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fou4summer · 1 day ago

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A summer to remember

yoo jaeyi × fem!reader

Synopsis: Spending the summer in a quiet countryside by the sea was supposed to be a break from everything, until your parents introduce you to Yoo Jaeyi. Her family moved here while you were in the city. What starts as irritation slowly shifts into something else, as the days pull you both closer in ways neither of you expected.

Warnings: kinda enemies to lovers

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 2.3k

Summer had started, and you were packing your bags for the time you’d be spending away from home in the city. Your parents had already packed and were waiting for you by the front door. You thought this was going to be just like every year. Boring summer in the quiet countryside, where only the waves of the sea could be heard. The people there were usually older, so you often found yourself by yourself, reading books or doing other things like that.

You finally arrived after what felt like days, but it was only a couple of hours. Your parents had already unloaded the car, carrying your stuff into the house. You were scrolling through your phone, even though the signal was already bad. You heard your parents talking with someone, so you made your way over to them.

You arrived, slipping your phone into the pocket of your shorts, and saw a couple about your parents’ age. After introducing yourself, the young couple mentioned that they had a daughter your age and that’s when you saw her. She was carrying your bag and stopped in front of you and the others. You both exchanged looks before she smiled at your parents, completely ignoring you.

"Sir, I’ve got the bag. If it’s okay with you, I can take it to the room where you need it." She spoke very politely, but it was obvious she was faking it. Your parents didn’t seem to notice.

"Jaeyi, introduce yourself to Y/N. She’s your age, and you two can hang out. She’s a lovely young girl!" Her mom said in a sweet tone, placing a hand on your shoulder, making your parents chuckle.

"Jaeyi, Yoo Jaeyi." She held out her hand, waiting for you to shake it. You nodded and took her hand.

"Y/N, nice to meet you, Jaeyi." You smiled before your parents told you to take your bags to your room while they talked a bit with Jaeyi’s parents. She insisted on helping you carry the bags, and your mom praised her for being so nice.

"Thank you for helping. My parents made me bring a lot of stuff..." You trailed off, but she cut you off by exiting the room and slamming the door shut. You were so confused and irritated. Why had she slammed the door like that? You tried to ignore whatever had happened and focused on unpacking. You finished pretty quickly, but you were exhausted.

After lying down on your bed, you started thinking about your new 'friend.' What was her problem? You got lost in your thoughts so much that you didn’t hear your parents calling you. Then your dad entered your room.

"Y/N, come downstairs and get ready. We’re going out for dinner. I always have to call you a million times..." He mumbled the last sentence. You sighed as you got up from your bed, got ready, and went downstairs.

As you walked down the street, your parents were talking about which restaurant to go to. You were looking around, taking in the beauty of the night. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a familiar figure, so you told your parents you'd be right back. You were right. By the bridge that extended over the sea, you saw Jaeyi. You didn’t want to talk to her because you found her too quiet, but you were curious about why she acted that way.

"Hey, neighbor." She turned around at the mention of the dumb nickname. She looked annoyed, just as you were. She sighed before picking up her skateboard from the floor.

"What do you want, city girl? You're getting on my nerves." She said, adjusting her white hat.

"No need to be a bitch from the start. What did I even do to you?" You asked, even though you shared the same feelings toward her.

"Do I need a reason to find you irritating? I thought you’d be smarter since you’re from a big city." She said, laughing at her own joke. You scoffed before replying.

"I mean, you get on my nerves too with your overly polite act, but at least I try to be nice, unlike someone here." You said, fiddling with the ring on your finger. She dropped her skateboard on the floor and rode off without saying goodbye. You ran a hand through your hair as you noticed her white jacket, forgotten on the bench.

You wanted to just leave it there, given how she had acted toward you, but in the end, you found yourself carrying her jacket over your shoulder as you joined your parents at a nearby restaurant.

"Y/N, where were you? The food’s already here." Your mom asked as you started eating.

"Uh, I just wanted to take a picture of the sea..." You mumbled, avoiding eye contact. You didn’t want your parents to know you’d actually been with Jaeyi, because then they’d think you were friends. And you definitely didn’t want that.

You finished dinner and were already on your street. Jaeyi’s house was right next to yours, and that’s how you ended up in their yard, drinking orange juice because your parents practically forced you to say hi and be a good neighbor. It wasn’t until later that you realized why her parents kept glancing at you every once in a while. You were holding her jacket. You’d completely forgotten about it and just ended up carrying it around.

