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satosuguwifee · 1 month ago

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Under His Dominion — Sukuna Ryomen x F!reader

wc: 2487

Contents: Modern!au

Credits for the beautiful fanart: innaillus

Tokyo, Japan

Y/n was returning from yet another tiring day at work, her head pounding thanks to the shouting she received from her boss who didn't seem to recognize any of her efforts in any project or solutions she presented that could improve the company.

“I don't think this life is for me,” her voice is calm and thoughtful, but clearly carrying a weary tone with it. “Unfortunately I can't quit this job, after all, how would I pay my bills?”

A snort escapes her lips as her hand clutches the umbrella over her figure, as her boss's request to work overtime has caused her to miss the bus she uses to get to and from work. Soon, an echoing gunshot could be heard, and a chill ran through her stomach as the sound seemed very close.

'Just what I need…'

The woman thought as she walked faster along the wet sidewalk, which seemed to increase her panic, until she managed to turn around just in time in an alleyway when a flash was seen in the distance and the sound made her recognize that it had been another gunshot. You hid behind a dumpster, closing your umbrella and reducing any noise you made as the sound of gunfire and car tires dragging on the street grew louder.

Prayers came from her trembling lips, pleas not to be found came out shakily until the noises became more distant and disappeared into the city beyond.

Y/n waited a few minutes to be sure before emerging from her hiding place, relief etched on her face for mere seconds before her eyes caught sight of a tall figure at the end of the alley, staring at her menacingly and silently. In the dim light of the streetlamp, she could see wounds on his strong, tattooed arms where his blood dripped and fell to the wet ground.

“A brat like you shouldn't be in such a dangerous place.” he says, his voice hoarse and deep as he watches her with his one eye, blood-red glaring at her figure.

“Well, I didn't want to be…, but today the stars aren't in my favor. And apparently not in yours either.” She said, still watching him guardedly, but feeling an urge to help this stranger. Maybe she was crazy for good… “Let me help you.”

“You'd better not come any closer,” he says, still in a threatening pose as he glares at her. “I'm not the kind of guy you'd want to get close to.”

“I insist, I'd feel bad if by any chance your body was shown on the TV news.” she says stubbornly, taking steps towards him before crouching down in front of him and rummaging through her handbag for some gauze or bandages that she always carries in emergencies.

Y/n soon found a piece of gauze, using it to clean the wounds on his left arm and taking the opportunity to notice the tribal tattoo present, wondering if there was any meaning behind it or if he had just done it because he thought it was pretty. Her hands quickly wrapped a new piece of gauze around his bicep and then covered it with the adhesive plaster, smiling at her work.

Then she lifted up his shirt, her eyes widening as she saw the wound which, from the shape, she could deduce had been caused by a gunshot. Her mind connected the facts, perhaps he had been hit by a stray bullet in the midst of the previous battle between gangs that always took place there.

“Unfortunately, there's not much I can do about this one,” Y/n says, but at least she puts another piece of gauze over it so that the rainwater stops falling on the wound and reduces the chances of contamination. “You'd better get to the hospital before it gets any worse.”

Unbeknownst to her, the eye of the man she is caring for is on her figure, silently studying her. He thought about how naïve or even idiotic this creature seemed to be standing there, without even having a clue who he was. Do you do that with all the strangers you meet? He seemed puzzled by this.

He smoothed his own pink hair with his free hand, pushing back the strands that had stuck to his wet face while he had a small smirk on his lips. The man certainly hadn't expected such an encounter, but there was no way he was going to complain about being treated by this mysterious woman.

After that day, Y/n never even saw a trace of the pink-haired, ruby-eyed man, preferring to believe that he arrived safely at his house, the next morning even watching the newspaper to make sure he had a chance of being alive.

'At least I did my bit to try and help him.'

She thought as she grabbed herself a coffee, taking a sip of the hot, bitter liquid that would give her strength for the rest of the day she would have to face. Soon she was running around the company, carrying documents and more documents that needed her boss's signatures or to accompany him to his meetings as his secretary.

And it was in one of these meetings that Y/n got the biggest surprise of her monotonous day: the same guy she had helped a few days ago was there, sitting in the 'big boss' chair and looking at both her and her boss.

“I didn't expect you to show up here, Mr. Sukuna.” her boss says in surprise, then clears his throat and looks nervous for some reason. Well, he is very intimidating, both because he's tall, muscular and because he's wearing an eye patch to cover one of his eyes, which I'm sure he no longer has, given the large scar.

“I've just come back from my trip, you don't need to take over my position now that I'm no longer away.” His eyes move towards the secretary, analyzing her meticulously before a small smile forms at the corner of his lips. “You weren't here when I was away.”

“I've been working here for a few months, my name is Y/n L/n.” Well, obviously they hadn't even bumped into each other in that huge company, if they had, she would have recognized him immediately the night before.

Sukuna nodded at her, with the same smile and without looking away from her before turning his gaze to her boss and signaling him to leave, which was immediately obeyed.

“So you're one of my company's employees? I must say that's quite a pleasant surprise, Miss L/n.” He then leaned back in his leather chair, drumming his fingers against the wood of the table. “Since you're the one who accompanied my replacement, could you update me on the new data collected from the partner companies, hm?”

Y/n feels his cheeks flush at the menacing sweetness in her voice, but he quickly remembers that he's in his work environment and nods before walking over to him with the tablet held in his arms.

“With pleasure, Mr. Sukuna.”

At the end of her shift, Y/n was packing up her briefcase to finally go home while chatting with some of her coworkers when they all stopped talking when the 'big boss' stepped out of the elevator, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his pants and his gaze scanning the surroundings as if he were inspecting the place.

Then he stopped as soon as he saw her, walking towards her as if he were some kind of God before stopping in front of her, making it painfully obvious the huge difference in size between the two of them.

“Miss L/n, I'd like you to come with me for a moment.”

Soon all eyes were on both of them, and at that moment she could feel her whole body sweating with nervousness. Had she given him some wrong information? Had her superior made up lies about her to ruin her reputation? These were the questions running through her head as she followed him into the elevator, feeling the tension in that tiny cubicle and gently adjusting the collar of her white dress shirt.

Then, finally, they reached the building's parking lot, and she stopped in her tracks when he also stopped in front of a luxury car, pulling a cigar out of the inside pocket of his suit before lighting it and staring at her in tortured silence.

“What can I do for you, sir?” Y/n asked robotically, holding the strap of his briefcase in front of her stomach, resembling the pose of a stewardess and drawing a deep laugh from the older man.

“There's no need for such formality when it's just the two of us.” He pauses to take another drag and then blows out the smoke. “I want to thank you for yesterday, so please come to dinner with me.”

It was more of a demand than a request, and the woman swallowed as she hesitated for a few seconds whether or not to accept. Then she nods as she sees his intense gaze, which makes him nod in the direction of the car, making his message clear. Y/n then goes to the back of the car and waits for her boss's boss to get in. She just hopes it's not such a fancy place.

She definitely had to bite her tongue thoughtfully, because my God, the place they were in reeked of money! Okay, she's exaggerating a bit, but she'd never set foot in there with her retirement money! She even felt sorry for eating the food on her plate, it was all so luxurious.

“You can eat as much as you like, Miss L/n.” He demands, taking a sip of the wine in his glass and she quickly nods before cutting off a small portion to eat.

“W-wow, this is delicious.” She says impressed, quickly wiping her mouth with her napkin before placing it on the table as if she was afraid it would break. Well, she was practically all tense, as if any touch of hers could break everything from there. “But nothing beats the hot dog on the corner, that's for sure.” She whispered to herself before eating another piece, looking up at the 'big boss' who was watching her.

“Really? Well, why don't you show it to me sometime, hm?”

“Oh, I don't know if street food would appeal to your refined palate.”

“I'm always open to new options, Miss Y/n.” Sukuna cut her off with a smile before taking another sip of the red liquid as if putting an end to the discussion.

They then sat in a pleasant silence, with Y/n enjoying the food of royalty and Sukuna watching her in silence, discreetly admiring her small features, such as her inviting pink hair, eyes and lips, making him smile and take another sip of the drink in his hand.

After a pleasant hour, Sukuna guided his guest through the chic hall with his hand on her waist, feeling the soft, natural curve of her body against his slightly rough palm. He soon went to the reception desk and, instead of paying the bill, just showed his ID to the woman who quickly stiffened when she read the name on the document.

“Thank you for your visit Sir, have a good night.”

Y/n was confused by this, but didn't even have time to digest the information when she felt his hand firmly squeeze her waist as he led her into the parking lot, making her shiver.

And as quick as a wink, they were on the streets of Tokyo after she gave him her address. After all, she wouldn't deny him a ride because it was already very late and dangerous for her to catch a bus… She also had a love of life! Her eyes were fixed on the view, staring dreamily at the buildings and imagining herself in them, sipping a glass of champagne, wearing a black silk robe and being hugged by a hot husband behind her, which made her giggle to herself without realizing it.

However, she was snapped out of her fantasies when she felt a brush against her knee and realized it was Sukuna's hand as he shifted gears when he stopped at a red light.

“I run that restaurant.” he says, turning to her and seeing her confused look. ”I don't owe you any satisfaction, but you seemed intrigued at that moment by the waitress.”

'She was so easy to read?'

Y/n nods and clears her throat while trying to ignore the slight warmth his hand caused against her skin without even touching it. It was something electrifying, something inexplicable. But she didn't even have time to think about it because he soon put his hand back on the wheel when the traffic light turned green.

“Thank you for dinner and the ride, sir.” The woman thanked him as soon as he stopped the car in front of her house, smiling at him and then unbuckling herself. “See you tomorrow at work.”

As she was about to open the door, she shivered as she felt his hand on her shoulder, holding her for a moment. Just as she turned her face over her shoulder towards him, his thumb brushed gently against the apple of her cheek, holding it in place.

“I didn't do it for you to thank me, brat.”

He purrs softly, bringing his face a little closer to hers and gently brushing the tip of his nose against the other cheek, feeling something in himself with the faint sweet smell of her, how it was soft and suited her. Sukuna let out another low, deep laugh as he felt her body stiffen at his touch, at his power over her.

“Mr. Sukuna, I don't want to mix things up.” Suddenly she pulled away just as he was about to kiss those plump lips he'd been staring at all through dinner. “You're my superior, please. I'm sorry if you took this dinner as an opportunity, but it wasn't. Excuse me, please.”

Y/n then turned and opened the door, allowing Sukuna to smell her hair one last time before she practically ran out of her apartment. He stared unblinkingly at the route she had just taken, snorting softly and feeling his cock already semi-hard from the fantasies he had had about them in his car.

However, seeing that she wasn't a woman who opened her legs to just anyone, not even him, made him respect her a little before he made his way to his mansion, and he couldn't get her out of his mind.

Continue?

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alismak · 7 months ago

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neptuneiris · 6 months ago

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could you pretend to be in love? (09/10)

The Consequences

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (fake dating)

summary: things get complicated, you and Aemond's relationship ends and despite finding solutions, nothing can repair the damage to your ruined future.

word count: 8.3k

previous part • series masterlist

fortunately it didn't take me as long as last time and finally here it is hehe🙏😚

I really hope you like it a lot and remember that we're not far from the end, so I'm looking forward to your comments with your opinions. thank you very much for reading beautiful people!❤

You want to believe it's all a misunderstanding.

You couldn't sleep all night. Anxiety and worry consumed you like never before, waiting and checking your mail every moment hoping to see if anything would arrive, but nothing.

Your whole night was summed up in thinking about possible catastrophic scenarios, although they were not possible after all, since that is what is really going to happen because at this point there is nothing you can do because the college applications have already passed.

That's why you checked your email every moment, almost on the verge of tears, thinking about what the fuck you're going to do, how you're going to go to college and why Aemond didn't keep his end of the deal.

There was the urge to text him and even call him in all your desperation and confusion, ask him what happened, but you decided to wait until the next morning to ask him in person to get clear answers.

And that's what you're going to do now.

You don't even know if you are right but there is no other explanation when things are too clear. And you can't help but feel the pain of betrayal burning in your chest, with the anxiety consuming you and the need.

You finally arrive at the school, where without thinking of absolutely nothing, you start searching for Aemond through all the hallways, with determination and rage mixed inside you.

Your eyes frantically search through all the students as you walk quickly and make your way through them all, ignoring their stares at you as you don't care at the moment, you have a goal in mind.

And along with that goal and what you have to do now, still your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, each one more painful and confusing than the last.

After all the moments you both spent together, both real and pretend, every laugh, every gesture, every kiss, it all seemed so real and so genuine.

But now… it all felt like a cruel illusion.

And to have to accompany it all with this, it's just unbelievable.

You finally see him in the distance, it's not hard to make out his distinctive silver hair, with his figure walking towards the doors leading to the huge backyard of the school, talking to some friends.

Anger and sadness intensify as you see him looking so calm, as if nothing is going on, made worse by the fact that he won't try to contact you either to let you know anything about the university, or even give you the news himself, anything.

You clench your fists and muster up all your courage before reaching for him, feeling completely hopeless.

“Aemond,” you call out to him, your voice tense and cutting.

He turns to you at the call of your voice, his expression changing from surprise to slight concern in an instant. His friends continue walking and he remains standing, as you walk towards him.

And you don't even give him time to speak, as you immediately raise your phone, showing him the college's Facebook ad on the screen.

“What is this?” you ask him, demanding explanations, confusion and pain reflecting in your eyes.

You feel your voice tremble, but you stand your ground, holding his gaze with a determination that belies your vulnerability.

He watches the screen and you see the worry spread further across his face, followed by a nervousness that runs through him from head to toe. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words seem caught in his throat.

“I'm sorry,” he says in a barely audible whisper, leaning toward you and with sorrow in his gaze, ”I-I didn't want you to find out like this.”

The knot in your stomach tightens even tighter as the worry and anxiety intensifies, watching him without understanding.

“And what does that mean?”

He looks to all sides, noticing the number of students surrounding you who begin to watch you both curiously, whispering amongst themselves.

“Come,” he says softly as he places a firm but careful hand on your shoulder and guides you into one of the empty classrooms, away from the stares.

You don't argue with him because you don't want to draw attention to yourself either, but as soon as he closes the door behind you, you feel the pressure in your chest intensify and you immediately turn to him, the need for answers burning inside you.

“You didn't talk to your grandsire or your sister?” you ask, your voice trembling between anger and the anxiety you're trying to contain.

He looks down for a moment, swallowing hard. His silence hangs heavy in the air before he looks up at you, his eyes showing a mixture of weariness and regret.

“Yes, with my grandsire,” he states to you, "But I'm still working on it," he confesses with his tone infused with a sincerity that hurts you more than you expected.

You feel your breath catch and you watch him in shock, with your lips parted and hopelessness all over your gaze, trying to process what he just said. The hopelessness is reflected in your gaze, and your eyes fill with tears of frustration that you struggle to hold back.

“What?” you manage to say, your voice cracking in disbelief.

He takes a step toward you, his eye fixed on yours as he tries to remain calm, though you can see the tension in the way his hands move, as if he's searching the air for the right words.

“Listen,” he begins, your tone softer and almost pleading, ”It's not entirely true that the whole admissions process is over. There are still… possibilities,” he says nervous, ”And I promise you that I've already sent all your documents to my grandsire. I just need a little more time to be able to convince him, and I will, I swear.”

He tries to convince you, observing you completely honest and sincere in what he is saying, but you no longer believe in him.

His words are like a desperate attempt to calm you down, to reassure you that everything will be okay. But distrust grows inside you with a sharp pain that spreads throughout your chest.

You watch him, looking for some sign to give you hope, some spark of certainty you can cling to. But all you see is uncertainty and nervousness, insecurity, because even he doesn't know if he will get you in.

