakness, you couldn't help but gape like a fish out of water.

Your surprised expression only served to stroke his ego even more. "I am not the type to make such dramatic entrances, but this would have to do." Azul's signature smirk is plastered on his features as he makes a slight bow to your groom. It is nothing genuine, and you knew that very well.

"Pierce Charmant, prince. I come here to return your lovely bride back to Night Raven College, where she formally belongs." It's that false sense of security, that Azul uses to claim that he is on the prince's side. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, but found yourself turning away with a dreadful expression. Azul's haughty exterior never breaks as he continued to sell. "I fear that she is, perhaps, a bit too below your league. You see, you deserve someone of higher caliber." Rather, he thought that devaluing you may perhaps spare you from such a marriage.

"A magicless student without a background! Not to mention connected to several overblots that had occurred since her appearance at the college. On top of that, a long account of accumulated debt and unpaid fees for her tuition at the college. She would not be an asset at all!"

The pitch gets shot down as the prince shakes his head in an outright rejection. "I care not. The Prefect is the perfect candidate to rule alongside me. There is nothing you can sell to me that would make me reconsider my decision. It is final!"

"Not even a—!"

"Final!"

A hum of displeasure leaves Azul's throat as he reels himself back in. You watch him carefully, noting that the octomer hasn't even begun to sweat or spit out any more bargains to the prince. He has lost, but he doesn't seem too worried either.

It was almost as if he expected this outcome after all.

Sighing dramatically, Azul's eyes fluttered shut. "Very well, then." He drawled, a hand slipping into the inner pockets of his blazer. Your eyes catch the sight of an unfamiliar parchment, much unlike the golden standard sheets Azul had used for his contracts.

Azul trains his eyes onto you, promises reflected in that beautiful blue. "If it must be the last time we shall ever speak to each other— Allow me to bargain with you instead, Prefect."

From below, he reaches out towards you, outstretching his hand to offer you the parchment. Before Pierce could really swipe your hand away, you've already taken it upon yourself to read the contract's contents.

A CIVIL MARRIAGE CONTRACT AND REGISTRATION FORM?!

Needless to say, you were torn between being impressed by his wits or horrified by how absurd his proposition was.

"Azul!" You gasp, only to be met by his smug grin. Azul ran a hand through his silver locks, somewhat impressed with himself.

"Rather than marrying this prince, I shall provide you an alternate proposal for a husband." Posturing a hand to his chest, the octomer smiles at you. "Myself."

You clutch the contract close to your chest, looking at him for some sort of confirmation. His smile grows even wider. "I've already filled out your portion of the registration form to the best of my ability. It is sufficient, and all you have to do is sign your name."

"Azul!" You cry out once more in disbelief. Pierce could only scoff after taking a mere glance at the contract's fancy lettering.

"How absurd!"

Ignoring the prince, Azul swallows himself in an attempt to keep up his own farce. "Marrying a prince may seem overwhelming for a lady of your status, utterly magicless and without an experience to rule a country down to the smallest village." He drawled with faux concern, shaking his head in disapproval as the prince fumed at the sides.

"But look at me, prefect. I am an upcoming tycoon. Young, and not a terrible looker either. I am well-versed in the world of business and I certainly do have an endless list of connections. A prince is restrained by royal etiquette and duty, but I? The world is my oyster and you can partake."

Your jaw goes slack as Azul dares to take a step forward, summoning a feathered pen in hand. "Choose me, and you can find relief in knowing that you have a loving and charismatic husband who won't rush you into any tomfoolery of sorts. You will be well taken care of, and I will see to it that you will be satisfied."

He is certain that he is victorious, and you don't doubt that as well. Azul means well, at least, more than what this prince intends to do with you at the moment. Although, that is not to say some deals don't come with strings. The contract is clean, to your knowledge.

The silence had gone on too long for his liking. Biting onto his smile, Azul's eyebrow twitches. "You shall be entitled to 7% of my financial assets and investments as well." He offers through his teeth, hoping you would hurry up with your agreement. The octomer isn't sure for how long he can stay so confident for, in front of this crowd, in front of anyone watching this on live television.

With one more glance at the contract, you dare to carve a little hole in his carefully calculated plan. It isn't every day you get this opportunity to twist his contracts to your favor.

"Make it 20%," Amidst the scandalized gasps of the crowd, you do not miss the way Azul chokes on air. "Prefect, this is non-negotiable." He sputtered, attempting to regather his composure.

You hum in return, shrugging at him slightly with a cheeky grin. "Make it 18%, and I'd like a monthly supply of tuna for Grim."

The audience murmurs with speculation, all while you stare at the way Azul looks at you with such exasperation. He runs a hand through his hair once more, shaking his head to himself. "Greedy little thing, aren't you? This is not exactly the best time to bargain, but I suppose I was the one who taught you that bantering with pressure is a high-risk, high-reward strategy."

Azul sighed heavily, swiping the contract away from your hand to scribble onto it. "Very well, Prefect." He grumbled to himself before returning the paper to you, along with his ink pen.

"Sign it."

Before you could even do so, Pierce had snatched the pen from your fingers with a frightened expression. He knows that a contract would keep you from him, and even as a prince, he can't go against the fine print. "You can't be serious, Prefect! You're actually going to leave me to marry a swindler?!"

Irritation flashes across your expression, in the way you bare your teeth at the prince. It takes Azul by surprise, the way you clenched your free fist in anger.

"You can call Azul a swindler, but he's simply a businessman!" You hissed, easily taking back the pen. Pierce stumbles, even more taken aback by your outburst. "And he knows what my best interests are!"

You couldn't stand being cut off again. In a swift fluid motion, you sign your name onto the blank spaces, earning a bright smile from the contractor.

"You've got a deal!" Azul exclaimed, his voice echoing throughout the cathedral. Clasping onto your hand, the octomer takes the form into his hand and waves it in the air, stirring alarmed noises from the crowd.

He faces you once more, but this time, takes your side and wraps an arm around your middle. He squeezes your hip slightly in assurance just as he turns to Pierce with an obnoxious smirk.

"Splendid, my dear! Now as per the wedding registration states, along with other legislations, the Prefect cannot marry you as she is now married to me." He announces, seemingly unbothered by the way Pierce crumbles apart. The prince had begun to cling onto the altar for some sort of support, all the more crushed by how quickly he had lost you as a bride.

"You can't do that! That's unfair!" Pierce whined out, looking at you with a pained expression. He doesn't earn your sympathy, nor Azul's.

The Octanivelle dorm leader could only shrug, amused by the prince's pathetic display. "Rather unfortunate, isn't it? Not even the poor prince can't bend the law. Perhaps you should have considered the legal aspect of marriage before rushing into grand formalities."

It isn't so often that you hear a sigh of relief from Azul, given that he always seemed to have some certainty when it came to be making deals. "Now, we must best be going. Shall we, my dear?" He cooed in that familiar tone, the kind that he had only ever used with you. Like a gentleman, he offers you his arm to take.

And who are you to refuse? You giggled softly, hooking your arm into his own as he moves to lead you out of the cathedral.

"Of course, Azul."

Based on his personal logistics, Azul was 98% sure that you were going to take his offer. If Azul had faith in how well he knew you, you wouldn't marry a prince in that short lifespan. You would sooner elope with the Prince of the Fae or Kalim if you wanted any sort of prestige that came with significant power. Not to mention, Grim had given him that security that you did have feelings for him instead. That little 2% was any doubt that Grim was lying, or that maybe you would just reject him for some silly reason.

Of course, he hasn't forgotten about you having a crush on him. He doesn't really believe it himself, and he won't bring it up. There is no security in assuming your feelings, and that would be something that needs to leave your own mouth. Azul is content like this, biding his time until you eventually spill your heart out because of his fear of rejection.

Luckily, the Leech twins anticipated this and had already taken care of the issue themselves.

"It was a real marriage contract?!" You exclaimed, eyes scanning the document up and down. Both you and Azul had long since returned to the Mostro Lounge as the dinner shift is beginning to start, hoping to have a quick break when you decided to look at the document once more.

Azul had been pacing back and forth with a nervous expression, hands wrung into his hair with frustration and embarrassment. Whipping his head to the seemingly calmer twin, he fought back a scream.

"Jade, I trusted you to read the fine print! What happened?!"

Maintaining that eerie smile, Jade nodded in compliance. "I did read the fine print, Azul. Down to the last letter," The teal haired mer turned to his brother, a gloved hand covering his smile in an apologetic manner. "I suppose Floyd must have mixed up the forms with the real wedding registration. Isn't that right?"

You paused, raising a brow at the octomer with piqued curiosity. "You had a real marriage registration lying around?"

Before Azul could even recover from this leak of information, Floyd let out a reckless howl of laughter. "Whoops!" The impulsive twin shrugged, grinning wildly at you in the booth.

"Look on the bright side, you're married to Shrimpy like you wanted!"

Now that set Azul off, prompting him to lunge at the twin who simply steps aside. "FLOYD!" He cried out, wanting nothing more than to climb into his little octopot and never face you for the rest of his days. He desperately wanted to retreat, and could only recoil slightly when your hand taps at his heaving shoulders.

He looks at your questioning expression. "Like you wanted?" You echo, and there is not a single indication that you were rejecting him. No, you just needed more answers.

A strangled noise leaves Azul, right before he sighed and sank against the booth's structure. "It doesn't matter. The registration is really invalid unless it was given to the civil office for processing." The octomer croaked, face turned away.

He can never look you in the eye again after this, and he would sooner watch you wed Prince Riel before he can ever recover from this disaster. Azul expected you to laugh at him, to leave him in the dust at this very instant.

Instead, you slink back into your seat and play with the registration form on the table.

"I wouldn't mind if you handed it into the office as is, you know?"

"I beg your pardon?!" Azul choked, looking at you as if you had grown a second head. His jaw goes even more slack as you smile at him, returning those smug smiles he had been flashing you at the wedding. "You heard me. Who ever said that I never had an interest in you beyond the benefits of marriage?"

You glance the clock, gasping with fake urgency. You hop off from your seat, hands dusting at your grand wedding dress as you begin to drag yourself to the employee's lounge.

"Oh well, time to head into my shift for the Mostro Lounge. I'll talk to you later, Azul! Need to change out of this wedding dress!" You sang, pretending to ignore the way your crush scrambles for his bearings.

"Wait, Prefect! Just wait a moment, get back here! This discussion isn't over!"

JADE LEECH

"Fufufu, getting married without so much of a notice? Prefect, you attract the most strangest of things. I wonder if you enjoy danger as much as you surround yourself in it. Maybe I shouldn't be too surprised. After all, you have endured an overblot here and there. Not to mention you have Grim, and you have been living well despite having no magic. Oh, sweet Prefect, you truly are much more entertaining than you bargain for."

No one really knows what Jade plans to do when he gets to the venue. He saw the news, and just told everyone that he would take care of it. Floyd knows nothing of how Jade will deal with the situation, and neither does Azul. In fact, Azul found out rather late that Jade had decided to use up his vacation hours for today's little intervention.

That is not to say that he is heading to you without a plan. Why, Jade is a Leech, after all. Azul did not make him the vice-housewarden for nothing. He may not be as outwardly forceful as Floyd, nor a mountain of resources like Azul, but he is precisely good at one thing!

Gaslighting.

"My deepsea darling, am I late?"

Something is wrong. Well, something is always wrong whenever Jade is in the room. Such is an omen amongst Night Raven College students who would flee and swerve out of the day when this particular Leech twin is in the area. Though you have your own feelings for the eel, you cannot deny that something is awfully wrong when Jade storms in with his own tux with that eerily calm smile on his face.

He strides down the carpet, humming to himself. "I suppose I arrived just in time." Whatever words had begun to formulate in your head, they never really leave when Jade forces his way next to you, subtly making the prince make way for his intimidating frame.

Needless to say, Pierce was unpleased. "And who are you?" The prince questions, attempting to stand up to this stranger, only to fail once the eel looked down at him with an awfully cheery smile.

Oddly enough, it's that same smile he gives to students that are overdue for a favor.

"Why, I am the groom, of course!"

A cold wind bristled through the cathedral. From one row to the next, a chill runs down each of their spines. Still, there is not much of a reaction or rather, everyone was simply too stunned or too afraid to comment on this.

Your eyes are wide, fixated onto Jade's with bewilderment. "You are?" You whispered, almost uncertain yourself. Jade doesn't make much of a reaction, only keeping that calm smile as if this was the most natural occurrence in the world.

"I beg your pardon?" Pierce croaked, just as confused as you.

Clearing his throat, Jade chuckles to himself. He allows a small curt bow, a polite gesture. "Forgive me. My name is Jade Leech, and I am the groom for today's wedding." He tells the other man curtly.

The prince had let out a strangled noise in return, awkwardly trying to push Jade away from the stands. He failed, followed by a stammer. "You must be mistaken. I am the groom hoping to wed the lovely Ramshackle Prefect."

Jade hummed with feigned interest, nodding in acknowledgement. "Really? I suppose it is our lucky day. I, too, am marrying a Ramshackle Prefect. I just so happen to be marrying this one." He sang, turning to you at the right time to take in your stunned expression. Quietly, he eyes you from your head to the end of the dress's train.

"You look quite lovely in this dress, darling. Whoever picked it for you certainly had good taste." It comes so naturally, the way he slips his hand into yours. His thumb rubbed slow circles onto your skin in a soothing manner, but you cannot help and feel as if he was looking down at you like his favorite specimen. Those sharp teeth glint against the light as he grinned slightly.

Your cheeks flushed a warm red as Jade cupped your cheek, looking at you with such infatuation that it almost frightens you. You were almost certain that he wanted to eat you right on the spot. "Do not fret. It must be so nervewracking to be in front of so many strangers. I hoped to invite as many as I could, just so that we could share this lovely day with the world." He cooed so lovingly, and you swore that you were falling for it like the many sailors that died to sirens on the sea.

"Hello!? I'm right here!"

Ignoring the protests from the prince, Jade sighed to himself as he pulled away his palm from your face. "It is such a shame that I would have to skip so many steps. Why, I would have been delighted to take you on so many dates before taking your hand in marriage. You seem like the type to appreciate being courted properly. I hoped to bide my time with you, but humans do love spontaneity." The eel bemoaned, though he did not appear displeased.

Boldly, he closes in on the space between you and him. Pausing at the shell of your ear, sharp teeth gently nip at the skin before a hot breath brushed against you. "Please have me, Prefect." You had never heard him so quiet, almost shy yet the eel was far beyond hesitant.

Judging from your flushed expression, Jade held back a chuckle of his own. He didn't need your answer right now, even when he had shown you his cards. This wouldn't be about any of your feelings. Rather, he intended to do what he enjoyed doing best, whether it be coaxing the truth from another student or squeezing his next prey.

Jade decided to bide his time.

"Shall we repeat our vows? I don't believe I had the chance to express my adoration for you. Let me start from the beginning..."

Poor Pierce. The prince had to take a seat somewhere as Jade went on and on about his feelings for you. It was nothing too revealing or personal for the public view, but who would've known that Jade was completely capable of being obnoxiously in love? You've lost count of the many pet names he used, or the countless mushrooms he had likened you to. He truly had no shame, really.

However Jade managed to gaslight the entire cathedral into thinking that he was the one getting married today, he somehow pulled it off. At least, he did it long enough until Trein and Crewel dragged Crowley in by the ear to call the entire thing off.

Apparently, it is one thing to have the Prefect get married to a delusional prince. It is another to have the Prefect married to Jade Leech at this moment and time. Thankfully, they managed to intervene before the 'I do's' had begun again.

The ride going back to the college was eerily silent. You were extremely grateful that Professor Trein, Professor Crewel, and Headmaster Crowley had come at the right time to drag you out of that cathedral. You were no longer compromised, but was it really necessary to seat Crowley in-between you and Jade?

The eel didn't seem to mind, hands clasped onto his lap as the vehicle gently waved up and down according to the road. "I hope I did not make you uncomfortable, Prefect." He says calmly, glancing at you from the other side of the backseat.