When you realized, you quickly got up, wanting to return it to her room without her noticing, since it would make it seem like you cared. After explaining to her parents why you had her jacket, her mom smiled warmly.

"Honey, you can leave it in her room upstairs. And thank you, she always forgets things easily." She said, pointing to the door that led to her room. After leaving the jacket, you couldn’t help but look around for a bit. She had a lot of skateboards, and her room was huge. It literally screamed Jaeyi. Then, she appeared right behind you.

"What the heck are you doing here?! Get out!" She almost yelled, making you jump a little. The worst part was that she wasn’t alone. Behind her was a guy, slightly taller than her, scrolling through his phone. You don’t know why, but you suddenly disliked her ten times more than you had before. You didn’t even realize that he had already entered the room like he was there before, and it made you furious. But at the same time, it made you want to cry.

"I-I'm sorry, I'll go." You muttered. You didn’t know why you just apologized to Yoo Jaeyi, the girl you couldn’t stand ever since you came.

"Weirdo..." You heard her mumble as you walked past her. She saw you wipe your face, but didn’t want to care. It wasn’t until later, when she saw her white jacket, the one she had been searching for, neatly folded on her chair, that it hit her. She felt bad, but she pushed those feelings aside when she remembered it was you.

You ran out of her house, wiping your face. If someone asked you why you were crying, you’d tell them you didn’t know. Because, honestly, you had no idea. Was it because of the guy? Or because she let him into her house? Or was it because you realized you had feelings for her, the girl who had called you annoying and irritating, even though you had the same thoughts about her?

Your parents were too busy chatting with their new favorite friends, who probably assumed you had the same experience with their daughter. Meanwhile, you were crying in your room, unsure why, but you didn’t want it to be because of her.

You avoided Jaeyi for the next couple of days. You noticed that, even though you two couldn’t stand each other, you saw each other every day and even talked. Well, actually argued, but whatever. Now, you were in your room all day until your parents dragged you out for a night walk, saying this was a vacation and you shouldn’t spend the whole summer in your room.

The streets were quiet, yet there were so many people. You passed the bridge and turned around to look at it a few times, enough for your mom to notice.

"Is everything okay, Y/N?" She asked. You nodded, staying quiet. As you continued walking and having small conversations with your parents, your dad asked, "Hey, isn’t that Jaeyi? Is that her boyfriend? How cute."

That made you turn around and look at the scene ahead of you. She was with the same boy from before, holding hands. It made you sick, and so many thoughts filled your head.

"I’m sorry, I don’t feel well. I’ll head home, and you two continue. See you later!" You tried to sound normal, even though it was obvious something was off.

"Wait! Y/N, dear!" Your mom yelled, but you were already heading home.

Jaeyi saw your parents, then noticed a familiar figure behind them, walking in the opposite direction. She excused herself, leaving the poor guy confused. She ran past your parents, making them turn around. She grabbed your wrist, making you turn around.

"Y/N..." She whispered. You jerked your hand away, but she quickly grabbed it again, dragging you to the same bridge where you had insulted each other days ago. You felt tears on your cheeks, and you felt more embarrassed than ever, so you looked down. She lifted your chin before wiping your tears away.

"You can cry. I won’t call you annoying. I promise." That made you smile as you looked up at her. She noticed you were still thinking about something, so she wanted to tell you everything. She felt like she was losing a lot of time.

"Y/N... I-I like you, and I’ve liked you ever since you came here. When I saw you get out of the car, that’s when I started to have feelings for you. That guy works at the shop where my dad buys stuff for fishing, and I never agreed to date him. I never liked him in the first place. I wanted to like him because I knew you would eventually go back to the city, and-" You cut her off by pressing a soft kiss to her lips. She immediately returned the kiss, placing her hands around your waist and pulling you closer.

"That’s enough, calm down, won’t you?" You wrapped your arms around her neck, making her laugh at your statement.

"Sorry, was that not how you people kiss in the city?" She teased. You smacked her arm playfully, telling her to shut up.

"Close your eyes for a second." You placed your hands over her eyes.

"No peeking!" You laughed, hearing her voice as you ran away. You grabbed her skateboard, knowing she’d kill you if you broke it. She noticed and looked up from her hands.