You think about the announcement, how the university has already sent out all the emails, both acceptance and rejection. Then reality hits you like a slap in the face, and suddenly you understand.

“You… you got in?” you ask in a breathy whisper, though deep down you already know the answer.

He doesn't answer you right away, as instead of words, all you get is his look, a mixture of pity and embarrassment that only confirms it.

“Yes but you'll get in Y/N too,” he quickly insists, his voice desperate to convince you, ” You don't need to worry about anything.”

How easy it is to talk when he is the one who certainly should not worry about his future.

And finally the tears find their way, unable to control them any longer. You press your lips together tightly, trying to keep your composure, but the pain and frustration are too intense.

Aemond stirs restlessly, hating to see you cry. His hands tense, wanting to reach out and be able to hug you, but he restrains himself and watches you with concern.

“Y/N—

“ You don't even know if you'll be able to get me in too,” you interrupt him in a cold and distant voice, laden with bitterness with the feeling of betrayal and disappointment in your chest, “I trusted you, that's why I didn't apply to other colleges,” you look at him hurt and annoyed, “Now what am I supposed to do? The time for applications has already passed. I can't apply anywhere else because this, your promise, should have been settled long ago.”

Your words echo in the air, and the reality of the situation settles between the two of you like a barrier. He is affected by your words and falls silent, not knowing how to respond.

Worst of all, you know that he really wanted to help you, that his intentions were sincere, that's what you really want to think in the midst of all this.

But did he really want to help you in the first place?

If that was really his intention, then you wouldn't be in this position right now, in this situation that should never have been allowed. And you also remember Floris.

The tension is palpable and you feel the lump in your throat tighten even more and you look at him with pain.

“You used me,” you say with your voice cracking and barely above a whisper.

He shakes his head, his gaze full of despair.

“No, it wasn't like that,” he tries to correct with his pleading tone as he takes a step closer to you, “That was never my intention Y/N, you know that.”

You pull away from him, increasing the distance between the two of you, tears gathering more in your eyes and this time you make no effort to hold them back.

“I know because of what happened with Floris,” you say bitterly, ”And the worst thing is that I did like you.”

Your words leave him speechless for a moment, his expression marked by a mixture of regret and pain. He reaches out a hand toward you, as if to touch you, to comfort you, but you abruptly pull away.

“Y/N, please let me explain—

“There's nothing to explain,” you cut him off, unable to bear to listen to him any longer.

You feel something inside you crack and he seems to notice your change, to which he doesn't know what to do.

He tells you something else but you no longer listen. The broken promises, the destroyed trust, it all piles up on your shoulders, making you feel smaller and lonelier than you ever felt before.

The pain on his face is evident and when you finally decide to walk away, Aemond tries to stop you, tries to remedy the situation, but you don't even hear him anymore, you don't even see him, it's as if he is suddenly invisible and you leave him behind with pain and bitterness branded on your chest.

All because you realize that he, his promises, his words, were never worth it. And now you're paying the consequences of your future ruined by an absurd contract you should never have accepted in the first place.

You feel as if the world has fallen on top of you.

All the way home, you feel a mixture of intense emotions overflowing and the only way you can get them off your chest is to cry.

You are thankful that your father is still at work or else you would have had no idea how to explain your visibly pitiful state to him. Besides you don't even have the courage to really tell him what's going on.

But all is probably not lost.

Anxiety, despair and frustration wash over you as you sit in front of your laptop. But it also invades you and you cling to hope. You want, desire and yearn to find a solution, one last chance to not lose an academic year, so you open the browser.

Your fingers move quickly over the keyboard, as you search the admissions pages of other universities.

You visit one after another, hoping to find one that is still accepting applications, one that might have a deadline extension. But as you read and watch, that hope fades.

The words ‘admission perido has ended’ are repeated over and over again on every page you visit.

You try a small college in another city, then the only two available in your own city, but in all the answers are the same. Time has run out. The deadline has passed and there is no way to reverse it.

Frustrated, you hold your hands to your head, feeling the despair and anxiety growing inside you. And unable to help it, tears well up in your eyes and finally the situation crushes you.

With a loud sob escaping your lips, you collapse in your chair, feeling completely helpless, hopeless and like a fool.

You don't understand how you couldn't take precautions, have a backup plan B in case Aemond's plan failed, apply to even the city's public university, but none of that crossed your mind at all.

How are you going to explain this to your father? That you didn't apply to other colleges because you trusted a guy's word to get into Citadel in exchange for making his ex-girlfriend jealous?

Even the situation, thinking about what you were doing all that time instead of applying to other colleges makes you frustrated and angry at yourself for being such a fool.

And yet, you still hold on.

The next morning, your spirits still low, you head to the office of the school's coordinator, Mrs. Turner, with this last spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, you can find some way to resolve this with her help.

Mrs. Turner greets you with a friendly smile, though her face reflects some concern when she sees the expression on your face clearly tired from lack of sleep and swollen from all the crying you've done.

“Miss Y/N, what's wrong? Is everything all right?” he asks you, inviting you to sit down.

You waste no time and explain the situation to her. You decide to omit certain details, especially everything to do with Aemond and his promise. Instead, you opt to say that, due to a family problem, you missed the date for applying to colleges.

“Well, I understand that some universities do a second round of application, but you're mostly private universities in the city.”

“Only private here in the city?” you ask nervously and with a slight illusion.

“Yes,” he nods at you, “Maybe you could make an application for a scholarship.”

You bite your lip, feeling the frustration begin to take hold of you again and the illusion disappears.

You know that, while a scholarship might help you cover some of the costs, it won't be enough. You will only be offered a partial scholarship, and even then, the costs of a private university would be unaffordable for you and your father.

With the scholarship you had applied for at Citadel, you would have had most of your expenses covered, as long as you maintained a good grade point average. But you were rejected.

“No, I-I… I can't afford private college,” you admit as you look at her in desperation, ”Are you sure there's nothing you can do at the public university? Maybe send in a special request or something?”

She looks at you with some pity and disappointment.

“I'm sorry Y/N, but I'm afraid that's not the way things work,” she tells you in a soft voice, “Unfortunately, at most universities, once the admissions deadlines have closed, there's nothing we can do.”

You're not even surprised because you were definitely expecting something like this. Nor do you feel anything, just…emptiness and bitterness.

Mrs. Turner maintains her compassionate look as she continues to speak, trying to soften the impact of the situation on you.

“Y/N, I know this may seem discouraging, but I want you to know that all is not lost. Losing a year before entering college is not the end of the world,” she says in a reassuring tone, ”You can use this time to get a job, gain experience, and prepare an even stronger application for the next cycle. There's no rush, and many people find that taking a year off allows them to better focus on what they really want.”

But you know what you really want.

You want to study law, have a professional career, graduate and work at something you really like where you earn enough money to help your dad, give him a better life. That's what you want.

But you ruined it all by agreeing to a dumb contract, by believing his words and by not backing yourself.

You know her words are meant to calm you down, to offer you a positive outlook in the midst of the storm of emotions flooding through you. But, at this moment, these words offer you no comfort.

All you can think about is how your plan, your future, has crumbled in front of you.

You nod slowly, not wanting to seem rude or ungrateful for his attempt to help you. But inside, you feel misunderstood. You know Mrs. Turner only wants to help you, but the despair and fear of the future you now face keep you from seeing the bright side.

“Thank you, Mrs. Turner,” you say with an effort to keep your voice steady, ”I appreciate your advice.”

She gives you a warm, though still concerned, smile as you rise from your chair.

“If you need to talk more, or if there's anything I can help you with, feel free to come see me, okay?”

You nod once more, thanking her for her kindness and time before leaving the office.

Once outside, the hustle and bustle of students filling the halls of the school envelop you and you quickly make your way to your locker.

You open the door with automatic movements, barely aware of what you are doing as your thoughts invade you. With trembling hands, you put away the books and notebooks you won't need for the next few classes.

As you go through the motions, the pain and frustration begin to build. And when you least expect it, tears begin to slide down your cheeks silently.

You try to control yourself, pursing your lips and wiping your cheeks, but your emotions are too intense to be repressed. When suddenly, laughter reaches your ears.

You watch out of the corner of your eye and see Alys and her friends walking almost in front of you with mocking voices and laughter, full of undisguised contempt.

You have an idea what specifically amuses them about you, you know they must have sent you that picture of Aemond and Floris, but you also feel their laughter as a cruel mockery of your already desperate situation.

Still you can't help but feel embarrassed and angrily wipe away your tears with a sharp gesture.

Rage runs through your whole body, for everything. And your tears, though stopped for the moment, still threaten to return. You hurry to put everything away and slam the door shut to finally walk away.

You walk quickly down the hallway, wanting to get away from all the people, when as you turn down a corridor, you come face to face with Aemond, Aegon and his friends.

The impact is almost physical, but both you and they stop abruptly to avoid the blow. And as soon as you realize who you have in front of you, you freeze for an instant.

Just when your day couldn't get any worse.

Aemond, with his silver hair and imposing figure, is the first to notice you. His expression instantly changes from surprise to concern as he sees the traces of tears on your face.

And although he doesn't say anything right away, his gaze is intense, full of worry and guilt.

The tension in the air becomes palpable, because both you and he have no idea what to do, what to say or how to react. But you, feeling the pressure of the stares, feel trapped and instantly have the urge to walk away.

But first, Aemond takes a step towards you, trying to close the distance between the two of you and your eyes meet his, charged with a mixture of desperation and hope.

“Y/N,” he calls your name.

And before he can say anything else, you don't let him and quickly move away.

Desperation drives you to dodge him, also the fact that you can't stand to be in his presence, which you do but Aemond reacts immediately and follows you.

He calls your name with an urgency that makes his voice echo down the hallway, leaving his brother and his friends behind.

“Y/N, please stop, he needed to talk to you,” he urges you.

His hand reaches out to yours in an attempt to stop you but you continue walking quickly.

Maybe it's the look you both have or it's the unusual attitude you're both having around each other that starts to get people's attention. But you don't care since all you want at that precise moment is to get away from him.

“Please, Y/N.”

And then his hand takes yours, stopping you and you turn to him, your face flushed with tears and anger inside you.

“Let go of me,” you tell him in warning in a cold, cutting voice, ”I won't tell you again.”

The scene definitely draws more attention and some students begin to murmur and watch you both very intently, but the whole whirlwind of emotions makes you lose sight of the awkwardness of the situation.

You really don't want to deal with Aemond right now. In fact you don't even want to have anything to do with him anymore.

And Aemond seeing that, your attitude and coldness, the fact that you can't even stand to see him and the fact that you are being terribly honest, hurts him, really hurts him with a sharp pain in his chest, but he insists.

“Please, just for a few minutes. I need to explain—

Completely losing patience, showing the intensity of your pain and frustration, you release yourself from his grip in a sudden movement that draws more attention from the students and the situation becomes an unwanted show.

“Leave me alone,” you warn him through your teeth before turning and walking away with quick steps.

And thankfully he doesn't try to stop you again.

Everyone is looking at you and everyone is looking at Aemond as well, but you quickly find refuge away from all the stares, taking no notice.

However, you should have expected that little show to go around like plague throughout the school accompanied with the new rumor that Aemond Targaryen and his previously invisible girlfriend have broken up.

And honestly… you didn't even care.

To this point, technically he and you have ended whatever the two of you had, so you don't care to either affirm or deny it, you just don't make a big deal out of it and let people believe what they want.

Besides, how could you care when there are certainly more important things like thinking about your now ruined future?

News you have the confidence to share with Alysanne after all the drama involving you and Aemond, since you two are all anyone talks about in the entire school.

“That fucking idiot,” Alysanne mutters in disbelief, "Just when I thought what he did with Floris was so low but this… I mean, are you kidding me?" she stares at Cregan, incredulous, ”This is so much worse.”

You let out a long breath and bring a hand to your forehead as you close your eyes and simply let your body try to relax. It's uncomfortable because of the hard metal beneath you as you lie on the bleachers but you still try.

“But he said he would try to fix it, didn't he?” asks Cregan in a cautious tone.

“And you believe him?” reproaches Alysanne incredulously, "I wouldn't and Y/N shouldn't either," she observes you, ”He had all this time to do something about it, even to be honest with you and tell you ahead of time that he wasn't going to succeed in helping you. Then you would have had a chance to apply to other colleges but no, he preferred to stay silent and enjoy the acting and all that it provoked in his stupid ex-girlfriends.”

And put like that… everything that happened sounds so much worse.

But you know she's right.

While the whole school is whispering about your ‘breakup’ with him, you can't help but feel that there are much more important things at stake, things that Aemond never understood or tried to understand.

And Alysanne seeing your expression and you basically not reacting because you're thinking about the future and how incredibly fucked up you must feel, lets out a long breath and moves a little closer towards you.

“I know it's a stupid question but are you okay?” she asks you in a warm and concerned tone.

You let out a sigh and take a moment before answering, not watching them and not taking your hand off your forehead.

“I don't know what to do,” you say in a low, emotionless tone.

Alysanne grimaces and looks at Cregan who also returns the same expression; they don't know what to do to make you feel better and relieve that huge weight you're carrying.

College is a big deal, both of them would also feel the same way if they were in your place, that's a fact. But by the same token they are not in your situation, they don't know what to do to cheer you up because, what could they possibly do to even help you? Nothing.

“I'm just thinking about how I'm going to tell my dad.”

You confess finally, withdrawing your hand from your forehead and fixing your eyes on the gray sky above you.

“I'll have to lie to him, tell him I applied but all the colleges rejected me,” you say regretfully, “Now I'm just left to look for a job and do that until I can apply next year.”

Alysanne and Cregan exchange a look.

“It's not a bad plan,” she tells you, trying to cheer you up, “In fact, a lot of people of our age don't go to college after graduation and do exactly that, get a job and apply until the next year or until they're sure of what they want to study.”

“Yeah,” Cregan agrees, "Besides, my family has several businesses in town, I could help you get a job at one of them.”

You can't help but place a small smile on your lips, seeing the willingness of both of them in wanting to support you, however, they can see the sadness all over your face and the discouragement you feel.

“Thanks guys, I really appreciate it,” you say genuinely, "And I know it's not a bad plan but…" you sigh, feeling the frustration and sadness swirl in your chest, ”I know my dad, and I know that, when I tell him that I wasn't accepted, he'll be supportive… but I also know that he'll be very disappointed.”

That's what weighs on you the most, far more than anything else, going over the whole Aemond thing and also over you, your dad.

He has sacrificed so much for you, working long hours at a job that doesn't give him what he truly deserves. He earns enough to support you and the house, he has always made sure you both have what you need; food on the table, clothes and basic comforts.

But he never buys anything for himself and his own dreams have always taken a back seat. All so he can give you a chance to do something else, have a better life and now…you feel like you've failed him.

Cregan and Alysanne watch you silently, their faces reflecting the gravity of your words. They know there is nothing they can say that will truly ease your pain, but you know they are both here, offering you their support.

“Well, I don't know your dad but still, he's your dad and he loves you,” Alysanne tells you in a warm tone, ”He knows you better than anyone and I'm sure all he'll want is for you to be okay.”

“And I'm sure he's seen how you've tried your best and you can't take the blame for something that was out of your hands.”

You understand what they both mean and you also ponder your dad's attitude in your mind briefly, but still, you can't help but place a small bitter smile.

“Actually it was my fault because it was my decision to trust Aemond, instead of making sure I had other options to prevent exactly this,” you say without emotion, “And I also feel that… not only it hurts me to have to tell my dad, but also to feel this disappointment,” you explain, “I really believed that I would go to Citadel and that my life was going to follow that path I had planned for a long time. But now… I feel like that dream has been taken away from me again.”