You could only give him a sheepish smile from across, attempting to face the eel without the interference of Crowley's mask. "Everything's okay, Jade. I'm sorry you had to come and help me though."

"The pleasure was all mine. I am happy to have provided my assistance in the matter. Although, I was certain that everything was under control." You don't miss the way that Jade's eyes flicker to the two professors at the front then back to Crowley who flinched under the student's gaze. "But I do hope you realize that my words were genuine. I would have definitely preferred to give you my feelings at a more appropriate time."

"You like me?" You whispered in a weak attempt to find some privacy, but your impatience and curiosity had taken the better of you. Jade's composure never wavers, almost uncaring of a potential rejection. Shame was clearly unknown to him, and the hardened expressions of his professors go ignored.

"I most certainly fancy you. Wasn't it obvious?" He replied in a content tone. "Perhaps, would you like to join me for dinner at the Mostro Lounge tonight? The establishment would be closed, but I suppose Azul would not mind a special last-minute booking."

"I would like that."

"Wonderful," Jade lets out a quiet sigh, posturing himself to face forward. That eerie smile leaves an unsettling shiver through Crowley. "And thank you for coming to the Prefect's aid. I will be sure to remember this when one of you takes her down the aisle for our wedding."

A strong swerve to the left.

Trein's arm extends towards the wheel from the passenger seat, taking control of the vehicle as he attempted to drive the car back into the proper road. "Crewel, eyes on the road!" He exclaimed, far too concentrated on the road to take note of the stress written on Crewel's face. Crowley isn't doing much better, seeming to have passed out in his seat.

"Too soon to think about marriage? My apologies."

FLOYD LEECH

"Aww, Shrimpy! I knew you liked me, but don'tcha think you're playing a bit too hard to get? You're practically begging to be squeezed now! Can't wait to have you in my arms so you can't go anywhere no more." (He says it so lightheartedly, but the way his calmly strides his way towards the cathedral is so uncanny that it's frightening everyone that crosses his path).

A certain eel threw a tantrum when Azul forbade him from coming to your rescue. Such things should be handled by the right people, like any of the professors! Not you, Floyd! Letting Floyd get you is like sending a piranha fish into a tank full of bait. There was no guarantee that the wedding wouldn't end in an international disaster.

"I'll take care of it! What're you so worried about!?" Floyd asks accusingly as he casually cracks his knuckles with loud unsettling 'pops'. Jade's already tried talking him into doing something more levelheaded, but Floyd is having none of it. Shrimpy isn't getting married today, most certainly not to some no-name Prince hung up over shoe sizes.

Floyd is already gone the moment someone's eyes are off him. Not only is staff trying to figure out a plan for you, but now, they're scrambling to keep Floyd from making this messier than they should be. It's not that they distrust Floyd... actually, they do have every reason to distrust a ticking bomb like Floyd. No one can really predict him, nor can they predict what he will do to take you back.

Floyd isn't the type to dance around with formalities. Jade has always been the more diplomatic one, much more crafted around social codes and conducts. Frankly, Floyd couldn't give two shits about being polite and courteous, especially when it came to securing goods.

After all, this wasn't a deal under Azul's name. He didn't have to handle some precious cargo or sweeten up to some bargainer. Everyone is fair game when it comes to you.

"Congratulations, Shrimpy! I didn't know you were getting married to princey-poo over here!" The eel yelled from door, crooked grin and all. Your face lit up with a smile almost immediately as some sort of relief flooded your being.

"Floyd!" You exclaimed as your hands bunched up your dress and your feet climbed down the short stairs. You ignored the way Pierce called out for you, opting to race down the carpet until your head bumped into Floyd's sternum.

It couldn't be helped. If there was someone who was going to rescue you no matter what, you can bet on Floyd who would do it without hesitation, regardless of how messy the work would be... At least, that would only apply when it came to Shrimpy.

Tilting his head to the side with surprise, Floyd's grin widened as he took his hand to caress the top of your head. "Aww, you're squeezing me real tight! It's making me wanna squeeze back, real good." Your heart stopped for a moment, feeling his strong arms snake around your shoulders.

You braced yourself for a tight squeeze, holding your breath before he could crush you.

Oddly enough, it is Pierce that spares you from the blow. The prince cleared his throat, glaring at the eel as he reached for the handle of his sword. "Look, I don't know who you are, but you'd best return the Prefect to me right now."

Unfortunately, Floyd does so little as to bat an eye to the prince with a shrug. "Eh? I don't wanna." He drawled apathetically, too fixated on the pretty patterns of your dress.

"I beg your pardon?" Pierce choked, adamant for a proper explanation. He flinched at the way Floyd's gaze locks into him, frightened by the slightest look of irritation on the eel's face. "You heard me. I don't wanna give up Shrimpy for marriage."

You attempt to look up from Floyd's chest, hoping to placate him but his hand pressures your head to stay pressed to his chest. You wouldn't be able to see that scary look on his face, nor would you see the way that Pierce swallowed to himself in fear.

"I already came a long way to pick up Shrimpy. I don't think she likes you very much. Do you, Shrimpy? You wanna marry him?" You could only muffle your protests through his chest, and it seemed to be enough to snap the eel out his souring mood.

Floyd grinned, pleased with your supressed response. "You don't wanna? You hear that, princey? Shrimpy got no plans to get married today. I'll be taking her home now, okay?"

Finally, you get the chance to breathe once Floyd had released you from his hold. Before you could really regain your bearings, your world is flipped upside down when Floyd tosses you over his shoulder like a sack of rice. You couldn't really stop yourself from banging on his back, flustered by the gesture.

"Floyd, put me down!" You cried out. Your little punches only served to make Floyd laugh. "Don't wanna! You're too slow!" He yelled back with amusement, purposely picking up the pace to annoy you further.

"Wanna see how fast I can get you back to campus, Shrimpy? Hold on tight!"

Thankfully, Floyd gets bored of running before you got truly nauseous. He can't seem to remember how he got here in the first place, so the best thing to do is wait until Azul or Jade come to find you both. Until then, he plans to amuse himself with you for the rest of the day.

Similarly to Jade, Floyd has no shame when it comes to dragging you around in that wedding dress. He's already dragged you into a convenience store, an arcade, and even the basketball court despite your attire. Even as your dress got dirtier and dirtier, nothing really took away from how much he was enjoying himself with you.

He did get slightly annoyed when he noticed how much trouble you've had keeping up with him in those dreadful glass slippers. But he had just the perfect solution for that!

"Shrimpy! The store had it in your size!" Floyd giggled to himself, eagerly slipping off the glass slipper from your sore foot. Nothing could really compare to the relief you felt feeling the soft padding of the shoe instead of that painful arch. Wiggling your toes in the space, you smiled at the eel from your seat on the bench.

He easily performs the same gesture to your other foot, moreover pleased with how the runners looked on your feet. "Hehe, now we match!" Your eyes flicker down to his own shoes; basketball runners specifically tailored for comfort. Of course, Floyd would have invested in something like this. He was merfolk, after all. They would have taken better care of their feet compared to the average human.

"Oh, Floyd! You didn't have to get me these. I would've been just fine with slippers." You tell him with a slight pout. Floyd shrugged in response, rising to his feet. His shadow is cast over you, his body shielding you from the setting sun. "If I didn't get them for you, Shrimpy would've had a tough time playing with me."

Your pout intensified as you got up to your feet, grabbing at the basketball he had bought from the store as well. You bounce the ball off the asphalt, careful to not step on your dress. "At least let me pay you back later." As soon as those words left your lips, you immediately come to regret them.

It was never a good idea to offer compromises with an Octanivelle student.

A wide toothy grin comes across Floyd's face as he swipes the ball from you, taking a hop to the side as he shoots towards the rim. The sport is long forgotten however as he leers towards you, eager to strike at your weak attempts to take back your offer.

"Shrimpy's being generous today! I ain't interested in your thaumarks. Azul gives me plenty of that already," He stalked you down, backing you up against the wire fence. His arms cage you in, leaving you nowhere to run or hide.

"Now that I think of it, you haven't even paid me back for saving you. I'm still mad that you went to go and get hitched without me, y'know? I was really upset. I hate the idea of you getting together with somebody else." Floyd's mismatched eyes glint with need and want, followed by the way he leans in until his warm breath tickles your lips.

"I like chasing you, Shrimpy. But if you keep making me chase you, I'm gonna squeeze you so tight so you stop hiding."

Lips curved upward, Floyd smiles into the kiss he presses against you. There is a certain gentleness you never expected from him, a kind that you reciprocate. Molding your lips against his, the eel pulled away with a satisfied sigh. Still, he doesn't free you from the cage he created.

"You have feelings for me?" You question softly, followed by a giddy giggle of his own. "Took you long enough to notice! But that's alright," Another kiss is stolen from you, leaving you in a daze.

"You're gonna be making it up to me. We can start with a little squeeze!"

#viaviavie writes #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst #jade leech #jade leech x reader #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul ashengrotto #octanivelle

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eraserbread · 28 days ago

Note

Pleaseeeee, I'm begging you.... I need to know how Nanami react when his wife finally tell him she's pregnant and his not crazy this whole time.

click 4 context :)

nanami swears he's never seen you eat deep-fried... anything. it wasn't that you weren't keen; it just never fell into your lap. whenever you two ate outside of home, you found yourself walking hand-in-hand through the doors of your favorite hole-in-the-wall ramen shop.

but, tonight, you begged him. nearly cried with a jutted lip for something you never had, but doom-scrolled past on social media.

now you're sitting in front of him, back straight as an arrow as you uncharacteristically shovel steaming-hot slices of gyukatsu between your glossed lips.

he watches you hardly, flicking his eyes every few moments to catch the way your lips shake, or how you do that stupid little happy dance when you get the perfect bite. he's tending to his curried rice, eating slowly—your exact opposite. he smiles to himself, letting the table remain quiet with your content hums until you bite your tongue and whine out.

"slow down, my love." he speaks after swallowing his bite, leaning back. he can see the slight flush heading across your familiar neck as you react to his buttery voice.

"i'm so sorry. how impolite of me."

"well, i don't care much. just don't want you to burn or... bite yourself further." he nodding towards the sizzling hot stone just in your reach—a dangerous pairing with your eagerness.

flushed under fluttering gold lighting, kento swears you're beaming just a bit stronger. there's a tint to your cheeks that isn't usually there, a gleam that didn't exist until a month ago. he furrows his eyebrows.

"don't stare!"

"thank you for indulging me tonight." you smile as he bends at the knee to remove your shoes at your doorway. you're leaning a hand on the frame, body and mind full of wagyu and kento. "I know you've had a long day at work."

"long day or not, when you tell me you want something..." he pauses, grunting as he stands. "I listen. always. well, most likely."

you giggle, reaching up to hold the back of his neck. the small buzz of his undercut feels fuzzy and familiar—like home. "you're a good husband."

you don't notice, but kento does. the small lisp you give him in speech—he knows it's from your bruised tongue—he hums. "does it hurt a lot? your poor tongue?"

shaking your head, you're smiling. "no... yes... a little bit."

"may I see?" he's so close to you that his words bounce off of your lips like smog—so salty and warm. you nod immediately, always letting him in. "open up."

you're giggling again. "yes, sir." then you keep them parted, dropping your jaw so he can see inside of your warm mouth. you can hear his breathing in the closeness, the drag of his voice against his vocal cords as he inspects.

it's when he presses his finger against the side of your tongue, does it hit you. a debilitating, familiar wave of dizziness. then, you're weak and dipping, knees falling.

right before kento catches you with a single-arm hold on your back, he doesn't make a sound, but the look on his face is terrified. "nanami? are you okay? can you stand?"

it takes you a moment to focus, but his words make it easier. you shake your head, gently. "must've been the exertion."

"why don't you go sit? i'll bring you something, would you like tea?"

"i would love it. thank you."

so, he trusts your balance, but he lets you go like he's nervous. it's only to walk to the couch, but it seems as if you just can't catch your footing. then, you stall and lean to the side—he rushes you, sweeping you up in a cradle.

"no. straight to bed."

"i'm sorry." you whine, burying your head in the pillow when he places you on the mattress.

"i'm calling the doctor now. i've never seen you like this." he's keeping his promise in his perfect timing, scrolling through his contact list with a shaking head. you're staring up at him in horror, heart hammering in your chest, because you don't need a doctor. you know what's wrong.

"n-no, please don't... it's so late."

"doctors take call just like i do." then, he finds it, and just before his thumb presses that shiny green 'call now' button, you're stuffing your face into the pillow, letting it muffle your breathing.

"i'm pregnant." you whine into the fluff, hands twisted tight in the material. you hope he can't hear you, but it's far too late to take it back.

"hm?" kento heard you. crystal fucking clear. but, he's doing that unsure little eyebrow cock, thumb shaking as it hovers over his phone. "what?" he repeats.

"p-pregnant... i'm pregnant." it feels like lava pouring from your soul, so white-hot and shameful, because you've been hiding it for well over two months.

he scoffs, putting his phone down and burying his forehead in his big hand. there's a smirk there—very slight. you don't see it. "ah, well... yes, I suppose that explains it... all."

"please don't be mad at me, it's your fault."

"mine? how?"

"if you just..." you're still talking into the pillow, letting it do the heavy lifting. "you're always on top of me; it's like I can't keep you away."

kento laughs again, it's the most joyless sound that sparks so much within you. he nods, then sits down right next to you, smoothing a hand over the swell of your hips. "if it were possible to choose, i'd like to die on top of you—or inside of you."

"not funny." you're on the verge of tears, feeling the hormonal angst hit you like a ton of bricks.

kento clicks his teeth, then pushes your shoulder to get your flushed face free. "I wasn't trying to be... look, I am not mad-the direct opposite, actually." he's whispering, tracing that hand over your face. you're so warm, so free, now. "I am so happy. relieved that it wasn't something else, too."

"but i'm so scared."

"that's okay. so am i... both happy and scared and relieved; in love with you, your ways, and your spirit." that hand trails back down your side, then it rests right over your lower stomach, thumb rubbing across the covered skin. "and this little one we created together." when he presses, he can feel the firmness that wasn't usually there. "I don't think we will be very good at first, but i'd like it very much if we taught each other how to be the gentlest parents possible."

now, you're crying. it's falling in waves and buckets, snotting up your pillow and eliciting embarrassing sounds from your throat. you're kicking your feet, so built up and unsure where to expel it. "whyyyy," you sob, reaching to twist your smaller fist in his shirt. "why would you say that to me? I'm gonna explode—it's so-

"what are you talking about?" he cuts you off, cradling your clenched fist to his chest. he really just wants to wipe those tears away and make love, but he's kind of... afraid. you'll probably bite him just like your tongue.

"when you talk to me like that... it's so... i can feel it."

"hm... do you think our baby can feel it? i wonder if she can hear us."

"she? i feel like it's a boy."

"no." he whispers, shaking his head, and so sweetly purrs, "definitely a girl."

#currently standing at the edge of a cliff #abt to jump because WHY ISN'T HE REAL #i wrote him SO REAL just come to me already KENTO #DON'T PMO.. i know you're in there #.nanami <3 #.the wife guy!! <3 #.favs :o #eraserasks #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami fluff #nanami fanfic

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little-jana · 5 months ago

Text

"Good Girl"

Pairing: postprison!Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: steamy, 18+, fluff, no smut

Warnings: kissing, Spencer calling reader a good girl

Words: 3.4k

Summary: Spencer giving Reader a lot of compliments and one of them makes her blush a lot.

Spencer had been different since prison. Not entirely in ways the team would notice—he still rattled off statistics, quoted obscure literature, and beat everyone at chess. But when you’d known someone as deeply as I knew Spencer, even subtle shifts felt monumental. He was sharper now, his edges honed by experiences no one should have endured. But when it was just the two of us, in those quiet, stolen moments, he softened.