"Hey Y/N! Stop right there!" She yelled, running after you. After catching up, she tickled you until you dropped the skateboard.

"Help me learn to ride it." You poked her waist as she started riding it on the bridge, you running next to her.

"Yoo Jaeyi! Come on, don’t be a jerk!" She laughed, waiting for you at the end of the bridge.

You catch up and sit down next to her. The night is beautiful, the sound of the waves crashing gently against the shore and the warm, comforting feel of summer surrounding you. The sky is dotted with stars, and everything feels peaceful, almost surreal. You look over at her as she gazes up at the stars, her face soft in the dim light, her expression lost in thought.

"Even if you go back, I will never stop liking you, Y/N. Please don’t forget about me until next summer." She says, her voice a bit shaky, revealing vulnerability you didn’t expect. You never thought you would see the mean, sarcastic Jaeyi soften like this. The words hang in the air, and for a moment, everything feels like it’s standing still.

You don’t say anything at first, just taking in her words. Instead, you gently turn her chin so she looks at you. Then, you kiss her again, letting the moment speak louder than words.

"I won’t forget someone as annoying as you." You whisper between kisses, still holding her hand.

"You’ve been on my mind since I first saw you." There’s a lightness in your chest now, a weight lifted you didn’t even realize you’d been carrying. You sit there, talking softly, letting the world pass by until it gets late. Eventually, you decide to take a walk back home, but not before she gives you her white jacket, a small gesture that means more than anything.

As you walk, she even helps you learn the basics of riding a skateboard. The night feels endless, and everything seems to fall into place. It’s simple, but perfect, like this is how things were always meant to be.

A/N: I'm running out of ideas lmaoo. If you have any ideas of what I sould write or maybe if you want pt2 of this let me know and thank you for all the support!

#yoo jaeyi #friendly rivalry #lee hyeri #kdrama #wlw #fem reader

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eemamminy-art · 2 days ago

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Things took a turn for the worse today during her treatments and we had to put our kitty to sleep. Please don't ask me for details. We did all we could, but satisfying your curiosity isn't worth me recounting the details over and over to everyone who wants to know. Just know we had no other choice and it was frankly devastating.

I'm going to take the rest of the week off and get back to my comms on monday. It's been a long couple of weeks as it is and this week especially the days have been long. Tomorrow will be another long day to bury her.

some further personal stuff below the cut about death and loss

I feel like every time I lose someone else in my life I'm retraumatized and shattered into more pieces than I was before. My whole world broke completely when my mom died. Then 8 months later my dad died too, and I just remember getting the call to come to the hospital immediately because there wasn't much time left and thinking, "This can't be happening again." Getting the call today about our cat, it's all I could think of too. "This can't be happening again."

Since losing my mom in 2013 and my dad in 2014, I've lost all four grandparents, two uncles, and now my cat. I hate that it's such a familiar routine now. I feel so thoroughly soaked through by death that I will never truly get through it. Like I'm rotting away too, little by little.

I try to take solace in how my dad had this outlook of like, to not linger in the past or linger on the things we can't change. I try to do that. I try to just look forward. When I look forward though, sometimes all I can see is my own death waiting for me. I treat my body so badly when I'm in the thickest muck of sorrow and I know it just burns the candle of my life quicker, but what else am I going to do?

I hate having to tell everyone about it. Yeah hi me again. You'll never guess, someone else died. I know, you're sorry, thanks, it's okay. In the uber ride home I was writing to all my friends who have been checking in on me to tell them what's happened, trying not to throw up, and I'm instantly 22 again, calling my aunts and uncles and cousins at 6 am after being up all night to let everyone know my dad was gone.

I draw and write about these topics often because I'm trying so hard to heal from them and make sense of them. If I can write about fictional characters overcoming their trauma and grief and finding light and happiness again, it gives me some hope that I'll find that one day too. Still waiting, but maybe I'll find it. Though it seems I can't even have peace in my creative outlets when time and again I have people making it about stupid ship wars and antagonizing me and belittling me for what I'm making when I'm just trying to work through all the tragedies of my life through my art and writing. Life isn't fair and then stuff like that happens and I remember people don't care how much you've lost or suffered sometimes, they only care about themselves.