Alysanne looks at you sadly, understanding the weight of your words and she along with Cregan, no longer have any idea what to say to you. And you notice this, so you watch both of them trying to keep a genuine smile on your lips.

“You know? I really appreciate you both being here for me… I don't know what I would have done if I didn't have you guys to talk to,” you tell them sincerely, ”But I think it needed some time alone.”

Alysanne looks at you uncertainly.

“Are you sure? You know I don't mind, I can skip the next class to stay with you.”

“No, no, don't worry,” you hasten to say.

“I can stay too,” Cregan adds, shrugging.

“No guys, I don't want you to miss class for me, really,” you look at them sincerely, "I'll be fine, I just…" you let out a sigh, ”I need time alone.”

They both exchange a look and Cregan is the one who stands up first, stretching his arms out before looking at you with a mixture of understanding and concern.

“Fine but if you need anything, tell us,” he tells you with a soft voice and a warm gaze.

You nod in his direction.

“Yes, thank you,” you reply as you return a small smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

Alysanne lingers a little longer, watching you with the same intensity as always, as if she wants to make sure you really will be okay before she leaves.

“I'll keep an eye out on you, okay?”

“Okay,” you tell her, feeling that simple gesture of support fill you with a strange mixture of relief and sadness.

She nods, smiling a little before walking away along with Cregan, leaving you alone on the bleachers.

And you stand there, thinking about everything and yet nothing, where you allow yourself to let out a long, heavy sigh. You look up at the sky, allowing thoughts to flow unrestricted.

The faint sounds around you envelop you, such as the soccer team boys training on the field and the entire cheerleading squad, as well as the faint, comforting sound of the leaves moving from the big trees along with the birds singing.

And even though you don't want to feel bad, the pain, the disappointment and the uncertainty about what will come next, it all hits you again in an unavoidable way.

And it all blends together in an emotional whirlwind that leaves you exhausted.

Time seems to stand still as you stand there, lost in thought. And you barely notice when someone approaches, as the sound of approaching footsteps barely registers in your consciousness.

And because you are absorbed in your thoughts, you only come out of your trance the moment a soft voice right next to you breaks the silence in your space.

“Hi Y/N.”

You raise your head almost immediately, definitely not expecting that and suddenly you see Floris standing next to you, watching you with a mixture of insecurity and regret.

You frown and look at her confused, not bothering to hide it, truly not understanding what she's doing here, talking to you.

And receiving no response from you, she looks down uncomfortably for a moment, fiddling with her hands as if searching for the right words before speaking.

And this is the first time you see her like this. You don't spend your time watching and analyzing her either but normally she always comes across as confident and sure of her whole persona, but now… you've never seen her so nervous.

“I know I'm probably the last person you want to talk to right now…” she admits with her voice barely a whisper, sitting down next to you on the bleacher, though she keeps an appropriate distance, ”But I really want to talk to you.”

'Talk?'

You repeat in your mind, still watching her without understanding and unable to help but feel a pang of bitterness at the memory of all that has happened.

The truth is you don't want to talk, you already feel frustrated and tired enough without now having to deal with this and especially with her.

But for some strange reason, you don't say anything, you just watch her, waiting, keeping calm, waiting for her to continue. She seems to hesitate for a moment, but then takes a deep breath, focusing her gaze on the horizon.

“I-I… after what happened in Dragonstone…” she begins to speak cautiously, ”Aemond decided to cut off all communication with me.”

That nonconformity and that little ache in your chest comes up as you hear her name and you too look straight ahead, avoiding her gaze.

“He told me that what happened between us was a mistake and that you never deserved that,” she continues in a soft tone, ”I don't know if that gives you any kind of comfort, but I thought you should know.”

'Comfort?'

You don't know whether to laugh or cry but it's clear that none of this brings you comfort.

And she seems to be struggling with her own emotions, as you see out of the corner of your eye how her hands clench in her lap as if she's trying to control the trembling in them.

“And I'm not telling you this to justify myself, I know what happened at that party was a mistake,” she says emphatically, ”I shouldn't have gotten involved, let alone knowing that you were his girlfriend. That was…” she pauses and lets out a frustrated sigh, ”That was a big mistake on my part. I should have walked away from him the moment I met you, given you your place and respected you, but… I didn't.”

Her words fall heavy in the air and although part of you wants to lash out at her, another part of you feels so drained that you can't even find the energy to argue. Besides it's not just her… it's also Aemond.

“I was the one who was all the time looking for his attention at that party, you know? I was the one who had the intention of kissing him all that time, “she confesses, visibly embarrassed, ”I-I… I don't know, I felt so jealous when I came back and saw him with you. I-I guess I… still had feelings for him.”

You let out a long breath and finally speak bitterly.

“If he was the one who sent you to tell me all this to justify what he did and expect me to forgive him, it's not going to work Floris,” you warn her.

She shakes her head instantly, her eyes full of urgency.

“No, no,” she tells you immediately, ”He didn't send me to tell you anything, he doesn't even talk to me and barely notices me when we're in the same place. There's nothing really between us anymore Y/N,” she insists, ”It all ended when I left.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, not knowing what to say or what to really think, also not having the slightest idea what to do.

Even if all of this were true, everything she's telling you, you don't care anymore. All of this just comes with the part where Aemond didn't deliver what he promised you. All of this is just more accompanying pain, but what does it really matter?

“I'm really sorry about what happened,” she murmurs in your direction after you say nothing, “I know my words won't change anything and I'm not expecting you to forgive me… but I wanted you to know that I'm truly sorry.”

You remain silent, jaw clenched and gaze lowered, with the silence still heavy, dense.

Her words echo in your mind, mingling with everything else you've been carrying. But what are you supposed to feel? Relief? More pain? Or both? You don't know.

And resigned to the fact that she won't find some kind of reaction from you nor will you say anything to her, she lets out a last sigh, accepting your indifference without a problem.

“And I also wanted to tell you that…I know that Alys and her friends were the ones who sent you that picture,” she confesses to you and you feel that sharp pain in your chest again, ”And you don't have to worry about them spreading it all over school. I made sure that doesn't happen.”

The lump in your throat tightens. Though his words seek to offer you some sort of comfort, they do not soothe the wound that has already been inflicted. It doesn't change what happened, nor does it erase the humiliation you felt.

But even so, there is something in her tone, in the sincerity with which she speaks to you, that disarms you a little, if only for an instant.

Finally she stands up, feeling that there is nothing more to say. She throws you one last look, full of regret, before turning and starting to walk away.

And you don't stop her, as you have nothing to say, when suddenly, she stops after only a few steps and this catches your attention, so you look at her in confusion.

Floris, still with her back to you, seems to hesitate for a moment, as if considering whether or not to say what has been on her mind. When finally, he turns to you again, his eyes searching yours with an intensity you didn't expect.

“He really loves you, you know? Aemond.”

For the first time in the entire conversation you hold her gaze.

The sincerity in her eyes strikes you, but it's hard to believe those words after everything that's happened.

“When I came back from the exchange, something changed in him towards me. I don't know, he didn't see me the same way anymore,” she explains, "At first I didn't understand why, but when I met you, I knew," she confesses.

She pauses and seems to hesitate, as if choosing her next words carefully.

“The kiss…that kiss meant nothing to him, I know,” she finally confesses. “I saw him at Dragonstone, I saw how he looked at you… completely in love with you.”

You press your lips together and stare at a specific point, remembering those moments.

“And I also saw you completely in love with him too,” she admits in a soft voice, “I saw how you looked at him, with the same intensity with which he looked at you. And honestly… the two of you looked very happy together.”

This makes you feel exposed in a way you didn't expect, stirring a little in your seat, not knowing how to react.

The images of you and Aemond at Dragonstone, the times you spent together on the yacht, the hot tub, on the beach, in the castle and at the aquarium, when everything was fine and neither of you were faking it and it looked like everything was going to be just fine, all flashes through your mind.

“I saw all that, Y/N,” Floris continues, looking down in shame. “And that's why I accepted his decision to walk away from me. Because even though I didn't want to accept it at the time, I knew that what he felt for you was real. And what you felt for him was too.”

For a moment, you stare at her, not knowing how to respond or what to do, since you didn't expect to hear this either.

And you honestly can't deny the honesty in her words and in that it's probably true what she's saying, but you also can't ignore the pain that still burns inside you.

And so you simply nod slightly, as if you are accepting her confession even though you don't know what to do with it.

Floris looks at you one last time before turning completely around and continuing on her way, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the emotions you've been trying to contain.

You feel a surge of sadness mixed with a strange calm, as if there is nothing left to give. Everything that has happened between you, Aemond and Floris is still a complicated knot to untangle.

Now the silence that follows is heavy, but somehow, it also seems liberating.

Aemond POV.

With a folder in hand containing all the documents he needs and a determination all over his mind and posture, he barely observes all the people around him as he walks quickly through the hallways of the building, heading towards a specific office.

When he reaches the corresponding hallway, he slows his pace, cautiously observing his surroundings, making sure his grandsire is not nearby.

After so long keeping him waiting in the hope that he would do him the favor despite having already told him it would not be possible, he must have known that he will never really help him after all the favors he has done for him.

And that is precisely why Aemond has resorted to such measures.

But if his grandsire sees him here, he will immediately know what he wants to do and will not hesitate to kick him out of the building. That's why he has to be quick as the guards have seen him come in and so have all the people who work here.

And it's hard to go unnoticed when you have silver hair, which implies either that you work here or that you are the son, brother or nephew of the people who run the company.

So he quickly makes his way to the office, where he doesn't even knock on the door before entering, just walks in quickly to avoid being seen.

“Aemond?”

He looks at his sister and lets out a long breath watching her wearily, to walk over and take a seat in front of her.

“I'm sorry, my grandsire can't know I'm here or he'll kick me out,” he explains.

“Why? What happened?” she asks genuinely concerned, stopping what she was doing on her computer.

“Nothing, it's just…” he pauses as she brings a hand to his hair, ruffling it in frustration, ”I need you to do me a favor, Nyra. A big one.”

This gets her full attention and she nods slowly in his direction.

“What do you need?” she says to him with all disposition, watching him intently.

Your face, your words, all the moments that happened, whether good or bad, but most of all your hurt and broken face, the disappointment and how terribly sad you must have felt.

All of that is Aemond's drive to finally make things right and the things he should have done in the first place.

But it is not only that, it is also the fact that you no longer want to have anything to do with him, that you no longer want to be in the same place with him, that you can't stand his presence and that you don't answer any of his messages or calls, wanting to stop having any kind of contact with him.

All of that lets him know exactly how you felt about Floris and also about the fact that he didn't keep his promise.

And now he is willing to do anything, absolutely anything to be able to keep what he promised you. It doesn't matter if you still don't want to have anything to do with him, all he wants is for you to go to the college of your dreams.

But Rhaenyra's face after explaining and asking him for the favor, is exactly what he expected but he will still keep trying.

“You know I can't do something like that, Aemond.”

“You just don't have to say anything to him Rhae, please.”

She shakes her head.

“That's only worse. You know how hard it was for me to get him to agree to let me work here since dad died and I still have to put up with his bad treatment—

“Oh please, we all know it's only a matter of time before you and Daemon also get to run this company in addition to Driftmark and Harrenhal,” he interrupts her seriously, “You'll take my grandsire's job and send him to run only the Oldtown company.”

Rhaenyra remains serious for a moment, pursing her lips.

“It's the right thing to do and you know it. My father left this to me, to us,” she clarifies truthfully, ”And your grandfather took advantage to take it all and leave almost nothing to me.”

He lets out a long breath, bringing a hand to his chin.

“When you've finished your degree, you'll run Oldtown and if you want, we can spread out more locations,” she tells him in a soft tone, “Helaena can also run Highgarden and Aegon and Daeron can also help us if that's what they really want. That's what father wanted and I never once intended to take that away from you, your legacy, as your grandsire told you I would.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he tells her in a soft, sincere tone, understanding what she means.

The fight over the inheritance was always in the family ever since their father became ill. He never showed them love or even that he cared even a little for them, but at least he intended to leave them a large part of his legacy.

Neither he nor his siblings fought with Rhaenyra and Daemon for it, it was only their grandsire, who from the time they were all children put hatred towards them to her.

But eventually, both he and his siblings realized that Rhaenyra had other intentions and everything grandsire said was a lie. Rhaenyra didn't want to steal their legacy, she never did.

And now… they have all developed a strange but pleasant relationship with her. He more than anything has developed a respect, even an affection, for his older sister, because she wasn't the villain they had always been led to believe.

“Our arrangement with Citadel University was made precisely from the company in Oldtown, a company he will run until you have graduated,” she continues, “And if he already refused once to help you with that and finds out that I did, this strange peace I have managed to keep will be over.”

And the worst part is that she's right.

He closes his eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of those words.

If his grandsire finds out that she helped him behind his back, all the progress they've made to maintain family stability will shatter, destroying any chance of avoiding another conflict. And all because of a girl only he knows.

If it were a nephew, cousin or someone closer to the family nucleus, everything would be different. Nepotism is a common currency among wealthy and powerful families, like his, but in your case, you are a complete stranger.

That is precisely the reason why his grandsire refused to offer help him.

And now, Aemond is caught between the desire to repair the damage he caused in you and the fear that his insistence will cause an even greater rift in the family.

“Then I'll do it,” he says with conviction, sure of his words and Rhae looks at him surprised and confused, “Just tell me how I can get her into college. You don't have to get involved, I'll take it all on myself. I'll say I asked you for help and you refused. If anything goes wrong, it will be my responsibility.”

Rhaenyra lets out a long, deep sigh.

“Aemond—

She begins softly, but he interrupts her before she can say more.

“She deserves this,” he says, his voice lower but laden with sincerity. “It wasn't her fault. She did a favor for me on the condition that I would do this one for her. Besides, I've done a lot of things for my grandfather and the company, especially this company, so please Rhae, I really want to do this.”

Rhaenyra watches him for a long moment, her eyes searching for something in his.

The intensity in Aemond's gaze does not waver, for he is willing to take the consequences, to stand up to even his grandsire, if it means giving you a chance to repair the damage he himself caused.

“Even if I have to give up my own place to give it to her, I don't care, I'll do it.”

Rhaenyra blinks slowly, her mind struggling between logic and the desire to help him. Aemond rarely shows regret, and seeing him so willing to sacrifice himself for someone surprises her and reaches her deeply.

And finally, after what seems like an eternity, she sighs.

“What you're asking is a huge risk,” she admits, looking at him with a mixture of seriousness and empathy.

He holds his breath, his body rigid, as she seems to debate internally and he waits for a decision. And then, she turns to her computer, beginning to type, letting out a long breath.

“But don't be silly, I want you to study at Citadel too.”

The relief Aemond feels is almost palpable. A mixture of gratitude and hope takes hold of him, and his shoulders seem to relax for the first time since he entered the office.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, “Truly.”

“Just let me make a phone call and I also need her docu—

She doesn't finish saying the word as he, with a quickness that reflects his urgency, drops the folder with all the necessary papers in front of her on her desk.

Rhaenyra raises an eyebrow, looking at the folder with a mixture of surprise and amusement.

“Sure,” she murmurs and opens the folder, letting out a small laugh, beginning to flip through the documents, making sure everything is in order "Well, this folder is quite complete and the grades are excellent,” she says in acknowledgement, "That's good because it will help us speed up the process."

Aemond allows himself to let out a sigh of relief, watching as Rhaenyra steps in to help him with this favor. And as she begins to make calls and coordinate the necessary details, he remains attentive throughout, beginning to feel more relieved than ever.

He knows this won't exactly make you forgive him, but at the very least, he's fixing the damage he's done to you so he can give you the opportunity you deserve.