That’s why I stayed by his side tonight instead of joining the team for drinks. Spencer had waved off the invitation, saying he needed a quiet night, and when I hesitated to leave him alone, he’d asked me to stay. It wasn’t much—a shared meal and a chess game in his small apartment—but to me, it felt like everything.

“I can’t tell if you’re planning your next move or plotting my demise,” Spencer said, leaning back in his chair as he watched me.

“I can do both,” I said lightly, though the truth was, I’d been staring at the board for so long because I had no idea what to do.

He smirked, tilting his head slightly. “You’re stalling.”

“I’m thinking,” I corrected.

“You’ve been ‘thinking’ for six minutes and thirty-two seconds.”

“Are you timing me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, but I glanced at the clock when you stopped moving your hand after your last turn.”

“Of course you did,” I muttered, my eyes flicking back to the board. “Not all of us have an IQ of 187, you know.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. The soft light from the lamp behind him highlighted the sharp planes of his face, and for a second, I forgot what we were talking about.

“You’re better than you think,” he said, his voice low.

“Better at chess, or better in general?” I quipped, trying to deflect the heat rising in my cheeks.

Spencer didn’t answer right away. Instead, he studied me, his hazel eyes unblinking and intent.

“Both,” he said simply.

My heart skipped a beat, but I forced myself to focus. This was just Spencer being Spencer—kind and honest to a fault. It didn’t mean anything. Not really.

Finally, I made a move, sliding my bishop into place. I looked up at him triumphantly. “Your turn, genius.”

Spencer’s eyes flicked to the board, and he moved his queen with a casual grace that made my stomach sink. “Checkmate,” he said softly.

“What?” I leaned forward, scanning the board. He was right. Of course he was right.

“How?” I groaned, sitting back in my chair. “I was so careful!”

“That was a good game,” he said, his tone genuine. “You lasted longer than usual.”

I rolled my eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

“No, really,” he insisted. “Your defense has improved. That last move was smart.”

“Then how did I still lose?”

His lips quirked into a smile. “Because I’ve been playing chess since I was four, and you’ve only been playing for—”

“Three months,” I finished for him.

“Exactly,” he said, his smile widening. “But you’re learning fast. Good girl.”

The words hit me like a freight train. My cheeks burned, and I ducked my head, pretending to fiddle with the edge of the table.

“Something wrong?” Spencer asked, his voice tinged with concern.

“No,” I said quickly, my voice higher than usual. “I’m fine.”

“You’re blushing,” he observed, tilting his head.

“I’m not,” I lied, even though I could feel the heat spreading down my neck.

His lips twitched, like he was fighting a smile. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“I’m not lying,” I said weakly, avoiding his gaze.

“Hmm,” he hummed, his tone teasing now.

Desperate to change the subject, I stood and grabbed the empty takeout containers from the coffee table. “I’m going to clean this up.”

Spencer followed me into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as I tossed the containers into the trash. His presence was a tangible thing, and I could feel his eyes on me as I wiped down the counter.

“Good,” he said softly.

I turned to face him, confused. “Good what?”

“Good technique,” he said, nodding toward the counter.

My cheeks flamed again. “Are you just saying that to mess with me?”

“No,” he said, his expression softening. “I mean it. You’re good at a lot of things, but you never give yourself credit.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. “I think you’re overestimating me,” I said quietly.

Spencer stepped closer, his gaze never leaving mine. “No, I’m not,” he said firmly. “You’re smart, capable, and one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. You’re… amazing.”

My breath caught in my throat. The sincerity in his voice, the intensity in his eyes—it was overwhelming.

“Spencer…” I trailed off, unsure of what to say.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against mine. The touch was so gentle, so careful, it made my chest ache. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

I shook my head slightly. “It’s not that… I just don’t see myself the way you do.”

His brows furrowed, and he tilted his head slightly. “You should. Because I’m not wrong.”

The silence between us stretched, thick with unspoken words. I felt like I was standing on the edge of something, and for once, I wasn’t afraid to fall.

“You’re doing it again,” he said softly.

“Doing what?”

“Doubting yourself,” he said, his voice laced with a quiet kind of sadness.

I opened my mouth to argue, but the look on his face stopped me.

“You’re a good girl,” he said, his voice low and steady. “You just don’t know it yet.”

My cheeks burned, and I looked down, unable to meet his gaze.

“Hey,” he said gently, tilting my chin up with his finger. “Don’t hide from me.”

“I’m not hiding,” I whispered, though the words felt hollow.

“Yes, you are,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “And you don’t have to.”

Before I could overthink it, I stepped closer, closing the small distance between us. “Spencer…”

“Yes?”

I hesitated, my heart hammering in my chest. But then his eyes softened, and I knew. I knew he would catch me if I fell.

“I want to kiss you,” I said, my voice barely audible.

Spencer's lips curved into a small, surprised smile. “You do?”

I nodded, my cheeks flaming. “Is that… okay?”

His eyes softened, a mixture of surprise and something deeper—something that made my heart race. “It’s more than okay,” he said quietly.

I barely had time to process his words before his hand cupped my cheek, his fingers feather-light against my skin. He was so close now, his breath warm against my lips. For a moment, we just stood there, suspended in time.

And then he kissed me.

The world fell away.

It started soft, tentative—like he was afraid I’d disappear if he moved too quickly. His lips brushed against mine once, twice, each touch careful and reverent. It was everything I hadn’t dared to hope for: tender, consuming, perfect.

But then I leaned in, my fingers clutching at the front of his cardigan, and something shifted. The kiss deepened, and Spencer’s hand slid from my cheek to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. His other hand rested lightly on my waist, steadying me as my knees threatened to give out beneath me.

The softness gave way to something bolder, more urgent. His lips moved against mine with a fervor that left me breathless, and I couldn’t stop the small gasp that escaped me. Spencer stilled for a fraction of a second, as if startled by the sound, but then his grip tightened ever so slightly, and I was lost all over again.

He tasted like peppermint tea and something uniquely Spencer, and I never wanted it to end.

When we finally pulled apart, I was dizzy, my head spinning in the best way possible. Spencer rested his forehead against mine, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

“That was…” He trailed off, his voice unsteady.

“Amazing,” I finished for him, my voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and intimate in the quiet of his apartment. “Yeah. Amazing.”

My cheeks flushed, but this time it wasn’t from embarrassment—it was from the way he was looking at me, like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admitted, his voice low.

“Really?” I asked, my heart swelling at the thought.

He nodded, a small, shy smile playing at his lips. “But I didn’t think you felt the same way.”

“Spencer,” I said, shaking my head with a soft laugh. “How could I not? You’re… you.”

His brow furrowed slightly, like he was trying to puzzle out my words. “I’m not always good at recognizing when people care about me,” he said quietly.

“Well, I care,” I said firmly, my hand still clutching the front of his cardigan. “A lot.”

He smiled then, a real, unguarded smile that made my chest ache in the best way. “I care about you too,” he said softly.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us was thick with unspoken promises, the kind that didn’t need words to be understood.

Spencer’s hand slid from my waist to my hand, his fingers curling around mine. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

I looked away, flustered. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not,” he said, tugging me closer. “You’re smart, kind, and strong. And you’re a good girl.”

There it was again, the phrase that sent my heart into overdrive. My cheeks burned, and I bit my lip, trying to suppress the shy smile threatening to break free.

“You really like saying that, don’t you?” I teased, though my voice came out softer than I intended.

“Only because it’s true,” he said, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.

The sincerity in his voice, the way he was looking at me—I couldn’t take it. I hid my face in his chest, my fingers curling into the fabric of his cardigan.

“You’re impossible,” I mumbled against him, though my tone lacked any real heat.

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he replied, his voice filled with gentle amusement.

I tilted my head up to look at him, narrowing my eyes in mock indignation. “You’re lucky I like you.”

His smile widened, and he leaned down to press a soft kiss to my forehead. “I’m the lucky one.”

---

After we settled onto the couch, Spencer pulled a blanket over us, his arm draped around my shoulders as I rested my head against his chest. The quiet hum of the world outside seemed so far away, replaced by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Spencer?” I asked softly, my voice breaking the comfortable silence.

“Hmm?”

“This is real, right?” I tilted my head to look up at him, my eyes searching his face for any hint of hesitation.

He glanced down at me, his brows furrowing slightly. “Of course it’s real. Why would you think it’s not?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my cheeks flushing. “It just feels… too good to be true.”

Spencer’s hand came up to cradle my face, his thumb brushing lightly over my cheek. “It’s real,” he said firmly. “I’m real. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away, focusing instead on the warmth in his gaze. “Promise?”

“I promise,” he said softly, pressing another kiss to my forehead.

And in that moment, with his arms around me and his words echoing in my heart, I believed him.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #matthew gray gubler

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venomvalley · 4 months ago

Text

FEED ME!

PART II: FRIED APPLES AND SWEETBREAD ↬ sevika x pregnant!reader | 8.2k words

SUMMARY:

Sevika plays a game of cat-and-mouse.

TAGS: 18+! smut with feelings (thigh riding), vomiting mentions, PTSD, graphic violence, blood and gore, a lot of character development, soft!protective!mean sevika (it’ll make sense), listen this chapter is 8k a lot happens

NOTES: there are a lot of things in here that were really cathartic to write for me (i bet u can guess one of them) so uh i hope u enjoy it!!! if it sucks, i give yall permission to beat me with hammers

-> READ ON AO3 | PART 1 / SERIES MASTERLIST

The warm body in her bed is her worst idea yet, but you had begged her so sweetly, promised that you would stay on your side as you clung to her in the living room. You have a way of shaving down her edges, making her a certain kind of weak that she thought she would never experience again.

She finally accepts the fact that's been staring her in the face since the very first night she met you: you're her responsibility, especially with your attacker still roaming the streets. Nobody will protect you like she can, has both the skills and reputation to remain unmatched in the Undercity. It has to be her.

You’re also a liar. Fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow then immediately rolled over and curled yourself against her back. So here she lay, wide awake, shoved to the edge of the mattress as you attempt to fit yourself between her ribs. The curve of your stomach sits perfectly against the small of her back, your arm thrown over her waist, gripping her shirt in a loose fist as if terrified that she'll up and leave. The heat of your breath between her shoulder blades makes her skin crawl.

Well. She’s slept in worse conditions. And she wouldn't dare move you after the day you've had. At least you're warm, and you smell nice, and maybe the flush weight of your body isn't the worst feeling in the world.

In the dead of night, she touches your hand. A ghost of fingertips over the hills and valleys of your knuckles, and your tightened fist relaxes. That's how she justifies it—an action borne not from her own want, but for your comfort.

Behind her, you stir awake, groaning against her back, and she tugs her hand away like you've burned her.

“Sorry,” you mutter, voice thick and gravelly, “but if I move right now, I'll throw up.”

She looks over her shoulder and barely makes out the curve of your cheek in the darkness. “I have a bucket.”

You exhale a pained laugh, and she tries and fails to suppress the stretch of her lips. “Oh shit, don’t make me laugh.”

“I told you to stay away from the mystery meat.”

“It smelled so good, though,” you whine, forehead thumping against the notches of her spine.

“Was it worth it?”

“No.”

A few minutes later, you relax against her, and the long, rhythmic breaths against her back tell her that you're finally asleep. Your hand returns to her belly, curling into a weak fist, and she soothes her thumb over the breadth of your knuckles.

And that's how she falls asleep, too.

The next morning, you stumble into the kitchen bleary-eyed and squinting, roused by the smell of fried apples Sevika cooks on the stove.

She’s not used to making food at home. Sees no point in it when there’s only her to worry about, and would much rather save herself both the time and effort by stopping at a food stall or sneaking snacks from the bar’s stash.

But she has a reason now. Glances over at you as you lean against the counter nearby, shirt hiked up over your bump to scratch at your belly—

Two reasons.

At least you put on underwear today.

“What’s on the menu?”

“Fried apples and sweetbread.”

You lean close to the pan, twisting toward her to keep from hitting the stove, and close your eyes on a slow inhale. “Smells amazing.”

She scoffs. “It’s fried apples. Nothing special.”

“Says you.”

Good point. You probably haven't had a fruit in months.

You stay close to her, even as she fusses in the kitchen to collect plates and silverware. At one point, she almost elbows you in the stomach because you needed to be right behind her at the drawers, and she hisses back a sharp breath. Spins around to snap at you.

“Can you just—” at the sight of your stiffened shoulders, she cuts herself off, inhales deep and counts to ten, “sit down.”

She isn’t used to this. People crowding her space, her apartment housing an extra body. And she definitely isn't used to the sniffling coming from her kitchen table.

She makes your plate of food then puts it down in front of you. You sit with your head in your hands, elbows balanced atop the table. By the time she’s ready for her own breakfast, you haven't even touched yours.

“What, you don't wanna eat?”

Your only response is to push the plate away, still sniffling into your hand.

She considers the best way to go about this without making the situation worse. Considers ignoring you, letting you cry it out, but she doesn't wanna do that. She feels bad.

So she scratches at the back of her neck, peeking at you from beneath her brow. “I didn't mean to upset you, but I don't want you hurt.”

“I know,” you grumble, voice gravelly and pouting. “Just hurt my feelings.”

“Then eat.” She moves your plate back across the table. “It won’t be good cold.”

With one final sniff, you pick up your fork and cut a piece of syrupy apple in half.

“It's good with the bread,” she says, picking up a piece and motioning for your fork.

She stabs at a few slices of apple then mashes them into the toast, spreading the syrup over top. Your eyes glaze over as you track the motions of her hands, your crying spell quickly forgotten at the sight of good-smelling food. She reaches you the slice, and you immediately bite into it.

At your low moan, the closing of puffy eyes, her lips twitch toward a smile. “Good?”

You hum in response, nodding your head. “Amazing. Thank you.”

Always a ‘thank you’, she's noticed. Grateful to a fault.

“I’m going to the markets today. You can come, stop by the consignment shop.”

She doesn’t know how else to make the morning up to you aside from buying you a few gifts. Things to occupy you when she inevitably leaves you alone for a few days.

In a few hours, you're back on the streets with a familiar hand in hers. The Lanes in particular have no doubt noticed your presence by now, some strange woman following her around like a lost puppy. All they do is talk around here. Let them.

The consignment shop is relatively close to her apartment, and yet you still have to stop a few times to rest, complaining about the ache in your back. She waits, though. Knows a thing or two about pain.

Your mood brightens when you step into the small building, heading straight for the small section of books and tomes. She glances around the place, walls stacked floor to ceiling with all manner of objects, some useful and some decidedly not.

You pick various books up, tilt your head as you read an excerpt, then slot them back onto the shelf. Over and over again, making slow work of the first section.

Picky woman.

She walks over to you, hovering nearby to let you concentrate in silence with an adorable furrow to your brow.

“Do you like to read?” you ask, sparing her no more than a glance before turning back to the page you opened to.

“I stopped reading after my mom died.”

An olive branch. She knows something horrible about you, and now you know the same. Can count on one hand how many people she’s mentioned her mother to.

Your lips curl into a sad frown as you set down the book in your hands. “Can I ask how she died?”

Sevika swallows, eyes flickering down to the swell of your belly. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Did she read to you?”

You breeze past the question like you never even asked it, and she’s grateful. This isn’t a good place to start opening up old wounds.

She nods, trailing behind you as you waddle down the small aisle. “We didn’t have much, but she bought these picture books that we’d flip through before bed. I never really gave a shit about any of the words.”

Up ahead, you laugh, looking over your shoulder with a teasing smile. “I can see that.”

“What about your parents?”

You sigh. “Well, let’s see. My dad died in the mines when I was little, my sibling was stabbed to death in an alleyway, and my mom just… up and left when I was sixteen.”

A backstory all-too-common in the Undercity. Throw a cog in the street and hit a hundred traumatized people.

“I can't believe you turned out so…”

“Weak?” You scoff, picking up a thick book before reading its spine. “Yeah, my mom always said I was nothing like her. Hear that enough from somebody you can't stand, and you start being proud of it.”