I'm sure this is all very worrying to read but ultimately I'm just venting after experiencing something terrible after a lifetime of other terrible experiences. I'll be okay. I always come through. I'm not a quitter. If you read all of this, then thank you. Please be gentle with me. My light will probably dimmer for the foreseeable future but I'll be okay. You probably noticed I didn't mention many details about my cat. That was on purpose. It's hard enough feeling her absence, trying to articulate all the things that made her so special and that I will miss in her is going to make me even sicker than I already am. So please don't ask. If I want to talk about her I will, but right now it's so difficult, and more than anything my body is just reacting to having the trauma of death coursing through it yet again.

#personal #text #death mention #cw pet death #cw grief

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kiame-sama · 2 hours ago

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Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 38

(Clay is a Yeti/Sasquatch hybrid but is considered more Yeti than Sasquatch due to his size, as Yeti are larger than their Sasquatch relatives. The Yeti and Sasquatch people around Twisted Wonderland felt like they got part of their history back when The Human announced that Humans are Apes. Before the extinction of Humans, the three species were considered extremely close and formed tight-knit families among the other species of Twisted Wonderland. These same tight-knit families were ripped to pieces by other species taking Humans as pets, food, and breeding toys. The ancient Yeti and Sasquatch people were unable to stop the Humans from being taken away and thus, turned to Papa Hades for help. That close bond has since been forgotten but is not being drawn up in question as to why Humans didn't get magic but the Yeti and Sasquatch people did.)