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#aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond x fem!reader #hotd aemond #modern hotd #modern au #modern aemond #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond one eye #prince aemond #aemond targaryen angst

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justauthoring · 9 months ago

Text

a life like mine.

because you may think you're nothing, but gojo thinks you're the whole world (modern au).

a/n -> goooojjjjjjooooooooooooo

pairing -> gojo satoru x f!reader

tw. -> you're a prositute, implied sexual content, physical abuse (not by gojo), dubious content (not by gojo) also, not spell-checked :)

he'd noticed it as you were clasping your bra on.

a large, weltering bruise; the size of his hand and black and blue and everything nasty. something uncomfortable twists in his chest, face falling as he pushes himself up to rest on the crook of his elbow. when his hand touches your back, you jump despite how soft his touch is, head turning over your shoulder and frowning when you realize what he's staring at.

"it's nothing," you dismiss instantly. you brush his worry away and stand, putting extra care into stepping away from him as you slip your panties on; a matchy lilac lacy pair to go with your bra.

gojo isn't so easily distracted though. "who did it to you?"

and he watches, always aware of you and your emotions, as your face twists; there's a flash of fear that appears in your eyes but you blink it away as fast as it came. "a client," you say eventually, short and sweet. to the point. it's clear you don't want him to ask more questions.

gojo just stares back at you.

you huff. "some dude that came in yester—no, two days ago." there's a pause, body stilling, and then you're brushing out your hair. "it's fine."

but that uncomfortable feeling still weighs heavy in gojo's chest. he sits up, moving to the edge of the bed as he watches you clean and fix yourself. the reality of the situation weighs heavily on his shoulders—in a minute you'll walk out that door, put a bright smile on your lips and you'll do what you just did with him to another man.

"i've been thinking," gojo speaks up, eyes still stuck on that bruise.

"yeah?" you call out, distracted, "what about?"

"you and me."

everything stills then. the tense air thickens into something else entirely as your eyes snap to his. you stand there before him with a dark look in your eyes, practically willing him not to finish what he's threatening to start.

"sato—"

"no, just—just listen to me, okay?" he's pushing himself to his feet, crossing the distance over to you in seconds. his hands fall on your arms so as not to let you pull away, tugging you towards him as he smiles down at you; as if he's got the solution to everything. "we work well together—you and me. you—i like you. a lot. and not just for the sex. i like your spirit... i love how you laugh and the jokes you make. i like when you give me shit and i love when i get to see that sparkle in your eye."

you're shaking your head, lips parting but gojo doesn't give you the chance.

"it leaves the second you walk out that door, y/n." gojo breathes, voice desperate, "the second you're out there you're someone else. someone you're forced to be. and i know you need the money but i can give you that money. you don't need to... to—"

"—to what?" you cut in, voice sharp, eyes narrowing. "whore myself out?"

gojo's huffs. "i didn't say that."

"but that's what you meant," you shrug. "the second i go out there i'm not myself? that's what you believe?" you raise a brow, pulling away from his grasp. gojo attempts to stop you and you slap his hands away. "the second i'm out there, satoru, i'm not longer the girl you want me to be. that's the truth."

"y/n—

"no, you listen to me," you hiss, pushing him back by his chest. "i like you, it's true. we get along. you're nice to me... but don't think you're any different from any one of those men out there." your arm shoots back sharply to gesture towards the door; to the other side that is blasting music and filled with lights and occupied by men waiting for their pick of women like you.

lips left parted, gojo watches as you kneel down, grabbing his jeans off the floor and reach into his front pocket. a second later there's a wad of cash in your hands. "you pay me. just like them. you think you're better because you're some son of some rich daddy? because your inheritance is some big corporation?"

and gojo notices it then—the tears welling in your eyes.

"you're not. you may be prettier, smarter... whatever. but you come in here and you pay me for my body just like them. and anything we do or the way i act is because that's my job. to satisfy men by being the type of women they want."

you throw the money at him and gojo catches it, watching as you move to leave the room.

just as your hand falls on the door, he speaks up; "is it your job to let them hit you?"

and he knows it's a cruel thing to say. he knows it's mean and horrible and the worst possible thing he could say to you in that moment. but he's angry and his feelings are hurt, so he says it all the same.

your eyes meet his fiercely, shining with pure hatred.

"not everyone gets to choose the life they live, satoru," you whisper and something about it scares gojo cold. "so don't you dare judge me for living mine."

gojo had started visiting you four months ago.

he'd walked into the club one night, surrounded by a bunch of his friends; they'd walked in with their heads held high and the clear confidence that they knew they were better than every other person in that room.

your boss had dropped everything to greet them. shaking and honestly pitiful, he'd dined and served on them for whatever they wanted.

you remember thinking that it was odd such high-class men had come to your club. gross, old and fat men came to your club; not young, attractive men like him and his friends.

that didn't mean you expected him to act any different.

he was though. so different. sure, he'd been cocky and it was clear he was quite high on himself. he still threw flirts your way and eyed you, but it was different than how it had been with any of the other men that had before him. his teases were genuine flirts, could even be considered sweet. he didn't eye you like a peace of meat and when he finally had you alone, he'd been just as attentive on you as you were on him.

he'd paid extra and had smiled at you so sweetly you were unable to deny the flutters it gave you.

he returned two weeks later. then, four days later. and then, he just... kept coming.

three weeks ago, your boss had been replaced. it wasn't that you particularly loved your boss before, but he was nice enough and he was extra careful about making sure you and none of the girls were ever harmed outside of any kinks in the bedroom.

he was decent enough for the club you worked at.

this new guy didn't give a shit. not about you, or any of the other girls—all he cared about was money. and with him brought scarier clients. the first time you'd seen one of the girls with a black eye, you'd went to tell him and he'd told you to fuck off.

when you pushed, he'd slapped you and told you if you didn't shut up, he'd do worse.

the next night a man had chosen you and almost immediately he had unnerved you. the way he looked at you was nothing good; cruel and like he couldn't wait to get his hands on you. across the room, you'd seen your new boss looking at you and the glare on his face had been clear.

don't screw up.

that man, some big CEO of some big company, had kept you all night. hours and hours. it wasn't the sex that bothered you—you'd had rough sex before, especially considering your job. it was... the way he'd held you, the way he choked you so hard you'd blacked out. it's the way he'd hit you when you tried to fight back.

it was the things he called you and the things he'd said to you.

a week later was when gojo had came in and that was the last you'd seen him since.

clearly, his talk of 'you and him' had been nothing.

that man, haruto ito was his name, came back two days after. and four after that, and he'd come back tonight too. each and everytime he requested you and each and everytime he got more and more violent.

"—stupid bitch, are you listening to me?"

you're pulled from your thoughts as a sharp pain radiates from your cheek. you blink, stunned, only to find a pair of narrowed, harsh eyes staring back at you. it's haruto, and he looks less than pleased.

"s-sorry, sir," you apologize, ignoring the hurt of your cheek as you step towards him. you right yourself quickly, knowing it'd be worse if you didn't, and make sure to swing your hips as you saunter towards him, hands falling on his shoulders to straddle his waist. "now, where were we? i—"

he pushes you off him, without a care for you, as you slam into the carpetted floor with a cry. hand sprawled out behind you to catch yourself, you stare up at him in surprise.

"what—"

"i want to try something different tonight," he leers, not a care in the world that he'd just hurt you, smiling brightly at your pain.

your stomach twists, fear blooming through you.

"sir, i—"

"no more 'sir'," he scoffs, rolling his eyes. "i think 'master' would be more appropriate, no?"

swallowing thickly, you let out a shaky breath. "i, um, m-master, i don't understand—"

"just shut up and do what i tell you," he brushes off with a wave of his hand. "first, i want you to lick my boot."

he extends his foot out towards you, and your eyes fall on it, puzzled.

"sir—master," you speak hesitantly, "wouldn't you rather if i—"

"do it. now."

hands left curled in your lap, something horrible twists in you. it was one thing to degrade yourself for the pleasure of these men; to have sex with them or suck them off or anything of that sort... but to... lick his boot?

it felt... worse.

dehumanizing.

"i-i don't... i mean, this isn't what we're supposed to do. i don—"

"i paid for you," he hisses, reaching forward to grab a handful of your hair. he tugs, hard, a cry leaving your lips as you're forced to bend your body awkwardly to relieve the strain. "so you'll do whatever the fuck i tell you to."

"p-please, i—!"

he slaps you across the face, this time harder, before he uses that hand to grip your jaw, pinching, squeezing until your mouth is forced open and his face is right in front of yours.

his eyes are blazing and you realize that you're terrified.

"lick. my. boot."

he lets go then, dropping you as you sink into yourself, shaking and crying as a sob wretches from your throat. he pushes his foot in front of your face, lightly kicking you with it, and you dig your nails into the palm of your hand as you force your mouth apart and move to lick.

just as you do, you hear the distinct voice of your boss and pounding footsteps.

"—sir! she is with a client!"

"i don't care. get out of my way!"

your head snaps over your shoulder in the direction of the door. that was—

"what are you doing?" haruto hisses, grabbing you by the arms as he tugs you back towards him. his grip is pinching and you yelp in response, turning back only to see him pulling his hand back and your eyes fall shut, trying to steady yourself for the pain you know will come.

except, it never does.

in the midst of everything, you hadn't heard the door slam open. it isn't until, a moment later, that you flicker your eyes open in confusion, only to see gojo looming beside you, his hand gripping haruto's wrist in his own.

and his face—it's the angriest he's ever seen it.

"what the hell is—" haruto attempts to call, moving to stand, but gojo cuts in.

"is that how you let your client treat your own employees?" gojo asks, murderous eyes focused in on your boss. you glance back at him and it's the first time you've seen your boss look so afraid. "beat them? and you." he spins to haruto, and you watch as he cries out, gojo's grip turning painful. "you like hitting defenceless girls?"

you're shaking, you realize. shaking and crying. your heart is bounding against your chest and it's then you realize you're still naked. as your hands move to cover yourself, you miss the way gojo's eyes fall on you.

something warm falls over your shoulders then. it's gojo's jacket.

meeting his eyes, the concern in them, a fresh wave of tears fall down your cheeks.

gojo let's go of haruto, and before either him or your boss can say anything, his arms are slipping underneath your back and knees and he's lifting you to his chest. he turns, pushing your boss out of the way and walks right out the door.

a second later, your boss comes running out. "wh-where do you think you're taking her? she's still one of my girls!"

a group of your coworkers, other girls who'd heard the commotion, are standing by the bar watching. there's concerned looks on their faces, especially when some of them see the state of you, and there's confusion.

gojo stops right by the door leading outside.

"consider this her quitting."

gojo hadn't said a word.

he'd been silent in the car ride, having tucked you into the passenger seat, making sure his jacket was still wrapped around you tightly. you don't know how long you drove, all you could focus on was the sobs that refused to stop.

when you reached what you assume was his house (mansion more like it) the tears finally stopped. he refused to let you walk, opting to carry you and didn't set you down until you reach a bedroom. his bedroom.

he'd grabbed a shirt and some sweats, both which were too big, but helped you dress into them before tucking you into bed. he'd then left, only to return with a glass of water, a clothe and a first aid kit.

all without saying a word.

now, having just finished cleaning your words, you were desperate for him to say something.

"i'm sorry," you whisper, unable to handle the silence. "i'm so, so sorry."

and that makes gojo still. he freezes on the seat next to you, body tensing as his eyes slowly flicker to meet your own and then he's shaking his head. "why are you apologizing?"

the tears well again even if you desperately try to hold them back. "because of what i said to you..." you whisper, hugging yourself as your lip trembles. "you're nothing like them. and... and i should've listened to you."

gojo's silent for a long moment. it drifts, carries on and leaves you tense and unsure. and then, finally, he speaks.

"it's not your fault."

and his voice is firm, leaving no room for any arguments as he shakes his head at you. "i should've tried to be more sensitive to you."

nodding numbly, you glance at your lap. "how'd you know?"

"one of my friends visited," gojo starts. "said he saw your boss hit one of the girls. i remembered the bruise and i was there before i even realized it."

your eyes widen then. "the other girls!" you hadn't thought about it in the moment; scared and desperate to get away. but your boss would surely be angry about what had happened with you and that meant— "they'll be punished! my boss, he'll—!"

gojo's hand falls on your own, soft and warm, gentle. "don't worry about that, baby. my guys are there. they'll help them."

lips parting, you turn to gojo. "really?"

he smiles. "i promise."

eased at that, you nod. silence follows then, echoes for a few moments.

gojo is the first to break it. "i meant what i said even if i said it wrong."

you turn to him, confused.

"you and me," he clarifies and you blink. "i never went to you just for the sex. maybe at first, but never after that. i... i can't explain it but i could never stop thinking about you. you were on my mind all the time. and it pained me to see you stuck in a place you hated so much."

squeezing your hand, gojo shifts, leaning closer to you.

"i mean it. you don't have to go back, ever. i... you can stay with me."

your heart warms but you hesitate. "what about money? i... i don't have any to give you."

"i don't need it. you could live here forever and never work and i wouldn't care," he professes and something about the way he says it tells you he means it. "i have more than enough money in the world. but... but if you want something, i can help you get a job. something better. something safer."

biting your lip, you sniffle. "i... i always wanted to work with kids."

gojo smiles then; "then you'll work for kids."

you stare at him, stunned that a man like him would do so much for a girl like you. "why?" you ask, shakign your head. "why do all this for me?"

"because..." and he hesitates, inhaling sharply as he thinks over his words. but the resolution comes with ease and gojo's words are heartfelt and meaningful as he answers. "because i love you."

your lips part, stunned.

"you don't have to love me back," he assures with a shake of his head. "i know i used you the same as all those other men. but please know i never meant it that way."

you shake your head. "it never felt that way to me. i didn't mean what i said before."

gojo seems eased at that, smiling. "i'm glad."

"and... and," you start slowly, inhaling sharply. "i don't know if i love you... yet. but i trust you," you confess, meeting his eyes. "and you make me happy. and i think i could learn to love you."

gojo just smiles.

"that's all i could ask for."

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader

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daenysx · 3 months ago

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Hi, how are you? Is there anything you can do 21:49 X modern aemond?

09.49 PM | AEMOND TARGARYEN

"lean back." aemond instructs. it's a late night and you just got home. the rain had you soaked up to your bones, you couldn't stop shaking even when the warmth of his apartment surrounded you. as a good solution, aemond has you in the tub filled with hot water and he washes your hair.

"is it too hot?" he asks, checking the water for the seventh time in the past a few minutes.

"i still feel like i'm freezing." you say. "it's not too hot."

he feels a guilty wave hitting his chest. he should've picked you up from work, you're not usually this late and you told him you will be just fine. he had to attend to an online meeting, so you didn't want to keep him away from his work. he's never gonna be convinced enough to leave you alone in rain again, you know for sure.

he uses your shampoo, it makes your hair slide nicely between his fingers, and it smells so much like you. this is his personal heaven. he massages your scalp, you tilt your head back. the tension disappears in bubbly water. you pull your knees to yourself as you relax under his hands.

he kisses your shoulder. he can't really help himself when you smell so delicious, your skin is softened by the water and your poor muscles are finally free of the stress of the day. aemond kisses another free spot soundly, right where the water hits on your collarbone, the clean skin looking so appealing.

he rubs your shoulders until you go lax in the tub. it's already your favorite way to spend a december evening. he washes your hair until he's sure there's no shampoo left in your scalp. you look at him through half closed, admiring eyes. he has this way of taking care in his own style, you always love seeing this side of him.

"are you hungry?" he asks, slowly. he can make something really quick if you want, it's getting late, but you shouldn't sleep if you're starving.