Sevika blows out a breath, running a finger along the dusty shelf you stand next to. “I understand that more than you think.”

She bucked against her old man’s discipline for years. Fought her way out of the box he tried time after time to shove her in. Hard to believe, but there was a point in her life when she resembled you a bit too much.

But the world has a funny way of teaching you when the words of your parents fall on deaf ears. And teach her, it did.

“Regardless of what happened, I think we turned out alright.” You give her a small smile, expression absent in your eyes.

You turn back around to keep sorting through the books.

Another month goes by without incident. But with your mobility slowly decreasing, she finds herself at your feet more often than she ever expected to. Helping you with your socks and shoes, grabbing cookware from the bottom cabinet, picking up the items that you drop.

It's weirdly domestic.

One day, she wakes up to you plastered against her side, snoring into her shoulder, and she can't remember a life without you in it. That morning, she laid there for an embarrassingly long time just soaking up your warmth, the weight of your arm over her ribs, the leg tangled with hers.

She's fucked. No coming back from this. You’ve burrowed a place for yourself beneath all the rot, a speck of star in the expanse of midnight sky, and she doesn’t think you’ll ever dig yourself out. Doesn’t think she wants you to.

With her bag slung over her shoulder, she steps into the doorway of her bedroom where you rest beneath the sheets of her bed. You've slept a lot the past few days, eaten your weight in the pastries she's brought home. Not that she minds—it means you feel safe.

“I'll be gone for a few days.”

She doesn't want to leave you, doubly so when fear washes over your face, leaves you wide-eyed and frowning from where your face sticks out of the blanket.

“Do you have to go?” you ask, voice so broken and pitiful that she almost says fuck it and sets her bag down to lounge with you the rest of the day.

Instead, she sighs out through her nose, eyes closing to block out your pleading expression. “I do. Important business.”

Doing Silco's dirty work. She doesn't tell you that, but you already know.

“Just be careful, okay? I gotta tell you about the book I've been reading when you get back.”

She nods, hovers in the shadows of her dark apartment for a long moment before reciting her usual rule: don't go out unless you need to. At this point, you can quote it right alongside her.

She stays long enough to commit your lazy smile to memory before dragging herself out the door.

While she's away, she takes the opportunity to look into her mystery man once again. Silco's late to their meeting, no doubt some bullshit with Jinx holding him up, but today, she's grateful for it. The conversation she overhears at the bar between two of Smeech's goons is just what she needs.

“—swear, I thought the kid was gonna shit himself.”

The man closest to her, face pockmarked with scars, laughs low and wheezing. “Shit, did he tell you why?”

“Something about this girl he knocked up. He's worried she'll try to use the kid against him.”

Her fingers tighten around her glass, the liquid inside untouched. She doesn't drink much these days, but she can still keep up appearances. Loose lips and all that.

The man beside her whistles, shakes his head. “Man, that's rough. He say what he was gonna do?”

“Well, he's gotta find the bitch first. Saw her at that market thing last month, so she's clearly alive.”

The muscles in her legs tense up to keep her seated, but she wants nothing more than to get up and smash the guy’s teeth out against the bar top.

“Bet somebody’s hiding her.”

Before she can act on it, they finish their drinks and leave, passing by her in a tipsy rush as they fuss over being late to wherever they’re going.

At least she has information to go on, something tangible for the first time in a solid month. There’s no doubt in her mind that you’re the bitch they refer to, and now she knows that he’s looking for you.

Fuck, she hopes you stay inside. She doesn’t want to have to tell you all this, to stress you out for the sake of the kid.

So she’ll have to stop by their hideout, have a little talk with the guys at the bar. It's been a while since she's had a good game of cat-and-mouse.

The next day, she returns to a cold, stale silence inside her apartment. Different than when you’re sleeping or in the bathroom when she gets home. Empty.

She checks the other rooms to make sure and, just like she suspected, you’re not here. Shoes no longer near the front door, jacket still thrown over the back of the couch, a dent taken out of the money she always leaves behind.

Panic. The first place her brain goes. Did you leave in a hurry? Were you in trouble? Had he already tracked you here?

This is exactly why she never wanted to get attached. Sevika is not irrational. The word has no business in her damn vocabulary, and yet here she is, pacing a hole in the floor, fucking up her hair with her fingers because you're not here and the Undercity is a big place and she has no idea where to even start looking.

But she has to start.

She leaves out the front door and beelines down the hallway, shaking the nerves from her hands. Just as she goes to exit the building, a hooded figure steps inside.

There's no mistaking the roundness of your belly, the shape of your body even beneath the familiar cloak draped over your shoulders (an old one she used to wear, left folded in the bottom of a drawer).

You spot her with a wide smile. “Sevika, hey—“

She strides up then pulls you into a hug, arms tight around your shoulders, and you squeak as the breath leaves you in a rush, a paper bag rustling in hand. You wrap your unoccupied arm around her waist, hood falling off the back of your head.

“Nice to see you, too.”

She pulls away and takes your face between your hands, brows pinching up in the center. “Don’t do that to me again.”

Don’t make me worry. Don’t make me think about you every moment I’m awake. Don’t make me care.

“What?” Confusion washes over your face, and you grasp at her wrist. “I just went to get food.”

Not what she’s talking about, but she doesn’t expect you to understand. Neither does she, really. The special place that she's sets aside for you in her heart.

Even without the similarities to your situation and her deepest regrets, she—

Well. That seems to be the problem. You're her second chance.

“Whatever, just… let's go.”

Admittedly, she's frustrated when she walks back to the apartment with you in tow. All that stressing for nothing. Deals with enough bullshit on a daily basis without adding you into the mix.

She collapses onto the couch, balances an elbow on the armrest, and worries a hand over her forehead. Bone-deep exhausted. It’s been a long two days.

You settle in next to her, plastered against her side, and open your paper bag. The smell hits her: pastries from the small bakery down the street.

“I got some berry muffins. Wasn’t sure what kind you like, so they gave me a variety.” Huh. How thoughtful of you. “You gotta be hungry.”

“I'm not.”

“Oh, don't be that way. You need to eat.” You hold up a muffin in front of her face, waving it around as if to entice her. “They're really good,” you sing, and she turns to glare at you.

“I'm not a baby.”

“Then stop acting like one.”

She takes the food from your hand with a huff and bites a large chunk out of it to shut you up.

Apple. Go figure.

“Good, right?”

Might be the best she’s ever had.

She shrugs. “I’ve had better.”

With a scoffing laugh, you shove at her shoulder. “Liar.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you eat. A dozen muffins gone in five minutes, so full you don't even want to move.

Sevika sighs. “So. How have you been?”

“Haven’t been sleeping well. Nightmares.”

She hasn’t either. Can't sleep anymore without a warm weight against her back.

“What kind of nightmares?”

“The scary kind.” You rest your head on her shoulder, folding then unfolding the paper bag in your hands. “Just feel like something bad is gonna happen. I dunno.”

She can't tell you what she learned at the bar. You're still too skittish, too emotional to not freak out, and that's even more dangerous than being kept in the dark. At least you're safe with her, but she can't protect you if you decide to run off while she's gone.

She leans her weight against you, just enough to remind you that she's here. “If it does, we'll handle it.”

“What if you're gone?”

“Trust me. I'll know about it.”

Your cheek moves against her shoulder, and she looks over to find you grinning. “I'm so glad I'm not on your bad side.”

Venturing into Smeech’s territory is always an uncomfortable affair. The chaos is worse here, streets littered with trash and tossed-aside food and cigarette butts. Darker, too. Oppressive.

At least she knows the way to her destination. Stopped here a few times to swap information about one thing or another, and for the most part, the people she passes leave her be. She ignores the ones who don't.

When she steps inside the small building, the air fogs up with smoke so thick she heaves a cough. Packed with all types of people: working girls curled up in laps, soot-covered miners chatting at the bar, Smeech’s goons gathered around tables at the back. It only takes her a few moments of searching the crowd before she finds the pockmarked man from the bar, sat in the corner with two other men over a round of drinks.

She strolls up to the table and plops down in an unoccupied chair, and the men pay her no mind, still deep in conversation.

“Got a question for you boys,” she says, loud enough for them to hear over the crowd.

The one with the pockmarks snorts her way, taking a large gulp of his drink. “Who’s asking?”

“Me.” She leans forward when they turn to finally look at her, resting her metal arm atop the table. “I have some information one of your friends might be interested in.”

They all lean forward at that, setting their glasses down.

“Is’at right?”

“Heard from a little birdie that somebody’s looking for a pregnant girl. I know where she is.”

She’d never offer you up to them, but just the thought of their hands anywhere near you makes nausea broil in her stomach. Has to remind herself for a moment that this isn’t real. She’s playing pretend.

The pockmarked man slowly nods, gaze sharpening as he sizes her up. “Alright. Kid’ll wanna know that.”

“What’s his name? I can go find him.”

Hook.

“Or I can tell him for you.”

She shakes her head, face twitching into a grimace. “No can do. His ears only.”

Line.

He glares at her a long moment, tongue swiping over his teeth in some unnecessary display of bravado. One she doesn’t have time for.

With a disappointed sigh, she rises to her feet. Says, “No name, no information.”

And just as she goes to turn away—

“Alright, alright. Kid goes by Joker. Hangs out around The Smiling Jack. Know where that is?”

Sinker.

“I do.”

Easiest interrogation of her life. Barely worth the damn time it took to get here.

She leaves without turning back.

Sevika opens her eyes that morning and knows that something bad is gonna happen. Doesn't know what, or why, or how, but anxious dread settles like a stone in the pit of her stomach.

The feeling follows her throughout the day. Through her trip to the docks for a package, then to Silco's for its delivery, then down to the markets to settle a minor territory dispute. By the time she makes it back to Silco's office, she's exhausted yet wound-up. Expecting a fight with the unknown while fully unprepared.

The time comes when a bouncer creeps into his office, wide-eyed and wary. “Sevika. Hate to bother you, but there’s a girl downstairs wanting to talk to you. I didn’t know what to tell her.”

She already knows it’s you. Doesn’t even have to ask as she strides past him to the balcony overlooking the dance floor. And for you to be here, to leave the safety of her apartment past dark can only mean one thing: trouble.

It’s horrible timing. She has a meeting with Silco any moment, and here you are, huddled in the corner of the club, face shadowed by your hood. You look small, defenseless, ripe for the picking.

She stomps down the steps to the ground floor, people from the crowd staring as she crosses the room to meet you.

“What happened?” she asks, hand rising to rest on your shoulder as she looks you over for injuries.

You tremble beneath her touch, wide-eyed beneath the hood of her old cloak. “I went to the bakery to get some more muffins and these guys were standing outside the apartment when I walked out, and I noticed that they were following me but I didn’t know what to do so I went to the bakery anyway—“ you inhale a deep breath, growing more frantic as your story goes on, “and Tayla was there behind the counter. You haven’t met her but she’s really sweet and when I told her what happened she told me to hide in the back room until they left.”

You pause a moment to look around before continuing, “They stood outside for so long, to the point that I fell asleep at this desk they have in the office, and as soon as I woke up I came here.”

Sevika blinks. Tries to process the mountain of information you just gave her. So two men found out where you were staying, followed you to the bakery, then you came here.

Which means they could’ve followed you here. You can’t leave yet, not without her.

Stupid fucking meetings.

The hand on your shoulder squeezes to draw your attention back to her. “Listen. I've got a guy outside. Tell him you're with me, and he'll watch you until I'm finished here.”

One of Silco’s loyalists, a man she’s worked with countless times before. Hopefully, you know what to say. She doesn’t have time for a debrief.

“No, please–” You reach out to grab her, shaking hands tight around her wrist. “Please don't leave me.”

“I have to.” More than anything, she wishes she didn't. “Wait outside.”

She urges you toward the door with a gentle hand on your back, then heads back up to the office. Silco already sits in his chair when she strolls in, fingers tapping impatiently on his desk.

He scolds her for being late, and that’s the only thing she comprehends for the entirety of the meeting with you worming around in her skull. Something that happens more often these days.

You’re driving her crazy.

He can tell that she's distracted—as if it isn't the most obvious thing in the fucking world—but lets it go in favor of dismissing her once he's gone over the week's activities.

She doesn't hesitate to leave, bullying her way through the club, and her heart drops to the pit of her stomach when she sees the man she secondhand entrusted you to tossing back drinks at a nearby table.

Her first mistake was thinking some asshole would actually do his job.

She drags him out of the chair by the collar of his shirt, the glass in his hand shattering on the floor. “You're supposed to be outside.”

He stutters, eyes widening in surprise. “I was! I just came in to get a drink.”

“Where's the girl?”

He squints up at her. Clearly had more than just a drink. “Huh?”

Her hand tightens around his collar. “The girl I told you to watch.”

“Shit, she’s fine! I left her right outside, next to the door.”

With a frustrated growl, she shoves him away and leaves for the alley.

The first thing she hears when she steps out the door is a hushed conversation:

Who have you told?

Nobody, I swear.

She turns the corner and spots two figures against the wall, one trapping the other with a hand on their face. No mistaking you.

“Long way from home, Joker,” she calls, boots thumping on the pavement.

A surprised laugh echoes off the walls as he releases you, stepping away to spread out his arms. “Sevika. I heard you were lookin’ for me. Also heard you've been walking around the Lanes with a little stray nipping at your heels.”

Her lips twist into a scowl at his mocking tone, and she glances over at you huddled against the wall, a shaking hand pressed to your cheek.

“Let’s get on with it,” she growls, prosthetic hand clenching into a fist at her side.

He stops. Shakes out his arms as spider-like fingers elongate, each metal joint bending back with a squeal as they separate into razor-sharp knives beneath the sleeves of his coat.

Huh. Never seen that before.

Sevika readies herself. Tosses her cloak aside and adjusts her stance, heart pounding against her chest, blood burning hot in preparation for a fight.

This is what you saw before he—

He propels himself forward, crossing the distance between them in an instant. She sidesteps at the last second, head twisting away from his clawing hand. But she isn’t quick enough. The needle tip of a finger cuts across her brow, a stream of blood catching on the corner of her eye.

They turn to face each other. Her focus narrows as she sizes him up, lets him back her away from the mouth of the alley while your form slowly fades into the shadows.

That’s it, asshole. Keep it coming.

“Why you running?” he asks, smile toothy and wide. “Is the big, bad Sevika scared?”

He lets his guard down, slightly rising from a crouch, movements quick but imprecise, stance novice-like. Cocky.

Boring.

She rushes him, her prosthetic fingers slotting between his claws and twisting, bending them back with a spark of light. Her other fist catches the edge of his jaw, a crack from her knuckles as he stumbles onto a knee, arm stretched out behind him from her grip on his mangled fingers.

She rectifies that by ripping them out. Tossing them behind her.

“Scared, am I?” she asks, skirting the range of those annoying ass knives to face him. “Get the fuck up.”

He stumbles to his feet in a rage, growling as he runs at her again. Stabs his arm out when she ducks under his slash but fails to turn his hip into the motion, leaving his left side wide open. Exactly what she needed.

It takes less than two seconds for her to block with her fleshy arm and plant her metal fingers between two of his ribs. To shove him back until he hits the wall, teeth bared as he growls and spits blood from his mouth. Yanks his hand in an attempt to dislodge his claws.

Thankfully, her forearm wasn’t impaled, but the blood pours down her bicep and shoulder. Cut all to shit.

She heaves a much-needed sigh to calm the pounding of her heart, wriggles her arm out of his hold and presses it to her stomach to stem the bleeding. “Congratulations. This was the most boring fight I’ve ever been in.”

Anticlimactic, really. She didn’t expect him to go down so easily after all that bravery. Look where his shit-talking got him.

She yanks out her prosthetic hand with a wet squelch, and he slides down the wall, gritting his teeth around a pained cry.

From the corner of her eye, she sees it: the swing of a pipe. She stumbles away before it can hit her, eyes wide as your form comes into view, your face contorted in pure rage. It meets the side of his head with a squishy thump, knocking him to the ground.