Warnings: yandere, yandere relationship, yandere behavior, platonic and romantic yanderes, mention of blood, blood consumption, manipulation tactics, jealousy/envy, blot related issues, conflict on the horizon, Vampire Bat, Cervitaur, Yeti, Shinigami, Alicorn, Unicorn, mention of Hellcat, Harpy, Drider

~~~~~~~~

You slowly wrapped up your warm shower, feeling a kind of comfort from being in the familiar old building and wanting to relax now you were 'home'. A kind of irritation buzzed in the back of your mind when you considered that you had company over, but it was soon quelled. Thanks to Papa Hades presence, he could likely cook that day and it meant you didn't have to do any extra work for these extra visitors.

After drying off and taking care of your hair, you were thrilled to be able to don your cozy lounge clothes. Both covering and breathable, the clothing was a very welcoming gift from Divus. It seemed like the staff and elder monsters- minus the ever mischievous Lilia- were more interested in parenting you than attracting you.

Part of you considered staying in your room for the evening as you were tired and wanted to decompress for a bit. Another part of you remembered Malleus was coming over for the week, meaning the Hoard would be coming as well, and this was on top of the large guard group for the week. If anything, Ramshackle felt much more lived in than it had prior.

The door squeaked as you opened it about to walk into the hall before a sudden shape stumbled into your arms. A short yelp of surprise left you as you saw just who had so desperately tackled you with such intensity. Lilia looked far more pallid than usual and seemed to be almost running a fever as he shivered in your arms. His sudden unwellness concerned you as you fell to your knees holding the Bat Fae.

"Lilia? What's wrong? What happened?"

The sound of rushed footsteps had you looking up to see Silver was rushing over, several more of your housemates for the week showing up at the sound of your concern. Clay- the new professor- and Idia were among the faces that came to check in on you. Silver seemed to understand what was happening as he kneeled down on his legs next to you and Lilia.

"I told him he needed it!"

"Silver, what's wrong with Lilia?"

"He needs blood. He's needed blood for the past week but always has an excuse for why he can't or won't drink from Sebek and I like usual. In short, he's effectively starving."

You looked back at the Bat Fae who curled into your arms, his head resting on your collarbone as he panted hotly. He almost felt feverish to you as he whimpered and curled up in your hold. Had Lilia been starving himself so he could wait and ask you for more blood when you returned?

"Lilia," the Fae looked up at you, dazed and clearly parched, "why won't you feed from Silver?"

He sighed and closed his eyes, not answering you as he continued to rest against your chest. The state he was in deeply concerned you and you glanced at an equally concerned Silver. The Cervitaur seemed to be begging you with his eyes and you decided to once again offer your blood. If he refused, it was a clear sign he was unwell. If he drank from you, he would at least be fed.

"Lilia," the Fae didn't respond, "take a drink from me. Silver and I don't want to see you in this state."

He seemed to respond to this, his eyes snapping open in fixation despite how glazed and hazy they looked. The old Fae opened his mouth as if he didn't have the energy or ability to actually lean up and bite you himself. Before you could lift him to your neck, Clay interjected with a clearly worried expression.

"I don't believe this is a good idea, (Y/n)."

"Lilia won't hurt me, and I'm not going to let him suffer if he is willing to drink."

You pulled Lilia- who had been straining to lift his head- upwards towards your shoulder to bite you. His sharp teeth sank into your neck and you flinched somewhat, letting the Bat hungrily nurse at your wound as his ears seemed to almost wiggle with his drinking. It was clear Clay was deeply displeased by this, but he didn't argue with you as you had willingly allowed the Fae to bite you.

Lilia's clammy skin seemed to slowly return to normal as did the bight pinks of his hair and wing fur the more he drank. You wondered what exactly it was that he gained from consuming the blood of others as it had only been vaguely explained to you prior. The Bat's strength returned to him as he wrapped his wings around you, purring and squeaking softly while he greedily slurped down the red liquid.

When you started to feel somewhat lightheaded was when Lilia withdrew his fangs, his stomach somewhat distended from his rapid consumption. He seemed to be in a much better state as he was no longer shivering or quite as pallid as he had been. If anything, the little Bat was back to his normal self as he relaxed into you.

"Lilia?"

"Hm?"

"Are you okay now?"

He actually lifted his head, nuzzling your cheek happily as he allowed his wings to fall from your shoulders. Judging from his behavior he was completely recovered from his sudden bout of weakness, but you wanted to hear for certain from the Bat himself.

"Yes... Thank you, (Y/n). You've always been so kind about my... Condition."

You helped Lilia to his feet and noticed the way Silver seemed to be frowning somewhat as Idia approached you and the Bat. Before you could question the Cervitaur about his behavior, Idia spoke up. Though the Shinigami typically avoided conversation with anyone for too long, he seemed keen to get you back on track and away from the Bat.

"Hellkitty, Papa Hades wants to talk to you and run a few preliminary tests on your blot absorption."

"Alright."

As you walked away to Idia, you couldn't help but spare a quick glance over your shoulder at Lilia, who still seemed rather relaxed. With that one long glance, you moved on to join Idia down in the main sitting room where Papa Hades was no doubt waiting for you. This left Lilia, Silver, and Clay to talk.

"Father, you can't starve yourself like this."

"Whatever do you mean, Silver?"

"You know you've needed blood this entire week, but you waited until she returned to actually accept any blood. It isn't good for you."

"Don't worry about what I am doing, Silver. I simply didn't want any blood before right now."

Silver frowned, easily able to tell that Lilia was lying to him. Lilia did want blood and needed it to survive, he just didn't want any blood that wasn't the Human's. Ever since Lilia got that first taste of blood from the soft Human everyone adored, he had mentioned a kind of craving for it off and on. Silver knew Lilia had grown a particular attachment to your blood and he worried just how deep that attachment ran.

"Mind yourself, Bat. Though you have befriended her, I will not sit idly by if I feel you are becoming a threat to her. She allowed you to drink this time for your own sake, I will object further if you put yourself in a similar situation simply to sway her in your favor again."

Lilia sneered at this, bearing his red-tinted fangs at the Yeti that glared down at him. Despite the difference in height, Lilia was still the elder and the stronger of the two. He would now allow some overgrown Ape to shove him around or threaten him.

"Whatever do you mean? It must have simply slipped my mind that I needed more blood. Surely you wouldn't dare object to a decision she made herself."

~~~~~~~~

Clay frowned at this, getting the sense that the Bat knew full well what he was doing, but masterfully deflected any wrongdoing. As Clay didn't have solid evidence of Lilia's underhanded behavior, he had no choice but to simply allow the Bat to continue on. At least he could keep a close eye on the Bat for the future to prevent any further manipulative tactics.

He was brought to Night Raven College for several reasons, the most prominent being the protection of the Human. Clay had been dubious at first to any protection he could possibly provide to someone who was actively guarded by a Dragon, but now he could see the threat was from within. If an elder Bat Fae could resort to trickery, who's to say the others won't do the same?

"There you are, Little One."