"no." you shake your head softly. "tea would be nice, though."

aemond leaves the bathroom for you to clean yourself up. he puts the kettle on for the tea. he's waiting for you when you walk into the room with a towel in your hand.

you are freshly dressed in comfy clothes with your tea cup in your hand. aemond dries up your hair, only enough to help you sleep without soaking wet hair.

you drink your tea in silence. he keeps taking care of you as if it's a way to make sure of your contentment for his own peace of mind.

dreamer girl sleepover ♡

#dreamer girl sleepover ♡#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #modern!aemond #aemond x you #aemond x reader #hotd #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #modern!aemond targaryen #modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader #modern!aemond targaryen x reader

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acesw · 2 months ago

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Knowing our Arcanists 15: Leilani

Welcome to entry fifteen of my series: "Knowing our Arcanists"! This is a series in which I introduce and tell the stories of our fellow characters in Reverse: 1999. For our second arcanist of the day, we have: Leilani!

I think Leilani is one of the more niche arcanists that tend to be overlooked because of her rarity. She's really adorable and her character is one of the more happy ones I know of. While her story here may be one of the shortest ones we have, its still one worth telling. Lets get started.

Leilani is a Hawaiian arcanist who was born on September 23rd at some point in the (late?) 20th century. It can be assumed that Leilani is Native Hawaiian, but we have very little information to go off from that. Her arcane skill is related to archery, which allows her to perform extraordinarily well with it and shoot multiple arrows at a time.

She grew up in Hawaii as a child and she honed a lot of practices, mainly surfing, archery, and adventuring. But we find ourselves once again at Zeno Academy. Its the dream school of many soldiers in the modern day, and it would be honorable for one to be chosen to be taken in by them.

As it has been said before, modern technology and arcane skill here collide and work close together towards creating great power. And here, we find that Leilani is one of the fortunate young cadets to be taken in by the academy.

However, it doesn't mean that there aren't any setbacks. As a cadet, Leilani is expected to train in the same intense ways as every other soldier does, and use the same technologies as much as she can use her arcane skills.

However, Leilani remains adamant with using her traditional weapons and her arcane skill to fight. This became something that greatly hindered her academic progress, and she quickly became a target for bullying.

One of those instances would be her being often picked for target practice due to her hair. Other times she often got picked on for either: her bubbly innocence, or her carelessness that tends to be mixed with her forgetfulness.

Despite these, Leilani continued to strive with great optimism and high hopes, maintaining her friendly demeanor towards everyone around her. She stuck with her current skills and utilized the few lessons she cared to learn about, and even teach basic archery skills to her peers with ease.

In turn, she asks for help with learning things like military strategies and how to use some equipment for requirement. Her story mainly ends here, but there's still more to say about her.

Leilani is a very cheery and outgoing person who really doesn't have a specific goal to achieve in her life. (a little rare for an R1999 character) She wishes to live happily every day, all carefree and able to do all the things she likes.

She really enjoys with being able to venture anywhere and do any sort of active activity, but particularly likes to surf and finds it as a means of solution to many problems.

Her very friendly and welcoming personality brings a lot of joy to those around her, allowing her to form really quick friendships with her peers and her colleagues. However, it can come to a fault, since many of her qualities is something that's rather unfit to Zeno's standards.

She's often found to be also forgetful as well as be incredibly dense, worsened by her insistence upon using traditional weapons and skills over Zeno's preferences in their trainings. Its often led Leilani to failure, from either underperformance or incidentally misremembering her tasks.

However, it never wavers her resolve, and its admirable that she's able to persistently keep a smile on her face despite them. Even if she doesn't perform greatly in school, she's still a strong unit that just needs a new means to further cultivate her abilities.

Often inspired by her seniors' work and/or ethics, she strives to work hard to not only graduate but to also live her life to the fullest, and make the people around her smile as brightly as she does now.

#reverse 1999 #knowing our arcanists #leilani #she may be a little confused #but shes got the spirit

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sunny-speaks · 2 years ago

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Smartass

Characters: Academic Rival! Ren @14dayswithyou x reader

Okay, but I have been an academic rivals to lovers stan for far too long, y’all don’t understand…

So like, this au would totally have redacted still the same as Canon! Redacted, he’d just be like… more open to the MC? And it’d be in an academic setting??? Like he developed some self-esteem solutions and got more confident in being himself, still having subtle mannerisms of character traits you enjoyed… but more him

Like… he went to therapy so he could be better for you before you even knew him, cause you said some bullshit like they were no good looking guys in the world who didn’t have therapy, cause there’s nothing hotter than a mentally stable guy. (i mean, you’re all here because you love a stable guy, right… ;] )

But yeah, now you just know him as that snarky ass, dark-haired with pink tips ‘genius’ in your university ‘psychology in modern media’ class.

Warnings and whatnot: lolol NSFW implications so minors DNI, a decent amount of swearing on my part, I'd say?

Another flawless assignment completed for you. Whoo! It was a nice day to be smart!

To be fair, you had pored over that goddamn presentation for hours before going to sleep, so if you hadn’t done well, you probably would’ve bust a pipe over some unlucky guy’s head.

You grinned seeing the big 95 on your paper. You spent so long detailing the moral complications between the character relationships as you gutted the root problems for each of the character flaws and how that showed in their bonds with others.

Unfortunately, you had the (dis)pleasure of being seated to [REDACTED], the class self-proclaimed genius.

God, you hated him.

You were pretty sure you hated him more because he was so stupidly hot. You could clearly see his chiseled stone abs when he wore those clingy, black compression shirts! And paired with gray fucking sweatpants?

He knew what he was doing… And it was to mess up your game!

I mean, seriously, what was the lecturer doing, seating you next to this second coming of Michelangelo?! It’s almost like she had something personal against you!

(the lecturer was in fact, very for the both of you getting together. You both were smart, maybe you’d find a way to increase [REDACTED]’s grades…)

You never noticed him all that much in the beginning of the year. He brooded in his own corner, never noticed by anyone in those dumb black baggy hoodies.

But the minute he sat next to you, all of a sudden he realized he was hot stuff???

Okay, sure there, bro. He needed to chill out.

All of a sudden, he went from a lonely loser, to some hot genius within like the span of a day.

You didn’t get it.

But to be fair, you didn’t remember telling your good friend Moth how you started having things for hot but smart guys and guys who could actually stand a battle of wits… But that was for [REDACTED] to remember, and you to forget.

He leaned over your shoulder, a lazy smirk gracing his features. “95, not bad, angel.”

Agh! That stupid nickname! It was supposed to be something intimate, something reserved for lovers and such, but he insisted on using it to berate your grades!

He slid his paper over with a big 96 on it. “But not good enough.”

Of course. He had to have known that he was doing an in depth character analysis on the teachers favorite character and played to all the teachers preferences in the character and was spouting self-servient bullshit!

…But his presentation was well done, you had to admit. Normal people wouldn’t notice because you pay an unhealthy amount to any flaws in his looks, but he must’ve studied hard, he had huge eyebags during his presentation…

How would you know it’s because he thought your frustrated face was so cute when you kept thinking of ideas for your presentation that he completely forgot he had to impress the teacher to impress you?

Honestly, [REDACTED] cared more that he was on your mind in any way, even if that was because he acted like a ‘suck-up’ because he was too busy watching you.

“Hope you haven’t forgotten the many times I’ve beaten you academically, [REDACTED]. Or are you losing your memory because you’ve been sitting with a godsend this whole time? Sorry, didn’t mean for my heavenly powers to warp with your memory.” You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms.

“Then, you’re sure living up to your title, angel.” He snorted and went back to looking towards the front before muttering something under his breath. “...But your presentation was good, dork.”

In shock at the compliment, you stood there with your mouth open.

He glanced back over at you, “What? Is it so hard to believe that you did well on our midterm presentation?” he huffed to himself in disbelief before a grin made its way to his face. “Sitting there with your mouth open? It’s like you want someone to kiss that dumb look off your face.”

He thought the comment would shake you out of your stupor, make you come back with a feisty comment.

But no, you sat there, thinking about all the implications of that statement. …What if he kissed you? But he has so many piercings… He has a tongue piercing, snakebites, honestly, your mouth would feel like a jewelry store with the amount of silver in it…

But he looked like a fuckboy, would he be good at kissing?

Wait, hold up, no, no, no. Dude, you gotta remember…

He was a loser up until now.

If that’s the way he’d been his whole life, he’s probably never even kis—

And if that realization wasn’t enough for you to drop your jaw, nothing ever would.

[REDACTED] could only stare at you in mild surprise as your mouth opened… even more. He slowly blinked at you, a mock-scandalized look on his face, “What, you really want someone to kiss you that bad? You volunteering to be kissed, angel?”

You immediately let go all thoughts of kissing that gorgeous jerk in favor of heat rising to your face, “Nope. I’m good.”

He pushed and prodded a little more, “What, you never kissed anyone before?” He actually wasn’t quite sure. The early years when he didn’t know how to hack anything and couldn’t follow you were blank spaces in your life to him.

You muttered a curse under your breath and turned away from him without denying his question.

Although you couldn’t see it, his whole face lit up with hope. Oh, he was going to be your first kiss! He couldn’t wait! He internallly coughed at his eagerness.

He had to court you first before the two of you could become anything.

He looked back at your lecturer who had been picking on students who had to read out full paragraphs of their analysis on a TV Show that followed the messy plot of a coming of age, romance drama.

And also, clearly, leaving the two of you alone. He hushedly whispered to you, “Wait, are you serious, angel?”

You grumbled into the palm of your hand before slowly turning to him, “unfortunately… yes. I haven’t kissed anyone yet. But turns out this university is full of jerks and dumbasses…”

You paused. Well, maybe not all jerks and dumbasses. “Guess there’s a couple guys in the music department that are cool.”

Murder flashed through [REDACTED]’s mind thinking of you asking them out before putting on a strained smile, “So where do I fit in, hm?”

“I dunno…” You hadn’t put too much thought towards [REDACTED]. Sure, he was hot. But he was kind of a prick.

But he did respect your gender identity…

And he never went too far, making sure he didn’t cross any lines or boundaries…

And he gave you that academic rival that you’d been search―

…Oh my god.

He was your academic rival.

You loved rivals to lovers… Was this a sign? You got a hot rival, who respects you, your boundaries, your intellect and he was hot?!

Okay, maybe you had dreamed about him on a couple of weird occasions, but dreams don’t mean anything!

Is what you would say if you were in denial.

Oh dear, did you like him?!

You gave him a quick once over, looking at all the piercings on his ears and face as your eyes trailed to his shirt which clung tightly to his skin, all defined abs and muscles on display.

Hold up! Were those body cutouts on his top around his hips that you saw?! Fuck, those were hot…

Your eyes trailed a little bit lower to his pants… and shit, he was packing… There was no way in hell he was allowed to be that big, in height and in… length.

Ugh, your thoughts made you shudder a little. No way you were thirsting over a guy you were just fighting.

…But it wouldn’t be the first time, that’s for sure…

Okay, so maybe you had not-so-subtly eyed your seatmate like he was a piece of meat.

But he enjoyed the attention! He loved you drinking him up like he was just a pretty thing. But he was your pretty thing… Some random girls keep trying to ask him out, but he doesn’t want them. He wants you. But most importantly, he wants you to want him too.

“What, cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” He teased, using something other than angel as a nickname.

“Wh-Whatever, [REDACTED]. Shut up.” You rolled your eyes and took your attention off of him before whispering something under your breath.

“Angel, you gotta speak up.”

You grimaced, “I guess you go into the alright department. Luckily for you, you’re the only one there. You seem to be the only one I know who’s cool enough to handle me around here.”

He blinked, looking at you in subtle reverence, “A whole department for me, angel? Thank you.” He laced it with an edge of sarcasm but internally, he couldn’t have been more happy.

He was the only one there that you tolerated! The only one you liked.

You. Chose. Him.

#yandere x reader #✨ full fic #14 days with you #14dwy ren #ren x reader #ren 14 days with you

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dayseternal-blog · 4 months ago

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Hi, do you know any fanfic where Naruhina has an affair?

Hello! Yes!

Some of these recs will have them married to someone else, and some will be cheating while dating someone else. I'll just make a general list of

NaruHina Cheating/Adultery Fics

“A Maid’s Responsibility” by agitosgirl - Rated E, Modern AU, One-shot. It had been a year since he and Sakura had been physical. Now he had Hinata, sweet, kind, caring Hinata.

“All Kinds of Wrong” by Kieren - Rated E, Crime AU, One-shot. It was ironic how something so pure had sprung from such a sordid arrangement. They were perfect for each other. But they had met at the wrong time.

"The Hokage's Affair" and "Use Me" by madglow - Rated E, Canon-Divergent AU, One-shot and Prequel. Hiashi Hyuga kicks out Hinata after finding out that she's pregnant at 18. Little does he or the rest of Konoha know that she's carrying the Hokage's child. The Hokage, Naruto Uzumaki, who already has a wife and child of his own.

“Runner’s High” (to be rewritten) by @bunny-hoodlum- Rated E, College/Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. She’s an older woman. She’s also married. He’s a freshman at University. Single. She’s the one he wants and he doesn’t see what’s so wrong about that.

"A Girl Should Never Be Without a Father" by BunnyHoodlum - Rated E, Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. Somehow, his next chance at a family was dropped in his lap and he took it. Six years later, nothing has gone how he had hoped, and to make it worse, his stepdaughter's friend wants to drive the final nail in his happy enough ending. Maybe there's a reason things turned out like this. Maybe he was never a very good man to begin with.

"be the end of me" by BunnyHoodlum - Rated E, Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. Naruto hate-fucks the wrong blonde.

“Calming the Beast” by Goldfishlover73 - Rated E, Canon-Divergent AU, One-shot. Naruto can’t understand why his relationship with Sakura just isn’t working. Hinata has a solution.

“Blurred Lines” by @vegebulsoup - Rated E, Police/Crime AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. Detective Naruto Uzumaki is having a hard time staying focused at work due to an elusive, dark-haired beauty.

“Echoes of Silence” by @ellaroundpanda - Rated E, Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. Hinata Hyuga was trapped. Her relationship with Toneri was leading to nowhere and she wanted to find a new Dom. Naruto Uzumaki seemed to be the answer to all her prayers, but her fiancé wouldn’t give up that easily…

“Happiness Found” by dreadlord789 - Canon-Divergent AU, One-shot. The war has been won, differences have been set aside, and Naruto is now Hokage, married to his childhood crush. Though his marriage is far from perfect, he finds comfort in the one woman who has never left his side.

“I want you to cry” by Devahhole - Rated E for lots of awful things, like dub-con and graphic murder, High School AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. A sociopath blinded by revenge runs into his greatest opponent.

“Out With the Old” by agitosgirl - Rated E, BDSM Modern AU. Two-Shot, Complete. Rated E for smut. - A poor submissive meets a new Dominant to take care of her.

"Missed Years" by Rinne-Kami - Rated T, Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. The act of one night gave birth to their future. And now, with years past since that one night, they were left with years to return. Seven years of love to find, seven years of trust to rebuild, and seven years of fatherhood to return.

"Don't Deny Me" by Imanga - Rated E, Yakuza AU, One-shot. When Naruto gets stabbed after a quarrel with a rival family member, he receives the visit of an unexpected visitor...

"When She's Done" by @narutosleftpec - Rated E, Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. The soft pads of her thumbs stroke his cheekbones and she looks at him in an adoring kind of way. Eyes glowing, cheeks rosy and lips tilted in a serene smile. When she leans in and finally kisses him, Naruto is reminded just how hopelessly in love he is with Hinata Hyuga.

"I Need a Bad Idea" by @char-lotteral - Rated E, Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. He's a married man. He loves his wife. He loves his family. But when he meets this lavender eyed beauty at a bar one night, he asks himself if he loves them enough.