She steps out of the way.

You need this. An outlet for your pain, to give the finishing blow. Sevika did her part.

She lets you bludgeon him as she catches her breath, wiping her face off with the hem of her shirt. It’s a bloody affair, already drying on her prosthetic and clothes, and the spray of his blood covers you, too.

You, consumed by anger, screaming at him until your voice grows hoarse:

I fucking hate you.

You ruined my life.

Motherfucker. Asshole. Piece of shit.

When you start coughing, she looks over at you. Still going, kicking at him with an exhausted foot. His head isn’t even a head anymore, just a bowl for brain and blood and tissue. No coming back from that. Gone.

It’s over.

She steps in. Wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you back to her chest with little effort, smearing her blood on your shirt and skin. You struggle against her, wriggling beneath her hold, and she presses a cheek to your temple.

“Alright. Hey, it's done. You got him, honey.”

She scrubs a calloused hand up and down your arm because she knows the adrenaline crash well, and the way you collapse into her, chest heaving for breath, blares a warning that you’re already there.

Which is how she knows what comes next.

You rip free from her and stumble over to the wall, palms flat against the brick as you throw up and cough and heave until your lungs threaten to collapse.

Yeah. She doesn't miss those days.

She walks up to you as the pain of her injury finally blooms, and soothes a hand over your back as you brace your body against the wall, legs threatening to give.

“It’ll pass soon.”

You spit onto the pavement. Turn to glance up at her with red, teary eyes. “I’m aware.”

Still, the anger consumes you. She knows that feeling well. Shaped hers into a weapon, a default state of being after everything else failed her. Too bad that finally worked—anger is a hard emotion to shake.

You rest a hand over your stomach with a wet cough, turning to fully face her. “Fuck, I feel awful.”

“Water will help.” She holds out a bloody hand, and you take it, eyes empty and lifeless as you meet her stare. “Come on.”

She spares what’s left of Joker little more than a glance as the two of you pass by, but takes a moment to grab her cloak from the ground. He doesn’t deserve recognition even in death, and she shields you from the sight, steering you away with an arm across your shoulders.

The bouncers wave you inside, and she stops to tell them what happened. They’ll find somebody to take care of it. Always do.

She sits you down at an unoccupied corner of the bar where the shadows bleed deepest. You’re about to have a really bad time, and you deserve the privacy to unpack everything until she can get you home.

You down the cup of water she brings you in four big gulps, then hand it back and ask if she can bring you another. And then another, and another. After the third cup, she cuts you off. You’re no doubt one sip away from throwing up all over the floor.

She sits down beside you, a thick towel from the bar tied around her weeping arm. You’re bloody from head-to-toe, some hers but most his, glistening to an almost comedic extent beneath the flashing neon lights.

You stare ahead, blinking in thought. Calm.

Shock.

“I just killed someone.”

Back here, the music muffles, quieter than on the main floor. Don’t have to scream even when you sit right next to each other.

“You did.”

“I got you hurt.”

“He did.”

“I shouldn’t have come here. What if he killed you?”

She coughs out an amused laugh. “That prick? I’m insulted.”

You don’t laugh, or smile, or joke back with her. You just sit there, still as stone.

“I lied to you before.”

She pauses, leans in as your voice shrinks to hear over the vibrating bass. “About?”

“I did know him. We… we used to be friends, I guess, through his sister. I lived with her family after my mom died, and he was always really nice to me until… well. You know the rest.”

“So how'd you end up on the street?”

You swallow thick, eyes misting beneath the lights. “I tried to tell my friend what happened, but she didn't believe me. Said she knew her brother and he'd never do something like that.” You wipe a frustrated hand over your eyes. “She kicked me out. Didn’t even let me get my shit.”

Everything makes a lot more sense now. Why he was so adamant on finding you. Why you were in that alley in the first place. What the goons meant when he said you could use the kid against him.

Something inside her shatters. A crumbling of walls at the sight of you collapsing into sobs.

She wraps you up in an awkward side hug, arm exploding with pain, but she doesn't know what else to do. Can't say anything that would make the hurt stop.

The two of you are seated on the couch again. Hours out from a shower, teeth brushed, ready for bed. But neither of you can move from this spot. The soft cushions seek to swallow you up after the day you’ve had.

Nobody's ever brushed her hair for her. Maybe her mom when she was little. It's not like she'd actually let someone, but you're the first person to ever offer, and she’s so exhausted she took you up on it.

It’s nice. Nicer than she expected. You’re gentle about it, brushing from ends to roots, combing your fingers through each section afterward to make sure that all the tangles are out. She could fall asleep right now.

A tangible, piercing weight against the side of her face makes her turn her head. Your gaze tends to do that. Affection so thick it manifests into reality.

“Your hair looks pretty like this,” you say, soft and content.

“A mess?”

“Mhmm. You look a lot more relaxed.”

She shoots you an unimpressed look. “Haven't relaxed a day in my life.”

You set the brush down on the coffee table then cuddle closer to her, testing the boundaries of her personal space. She wants to say something, to push you away, but she's exhausted and—

And frankly, she doesn't fucking want to. You're warm and soft, and she needs that right now. The comfort, the companionship. Things she's deprived herself of for years, decades at this point. But there's not a fucking point anymore. You're bonded for life, share the blood on your hands of a man who deserved a fate worse than death.

Her eyes catch the swollen curve of your nose, the abrasion on your cheek, and she's ready to kill him again. She scrubbed the blood from beneath her nails hours ago, and yet she still feels it there, cloying and sticky.

She stares at you, brows pinching together, half-terrified and half-angry. “I don’t know how to be anything else besides this.”

Cold and cruel. A weapon of destruction. Lonely. A lot of very bad things.

“Then don’t.” You shrug, as if your solution is common sense. Easy. “But I think you want to be a worse person than you actually are. I mean, you saved me from that alley.”

“I almost left you there.”

“But you didn’t.”

She stares at you, eyes flickering over your features—the curve of your cheeks, the shape of your lips, the color of your eyes. You hold no resentment, no anger for her admission. For a moment, she almost believes you.

“I wanted to.”

But you have no idea what kind of person she is. The shadows that haunt her.

”But you didn’t.” You lean in close, close enough for her to count your lashes, for the curve of your belly to press against her side, and she holds her breath. “And you buy me books, and cook me food, and put my socks on. You let me cuddle you. You make me feel better when I’m sad.”

Don't do this to me. Please don't do this. I can't take it.

Things weren't supposed to go like this. She did what she thought was right, and now her entire world has upended because of you. She's soft now, malleable with you around. It's dangerous. Could fuck up everything she's worked so hard for, the empire she helped build with the teachings from her old man.

You brush a strand of hair behind her ear, thumb caressing her skin just above the jagged cut on her eyebrow, so tender she could cry, and she blinks away the mist in her eyes as you smile—that same smile with your crescent-shaped eyes and full cheeks. So much fuller since she saw you that night in the alley.

She did that. Something so gratifying about watching you get better in her care.

Maybe you’re right.

“You’re good to me.” Her heart threatens to shatter her ribs, right hand fisting the fabric of her pants as you rest your palm on the curve of her knee. “I'm so glad for that. Glad I met you.”

So is she. Her life has meaning on a human-need level. Someone to come back to, that’s seen the worst in her and still chose to stay. A home that feels like home, with your little decorations laid out across the apartment, your own personal fingerprint that brings life to the space.

She doesn’t say and of that, though. Couldn’t form the words if she tried.

So she kisses you instead. Hopes you understand from the press of her mouth that the feeling is mutual and terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time.

It's what you've been waiting for, coaxing her toward all evening. Pitiful little thing, so desperate for love that you settle for hers. All but worthless and you don't even know it yet, but a part of her knows that you wouldn’t care.

Once your lips meet, neither of you can stop. A crescendo of the last three months together—the eggshell-walking and the what-ifs, and she tried to prevent this for as long as she could, but she knows a thing or two about inevitability.

You kiss her like you love her, like you pour your soul into each flick of your tongue against hers. Sevika doesn't do things in quarters or halves, and neither do you. She understands that now. All or nothing.

Her metal hand cups the underside of your thigh, dragging you into her lap. You smell nice, ripe at the curve of your neck where she layers wet, sucking kisses. You whisper her name like a promise, comb scratching fingers through her hair, and she fights every cell in her body to keep from marking you with her teeth.

Not now. Not yet. Some time soon when you stop feeling like glass in her hands.

You grip the strands at the base of her skull, tilting her head back against the couch, and her lips spread into a salacious smile at the bite of pain in her scalp.

Seems her stray kitten has claws.

You fit your thumb inside her mouth, following the blunt underside of her front teeth. Back and forth, before you press against the wet heat of her tongue.

“So pretty,” you mutter, eyes lidded as they roam the features of her face, as if you’re seeing her for the first time.

She bites you. Just hard enough for you to jolt, a jarring scrape of her teeth against the fleshy pad of your thumb. You pull away in a fit of giggles, smacking her lightly on the right arm.

“Don't do that!”

“Don't call me pretty.”

Don’t let me be vulnerable.

“Then what can I call you?” You lean forward, mouth brushing along the curve of her jaw. “Beautiful?” A kiss just below her ear. “Handsome?” Another against the pulse of her neck.

Heat wells in the pit of her stomach at your words, at the kisses you trail down her neck and across the bare skin of her shoulder.

“Nothing.”

You sit back with a huff, lips twisted up in a pout. “Then I'll call you all of them.”

She rolls her eyes, response quickly ripped from her thoughts when you suck a rough kiss into her collarbone, and then the curve of her jaw, and then the column of her throat. A hand cradles the back of your neck as your hips grind against her, thumb following your thumping pulse.

“I'm sorry,” you pant into her shoulder, nipping her with your teeth, “but you're so pretty and it's been so long—”

She shushes you, lips ghosting against your temple. “Take what you need.”

You whine into her neck, shuffling your legs around to straddle a muscular thigh, and she curls a warm palm over the curve of your ass. Thicker here, too, filled out everywhere. You lean back, balance yourself with both hands on her knee, and rut your hips against the rough fabric of her pants.

You’re a sight to behold. Head thrown back to expose the column of your throat, full tits bouncing under your shirt with each pass you make over her thigh. The wet spot your cunt leaves behind drives her a little crazy, sunburst-hot between the legs. She wonders what you taste like, how tight you’d be around her fingers. How wet she can get you. How many times she can make you cum in a row.

How good she can make you feel.

“Needed this, didn't you?” she rasps, hands moving to your hips to help you build up a steady rhythm.

“Yes—“ You lift your head to look at her, head lolling on your shoulder, slack-jawed, brows tilted up in pleasure. “Fuck. Please.”

“I know.” She cups a hand over the back of your neck, eyes roaming over your face. (So pretty. So sweet. So soft.) “I’ve got you.”

She doesn’t expect you to start crying. To nuzzle against her wrist and repeat the same two words over and over again:

Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Her heart aches like a fresh bruise. You’ve suffered so much, more than she probably knows, and still, you’re good. Soft and sweet. Weak. Ill-fitted for the world of the Undercity.

You collapse forward with a ragged gasp, forehead fitting perfectly in the curve of her shoulder. Like you were made for each other.

(A good thing she found you then.)

Curled up against her, your body tenses, lungs seizing as you rock against her so hard the couch creaks.

And then everything stops. You breathe again, your muscles relax, you press a kiss to her lips that tastes like the salt of tears.

“Thank you,” you whisper, panting breath ghosting over her mouth.

She grins, hand soothing over the curve of your back. “Any time.”

You exhale a laugh, hiding your face in her shoulder. “Sorry. I got a little carried away.”

“A little?”

“Stop. It’s embarrassing.”

“Quite the show, though.” The slick mess she’s made in her pants is proof of that. “I liked it.”

You whine, carefully rolling off her lap to the cushion beside her. “It’s not nice to tease people.”

“Do you know who you’ve been living with?”

You try to glare at her, though your venom is less potent with how fucked-out you look. Reminds her of the pent-up heat in the pit of her stomach.

She needs a damn shower—twenty minutes, hot water, and her imagination. A few good orgasms should do the trick.

“Do you want me to…” Your hand finds its way to the inner curve of her thigh, and her hips twitch in response, a silent invitation completely out of her control.

Not that she doesn’t want it (fuck, she does), but your eyes struggle to stay open, unfocused as you look up at her.

“You’re falling asleep.”

“I still want to.”

She shakes her head, curls her fingers around your wrist. “Go to bed. I’ll take care of it.”

“Can I watch?”

She rises to her feet with a hoarse laugh then pats you on the leg. “No. Bed.”

Twenty minutes, a stream of hot water, her imagination, and three orgasms later, she falls into bed beside you and promptly passes the hell out.

She wakes up beside you in nothing but a pair of underwear, face down against the sheets. Has no idea how she didn’t smother to death in her sleep.

When she turns her head, she finds you already awake with your nose in some book she brought home last week, lit by the morning sun that streams in through the window. Glowing. Beautiful.

Shit. She has it bad.

“Can I ask you something?”

At the sound of her voice, you smile, looking away from your book. “Of course.”

“You plan on keeping the kid?”

The first thing out of her mouth, a bit impulsive from the foggy remnants of sleep. A question she’s been wondering this whole time.

You wince like she's smacked you across the face, and she wishes she could take the words back. “Listen…” a heavy sigh, “I know it doesn’t make sense, but I feel protective over her. It's not something I can even explain—”

“You don't have to.”

Your head drops, and you fiddle with the pages of your book. “Sevika, I don't have anybody. But I can… I can start over now, give her a good life. We don't have to run anymore.”

“You keep saying ‘her’.”

“She's a girl. I can feel it.” You look down at your belly, head tilting to the side as you give it a steady pat. “It's funny. I don't even know how far along I am.”

Sevika blinks. Never realized that she doesn't either. “Then you need a doctor.”

“Can't afford one.”

“I can.” She shrugs, as if her solution is common sense. Easy.

“I'm not gonna ask you to do that.”

She sits up with a pained groan (fuck, she needs to change her bandage) and ignores the way your eyes lock on to her bare chest. Bites back a teasing grin. “I offered. And besides, we gotta make sure the kid's okay.”

You look at her like she hangs the stars in your sky. “See what I mean? You’re so good to me.” A chaste kiss to her lips, the ghosting taste of cheap tea. “More than you realize.”

Maybe if you say it enough, she'll start to believe it.

Maybe a part of her already does.

#sevika x reader #sevika x you #arcane x reader #arcane x you #x reader #my fics #fic: feed me!#ns/ft #posting this then turning off my phone cause im so nervous

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tonycries · 1 year ago

Text

Why Can't I Keep My Fingers Off You? [Part 2] - G.S.

Synopsis. “Besides, Toru, just because it worked for you doesn’t mean it’ll work for me.” “Wanna bet?” For Satoru, convincing you to take the aphrodisiac chocolate too wasn’t the hard part - the hard part was being shoved into that bathroom stall, cock throbbing, mind spinning - trying not to beg for mercy.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected sex, slight femdom, overstimulation (male), lots of cum, you absolutely ruin Satoru, semi-public sex, subby! Satoru, aphrodisiac sex, multiple rounds, shutting up Gojo Satoru by making him cum in his pants, pet names (darling, my girl), swearing.

Word count. 3.7k

A/N. Can be read as a standalone, but PART 1 HERE.

Bros this was mad hard to write oml. Art by @_3aem on X.

Satoru had everything he needed to absolutely ruin you tonight.

Overpriced Cartier glasses? Check.

Jet-black Hellcat freshened up, ready with a little surprise for you inside? Check.

You, all dolled up and brows furrowed adorably at him? Holy shit, check.

“Toru, if we’ve missed our reservation because you had beef with the neighborhood cat again…”

“He was looking at you wrong! I had to defend your honor!” Dramatic protests falling on deaf ears, Satoru speeds through the darkening city streets, still grumbling under his breath about “cats these days”.