The elder Shinigami greeted, smiling at you as you approached. You didn't see Grim among those who had gathered, so you figured he was still being assessed.

Grim had been with the visiting Shinigami for most of the day so the female Shinigami- Anastasi- could see if any of the grown wings would fit on Grim's little body. From the selection he was presented with that morning, Grim took to the webbing that had the same color as his eyes and his little ear flames. You just hoped Grim's body would accept the new webbing and not reject it.

"Hey, Papa Hades, Idia said you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, I have been able to get a good baseline for the general blot accumulation in young Alistair and young Riddle. What I don't have data for is the baseline for how much blot you can absorb from them."

"How do we figure that out?"

"Nothing too complicated. Thankfully we are able to measure blot accumulation in a safer environment by using virtual reality. The various scenarios presented have given a good view into their general tempers and baseline blot levels. Given they already have blot in their systems, I wasn't keen to push them too far lest they Overblot again without a clear way to remove that blot."

"How does blot usually get removed?"

"Typically time, rest, and a steady diet are ideal for flushing blot out of the system, but it is a long process and blot cannot be removed easily. Usually only small levels of blot are found in any magical creature, but those that have Overblotted are at high levels of blot that can easily be pushed back to an unhealthy amount and trigger a second Overblot. Hence why your ability is nothing short of remarkable. With your permission, I want to first observe their blot accumulation while you are present in the simulation."

You nodded, sitting down between a nervous Alistair and Riddle. Both of them looked tired and you figured it had to do with the studies already being done on them. They seemed to calm in your presence and Ortho made a kind of surprised noise, drawing everyone's attention.

The little Shinigami was quick to use the jet thrusters on his wings to fly up to Papa Hades' height, turning his screen around for the elder Shinigami to look. He seemed to observe what looked to be three continually plotting charts that scrolled across at a rapid pace. Those graphs seemed to be behaving oddly as it had been enough to cause Ortho to bring it to the elder's attention.

"Well, this is certainly something," he started, turning back to you and the two confused centaurs, "Little One, it seems your presence in close proximity with these two is already causing an effect on their blot. Their levels are decreasing at equal rates, yet your blot level remains unchanged, as if your proximity alone is burning the blot from their systems."

The Shinigami considered this for a moment before glancing back up. Ortho continued to buzz around the elder Shinigami who seemed unbothered by the young boy.

"Little One, could you place your hand on one of them? I would like to see if there is any change based on physical contact."

You reached out to Alistair, noticing the way Riddle huffed in annoyance yet kept himself quiet. The Alicorn was keen to lean into your touch and seemed rather thrilled with the gentle petting to his cheek. A deep hum left the Shinigami as he observed the charts again.

Idia began clacking away at his keyboard keys, seeming to be manually entering the same data from Ortho's screen into the larger screens displayed. You could now see the way the charts had changed, each one with a name above them to show whose chart was whose. Though you figured they were measuring ambient blot, you vaguely wondered how they were getting this data.

A quick glance at Alistair and Riddle made you realize the two centaurs had been collared and those collars were likely the ones collecting the blot level information. You also figured that your own collar was serving the same purpose as the collars on your friends.

From the way they looked, Riddle's chart was remaining steady with no increase or decrease to the level. Your chart was slowly increasing at a decreasing rate, likely a result of your hand resting on Alistair's cheek. Alistair's chart was decreasing at a much faster rate than it had been prior.

After a moment of staring at the charts, you wondered what would happen if you reached out to Riddle as well. The pause in his blot levels decreasing made you wonder if he was jealous or gaining blot as it slowly decreased, keeping him at a steady level. Though the Unicorn was turned away from you, you wondered if his jealousy was stemming from, not only your aura, but the fact that he was not receiving attention and Alistair was.

When your other hand brushed up against Riddle's long hair he visibly shivered and gasped, his back somewhat arching as a startled neigh escaped the Unicorn. The moment your hand touched his faded red mane, his chart began to plummet and your own skyrocketed. With input from both Centaurs it seemed that your blot levels were rising at a rate that was rapid enough the screen began to flash red in warning.

Both Alicorn and Unicorn were leaning into your touch, Alistair going as far as holding your hand to his face while he rubbed it against his cheek. Riddle seemed to be displeased the Alicorn was also receiving affection but decided to focus on you, gently pressing his head back into your hand so you could give a light scratch to the nape of his neck. You noticed the way his hair seemed to extend past the usual cutoff for Human's and down the back of his neck much like the mane of a horse would. Despite their obvious conflict, both equine species were thrilled for the affection.