I realized that I'm writing one:

"He calls me the devil" - Rated E, Canon-Divergent AU, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Ohnej's AU, where the frightful Hyuga clan leader Hinata and Konoha’s powerful Hokage Naruto can’t stand each other in economical nor political ground. But walls do have ears, and Hokage’s office and conference room have heard it all. The walls know, that these legendary leaders can’t keep themselves off of each other.

If anyone wants to add on, please do!

#anon #naruhina fanfic recs #naruhina smut #naruhina angst #naruhina cheating fics

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swampstew · 1 year ago

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Eustass Kid, G-48 ~ Milking Table

Summary: It's that time of the month. The time when Kid really really needs your help to get through the deep-seated primal urges he has. Lucky for him he has someone as amazing and caring as you.

Warnings: Spicy, modern monster au, Eustass Kid as Tarbh-uisge with reader - implied relationship. Kid strapped to a milking table, use of milking pump, breeding kink, monsterfucking if you squint. Special mention to @don-mellow for being the reason this folklore creature was the first thing that popped into my mind for this prompt. Subscribe to their Patreon! Word Count: 772

Tarbh-uisge: Generally regarded as a nocturnal water bull, it is more agreeable than its equine counterpart the water horse, while having similar amphibious and shapeshifting abilities. It is able to shapeshift into human form and live on land or in water. It can also be amiable and sometimes helpful. The bull might have had a sacred role in various Celtic cult rituals. The Tarbh-uisge was viewed a symbol of fertility and abundance

You had Kid strapped face down on the custom milking table, an impressive feat in itself considering his hulking mass and general…defiant of authority attitude. In a harness that bound his flesh arm behind his back and his ankles to the table, you massaged his back with heated oil to soothe his muscles, helping him relax. The two of you had been at it for a while, and he had needed a break.

His muttering that he didn’t need to be babied let you know he was ready for the next session. Gently wiping the excess oil off, you scratch his back hard enough to leave red lines – each graze of your fingernails draws a shaky grunt from him. The purple faded lines of the previous marks littered down his back and ass, and you would have to remember to take a photo of how delicious he looked.

You moved off his muscled back and peeked under the table, pleased to find his cock swollen once more. Bless his stamina. Reaching out, you ran your fingernails down his shaft to his balls, watching in delight as his cock bobbed from the contact, and precum already leaking out from his slit.

“You’re doing so well. After tonight, I’ll let you have some rest and relaxation. You’ve filled up quite a few buckets. Then after, I’m going to treat you so good. Let you be my pillow prince to thank you for your sacrifice today,” you cooed, kissing his cheek. His damp locks plastered on his hair barely hid the flush in his face.

With a warm touch you begin jerking him off. Whispering filthy things you’d do to spoil him when this was all over. How you’d ride him for days on end, how you’d feed him while fucking him, not letting him leave the bed so you could give him all your love.

He leaked into your hand and that helped you fist him faster as he wasn’t able to do anything except struggle in his restraints – unable to even rut properly through the table to build his pleasure. He was entirely reliant on you and your methods alone to milk his cock.

If he was unrestrained, there was a chance he could go crazy in his lust and do something stupid like mount and accidentally impregnate you. Every month he would go through a cycle of needing to breed – a time where he couldn’t keep his cock down if his life depended on it – and you were kind enough to find a creative solution for you both.

Kid’s panting became louder, huskier as the tip of his cock turned deep red. You watched as his balls drew tight, signaling he was near release. You ducked your body under the table and formed a ring with your fingers, holding the base of his cock with a firm grip as you pulled out the milking pump.

“FU-FUCK!” he grunted loudly. “Swear you get off on doing that,” he spat out, hitting his forehead against the leather padded table in frustration.

“I don’t not,” you giggle, connecting the tube to the pump to the last vial you had. With a fat lick of your tongue from his perineum, over his scrotum, and up his shaft, your lips wrapped around his head giving him an urgent suck before you popped off him. Giving his twitching cock a kiss, you slid the pump over his cock and began pumping him faster than before.

“SHIT! SHIT! I’M-I’M CUM—” the rest of his stutter was cut off by a pleasured, dull roar as his hips squeaked and rutted against the table. You watched the pump line fill with the thick, white liquid going down the drip line and into its vial. The sound of weary panting left Kid as the line kept dripping until the vial was filled to the brim.

“I’m done I’m dooonnee!!” he cried from overstimulation as you pulled the pump off.

“I know love, I know,” you topped the vial and put the equipment in the bucket. Noticing a few drops weeping from his softening dick, you quickly crawled over and enveloped your mouth on his tip to lick him dry.

8 tiles to go, 49 calls made so far.

#eustass kid #kinktober 2023 #raven's bingo board #raven's halloween party #one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #swampstew stories #swampstew bedtime stories #eustass kid smut #eustass kid x reader #eustasscaptainkid #swampstew #tw monsterfucking #cw breeding

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fandomrose · 1 year ago

Text

Furina post 4.2 reverse comfort.

Hi again. A Furina post 4.2 reverse comfort. I've been working on this for a depressingly long time.

There is implied spoilers but not many. This is also friends to probably, eventually lovers. Starting with the friends in this fic.

This is alot more angsty than the Neuvillette one. It does have descriptions of injury and disassociation. I drew on my own experiences with my own disassociation and helping others through theirs.

I really wanted to do one for Furina because I wish to hug the poor woman. She's been through too much.

I hope you enjoy 💙

You clutched bags filled with cooking ingredients. Ever since learning that your 'former' Lady Furina was living off of macaroni from a certain blonde haired traveller and 'talkative' flying pixie. You decided to pay her a visit, said flying pixie freely telling you where she lived.

Nerves coursed through you. It had been a few weeks since you had seen Furina. Since the prophecy had 'not' come to fruition your services as a private investigator for 'solutions for the prophecy' was no longer needed. And when Furina stepped down from her position as Hydro Archon you stopped seeing her.

'Diva archon' is what people called her but you knew her better than that. You can't have claimed to be close but, you had seen glimpses of the hidden care and love she had for the nation she governed. True god or not you saw glimpses of all she sacrificed over your few years working under her. You had grown fond of her and the trail she was put through almost broke your heart.

You steeled your nerves before knocking on Furinas door at just past midday. There was silence before you heard rustling, the unlocking of the door and it opened giving you the first look at Furina in 3 weeks.

She had slight bags under her eyes, she looked thinner and her smile was not as bright as it used to be.

"Why hello, it's certainly been a while since I've seen you,-" she started off attempting the same theatrical countenance she had before but it quickly faded. "Why have you come here and how did you find out where I live?"

The thought of her finding it worrying that you knew where she lived didn't cross your mind. "The travellers companion may have let it slip my lady."

She sighed, "Please don't call me that any more just 'Furina' is fine." Her voice now sounded tired, a slight rasp of exhaustion present.

"Alright my- Furina... um," there was an awkward air between you two, one that you were determined to dismiss. "I was wondering if you would like to spend the afternoon in familiar company... I brought food if you'd like to have dinner."

Furinas eyes narrowed slightly. "Did Paimon also tell you that I was living off of macaroni."

You had somehow forgotten how sharp Furina was. "Yes.. but, but I didn't just bring food, I thought I'd teach you to make more dishes other than macaroni. Still quick, easy and involving pasta but different. Also baking bread. I thought it would go well with what we are making...." You felt yourself ramble, trying to convince Furina to give you a chance.

She looked like she was fighting with herself for a moment. You hold your breath waiting for a response. "Okay.. that sounds nice actually."

You sigh with relief "Alright lead the way my- um- Furina." You watched as she flushed a slight pink before leading you inside. Her home was modestly furnished but well coordinated and clearly to her aesthetic taste. She led you through the short hallway and into her kitchen. It was up to Fontaine’s modern standard with an oven and hobs, a sink and a new cooling machine that was recently invented by the Fontaine research institute for the storage of Fonta, but had been later discovered to increase the shelf life of many different foods. They were currently very expensive however. You wondered how she was able to afford it with no job. Her shelves were almost bare however, it made you glad you came with ingredients and a few extra essentials.

"Here you can put the food on the counter." Furinas gestured to the counter close to the oven. "What are we making?"

You nod and pull the ingredients out. "I thought a cottage pie and some garlic flat bread would be a good start. I also brought the ingredients to make some simple crěpes for dessert."

"Great ... I don't know how to make any of that, are you sure you want to bother teaching me?"

"Of course Furina, why would I bring all this if not to teach you."

"I guess you're right, so what are we starting with?" Her voice was hesitant, you begin to wonder if she was really up to this. What if you were pushing her too hard?

"Ah I thought we'd start by preparing the bread.."

You show her the steps of baking bread. She follows your instructions diligently, her smile broadening and confidence returning with every step she gets right. "This isn't as bad as I thought it'd be. Then again of course I could learn anything I put my mind to."

Seeing her smile again was all you wanted out of today. If you were being truthful with yourself.

"Now we let the dough rest for about 45 minutes.. in the meantime let's prepare the potatoes for the mash that'll go on top of the shepherd's pie."

You teach her how to peel a potato with a paring knife. Or rather you try to. As she pulled back the knife her hand slipped on the potato and she nicked her palm with the knife, a long thin line of blood appearing on her palm. You were focused on your own potato when you heard her yelp in pain. You immediately drop the knife and potato you were peeling and rush to her side assessing the damage.

"Furina! What happened?" You gently grab her hand looking at the wound. "Where is your first aid kit?" She didn't speak, only pointed to a cupboard on the other side of the room, her eyes glued to her wound, pearls of tears collecting in the outer corners of her eyes and all you want to do is draw her into your arms.

But first the wound, you gather the first aid kit and sit Furina down at the table in the kitchen and quietly bandage her hand. The cut wasn't deep, which was good, but she barely flinches as you clean the wound, which was a point of concern. You sense she's not up for criticism or questions so you keep things to yourself while you finish bandaging her hand.

I take a deep breath and try to talk to her again now that the wound is dealt with. "Furina? Are you up for continuing or would you like me to take over?" She didn't respond immediately seemingly not even hearing you, you are about to attempt to get her attention again when-

"No. You- you take over." She sounded exhausted again, and almost defeated. Worry crawls through your stomach all the way up into you throat but you hold back for now. Not quite sure how to deal with this Furina.

"Alright." Is all you can say, softly as not to startle her. As you continue prepping the meal peeling the potatoes, boiling them in milk for extra creaminess and seasoning with salt and pepper. You start up another hob and cook the meat, frying off the fat before adding, flour, worcestershire sauce, a splash of red wine, tomato paste, chopped bell peppers and onions. While the mixture reduces you prepare the dough Furina made earlier, spreading a mixture of garlic butter rosemary and thyme over the dough and place it in the oven.

You catch Furina glancing at you while you work. You turn off the heat on the meat and take some of it from the pan in a small spoon and carefully carry it over to her. "Would you like to taste test Furina?" She looked up at you in surprise before nodding slowly. You offer the spoon to her and she leans forward and closes her mouth around it without taking it out of your hands.

A moment of silence, while you might usually feel flustered at this kind of action. But with Furina seemingly still out of it, not registering what she'd done, it was just concerning. You take the spoon away and turn around.

"Is it good?"

A tired "Yea" is the only response you get. It'll do for now. You finish off the cottage pie by arranging it in a dish putting the meat and veg mixture, then the creamy mash before sprinkling a generous helping of parmesan cheese over the top of the mash and putting in the oven for 20 mins. The bread is almost ready to take out and could make a good starter.

You set a time and sit by Furina, slightly awkwardly, not knowing what to say. You'd been so focused on your tasks you hadn't realised how strange it felt to be around Furina in a casual setting and especially not when something seemed to be bothering her so greatly.

"Furina.. How's your hand?"

"It's fine, doesn't hurt much anymore."

Your concern was beginning to reach a peak. She couldn't look at you for some reason. And her voice was so weak it was barely there but you don't know what to do without crossing an unspoken boundary or making things worse.

The bread timer goes off. You rise from your seat to take it out, putting it on a rack to let it cool for a few minutes.

You look over at Furina, her form slumped and defeated looking, her eyebags somehow more prominent than when you started. You didn't understand what could have made her this way. Overall yes, you were there at her trial after all, at the end of it you were just happy she wasn't actually executed. But what happened today? Was it the injury? But why would that cause a near catatonic dissociation?

You didn't want to push, instead you just cut up the bread and offered her a piece, on a small plate, in the hopes that some form of stimulation would reawaken her. She slowly picks at the bread, putting small pieces in her mouth.

The second timer goes off. The cottage pie is ready, so you remove from the oven, find two large plates and serve the food.

She looks up at the food and picks up the fork, slowly digging in to the cottage pie. You watch with interest hoping maybe food would perk her up at least a little. And perk up she does. Finally a smile graces her face, small but there.

"This is lovely, thank you. Truly a meal worthy of the great Furina De Fontaine." She made an attempt at her energetic performance but was still tired it seemed.

You smile at her in what you hope is a pleasant and reassuring manner. "Well my lady I am glad it's worthy of your greatness."

She laughed that same haughty laugh you'd grown to enjoy hearing even if it was a little strained with exhaustion.

"Would my lady enjoy some crêpes to cleanse her palette of savoury tastes?"

"Yes, a batch of crêpes sounds wonderful my humble chef."

You stand and bow hoping this play was helping her recover from whatever state she was in. Turning to make a small batch of crěpes you don't notice the way she slumps in her seat.

You dust the crêpes in powdered sugar, lemon juice and fill them with cream and chopped fruit. A plate of two crěpes is placed in front of Furina with a smile. Your smile fades seeing her downtrodden look again.

"La- Furina? Is everything okay?"

"It should be... but it's not" was her response. You watch as tears slip down her cheeks. She tries to quickly wipe them away. "Ahhahaha.. how silly, I don't know why.. an overflow of hydro yes it must be."

You walk round the table and stand by her. "Furina, you can tell me what's wrong. You- you don't have to hide anymore."

It seems that small push was all it takes for her to allow herself to break. She turns and practically falls into your arms and sobs. "It was going so well. But then I messed up again. I really am useless" She cried into your arms, her sentences broken up by bouts of heartbreaking sobs.

Saying anything felt like a bad idea for now so you remove her hat and simply stroke her head while she cries into your chest. You don't know how long it takes but you patiently wait for her tears to dry and her sobbing to subside. Grabbing a soft handkerchief you lift her face and dab at her cheeks. You watch her eyes widen as if she realised she was actually crying into a living person rather than a plushie.

"I- I-"

"Furina, it's okay.. you aren't useless and you are still learning right. You have no idea how many cuts and burns on my arms and hands I have scars for just from cooking. Hahaha. It happens my lady. But if I may be so bold, it's not about the accident is it?"

You pause before speaking again, not wanting her to have any excuses you make sure to beat her to the punch.

"Have you mourned yet? Your status as an archon? Your position in Fontaines elite? Your friendship with Monsieur Neuvillette? Anything else I am not privy to."

It wasn't the most elegant way to put it. Some might call it cruel but she needed to confront this in order to move on.

You begin to regret your decision when you see Furina hang her head and cry again, much more subdued this time. You open your mouth to apologise but-

"You're right... I've been ignoring it all instead of dealing with it. I thought I could just move on, and 'improve myself' and everything would be okay."

She spoke so harshly of her own thoughts. You shake your head and sigh.

"Don't be mean to yourself Furina. Your only mistake was isolating yourself, but if I may be so bold, again, I'm here. And I want to help you, I've always liked spending time with you so I'd be more than happy to be your friend."

She began to sob again. "You want to be my friend? You'll stay by my side even when I'm like this.."

"Yes Furina, that is what I want. As long as you want it to." You open your arms letting her hug you again. She was crying, but at least her tears were happy this time.

This was probably the start of something wonderful.