With your fiancé being absolutely swamped with missions recently, you’d been anticipating this night for weeks now.

Little did you know, Satoru had just as much - if not more.

Soon enough, the neon lights of that upscale, new restaurant you’d been absolutely dying to visit recently come into view.

Okay, it’s time.

“Y’know…” he begins, glancing at you with that familiar mirthful glint in his eyes. Laughter bubbling to his throat at your knowing stare, he plows on “Remember that one night where I just so happened to come across your special chocolate?”

“You mean swiped from my secret stash?”

“Semantics” he waves off. “But anyway, I was thinking…” he voice trails off mischievously as he swiftly turns to grab the mysterious black bag sitting on the backseat that you’d been eyeing suspiciously ever since you got in the car.

Oh shit, so that’s what he was onto. Eyes widening, “Toru, no.”

He whines, a pout forming on his lips. “C’monnn, no one’s gonna know except me. I want to make this night unforgettable, my girl.”

You raise a brow, “Unforgettable? Toru, your idea of unforgettable will end up with both of us arrested.” After the madness of last time, you’d ignored his sticky note for a reason!

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you try to justify - probably to yourself just as much as Satoru, “And just because the aphrodisiac worked for you doesn’t mean it’ll work for me.”

He wiggles his eyebrows, twinkling eyes still undeterred. “Wanna bet? I’ll do the dishes for all of next month. We’ll never know till we find out, darling.”

You narrow your eyes at the hand already snaking its way inside the bag, faded finger marks from last time still searing into your skin. Catching Satoru’s gaze - behind the amusement, something else shines darkly.

Shit.

Goosebumps erupt down your spine.

A beat passes. One. Two. Only the revving of the engine filling the tense air.

“...two months.”

It’s all Satoru can do to not jump in joy in his seat right now - knowing his girl, you’ll probably take back what you said and immediately bonk him on the head for being so ridiculous.

“Deal.” he mutters lowly, pulling up to the driveway.

A flash of hot pink. In the short time it takes the valet to reach your car, Satoru has already split that too-familiar chocolate, holding out the bigger part to you, eyes gleaming with excitement. “I swear this’ll be a night you won’t forget.” he grins, biting into the chocolate.

God, he was going to be the death of you.

The decadent flavor washes over your tongue, a slight tingling on your tastebuds. But, it’s still just chocolate, right? You scoff - at least you won’t have to do the dishes for two months.

Now, Satoru knows he won’t have to do the dishes for two months.

Ah, how heavenly you’d be, splayed out and begging for mercy underneath him. Heels clacking against the polished tile and your hand warm in his as the maître d’hôtel ushers you both inside, dick twitching in anticipation. Shit, was the chocolate working already?

He risks a glance at how you’re faring - nope, still normal. That’s okay, he’ll be driving you crazy in no time.

---

Okay, maybe he won’t be driving you crazy in no time.

How dare you sit there so gorgeous and unbothered, sipping slowly on your wine while he’s here mind whirling around how he’ll fuck you right here right now on this table without getting arrested for public indecency.

Fuck, it was hitting him hard.

Cock aching, heat rushing to his cheeks, eyes bleary - he sighs in frustration, resigning himself to do the dishes for two months.

Why did he even think of this? Damn his big fucking ego, he should’ve never taken that chocolate again. Maybe if he eats you out just right he could lower it to-

A feathery touch on his thigh. Too light for any sort of friction - just enough to set his skin ablaze. So deft that Satoru thinks he must’ve imagined it.

Until there it is again. Soft caress dancing delicately up his thigh.

You.

A shiver creeps down his spine, blood rushing straight to his dick. Probably for the first time in his life, Satoru is speechless - maybe because you’ve reached underneath the table, teasingly sliding a heel along the top of his thigh.

“…darling…”

“Hmm?”

He blinks away the haze in his eyes, raising them to meet yours. “Wha-”

Oh. Oh, fuck.

What has he gotten himself into?

Eyes half-lidded, brows furrowed, and looking into his soul with a predatory glint that jolts the great Gojo Satoru right to his very core - and to his throbbing cock. He’d be lucky to make it out alive. Maybe he should just beg for his life right now.

Minutes tick by - or maybe it was seconds - Satoru is clueless. Mind only focused on the heel inching closer and closer, dangerously near to where he needed you the most. A smug smirk curls your pretty lips as his mouth drops into a soft oh.

The air crackles with an unspoken tension - his hips trying to subtly move you towards the erection furiously straining against his pants. He needed it so bad. It’s fucking pathetic, he knows. But he couldn’t give less of a fuck as your sole grazes his aching head. Pressing down. Hard.

“Fuck!”

Stomach flipping - before Satoru could fully process what the fuck was happening - he cums embarrassingly in thick spurts that pool on his pants, soaking right through the fabric, probably smearing on your new heels.

Head spinning, he bites his knuckles hard enough to draw blood, muffling the desperate moans threatening to escape his lips.

He grinds his hips in shallow, mindless motions in a desperate attempt for more friction.

Instead, he gets the opposite.

“Behave, Toru.” you warn, swiftly resting your heel back on the floor, voice strained with something that makes his sensitive dick quiver animalistically.

You huff out a chuckle at the almost-inaudible whimper of disappointment that rips from his throat. It’s laughable, really, he was supposed to be the one ruining you. This was so not fucking suave.

Face burning - whether due to the chocolate or embarrassment at the warm patch on his pants, he doesn’t even know - Satoru wishes the Earth would swallow him up whole. Would it be overkill to just teleport outta here?

The only thing that snaps Satoru out of his little reverie is your pretty lips forming into a tut. “Now now, Toru. It’s rude to make a mess at a restaurant. Why don’t we go to the restrooms and get you cleaned up, hm?”

Oh. Shit.

A firm grip on his arm, his hands desperately covering his crotch.

He was not going to make it out of this alive.

Honestly, it wasn’t hard to bribe the waitress into letting you follow into the restroom after your fiancé - and put up an Out of Order sign promptly afterward. The actual hard part was trying not to rip off his clothes and give into your desires before you two even made it there. But you couldn’t let anyone else see him like that, of course.

You were sure that if you had Satoru’s powers then you would’ve hollow purpled everyone here and taken him already.

You were going to ruin him.

Mind running a mile a minute, Satoru wouldn’t even be surprised if he’d just teleported to the restroom. If he was in a better state of mind he might’ve even admired the decor.

“My girl.” he breathes out, voice ragged. It’s all that is said before your lips are on his.

It was like a fever dream - the bruising urgency of your lips, your aching pussy, and the heat of the stall as your quickened breaths mingle in a desperate dance. Your tongue intertwining with his.

Manicured nails ripping his shirt open, you don’t have half the mind to register the designer buttons hitting the floor.

Satoru’s lips hazily chase yours as you pull away delicate strings of spit snapping just as quickly as your sanity.

Your mouth waters at Satoru’s chest in all its chiseled glory, creamy skin peeking out from whatever remnants of the shirt were clinging to his sculpted shoulders. You wanted to ruin him.

“You dirtied my heels, Toru.” you frown, mockingly innocent. A choked-up gasp leaves his throat as you snake a hand down to firmly grip the erection straining against Satoru’s wet pants. Unmoving. “What shall we do about that, hmm?”

“Ah! Please, my girl.”

“Please what? Use your words, Toru.”

“Please. Wanna cum so bad.”

Satoru learned the hard way that he could never turn back after uttering those words.

Though, he already had an inkling once you immediately slam him against the stall door, fumbling with his belt, nails digging hard into his prominent v-line. “If you say so, Toru. Better not stop till you’re shooting blanks.”

The only thing that registers in his mind is the deadbolt echoing throughout the empty bathroom and his still-rock hard cock throbbing in your hands.

“Ah- hah! Fuck.” low groans leave his throat at each jerky movement down his length.

Head thrown back, pants bunched underneath his heavy balls, your tits pressing against his body as your hands urgently move along his veined length - up, up, up.

Your thumb harshly teases his flushed head, spreading the precum from his leaking tip lewdly. “Oh God.”

His knees buckle, hands slamming against the top of the stall hard enough to make the walls tremble, desperately trying to keep himself from collapsing. Mind spinning, he doesn’t even know if he’s on planet Earth anymore.

“Toru~ Gonna let me join in on the fun?” your dangerous purr sends his cock twitching, breath hot against his ear.

Your cunt quivers, slick soaking your panties and trailing down your legs at the pornographic moans spilling from his lips as you fucked his thick cock with your fist. You wanted him so badly it was driving you insane.

Straddling a muscled thigh, your clothed core meets the fabric of his pants. It was already ruined, so what was another stain?

You grind your hips down on him, hard. Humping him like an animal in heat.

Your slick seeping into the fabric of his leg. Harsh texture stimulating your needy cunt so painfully good. Swollen folds parting, mewls of pleasure leave your swollen lips as your clit catches on the rough fabric of his overly expensive pants. Over and over.

Distantly, you register a strong hand tugging roughly on the thin fabric of your panties - easily ripping it and letting it fall to god-knows-where.

Your hand doesn’t let up either, milking Satoru’s cock mercilessly the way you’d been dying to ever since you stepped foot into his restaurant. Your head spins, hips moving so animalistically on Satoru’s thigh.

A hand reaches down to sensually massage his heavy balls, squeezing and pressing hard circles - just the way you knew he liked it.

“Oh, my girl. Always so good t’me- Ah! Hngh, gonna-”

Satoru doesn’t get to finish his sentence before he’s pumping hot ropes of seed that decorate your pretty hands. Hips fucking up into you desperately.

You’re not far behind, juices squirting all over that expensive fabric, pooling on the tiled ground with a drip! drip! drip! that bounces off the walls of the restroom.

You two were so fucking loud.

But right now, you wouldn’t even mind if anyone walked in to see your Satoru so debauched - as long as they see you fucking the soul out of him as well.

It wasn’t enough.

“You said you wanted to cum, didn’t you, Toru?”

A shiver runs down his spine - all the way to his dick. “What? W-wait, darling. Fuck- Oh!” the strained words tumble out of Satoru’s kiss-bitten lips as you push down his soaked pants, kneeling to leave a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down to his twitching, thick base.

“I won’t be merciful, Toru.”

Ah, you could do this forever.

Nipping teasingly till you’re satisfied with the bite marks decorating his pelvis, you pool the saliva in your mouth, spitting a long stream into his furiously flushed head.

Once. Twice. Mixing enticingly with his precum, trailing down his length. “Ah! Hngh- oh, darling. So sensitive-” he bucks his hips into you, moaning loudly.

“You can do it f’me, Toru.” you murmur darkly against his twitching tip. Satoru keens as you take him until his fat head hits the back of your throat, pulsing around your warm mouth.

Your fiancé’s choking on his breaths more than you as you hollow your mouth, bobbing up and down at a ruthless pace. Gagging, you shove his throbbing dick all the way in with a desperation that eclipses the need for air, till you’re nose-deep in those tufts of snowy hair.

“Oh, darling. Jus’ like that. Losing m’mind.” he whines.

Your pussy quivers at Satoru’s slightly salty taste, making you moan around his rock-hard length. Drool and precum dribble down the corner of your mouth, mixing with the mascara running down your cheeks. It was debauched. It was messy. And it was exactly how you wanted him.

Tonguing Satoru’s sensitive slit in a delicate dance, you feel drunk off his sinful moans as you suck on him desperately. Breathless. Craving for more.

Looking up to see a delicate streak of tears falling down his pretty face at the overstimulation, your cunt clenches around nothing. Fuck, you could just devour him.

“Cum, Toru.”

It was too much for him-

Tight balls twitching sensitively, he cums onto your ready tongue. Fucked out whimpers leave his lips, tears clinging to his long, white lashes as he paints your pretty mouth with his thick, white seed.

Ah, he was always your favorite taste. Tasted so good - so good that you could cum untouched.

And you do.

Eyes rolling to the back of your head and pussy clamping down on nothing as you reach your high.

You milk his cock ruthlessly, relishing in the thick cum flowing down your throat. But it still wasn’t enough.

Removing yourself off his dick with a lewd pop! you reach a hand to grab Satoru’s flushed throat, nails placed right over his thundering pulse. With a single tug, the great Gojo Satoru is on his knees before you, in the bathroom of some fancy restaurant.

Walls still quivering, you stand over him, connecting your sweaty forehead - and your mouth - with his.

Kiss-bitten and smeared with your lipstick, Satoru’s lips are soft - or maybe that’s the cum coating yours. A part of you delights in his half-lidded, fucked out gaze as your eyes bore into his - does he even know what he’s doing anymore?

Hot seed flowing down his throat, Satoru can do nothing else but kneel there and take it. He feels lightheaded, all the blood in his brain rushing to his cock as you suck on his tongue. This was driving him insane. You were insane.

And he fucking loved it.

“You d-drive me insane, my girl.” his words muffled by your hand still around his throat. His voice cracks with sensitivity in a way he would definitely be embarrassed about if he were in the right mind.

Yet, how could he ever be with the slow, feral smile that spread across your beautiful face?

Leaning down, you whisper lowly against his ear. “I’m the same, Toru.”

Maybe it’s your words, and the hot breath that sends shivers down his spine. Or maybe it’s the way you lift your dress so alluringly - cunt dripping on full display, slick trailing down your legs.

All Satoru knows is, he’s surging forwards. He’s got your front pressed against the cold wall, cock twitching to life and bullying its way through your swollen folds.

Mindlessly, a strong hand smacks against the stall as Satoru tries to keep himself steady. Too drunk off of you - off of your whimpers of his name, and the feeling of your plush walls clamping down on his throbbing erection, struggling to accommodate his size despite being so dripping wet.

He doesn’t give a fuck.

“Hngh- S’tight. Oh, fuck! S-sucking my cock back hah- in s-so needily”

Ramming in and out of your hole at a merciless cadence, Satoru’s balls smack your clit so animalistically. You two feel like a pair of fucking animals.

Shudders of overstimulation and pleasure wrack his body. Chest heaving, his blown-out eyes roll to the back of his head at the rapid, desperate thrusts inside your warm core.

Pulling out all the way to slam back in mercilessly, Satoru could pass out at the sight of your ass jiggling as it arches to meet the rhythm of his hips.

“God, m’girl. Gonna- gonna cum ah! Fill this pussy the way you want-” he groans raspily into the heady air of the stall, exhausted cock shooting wispy strings of cum that fill you up - some missing as he pumps into you, spilling out to paint your swollen folds white.

Before he knows it, a low hiss leaves his throat as you remove yourself off of his furiously pulsing cock - only to shove him seated on the commode.

You take a split-second to admire your gorgeous fiancé - face flushed as much as the prettily leaking tip of his throbbing cock, eyes dazed and miles away, curtained by his sweaty white locks. A delicate trail of drool made its way down the corner of his ruby, kiss-bitten lips. Exactly how you wanted him.

What a fucking picture. Maybe you should take that chocolate more often…

“Toru~ Remember what I said? You’re not tapping out, are you?” you hum, eyes narrowing at the way his erection twitches so ferally at your dangerous tone.

“Ah- don’t know- Can’t, please.”

You loom dangerously close, a hand reaching out to mockingly push his cheeks together, drool pooling at your fingertips. “I’ve told you before, Toru. Use your words. Please what?”

“M-mercy, please!” pathetic pleas muffled by your hand.

“Mercy?”

“Mercy!”

“No mercy for you, my darling Toru.”

The great Gojo Satoru, begging for mercy, will face none at your hands.

You straddle his muscled legs, shivering with sensitivity. “Ah! Hah- Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god-” he whines nonstop as his quivering tip teases your swollen, messy folds. In one, fluid motion, you sheath him fully in your dripping cunt.

Ah, you feel so full.

You relish in the way he twitches instinctively inside you. Steadying yourself using Satoru’s shoulders, you drag your cunt along his length, his prominent veins grazing that one spot inside you. Pulling out till his thick head teases your entrance, you drop down - inch by inch - over and over.