"Little One, if you could remove your hands from them, I would like to test-"

"No!"

Alistair's interjection actually made you jump somewhat, startled by the sudden refusal. The Alicorn seemed genuinely distressed at the idea of you moving your hand from his face and pouted as he cuddled as close as he could get to you. This sudden act made a contemplative frown pull at the lips of the elder Shinigami, who then turned to face you and the centaurs directly.

"Young Alistair, the end goal of our testing is to ensure the health of those we study. Little (Y/n)'s blot levels are increasing at dangerous rates, faster than she can naturally burn the blot off. You don't want to risk her health, do you?"

This made Alistair frown, seemingly torn between wanting your affection and heeding the Shinigami's warning. Eventually he sighed, releasing your hand and shuffling back on the large couch. Despite how large the furniture had to be to hold both centaurs and yourself, it didn't seem to suffer under the weight of you and your companions moving around on it.

Riddle allowed you to pull away- albeit with a clear pout- but did not argue against it like Alistair did. This almost aware and mature behavior of Riddle had Alistair glaring at the Unicorn who in turn snorted at the Alicorn. Despite what friendship seemed to be forming between them in the Queendom, they still had their conflicts and the current source of that conflict seemed to be territorial behavior over you.

Even as you tried to play peacekeeper with the two centaurs, Papa Hades was keen to note any and all observations. Ortho did the same, as he wanted to be able to compare his findings with his elder in case either one missed something. The elder Shinigami was more interested in the way the jealousy of the afflicted seemed to dampen or halt any blot removal from their forms.

Based on the behavior and desperation from both, there was a clear correlation of addiction and blot absorption. Perhaps he would have to- very gently and privately- broach the topic of your addictiveness with you. He hesitated to put that kind of strain and responsibility on you due to his belief that you would become distraught, but your attempts to soothe the pouting Unicorn displayed evidence that you were already somewhat aware. Perhaps not fully aware of what you did to others, but aware enough that you knew when to step in to soothe those around you.

He had been witness to your interactions with the others and how you seemed to switch between those around you to give equal attention to the group. Though he fully believed you deserved to know how deeply you were impacting the others, he also worried that you would feel responsible. In his research, he learned the addictiveness of Humans was beyond their control and he didn't want you blaming yourself for making the others addicted to you.