#genshin x reader #furina x reader #angst and fluff #genshin x you

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multiplicationdivision · 9 months ago

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Throwing in the Towel

Ever feel lonely at the gym? No partners in your weight class? Theres a simple solution.

Newbies are an excellent source of raw material in modern gyms. Typically young stupid 20 year olds with nothing but envy for the built muscles and skill of their superiors. They’d agree to anything to have it, and being fondled by a larger stronger man was a siren song in of itself for their starved horny little brains. Didn’t hurt that all that excitement made their blood run hot, made it all so much easier to work.

Harrison hadn’t even had to mourn his buddy cancelling last minute on their evening boxing before he was roping in the youngest guys in his gym, summoning them from where they hid aways from the gym. They were a pair of unconfident college kids, but Harrison could fix that. They’d been nothing but gleeful to accept to Harrison’s offer, despite having no idea what his “stretches” entailed. Harrisons demand that they be naked in the locker room had been irresistible for them, probably recalling the start of so many pornos they’d overwatched again and again.

They likely thought they were in one themselves and they weren’t exactly wrong.

It was simple enough to press them together. Their short scrawny bodies were just enough combined to equal Harrison’s own heavy musculature. Harrisons pressed them together like tough clay, their individual bodies resisting the pressure before finally giving, the distinction between their individual body parts giving out over the course of a small eternity as Harrison messaged the tension out of their muscles with his well-practiced technique. Convincing those muscles to bind between each other over his sculpting hands, anchoring them on fusing bones.

Harrison found the entire process quite enjoyable, creating true potential out of nobodies, allowing scrawny men to skip all that treacherous work of muscle aches and gym time so that they could get to the good part immediately. There was the more physical parts of this process that he savored though.

Pressing two chest against his own until their respective person though they would break under the pressure before they let loose a shared gasp as their bodies fit together in one perfectly aligned slip. Harrison wrestling their squirming neuron confused body to the floor as he gave his attention to their waists, torturing the individual components of his little project as he enticed two cocks together without letting them release, bundling together all those sensitive nerves in a way that was surely electric to his new friends and letting it echo between their still separate heads.

He'd quickly move onto their legs, not caring to give them the satisfaction. His eyes were always on the prize and that was getting a few hours of gym time in before heading home. It was just business he always explained to his new friends, knowing that leaving them high and dry would make the coming night all the better. Nothing like multiplied nerves and a bit of boxing to make a man an absolute animal in bed.

They’d understand later, even if they begged in still separate voice for his mercy in let them finish. He shut them up by gripping their skulls and pressing as tight as he could. Watching their heads slowly push together, facial features swimming as their pale skin merged together and the bone compounded. Harrison could watch individual strands of hair join, as two mouths fits together and became one indistinct voice as irises shifted back and forth between colors.

Their separate DNA couldn’t decide what they should look like in this delicate stage, flashing with varying features of every trait possible in their genetic code. If Harrison left them like this, they would eventually balance out, becoming a perfect amalgam of their two parts. He’d done it before countless times and a fair bit of the men who’d frequented this boxing gym were products of such a thing. They’d come out either as a handsome man with merged memories or the two personalities sharing their combined form. He’d seen every variation of it, enjoyed every grateful night from the spectrum of unique fusions he would eventually bring home.

Harrison was in the mood to try something new today.

Sure, combining two men would meld their individual skills and body into one greater whole, but there was always one problem. These newbies never amounted to much skill in the ring to match Harrison’s own, even with their combined competency. These boys had only about 6 weeks of boxing between them and that was nothing before Harrison’s years of the sport.

Harrison had a fix.

Their unstable form would be easy to meddle with and Harrison’s own body was all the more willing to influence. He could grip their shifting body and feel a bit of him merge with it, just enough to pass a trace of dominant information in between them. Siphoning a copy of everything that made Harrison himself into the indistinct man.

It was surprising how simple it was, feeling a version of himself sink into the accepting form. Feeling the connection to himself stretch as this copy of his memories and selfhood settle beside the two minds in the body before him. He could feel in real time how those two minds devoured that copy, integrating all the experience and skills of Harrison into themselves with reckless abandon.

The point he’d griped rippled and darkened with a slight tan, before the color and shape of body that Harrison knew well flowed across this smooth form. Muscle he’d quite literally fought for now replicated out of once soft weak mass, becoming distinct on the locker room floor. A naked man with his handsome face staring back at him with all the glee of his components, his scruffy beard and messy hair just as Harrison had left it that morning. He gave a sassy little flirt to his original, something like “Hey handsome” or “Did we always look so sexy”. Saying the cheesy shit that made it clear that the young men were still under it all, youthful energy filtered through the lens of Harrison’s personality.

He'd quickly gotten them dressed in his backup clothes, tossing them matching sneakers and shorts that he’d bought on the off chance that this fantasy would work. They were his perfect reflection and they knew he enjoyed it, making off comments as if they’d been with him when he’d bought his clothes. Claiming his memories as their own before they took to using his own techniques against him.

Pushing him against the locker room wall in a show of dominance before playing it off as rough housing. Coping a feel in between rounds of perfectly matched fights, knowing full well that they were dangling him off the edge in the same way that he was doing to them. Stealing his phone and keys because “They were his too”, as if they had a claim to every part of Harrison, knowing that such a concept would make his heart race.

Harrison was always in control, but such a thing was impossible now. This copy of himself wielded everything he did under the control of what was clearly still two separate horny little shits, paradoxically utilizing his manipulation with utmost skill despite how blatantly obvious it was. He’d optimistically call them equally matched, but their combined force of personality would likely overcome him.

His mind reeled at how much his body enjoyed that thought. He could feel his double taste the power shift in the air as they wrestled, so far from what was typical for boxing. Identical hands around him that Harrison knew could threaten just as much reality altering force as his own, threatening to change him just as Harrison had done to others his entire life.

In between the bludgeoning of their gloves against each other, Harrison’s mind wandered far. He was at this man’s mercy because he wanted to be and his own cock seemed to push all sense of self preservation aside. He’d given his identity to two reckless college kids and he wanted them to be as irresponsible with it as possible. To do everything he’d done and more.

Today was the only guarantee that they’d still be a pair of twins and lord knows if their number would grow or decrease. Harrison melded with another man at his double’s whims or absorbed into him as if he was nothing but a resource for more gains. Just clay to be sculpted.

Harrison’s twin grinned with all the shit eating danger of uncontained world altering libido and Harrison could only grin in return.

Tonight would be worth the risk and so would every night after.

It was a thrill Harrison could get used to.

#identical #copy #shapeshift #male shapeshift #clones #sharing a body #male merge #merging #my writing #personality change #male tf #male merging #male body merging #clone by conversion

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mxlfoydraco · 2 years ago

Note

do you know any fics where harry is jealous of blaise cause he and draco are really close and/or touchy friends?

Thank u 😩

I can give you jealous Harry in general, adding on to this list Jealous Harry

Jealous Harry

Around You Moves by ignatiustrout (29k)

Harry knew Draco was gay when he invited him to move in. He’s never had a problem with this. So why does he feel so weird about Draco bringing men home all of a sudden?

Here’s The Pencil, Make It Work by ignatiustrout (49k)

Harry thinks “Why is Malfoy working in a coffee shop in muggle London?” is a much simpler question than, “Are you going to accept that auror offer and, if you don’t, what will you do?”

keep it down by warmfoothills (13k)

Malfoy’s an inconsiderately loud roommate and Harry’s over it.

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lanafofana · 4 months ago

Text

Pumpkin Spiced Larceny

Pairing: Raphael x Tav (kinda), Shadowheart x Lae'zel (background)

Rating: Teen+ for swearing and implied heavy drinking and drunken behavior.

Word count: 4.6k

Summary: Modern College AU. Tav has a bit of a rough past but she's making strides on reforming the errant ways of her misspent youth. Until a friend in need sparks that familiar sticky fingered itch. It's fine though...It is!

Special love to @waterdeep-weavemoss @ladyofcrowsandcoffee Vi and Fangbanger for doing the brainwork of thinking up drinking game names 😘

AO3 Link to validate me with Kudos etc etc etc

Gratuitous self indulgent chicanery ahoy!

There was no getting around it. The pumpkin was fucking ugly.

Tav stared at it, brows furrowed, frowning and trying to come up with something encouraging to say. Her companion sighed.

“Just say it,” Shadowheart muttered, slumped in self pity on her side of the picnic bench. “It’s awful.”

“No!” Tav blurted and then bit her lip when Shadowheart transferred her narrow eyed stare from the gourd in question to her. “I mean, it’s…” Adjectives, each more unhelpful than the last, flew through her mind. Hideous. Gross. Cursed. She tilted her head the other direction, hoping to stir a burst of inspiration from somewhere. A piece of pumpkin hanging on by sheer force of will abandoned its post and landed on the table with a wet splat. “It’s an honest effort.”

Shadowheart gave her a disgusted look. “OH thanks!” She glared resentfully down at her project. “It’s a fucking piece of work. What am I gonna do?” With the dull handle of her blade she prodded the gaping maw of her savaged creation morosely. “The contest is in an hour and Lae’zel’s going to be mortified I submitted this in her name.”

Lips pressed into a thin line Tav didn’t have a clue what to do either. “What was it supposed to be?” she asked delicately.

Her friend rolled her eyes. “You can’t even tell? That’s just, ugh! Whatever, it’s supposed to be a mindflayer, from that game she’s always playing?”

“Right.” Tav prodded a pile of pumpkin guts spilling out from the pumpkin monster’s maw, “and this?”

“A brain?”

“Okay,” said Tav gamely. Running through the options available to them in their limited time frame Tav puffed out her cheeks in thought before snapping her fingers. “Got it.” Her friend looked up hopefully. “Have you thought about hiding?”

“Tav!” complained Shadowheart, threatening to throw a pile of juicy pumpkin guts at her face.

Dodging away, Tav laughed. “I’m not joking! Your girlfriend scares me. But,” she added a hair more seriously. “Also, she like, loves you, right? Like love-love’s you. Like a lot. Have you considered she probably won’t even care?”

Shadowheart scowled. “The prize is a year-pass to all those mixed martial arts fights they do at the colosseum. She’ll care.”

Gathering up bits of pumpkin pulp into a pile Tav sighed and stepped away to throw it in the bin when an idea occurred to her and she froze.

“We could…no. It’s a bad idea.”

Shadowheart was out of her seat in an instant. “No, don’t do that, what were you going to say?”

Gathering the abandoned implements of pumpkin carving Tav considered her words carefully. “It’s a really bad idea but…I think I know where we can steal one.”

“Oh for the love of,” Shadowheart swore. “Is that always your first solution? Crime?”

“Hey!”

“Don’t ‘hey’ me. Well don’t stop there, go on, out with it. Where is this pumpkin and how do we not get caught and how do you know about it and how do you know–”

“You remember that guy I told you about? Raphael?”

Shadowheart’s hands come down hard on the picnic table with a loud smack. “The Dean’s son?” she hissed, horrified at the direction this is going.

“Yeah,” confirms Tav grimly. She picked up the brutalized pumpkin and considered it with a frown before, deciding it wouldn't fit in the bin, putting it back down. “I know for a fact he carved one and I also know for a fact he won’t be submitting it.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“He’s been using one of the art department’s studios after hours, I saw him working on it the nights I had life drawing. And last night I saw him having a row with his father in the quad by the Admin annex.” A twinge of something curled in Tav’s gut uncomfortably at the memory. “Anyway, he’s definitely not in the running anymore. We just have to break into the studio he’s been using and bing bang boom.”

“Alright,” Shadowheart said slowly. She didn't look particularly confident but turned the plan, such as it was, over in her mind a moment. “Alright, fine, let's do it. How hard could it be?”

Tav gave her a dirty look.

“What?”

“You just had to say it, didn't you?” At her friend's blank stare Tav sighed and rolled her eyes. “Nevermind, secure your Jack-O-Shit and let's go.”

Pulling a cardboard box out from under the table Shadowheart dumped in her mangled project and the implements of carving she had used before another thought occurred to her, “How are we gonna break into the studio?”

Tapping away on her phone Tav glanced up with a smirk. “Don't worry about it, I know a guy.”

Trailing after Tav, arms full of the awkward weight of her mistakes, Shadowheart tried to keep her expression as neutral as possible at that revelation.

The pair hustled across campus to find Tav’s ‘contact’ leaned against the back of the Oskar Fevras Fine Arts building. When he heard them coming he looked up from his phone with a smile that was all teeth.

“Hello, my darling reprobates. Looking to spice up your Halloween with a little grand larceny?”

Shadowheart’s eyes nearly bugged out of her face but Tav only laughed, unconcerned. “Hardly, Astarion, we just need to get in.”

“Darling, I wasn't born yesterday,” Astarion chastised, giving them both a look over the frames of his trendy sunglasses. “The only reason someone wants to break into a studio is to steal. And since I'm reasonably certain no one at this institution has produced the next Mona Lisa I know you're not doing it for money. More's the pity.” He pocketed his phone and rubbed his hands together gleefully. “So, who are we ruining with this charming little heist?”

“Plausible deniability,” sang Tav. “Keys, please! Besides, if we get caught and you're implicated, how could you ever manage to look at yourself in the mirror again?”

Astarion barked a laugh. “Very easily, I assure you. You're really not going to give me a teensy little clue?”

“It's for a good cause,” Tav assured him.

Astarion scoffed, disgusted. “Well there went my interest.” He heaved a long suffering sigh. “Very well.” Producing a ring of keys with a motion so fluid it looked like magic he pushed off from the wall and led them to the door. “Here you are then, please don't lose them. I am rather fond of being employed.”

“Thanks, we won't be long.”

Tav opened the door, ready to go in but Shadowheart hesitated.

“You're not coming?”

“Aren't you adorable,” Astarion cooed. “Stick around and be spied at the scene of the crime? No, thank you, dear. I'll be at the costume contest. You can find me there whenever your sticky little fingers are done. Look for the vampire with the great hair. Ta, darlings.”

The art building was a feat of modern art meets architecture. Its layout was similar to an old fortress with most of the building shaped around an open courtyard, a strange golden fountain at its center. The entire thing was a dismal dark grey stone that, while offering a sleek facade, leant itself to casting dramatic shadows no matter the time of day and it was through these shadows the pair passed on their quest.

Empty of the usual bustle generated by the hundreds of students who normally traversed the place, their footsteps seemed to crack especially loudly against the stone beneath their feet, echoing off the imposing walls.

“I’ve never been here before,” remarked Shadowheart, shifting her box onto her hip to dig her phone out of her bra. “It's very…prison-chic for an art department.”

Tav snorted. “No need to wonder who influenced that decision. The school got the money from the Fevras’ family the year the Dean got appointed.”

“Not a man fond of the arts I gather. Unfortunate for Raphael.”

“Yes, well. Fortunate for us because now you'll get a pumpkin that doesn't look like a chainsaw massacre victim. There's the entrance to the studio wing.”

Somewhere the screech of a door swinging open and slamming shut rang out. The pair froze and stared at each other.

“Probably just a professor,” whispered Tav.

“We've got thirty minutes,” hissed Shadowheart, stuffing her phone back down her shirt and adjusting her grip on the box.

The door was unlocked and mercifully quiet when they cracked it open to slip inside. The hallway they entered was long and dark with a single flickering light buzzing at the far end ominously.

“Cozy,” they deadpanned in unison before catching each other's wry expressions and giggling.

“The studio’s just around the corner up ahead, you stay here and keep watch.” Tav took the box from Shadowheart. “Text me if you need me, I won't take long.”

So saying Tav moved down the hallway confidently, ignoring the way the empty windows on either side of her seemed to peer like glassy black eyes in the dark liminal space.

Making a sharp right at the end of the hall she beelined for the door she sought, pulse kicking up a notch in her thrill for the goal. Setting the box at her feet Tav fiddled with the ring of keys, belatedly realizing that none of them were even a little bit helpfully labeled.