Satoru thinks he could cry right now - or maybe he already is. He doesn’t know, nor does he care - not when you’re so beautiful and fucked out, nails digging into his shoulders and heart eyes palpable in your gaze as you ride his sensitive cock into insanity.

He can’t stop the ragged moans that escape his swollen lips, head thrown back and hips bucking up exhaustedly into you to meet your every bounce. A hand is at his throat, pulling your face to his, “Don’t run away, Toru~”

He felt so raw. More a feral beast than a man as he watches his abused cock get swallowed up over and over by your wet pussy.

If he thought his dick was broken after this time then it’s really unsalvageable now.

He wanted to run away. He wanted more. He wanted you to keep looking at him with that fucking predatory gaze that made a carnal part of him twitch so good. He wanted to cum.

“I wan’- I wanna cum, please, my girl.” Satoru gasps out, teary eyes blown and looking up at you so delicately.

“Cum?”

“Yes.”

“Cum, Toru.”

Maybe it was the glint of fondness in your eyes, maybe it was the piercing of teeth as you bit down hard into the crook of his neck. Or maybe it was the way your snug cunt clamped down on him so sinfully as you cum as around him. But Satoru is immediately bucking up into your hips - reaching his climax, if you can even call it that. Poor, exhausted cock cumming dry. “Ah- Cumming- M’cumming hgnh-”

Satoru doesn’t even know if he feels his orgasm, just waves of pleasure that overwhelm him as he rides it out on your cunt.

Ah, he thinks if heaven was a person then it would be you.

Maybe he’s died already.

“Toru? Open your eyes, darling.”

Slowly opening the eyes that he didn’t even realize he had furiously scrunched closed, Satoru slowly blinks his vision back.

An angel?

“No, Toru, your fiancé.” you huff out a laugh. Oh shit, he said that out loud?

Head still reeling from, well, everything - the great Gojo Satoru can do nothing else but sit there, exhausted and fucked out of his mind as you slowly remove yourself off his twitching cock. He’s never felt so vulnerable - so ruined.

Ah, someone remind him to never let you have a bite of that chocolate every again.

A low hiss leaves him, along with a few tears that later he swears were never there.

As you tenderly clean both yourselves up in the humid stall, Satoru thinks he’s never been handled with so much care. Ah, he loves your gentle hands. He loves you.

“I love you too, Toru.” you whisper into the intimate silence. Oh, shit, he said that out loud again?

Your beautiful laugh, “Yes, you did, Toru.” Throwing away the used tissues, you grin “Y’know they’ve probably brought out our food by now.”

Absent-mindedly, “Mhm?”

“I was thinking I wanted chocolate for dessert.”

A/N. Oh Satoru, you poor, innocent fool…

Also this turned out longer than expected. Reblogs so so appreciated!

Plagiarism not authorized.

Taglist:

@sage-ove @mo0nforme @thirtykiwis @planetzetra

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

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chaoticgoodthief · 1 year ago

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I Did It

Ok, this is amazing I recently passed the Tumblr shoelace ritual. Long story short, I was at a market day in my school and saw some stickers. Gandalf's big naturals. Even as someone who doesn't really spend that much time in the LoTR/Hobbit area of Tumblr, I knew about That. I couldn't help myself, it was right There. Probably far to giddily holding that Gandalf sticker (with wasn't just a normal old big naturals, mind you. That wizard was in a laced bra, usually enough to turn me redder than a tomato)

"Which one of you designed this?" I asked on of the two people at the stall (ps everyone was selling their own sruff, so I wasn't afraid in the slightest that the creator of this wouldn't be there.)

"She did," the one I talked to responded. Oh my heart was pounding. All social awkwardness completely evaporated in the face of THE most Tumblr Thing I could do.

"I like your shoelaces." Gosh, I wish I could have talked to literally anyone with half the confidence that I had in that moment. I'm pretty sure I saw just a tiny bit of life drain from their eyes. I'm so sorry but c'mon. Gandalf Big Natruals stickers. Did you really think you could avoid this?

"Thanks. I stole them from the president." I WILL RIDE THAT HIGH FOR THE NEXT MONTH, AT LEAST.

ps. If anyone finds my new buddy (I know it's unlikely but gotta give it a shot.) Just want to let you know that their art is amazing and you should definately by something from them if they take commissions.

#artists on tumblr #tumblr milestone #support small creators #i like your shoelaces #tumblr shoelaces #tumblr culture #tumblr things #this sure is a webbed site #thank you tumblr #for momentarily shooting my social anxiety point blank #it was great

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ttjisung · 22 days ago

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bf!jisung with an oral fixation

cw: mdni! smut, oral (f!receiving, allusion of m!receiving but doesn't happen), wc: 420 (lol), that's kind of it bc this is real short >_<

Your boyfriend had a problem. An addiction, of some sort.

What you didn’t know about Jisung until he finally got the courage to ask you out was that he had the most extreme oral fixation ever. Whether it be getting hard while he watched you suck a popsicle, or blushing every time you’d let him lay on your lap, so close to where he wanted to be, Jisung always found an excuse to bring it up.

He was shy at first, trembling almost as he asked you to let him eat you out. Although you were nervous too, you let him, and he eventually gained courage, which was what led you to your current predicament…

“J-Ji, please… ‘S too much…” Your hands were tangled in Jisung’s hair, pulling every time his tongue would move to your clit, sucking harshly and moaning into your core. He’d shake his head in response, too focused on how you taste to let you go.

Your back began to arch, body squirming away at the intensity you were feeling after he already made you come twice before. Whether he didn’t hear you, or just chose to ignore you, Jisung continued his actions, big hands enveloping your thighs to keep you spread open as he licked you clean.

The fingers you weaved into his hair moved to the sheets below you as you gripped out of instinct, yet the loud whine Jisung let out was enough to let you know he disapproved of the removal of contact. You were dazed, not thinking straight and he wasn’t any better, pushing two long fingers into you as he watched in awe. He couldn’t resist, leaning down to suck on the bundle of nerves as he thrust his digits into you quickly, the rhythm mixed with his muffled moans bringing you near the edge.

You end up cumming on his tongue for the third time, and only when you think you’re finally free to breathe and calm down, Jisung’s moving his hands under your arms to lift you – easily, as if you were nothing – further onto the bed. He lays down this time, eyes squinted in focus as he continues his plan. His hands move to your waist, grabbing you and urging you to straddle him. You expect him to place you on his lap, considering he hasn’t cum once, yet a yelp comes out of your throat as he lifts you until you’re hovering over his face, determined to make you sit on it with one final push.

a/n: this is an icebreaker bc i'm back after a month... i have to be honest i've been stalling writing bc i'm so unoriginal lately </3 i'll write a whole fic and then come on here and find one exactly like it :/ trying my best to release new fics and continue my smaus but it'll be slow progress bc i have a lot of work to do save me...

#nct x reader #nct #nct dream #nct dream x reader #park jisung x reader #park jisung #jisung x reader #park jisung smut #jisung smut #nct smut #nct dream smut

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xbinksc · 7 months ago

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DATING NICHOLAS WOULD INCLUDE:

⭒❃.✮:▹Nicholas Alexander Chavez

WARNINGS: nsfw included

✧༺༻∞

• ok let’s say you met nick through cooper who’s been tryna get you two together for MONTHS

• the second y’all locked eyes it was love a first sight

•the dates omg THE DATES nick is lowkey a romantic under his mysterious and cold persona (but don’t tell anybody)

•beach dates,fancy dinner dates,at home movie dates you name it

•he would literally do anything for you

•obssesed with you

•no seriously, it’s a clinical obsession

•always wants to share his passions with you

•supports EVERYTHING you do and is your number one fan

•always there for you whether it be letting u vent to him or simply sitting at home totally quiet and comfortable in each others presence

•he thinks your the funniest person on the planet and can listen to your dad jokes 24/7

•he’s so thoughtful and always remembers the littlest things u may mention

•SPOILS U TO HELL

•his love language is definitely words of affirmation and physical touch

•always has to be caressing ur leg or holding u somewhere

•”I’m so proud of u bby” HES A SUCKER I TELL U☝🏽

•PET NAMES PET NAMES PET NAMES does he even remember your name at this point?

nsfw

•k this may be controversial but……..he’s definitely into doing it in public spaces

•the idea of possibly being caught or seen gets him ooomf😵‍💫

•club/resto bathroom stall✅ beach✅ trailer on set✅ in the car✅

•choking.

•”you’re taking it so good for me baby” HELPPP RELEASE THE SHACKLES THIS MAN HAS ON ME

•yk how as teens we thought walking around with hickeys was cool? yeaaaa he hasn’t outgrown that phase yet

•he loves to pick u up against a wall or onto the kitchen counter type shit

•in other words the bed is rarely used

•worships your body you’re literally the most beautiful magical being on this earth

•very dominant but lowkey wouldn’t mind if u took on that role sometimes

•honestly who needs toys when ur fkg Nicholas

•but y’all are suckers for a little ice play here and there

•loves to go down on u

•ohhhh he likes to be edged but don’t tell him I told u

•lemme end this before I get carried away…moral of the story is he’s the best fk u ever had the end.

#nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez x reader

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written-in-knife · 30 days ago

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Dressing for the Cloudcall

Leona Kingscholar x fem!Reader, pre-relationship

Word count: 4680 (dialogue heavy to start, stick with it, I find a rhythm in there somewhere)

Category: one-shot, fluff, angst if you squint really really hard

Leona's family is sneaky and knows him very well, and you get roped into some Cloudcalling dress up. And maybe Leona is into that.

I loved Cloudcalling on the Savanna but I was a little disappointed we didn’t get even a hinted outfit, and this idea has been bouncing around in my little walnut brain for MONTHS and it finally spilled out in the span of like two hours. Tried to keep Yuu ambiguous, female, hair long enough to braid and put into a bun, and she’s shorter than Falena’s wife. Your Yuu is six feet tall? Cool, Falena’s wife is taller 👏AS👏SHE👏SHOULD👏BE. Reading back, I think I have a crush on my own version of Falena’s wife, as I should. I just imagined the most beautiful woman I could.

Kifaji had to step away to take a phone call while everyone was checking out the food stalls and Leona almost looked grateful to see his back disappearing into the crowd as he handed you one of the baobab hibiscus teas. You thanked him quietly before sipping on the drink, as refreshing as promised. Grim was just about to pull everyone over to a meat vendor-- surprise surprise-- when Kifaji returned, a sly looking smile on his face.

"What's got you so happy, ya old bird?" Leona huffed as Grim drooled over the meat.

"My apologies, but I need to borrow Miss Yuu for awhile." Kifaji said simply, turning his ominous smile to you.

"What for?" Leona practically growled, putting a hand on your shoulder before you could even think to step away from the group.

"On such short notice, we could not procure an outfit for her." Kifaji explained, folding his hands behind his back. "I, however, did not want her to feel left out, so I made arrangements which are now ready. I will return her at your next destination."

"It's fine, Leona." You tried to assure him, patting his hand gently. "I do feel a little left out of the fun."

Leona clicked his tongue in annoyance before releasing your shoulder and crossing his arms.

"We're headed to Ivory Springs after this. Do not be late." He directed the command at Kifaji rather than you.

"B-But, Yuu look at this! And these!" Grim was actually drooling over the meat in the stall, turning back to you with tears in his eyes that practically begged you to let him stay.

You sighed heavily and shook your head. "Vil, can you keep Grim out of trouble for me? I won't be long."

"Of course." Vil nodded, glancing down at the direbeast as he cheered and danced around in a little circle. "I'll try my best to not let him eat through Leona's entire fortune."

"Good enough for me." You chuckled before turning to Kifaji, who smiled again and held an arm out for you to lead the way out of the markets.

You walked side by side with Kifaji to the entrance of the market, only for him to place a hand on your upper back to direct you towards a waiting black car just up the street. As you approached, a beastwoman in full guard regalia opened the back door for you to enter. You thanked her quietly before stepping into the blissfully air conditioned car, Kifaji getting in on the other side.

"It's not that far to the hotel," you chuckled as the driver reentered the car, "and I'm not as prone to heatstroke as Jack is."

"Oh, we aren't going to the hotel." Kifaji said, as if just remembering he "forgot" to tell you about it.

"Oh?"

There was a minute of silence as he didn't answer your unspoken question. A few turns through the city, he broke it, turning to you with a pleasant smile.

"Tell me, Yuu, what is the nature of your relationship with Prince Leona?"

You were shocked for a moment at the bluntness of the question. "Is this because I'm the only girl? Because I can assure you, we're all friends--"

"My apologies, that isn't what I meant." He cut you off with a small chuckle and a lift of his hand. "If you'd humor me?"

"I mean... we're friends? Friendly, at least." You explained, wringing your hands in your lap. "He's helped me out of a few tough spots, I've helped him. We hang out on occasion. He's nice, I dunno." You wouldn't dare say it out loud, especially to the chamberlain, but you sometimes secretly wished there was more there.

He gave you a warm smile, much like a father would give to a daughter talking about her crush. "I see. As you well know, I've seen to Leona since the day he was born, and I haven't seen him so... protective of someone since... well, ever. That boy has never exactly been friendly, let alone "nice" to just about anyone since his mother passed. It's refreshing to see."

You could feel your face getting hotter with each word the chamberlain said. You desperately wanted the subject to change. "S-So, if we aren't going to the hotel, where are we going?"

"The Royal Palace." Kifaji said casually, as if you were on your way to some unnamed park.

"What?! Why?"

"As I said, I made arrangements for your outfit. You need to look the part to represent your team!" He said, another sly smile on his face as he pumped his fist in front of him in an imitation cheer. "And, I regret to say, you stick out like a sore thumb among those boys."

"But-- I-I thought-- we--"

"And here we are. A short drive, is it not? The walk would have been significantly longer."

You looked out the window at the palace, a grand stone building at the top of the hill. It almost looked as if it were carved out of the rock itself. You were startled out of your thoughts as the driver opened your door for you again, the chamberlain outside waiting to give you a hand out. You thanked them both as you took the offered hand and stepped out, following Kifaji closely as he walked.

"So, uh... just pop in, change clothes, and head back down to the market, yeah?" You asked nervously as you glanced at the guards you passed by, feeling eyes on your back.

"Just so." Kifaji assured you, another sly smile as he stopped at a large set of doors already opened, swinging a hand out for you to go first.

You weren't sure what was about to happen. Maybe you'd be thrown in a dungeon for fraternizing with their prince, or maybe they meant to keep you here until Leona himself came to find you, or--

"There she is!" A booming and excited voice came from across the room as you entered, startling you to turn and look.

A mound of long ginger hair twisted into braids was running up to greet you, perched atop a muscle-bound mountain of a man. He was dressed similarly to Leona, but wearing white instead of black, still adorned in gold, an enormous smile on his face. The guards at the door stood at attention as he got to your side of the room, clasping your hand quickly in a firm and enthusiastic handshake.

"You must be the girl Kifaji told me so much about!" He beamed at you, reminding you so much of Kalim in this moment. Wait.

"So much?" You parroted, looking at Kifaji, who simply shrugged.

"Oh, you must tell me how you got Leona to be so... docile? That isn't the right word. He listens to you?! Insane!" The man rambled, still holding onto your hand. "You must tell me everything!"

"Falena, you'll scare the poor girl." Another voice rang out from the other side of the room.

The man, Falena, finally released your hand and turned to see the woman walking towards you. She was elegant and gorgeous and so poised, dressed in similar colors and patterns to her husband, also adorned in gold. You suddenly felt very intimidated as you finally realized just where you were standing.

"Oh, but my love," Falena sighed, still smiling, "think of everything we could learn! What's Leona like at school, anyhow?"

"H-He, uh..." you hesitated as the woman joined her husband’s side. It probably wasn't a good idea to tell them exactly how he was, and it wasn't a good idea to lie. Rock and a hard place. "He's certainly there."

Falena let out a booming laugh at this, his wife joining in with a laugh that sounded like bells in the large chamber.

"We know of Leona's troubles at school." She assured you, holding out a hand to shake. "I am Shani, and I'm sure my husband, Falena, did not introduce himself before launching into his questioning."

"I'm Yuu," you said, gently grabbing her hand and shaking it, "a pleasure."

"Likewise." She smiled warmly at you as you both retracted your hands. "Kifaji has asked me to dress you for the occasion."

"The festival?"

"Leona brought a girl home!" Falena cut in, the smile surely cemented on his face at this point. "A sign things are turning around for my little brother, to be sure!"

"O-Oh! No, wait, I'm--" You practically choked on your words trying to get them out fast enough, feeling your face burning again, "Leona and I aren't a couple!"

"I know! But everything Kifaji told us over the phone just makes it all the more interesting!" He gushed grabbing your shoulders. "Forgive me for being forward, but you smell like him! You must be together often!"

"I-I just keep watch while he naps, it's not like we--"

"Falena. You are making her nervous." Shani said sharply, trying to hide her amused smile as she swatted his hands off you and looped her arm into yours. "Come, we should get you into something else before Leona comes looking for you."

She didn't wait for a response before pulling you off towards the door she came through. You glanced back to Kifaji and Falena, seeing them both smiling at you, though Kifaji's looked nefarious. You faced forward again, looking up at the glamorous woman holding your arm, still amazed that you'd just met the crown prince and princess. Shani led you down the hall and into a large bedroom, turning quickly into a nearly equally large closet. Gorgeous outfits-- if you were to judge just based on the fabric-- lined the walls on either side, the far wall was large, open windows looking over the expanse of the savanna, and the wall behind was adorned with large mirrors. You couldn't help but be impressed as Shani practically floated across the room and picked up a dress that was already waiting on a chair and held it up for you.

"I hope you don't mind, I already picked something out for you." She explained as she approached. "Don't worry about the length, we can work with it however we need. This is going home with you."

"What? No, I couldn't." You said quickly as she deposited the dress in your hands.

"Do you see where we are right now? You absolutely can." She laughed, gesturing to the lines of clothes. "Go ahead and get changed, I'll be right outside, just let me know when you're ready."

Her nose scrunched up adorably in her excitement as she smiled even wider at your for a moment, her hands clapping under her chin once before she exited the room, closing the door behind her. Alone, you sighed at the absolute whirlwind you'd just gone through. You turned to the large mirrors on the closest wall and held the dress up to your body. It would definitely be long, but Shani was a tall woman who seemed to like wearing heels, so you weren't terribly surprised. Resigned to your fate, you began to change out of your current outfit. The dress had very thin straps, so your sports bra would have to go. Once actually in the dress, it fit remarkably well, other than the length. The thin straps spread down into a V neck and stretched to the skirt in the back, the skirt itself starting a little below the bust, similar to a halter top. You couldn't help but notice the patterns on the fabric coordinated to Leona's cloak, bright orange and black not helping the case. You folded your clothes into a neat pile in front of the mirror, honestly a little relieved how well the dress held up to movement, no risk of spilling out the sides or front when lifting your arms or bending over.

"Shani? I'm ready." You called to the door, hiking the skirt up to walk over.

She entered the room again with an excited smile, looking you up and down as you stood there.

"You are definitely shorter than me." She laughed as you let the skirt go, a few inches of fabric bundling up at your feet. "But we can fix that, easy. Ten minutes. First!" She walked over to a chest of drawers, pulling off a length of fabric she'd set on top. "Do you know how to wrap your hair? Keep it off your neck and out of your eyes."

"I do not." You shook your head prompting her to wave you off.

"I can teach you, it's very easy." She smiled, joining you at the mirror again.

She turned you to face the mirror, standing behind you and draping the fabric over your shoulders. She undid the braid your hair was always in, gently combing the knots out of your hair with her fingers.

"I always used to do this with my little sisters." She explained softly as she styled your hair to the top of your head in a large bun. "I love Cheka with all my heart and soul, but I do so hope we have a little girl some day, I miss having girls around to dress up with and do hair and everything."

"What, Cheka doesn't let you do his hair?" You smiled at her in the mirror as she began wrapping the scarf, making sure you were carefully watching her steps.

She laughed brightly. "He does! But as he gets older he may not. Plus, there isn’t exactly a ton of hair to work with, he prefers to keep it short."

"No, I get what you mean though." You said fondly. "I used to have my mom do my hair all the time, but she was always there to fix it when I eventually took it out and complained about it being in my face."

"Where are you from, by the way?"

Your face fell at the question. "It doesn't really matter. Crowley doesn't seem like he's able to send me back anyhow."

Shani looked like she was about to press further, but stopped herself. "There, all done." She said with another warm smile as she smoothed out some of the wrinkles in the turban style she'd done. "Not half bad, if I do say so myself."

"It looks great, thank you." You were smiling again, not pointing out the, again, same fabric Leona had on his scarf. Maybe it was a common pattern? You somehow doubted it.

"Now, I have a few accessories for you to tie it all together." She explained, walking over to a shelf opposite the chest of drawers. "I will have you put these on to see how they look, then you give me the dress and I will hem the bottom up for you."

"Thank you for this, Shani." You said sincerely, turning to look at her with a warm smile. "You really didn't have to go to these lengths."

"Nonsense, a friend of Leona's is a friend of ours." She assured you. "We want to make sure you enjoy your first time to the Sunset Savanna to the fullest."

Leona and the others had arrived at the palace, Leona planning to swipe a car to avoid having to take Kifaji with them. However, to his surprise, Kifaji was already outside speaking with one of the guards at the door.

"Oh for fucks sake..." Leona growled as he connected the dots.

"What?" Kalim asked, glancing over to the chamberlain. "Oh, it's Kifaji! Hey Kifaji!"

The chamberlain looked up in surprise at the call of his name, locking eyes with a furious Leona and giving him another sly smile.

"Wait here." Leona snapped at the group, not giving them a chance to protest before marching over to the door. "What the hell?!"

"Ah, Prince Leona." Kifaji said coolly as the guard stood at attention for the prince's approach. "I was under the impression you were not coming home during your visit."

"That why you brought Yuu here?" He spat. "Thought you were goin' to the hotel."

"I don't recall ever saying my arrangements were at the hotel." Kifaji said, though the infuriating smile and raise of his eyebrows suggested he knew exactly what he was up to.

Leona pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering expletives under his breath before looking back up. "Where is Yuu? We're goin'."

"She is changing, currently. You and your friends are more than welcome to wait inside, if you'd prefer."

"Yeah, ya’d like that, wouldn’t ya. Did Falena put you up to thi--"

"UNCA!"

Leona nearly instinctively side stepped the little ball of fiery orange that flung itself into his arms, grunting as the fuzzball impacted into his abdomen. Kifaji, while now safe from the verbal lashing Leona wanted to deal out, was not safe from the deadly glare that was shot his way.

“Quit clingin’ to me like that! Knock it off!” Leona snapped halfheartedly at his nephew who, undeterred by the tone, continued to beam up at him.

“I got so excited when I heard you were coming home!” The boy chirped quickly, grabbing his uncle’s hand and swinging it back and forth. “Can I hang out with you guys?”

Leona ignored the amused muttering of his schoolmates behind him as he rolled his eyes at the child’s antics.

Cheka continued, still swinging Leona’s arm around. “Mama said to be on the lookout for you! Do you wanna come play with me? We could play tag, or hide-and-seek, or--”

“Cheka.” Leona snarled, finally making the boy stop. “What was that about your mother?”

“Oh… I wasn’t supposed to tell.”

“Oh for fff…” Leona let the curse fizzle out into a loud grumble, trying to rub away the headache blooming in his temple. Of course it was Shani’s idea.

“I should go tell Mama you’re here!” Cheka said excitedly, darting off before Leona could stop him.

You slipped into the newly hemmed dress, a new length of fabric now flaring out the bottom that, once again, highly suspiciously matched the fabric of Leona's pants. Three times makes a pattern, damn if it didn't look good though. You were about to call out to Shani when you heard giggling through the door, and a boy's voice talking. You waited a moment before Shani knocked, sounding amused.

"All ready in there?" She called out.

"Yeah, ready." You called back, prompting her to enter the room.

Her smile grew ever wider as she looked at your outfit. "I've one more thing, and we need to be quick. Seems we've been found out."

There was a small gasp as Shani walked into the room, a tiny mess of ginger hair standing in the bedroom.

"I remember you!" Cheka said excitedly. "You're Unca's friend! From school!"

"I am! It's nice to see you again, Cheka!" You replied just as enthusiastically as Shani pulled one more thing off the shelf.

"It's nice to see you too! You match Unca!"

"I knew I wasn't crazy!" You nearly shouted, turning to Shani as your face burned again. She at least had the decency to look a little guilty.

"Yuu, you are a beautiful girl in an unfamiliar place." She explained, walking forward and wrapping something around your waist. "These are recognizable patterns of the leader of the Sunset Warriors, of the second prince, no one would dare do anything to you while you are wearing these."

"Do anything?" You echoed as she fastened the belt, which matched the rest of the boys'.

"Swindle you, pickpocket, worse." She listed grimly as she adjusted your necklace. "Sunrise City is as safe a city as any during a heavy tourist season. We want you to enjoy your time here, not wonder where your wallet may have gone."

"I..." you sighed heavily. "I get that. Thank you, really. This is all very generous."

"You can pay me back by marrying my brother in law." Shani teased as she exited the closet, making your face burn tenfold.

"Hey!"

"YOU AND UNCA ARE GETTING MARRIED?!"

"Oops…"

Cheka insisted you carry him through the halls, Shani nearly telling him to return to his studies before you assured her that it was fine. You spent the entire walk trying to explain to the boy that, no, you were not marrying his uncle. Cheka, however, kept talking about the imaginary wedding and all the things you needed to have there. You resigned yourself to not stopping him. He was talking about the cake when you entered the large room you'd first met Falena and Shani.

"Aha! There she is! A much more appropriate look for your guest, don't you agree, brother?" Falena said, prompting you to turn your gaze from Cheka to him, looking just in time to watch him clap Leona on the back.

Leona said nothing, just staring for a moment before clicking his tongue and looking away. You took this as annoyance for a moment before Cheka spoke up.

"Unca, unca!" Cheka said excitedly from your arms. "When you two get married you need to have a BIG cake, okay? And there needs to be chocolate, and 'biscus, and--"

"Married?" He asked incredulously, turning back to look at the boy, not able to hide the red on his cheeks now, before looking to Shani. "What did you do?"

"Children have impressive imaginations, don't they?" She asked pleasantly, taking Cheka from your arms to hers. "Thank you for letting me dress you, Yuu."

"Thank you for dressing me," you smiled at her, ignoring the burning on your own cheeks, "it was fun."

She smiled before taking your hand and leaning in to whisper to you. "If you cannot go home for school holidays, our home is open to you, just say the word."

You nearly teared up at this, simply nodding and squeezing her hand. "Thanks for everything, Shani."

Falena laughed as you walked over to join him and Leona, who had his arms crossed tightly over his chest. "I'd give you some words of warning, but you seem to know how to handle my brother better than I do at this point!"

"He's not so bad." You chuckled as he pointedly refused to look at you. "It was nice to meet you, Falena."

"You too! Come back anytime!" He beamed down at you before Leona grabbed your arm and started dragging you out of the room.

You waved back to the crown prince and princess as you were hauled out of the room and into the hall. Leona dragged you towards the entrance before making a sharp left a few doors down into another hallway.

"Leona--?"

"Shut up."

Your mouth closed with a clack of your teeth at his words, and you suddenly felt ashamed of your actions. Were you supposed to text him an SOS as soon as you realized where you were? When you realized what was happening? Before you could think about it further, he dragged you into a room at the end of the hall and shut the door, quickly caging you with his arms against it.

"What did they tell you?" He growled low, a dangerous tone you'd only heard a few times since you first stepped on his tail in the garden.

"N-Nothing--"

"Don't play dumb with me right now, herbivore, what did they say?"

"Kifaji and Falena kept saying that you're nice to me, and Shani said if I wore your patterns I'm less likely to get robbed." You said quickly, omitting her comment about marriage. "I was mostly with Shani, we talked about her sisters and my mom and the outfit, that's it."

His green eyes stared into your soul for a moment before he grumbled something under his breath, leaning forward to press his forehead against the wall next to your head.

"Leona?"

"Shani thinks she's funny." He said quietly, you could feel his breath against your ear as he spoke. "Makin' you match me, in public no less..."

"I'm sure she didn't mean anything by it--"

"Are you?" He asked, pulling back to look you in the eyes again, closer this time. "She's making fun of me."

"She's not."

"You don't know her."

"She's not making fun of you." You whispered, not breaking eye contact.

"You don't know what I say in those phone calls home." He muttered back. "Lemme guess, Shani already had that dress picked out for you, as if she plucked it from her own closet."

"...Yes?"

"You think the crown princess would ever wear the second-born's pattern?" He leaned in again, his jaw bumping your cheek as he moved to whisper in your ear. "She had that made for you, on purpose, for the day you eventually showed up."

"W-What do you say... in the calls home...?" You asked hesitantly, resisting the urge to reach your arms around him.

"Too much, apparently." He chuckled softly, lips grazing the shell of your ear. You felt like you would combust into flames any second. "Looks good on you though... suits you."

"L-Leona?"

He pulled back again, close enough to bump noses. "We have to get to the springs, otherwise our resident pretty princess won't play tomorrow." He whispered, still making no move to pull away.

"What..." your wet your suddenly very dry lips, not missing how Leona's eyes flicked down for just a second to catch the motion, "what did you mean by "when I eventually showed up...?""

"I said, don't play dumb, Yuu. You think I let just anyone braid my hair? You think I didn't notice that you do that while I'm tryin' to sleep?" He chuckled again, his grin almost looking like he was just flashing his teeth at you. "I pretend to not notice a lot of things."

"I'm not just anyone...?"

"You haven't been "just anyone" for awhile now." He muttered leaning in just a little closer, his nose brushing against yours gently before he stopped. "We need to go."

He let the moment hang in the minuscule amount of air between you for a second longer before finally pulling away, glancing over your outfit again as he did, making a triumphant little noise.

"Looks good on you." He muttered again before grabbing you by the arm to pull you away from the door.

Once you were out of the way, he opened the door again and walked out into the hallway, leaving you feeling like your knees were about to give out. With a moment to look around the room, you realized he'd pulled you into a bedroom that looked a little too similar to his back at the college.

"Herbivore." He barked from down the hall, kick starting you again.

"Y-Yeah!" You called back before hiking your skirt and jogging to catch up to him again.

If your friends, namely Vil, noticed the similarities between your outfit and Leona's, they were gracious enough not to say anything about it. You were, however, highly complimented on it, Kalim making a point to spin you around to see the dress twirl. Kifaji had a very self satisfied look on his face off to the side, which was quickly wiped away when Leona finally announced his plan to leave him in the dust.

Back at Night Raven College, you and Leona went back to your normal routine as if nothing had ever happened. You almost wondered if it had been a very sweet dream until you saw the dress in your closet again. You grabbed the skirt, rubbing the fabric between your thumb and index finger, as if to remind yourself that it was real. It had happened.

"What? You longin' for the Sunset Savanna again?" Grim asked from your bed, you'd nearly forgotten he was there. "I am. You really missed out on that meat, hench-human. I wouldn't mind goin' back."

"Yeah... me neither." You sighed, releasing the dress. You stared at it longingly for another moment before shutting the closet door to continue getting ready for bed. A very sweet dream indeed.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO USE MY WORK TO TRAIN AI

MASTERLIST

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #leona kingscholar #twst leona #leona kingscholar x reader #twisted wonderland fic #fem!reader #cloudcalling on the savanna #mine #the beginning is a little rough but i've been up for over 20 hours it gets better pls i dont know how to start a fic naturally #listen this is the first time i've felt comfortable posting a fic in SUCH a long time pls be nice

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