“Damnit, Astarion,” she swore, trying one and then another.

There had to be at least fifty keys, if she tried them all it was going to take forever. Swearing up a storm under her breath Tav knelt on the floor to get a better look at the shape of the keyhole and compare the multitude of options she still had to get through. Leaning a little to the side to try to catch the light from the flickering bulb that was buzzing in her peripheral, her knee hit the cardboard box and the tinkle of metal drew her attention.

“Now there's a thought,” Tav reached into the box and withdrew a long thin knife with a speculative look in her eye. She’d jammed it in the keyhole and begun fiddling with it in earnest when her pocket buzzed.

“Twenty minutes,” she was tersely informed. “What is taking so long?”

“We got a problem, Shads, the keys aren't labeled and there’s a million of them to go through.”

“Hells! Well, you used to steal shit all the time right? Can you, I don't know, just pick the lock?”

“First of all, how criminal do you think my history is? Hurtful, honestly.” The lock clicked open and she got to her feet with relief. “Second of all, way ahead of you.”

“You.”

Tav whirled around, her stomach doing an impressive job at jumping for her throat before plummeting clear down to her toes.

Raphael, dressed to impress in an outfit that looked pulled right off a runway, his hair styled to within an inch of its life, stood barely two feet away, glaring down his nose at her.

“Tav? What was that?” Shadowheart’s tinny voice seemed too loud in the silence.

“Nothing!” It was hard to say what was moving faster, Tav’s racing heart or her mind. “Listen, you go ahead, I’ll meet you there,” Tav disconnected the call before her friend could respond.

In the flickering light Raphael’s brown eyes looked black and menacing. When he spoke, his aristocratic voice was cold with fury. “What,” he said through clenched teeth, “do you think you're doing?”

While Tav grappled with how to answer that question his eyes caught on the box at her feet. Something strange crossed his face that the dim lighting made impossible to read.

“What–”

“I came for your pumpkin.” Tav wanted to swallow the words back as soon as they were out but a half formed idea had hatched in the back of her mind and she latched onto it with both hands. “For the pumpkin contest.”

Raphael was staring at her incredulously which was a step up from murderous rage in her estimation so she plowed on.

“I want to make a deal with you.”

That had certainly snared his attention. The Dean's son he may have been but Raphael's deals were legendary. Avoiding expulsion, passing a class you were otherwise guaranteed to tank, even acquiring merits of distinction you were in no way entitled to; the rising star of the drama department could arrange it all. For a price.

Eyes narrowed, arms crossed, he looked from her to the mauled pumpkin peeking out from the box. “Usually, I’m the one offering a deal.”

“That wasn't a no.”

He sneered. “Careful, thief. I could still call campus security. And wouldn't admissions love to hear how the infamous Taverna Featherfall had fallen back on old habits?”

Her pulse was pounding so hard she thought she might burst a vein. He knew her name? Worse still, he knew her history? How? Why?

“Or we could make a deal,” somehow her voice was not as thready as her nerves. “And forget this whole thing happened.”

Scoffing, he raised a brow. “And what could you possibly have that I want?”

That was, unfortunately, a very good point. Her burgeoning skill as an artist notwithstanding she was still just a poor student, subsisting on ramen and rice. So what did one offer the Devil of Dramatic Arts who had everything? Almost everything. Inspiration never tasted so sweet.

“I know about your fight with your father.”

His eyes immediately shuttered and he pulled out his phone. “I’m calling security.”

Lunging forward Tav’s hands closed around the device before he could do so much as turn the screen on.

“Get off–”

“Listen,” she said. “I’m not trying to get involved in your weird family dynamics or anything but you don't seem like the type to just roll over and do what you're told.”

Raphael still looked furious but he'd stopped struggling for control of his phone. Where her fingers were locked around his, his skin burned hot.

“I’ve seen you working on it for days, so let me submit your pumpkin, he'll definitely recognize it's your work. When it wins, because we both know it will, you'll have the satisfaction of proving him wrong.”

Jaw tight Raphael looked away from her, turning the idea around in his head. She’d never been this close to him before and he smelled good. Cherries, coffee, and the distinctive smoke of clove cigarettes.

“I think not,” he said at last and Tav’s dread soared. She wasn't just letting her friend down, Raphael could get her expelled. “You’ll submit the pumpkin in my name.” His eyes, when they met hers, were intense.

“But,” she began.

“Think carefully, little thief.”

“And what do I get out of this?”

“Besides the dubious honor of remaining an enrolled student at this institution?” Tav scowled but if anything that only seemed to charm him. “The winnings, presumably your goal from the start, are yours.”

“Deal,” she said quickly, floored this entire exchange was working in her favor. Inside her pocket, her phone buzzed to life. “Fuck, the contest.”

Shaking off her loosened grip Raphael checked the time on his own watch before briskly pushing past her into the unlocked studio.

The pumpkin he had carved was a masterwork of the craft. Devils cavorted with fiendish glee, the hellish scene embellished with intricate borders of fantastical hellfire. He'd added paint, red and black, since she’d last spied it and applied what looked like actual gold leafing for a dramatic finish.

“Wow,” she breathed, taking in the minute details hungrily. It was ludicrously unfair he should be as talented at visual arts as he was at performance.

Taking Shadowheart’s attempt at carving out of the box to make space for his, Raphael preened. “Tick tock, little thief, you're running rather short on time.”

“You aren't coming?”

Raphael’s disdain was an ugly twist on his beautiful face. “Why would I need a jumped up little nobody like you to submit my pumpkin if I could do it myself?”

She hadn't actually given it any consideration but now she squinted at him in confusion. His face tightened. “My father has taken steps to ensure I am ‘more appropriately occupied’ for the duration of the little festival.”

Tav frowned in sympathy.

“Which is why you'll be the one to accept when I am, as you say, inevitably crowned the victor.”

The sympathy fractured sharply. “I’m what?”

“You want the prize don't you?”

Godsdammit she was going to kill Shadowheart. “Fine,” she grit out. Raphael smiled.

Pumpkin in hand and the clock winding down Tav hustled out of the art building, phone sandwiched between her shoulder and ear.

“Where are you?” Shadowheart demanded when she answered. “They're about to start judging!”

“I have good news and bad news but then more good news after that.”

“Tav, we do not have time for–”

“I have the pumpkin and I’m en route. See? Good news! Bad news, I need you to change the entrant name on the participant form to Raphael Cania.” Shadowheart made a noise but Tav plowed on, “but the prize is still all yours if –when– we win.” Reaching the edge of the mini Harvest festival set up behind the greenhouses Tav paused to catch her breath. “I'm close, change the name, I’ll see you in a second.”

“Tav!”

Disconnecting the call, Tav craned her neck to get a lock on where the pumpkin carving contest was being held. The expanse of carefully maintained lawn, ubiquitously dubbed “the green” was a hive of autumnal aesthetic activity. Students and professors alike milled around homemade stands that offered caramel apples and on theme activities like ‘gourd bowling’ and face painting.

Weaving through the crowd the air smelled ripe with hay, apple pie, and kettle corn.

“Tav! Over here!”

Shadowheart, flanked by their friends Karlach and Wyll, burst through a gap in the swarm of bodies. Taking the pumpkin and passing it off to Karlach Shadowheart rounded on her friend critically.

“We're going to have to talk about this habit of yours of hanging up on me. What happened?”

Tav followed her friends to the tent where everyone's pumpkin carvings were being displayed and judged and sank onto a decorative hay bale with a groan. “Raphael.”

“He caught you?” Wyll’s eyebrows were arched up to his hairline. “Helm Almighty!”

“He did,” confirmed Tav. “We made a deal.”

Her friends groaned in unison.

“Yeah yeah, I know. Don't be so dramatic. It’s not like I had to sell my soul or anything.” She coughed. “Now who’s up for a round of ‘Which Witch is Which’?”

“They haven't finished setting it up,” said Shadowheart. “Let’s start with ‘Were of the Dog’.”

“You only want to start there cause they're serving Hallowine,” accused Wyll with a laugh. “You'll be useless for the rest of the night.”

Shadowheart stuck out her tongue but didn't deny it.

Karlach reappeared from the Jack-O-Lantern tent. “Judging results should be announced in an hour.” She smacked her hands together and rubbed them with maniacal glee. “Now, who am I drinking under the table? Let’s start with Infernal Imbibing!”

For the next hour the troupe of friends managed to hit every single drinking game challenge with mixed success. As predicted, stomach sloshing with the mulled cider dubbed ‘Hallowine’ Shadowheart was quickly relegated to the sidelines to offer her particular brand of acerbic constructive criticism to their opponents.

“It's heckling,” deadpanned Tav, vision swimming a bit after winning a round at ‘Graveyard’.

“It's unethical,” tried Wyll, leaning heavily on Karlach’s shoulder after being trounced thoroughly in ‘Spectator, Spirits and Spooks’.

“It’s Hallowfest!” Cheered Karlach, wearing a lopsided paper crown she'd picked up from the booth running the tarot card drinking game ‘Kings’.

“It is time to drink water,” said Lae’zel, only moderately successful at keeping her stoically stern expression in place when she was swarmed by her drunk friends. “They are announcing the winners of the Jack-O–”

“Shit!” Tav staggered before regaining her balance and beelining for the tent in question.

With perfect timing Tav burst into the tent just as the announcer was declaring Raphael’s victory. Shoving her way past the small throng of participants she reached the podium on the tiny makeshift stage and collected her reward to the resounding cheers of her group of fools.

“Miss Featherfall,” a deep voice growled behind her that sent a bolt of ice straight through her chest.

“Dean Cania,” she greeted, blood and alcohol pounding so fast through her veins she could feel her heartbeat in her teeth.

“I thought I was well acquainted with all my son's closest friends.” The smile that curved his mouth wasn't kind. “Imagine my surprise then, when it was not Haarlep nor Korrilla that arrived to submit his little art project and collect the reward in his absence.”

“And what a regrettable absence it is,” said Tav, riled out of her drunken complacency with the aura of threat that oozed from the Dean. “Wouldn't you say, sir?”

“Regrettable,” he sounded amused. “You young people do have such opinions. A word of advice, Miss Featherfall, tread carefully where my son is concerned.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“You're a clever girl,” the words on his tongue sounded anything but complimentary. “You'll figure it out.”

Without another word or glance the Dean turned and left.

“What was that about?” Karlach sounded three seconds away from committing a violent crime.

Shaking her head with a helpless shrug Tav didn't have an answer. Whatever she may have witnessed of the fight between Raphael and his father the other night she wondered if it was just the tip of the iceberg. “Shads,” she said, waving the prized certificate. “I believe you have a girlfriend to woo.”

“Cheers,” Shadowheart squeezed her in a tight hug, “Give me the keys, I’ll find Astarion for you.”

“Gale texted and said they're finally opening the ‘Which Witch is Witch’, Wyll and I are headed over, you coming?”

Tav was about to agree when she caught the faint scent of cherries and clove. “I’ll just be a sec, I’m gonna see what to do about the pumpkin you guys go ahead.”

Her friends dispersed and Tav wandered her way through the emptying tent to where the carved pumpkins were arranged in a neat row on a line of tables.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she said, sidling up to a figure in a sharp suit, distinctive features obscured with a fedora and mask. Inspecting his outfit a little more she huffed a laugh, “clean up at the costume contest too, Al Capone?”

Raphael tilted his head, still staring at his carved pumpkin. “Where would Bonnie be without her Clyde?”

Tav’s stomach flipped in an annoying way. Reminding herself he was probably just making sure she did as they agreed upon rang hollow when she remembered the winners of the festival contests were being published in the school paper.

“Right. Well,” she coughed. “Met your father.”

Raphael hummed.

“Not a very warm man.”

For some reason Raphael found this immensely funny and he laughed. “No,” he agreed. “That he is not.”

“Well anyway,” she said, turning to go. “Congratulations on your win. Whatever that means to you.”

Raphael didn't answer but turned his stare from the gourd in question to pin her in place. Behind the mask his eyes glittered.

The pull of her insatiable curiosity felt like it was burning a hole in her belly. “Why are you here, Raphael?”

“Why are you?”

I smelled your cologne. “Just wanted another look at the award winning Jack-O-Lantern. Who knew a performance artist could be so skilled with his hands.” She leered at him but Raphael rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.

“Life is a stage, wouldn't it follow that every action was a performance?” She could hear the smile in his voice. “And any performance worth doing is worth doing exceptionally.”

“And a philosophizer too? My my. You're welcome by the way.”

“For?”

“Just because I benefited doesn't mean I didn't also do you a favor here.”

Scoffing Raphael removed his mask to give her a sardonic look. “I don't thank people for completing deals as agreed upon.”

“I don't think you're in the habit of thanking anyone. Deal or not.”

“An astute assumption.”

“Then it's a good thing I’m here to bully that stick out of your ass. Get it? Because ass-umption? Makes an ass–”

Raphael peered at her closely. “You're drunk.”

“C’mon, just a teensy little thank you?”

“No.”

“Well then what's my prize? You got some kind of mind game power play win over your father, Shads got to spoil her scary girlfriend, and Lae’zel got the MMA season pass of the, um, season,” she finished lamely. Frowning down at her hands she noticed a loose thread and picked at it.

A sigh from her companion drew her attention and this time when she looked up into his face Tav was struck by how strange he looked. A solitary figure backlit by the glow of a couple dozen flickering artificial candles, pumpkins with wide open maws leering at her from his shadow. If it was anyone else she might have called him sad or tired but all she could think was how ethereal he looked surrounded by fire.

Too much Hallowine, she thought to herself, dragging her dry tongue along her teeth.

Turning to leave, Tav didn't expect Raphael's hand, warm and large, to snag hers from where it worried the loose thread of her jacket.

Nor did she anticipate when that same hand tugged her close, to the source of the decadent scent of cherry and coffee cologne.

“What prize would suit my hero in shining armor then?” Raphael’s voice was dark and smooth as chocolate. Tav’s lungs stuttered and stalled in her chest.

Later Tav wouldn't be able to say who had moved first, her alcohol soaked brain locking away those semantics from even herself. But she would forever recall, with absolute clarity, that Raphael’s eyes had reflected the same startled surprise she had felt a second before their lips had met.

He kissed like an actor, which wasn't to say he was necessarily bad, though only because she was, in general, a magnanimously generous person. No, he kissed like he’d been stage directed through it. His head was at a strange angle, his hands on her face felt awkward and his lips felt stiff. For the outside observer it was probably grade A entertainment.

Locking her hands around his wrists and tugging them down to her waist, she felt a rush of something hot spark alive at the noise he made in the back of his throat. Sliding one hand back up his chest, over the wild gallop of his runaway pulse in his neck, to grasp his chin, Tav tugged him into an angle that allowed her to slide her tongue along his with ease. He tasted like cinnamon whiskey.

Tiamat’s Deck of Many Things, her brain supplied innocuously. At least if he rolled the dice at that drinking game she should consider herself lucky he didn't taste of pickle juice.

When they parted it was difficult to tell who was more dazed.

Adjusting his fedora Raphael gave her an intense look before gently pushing her away. The place where his hands had rested on her hips felt cold in the absence of his touch. “Have a good evening, Taverna. Pleasure doing business with you.”

Tav swayed for a moment before stepping away, the weird moment shattering under his smug gaze. An affectation of cool stoicism widened the trench between them once more.

Leaving the tent, she could have sworn she heard a low voice murmur, “thank you,” but when she glanced back he was gone.

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#halloween fic #tav x raphael #astarion #wyll #karlach #mephistopheles #lae'zel #shadowheart #shadowheart x lae’zel #gratuitous use of the word pumpkin #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #kinktober #flufftober

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