Still, it would be better to tell you sooner rather than later given the outwardly competitive behavior. He only hoped that Dragon Prince would not become hostile when you learned of his addiction to you. It was best to take things one step at a time with these volatile young, and with his own addiction.

~~~~~~~~

A furious scream split the air outside of the decorated and shining dorm, the sound of glass and pottery smashing sent others scurrying away. Inside the dorm, tucked away in one of the sitting rooms off of the main lounge was a fuming and infuriated Harpy that hissed with rage. Rook barely dodged the attack, Vil smashing another priceless piece of pottery against the wall behind him with a scream.

The Drider had been attempting to calm the Harpy from his fury for at least a day at this point, trying to soothe his anger. Vil just couldn't believe it. He was the one who went above and beyond to catch that beautiful Human's eye and instead those miscreant Overblotters got the honor of staying in her dorm with her. What president did it set to allow rule-breaking fools to be praised and honored when they lost control?

Vil couldn't understand it.

He was the beauty of Pomefiore. The apple of the school's eye and a star actor that demanded the attention of all in any room he entered. How was it possibly fair he had been shunned yet again and passed over as a potential guard?

He had done everything right, yet had nothing to show for it!

"Please, Roi du Poison, if we talk to the Headmage-"

"I'm done meekly talking! If I will not be listened to with any seriousness, I will scream it so I cannot be ignored!"

"Mademoiselle Trickster is sure to select Pomefiore next-"

"Enough! If one desires change, it is on them to make it reality."

Vil glared at his own reflection, noting the way his mascara ran down his face and how his hair had fallen from the neat arrangement he kept it in. If he was not beautiful enough to be noticed, perhaps he simply needed to add the dark coloration of blot to his fine skin. Maybe then his cherished and beloved (Y/n) would finally look his way.

"Rook, fetch my book. I have a potion to brew."

"... A potion? What kind of potion, Roi du Poison?"

"The kind that will force (Y/n) to finally acknowledge me. I refuse to be ignored any longer!"

#kiame-sama #yandere #humans are extinct twst au #tw yandere #yandere x reader #x reader #reader insert

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littlefanficprincess · 1 day ago

Text

Stop the wedding!

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

D-16 x Fem cybertronian reader

Word count: 5.3k

Song: This Day Aria (Cover by jSyndeo Music)

Synopsis: You're a simple miner bot forced to get married to the Sentinel Prime, so D-16 decides to crash the wedding and get his girl.

(A/n): It is a cheesy premise, which makes it good (holy moly this became way longer than I expected.

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

“All right, all clear” D-16 mentions. He stands in the metro, leaning against the cart full of drills and other metal objects.

Orion pops out of the cart, catching the drill he almost knocked out of the cart. “Okay, D-16, I may be a little rusty, but “corroded”? That is too far” He says, referring to what his friend called him when talking to the two guards that were chasing the blue bot.

“Let me guess. Chased out of the archives?” D-16 questions, brushing off Orion’s response. He was already all too familiar with Orion’s routine of breaking the rules.

“Yeah. I had to jump out of a window this time. Almost died” Orion laughs, climbing out of the cart. “It was wild”

“And digging through ancient data is worth dying for?”

“Yes, it is”

“I need a new best friend” D-16 rolls his eyes, unamused.

Orion tells how he wanted to help Sentinel Prime find the Matrix of Leadership, his realist friend proceeded to call him delusional. The conversation switches over their lack of cogs.

“Hey, if we did have cogs…” Orion trails off.

“I’d transform into a shovel and beat you” D-16 jokes, answering quite quickly.

“That’s one way to talk to your friend” A sweet voice chimes from behind Orion. The two mechs turn to see who it was. Standing there was (Y/n), a smile on her face. “Hi guys!”

D-16 tenses up as his vents pick up speed. “Oh (Y/n), didn’t notice you there” He says, awkwardly. It was a sudden change from the cocky demeanor he had a second ago.

“Yeah, I know I’m not very eye-catching” The (f/c) femme bot chuckles, placing a servo on the back of her helm.

In his mind, D-16 argued that she was anything but that. Probably the most beautiful miner, the prettiest cybertronian in Iacon. A diamond in the rough, as they say.

Trailing her (e/c) optics trial down, noticing something shiny in Orion’s servo. She leans slightly down, eyeing the unknown object. “What do you have there?” She questions, raising an optical ridge.

Orion raises his hand, showing what it was. A shiny decal of Megatronus’ face. “Just a mint-condition Megatronus Prime decal, first edition. But he probably doesn't want it, so if you want it…” He holds it out for her to grab.

“Wait, hold on. Let me see” D-16 slightly panics, while also feeling excited. He reaches for the decal, but Orion pulls his arm back out of reach.

“Wait. Don’t grab. You’re gonna crease it” Orion grins. He places it carefully onto the other miner’s shoulder plate, smoothing it out.

D-16 looks at it with amazement, tracing over it with his middle and index digit. “You know, Sentinel says Megatronus was the…”

“The strongest Prime to ever live” (Y/n) and Orion say in unison, knowing the saying like the back of their servo’s. The two share a chuckle at how they knew him so well.

“It fits you” (Y/n) compliments, looking at the decal before turning her gaze up to his face. It makes D-16 feel flustered, he slightly turns away. He mutters a “Thank you”, just loud enough to be heard.

Turning to the smaller bot, Orion asks her “What have you been up to, I haven’t seen you for a good bit”.

“Sorry about that” (Y/n) apologizes, grinning sheepishly. “I was getting my metal clean, it was covered in dust. Then I ran right into Spark Hope and everything went downhill from there” She explains, remembering all the chaos.

The metro comes to a stop, its doors opening. D-16 pushes the cart out, placing it next to other carts filled with equipment. The three friends were following behind the other miners, when they were stopped by a guard.

Their first assumption was that he was there for Orion, the mentioned bot getting nervous. But to their surprise, he turns to the (f/c) femme next to him. “(Y/n)?” He calls out, making sure he has the right cybertronian.

Confused, (Y/n) answered with “Yeah? That’s me”. She wondered what he could want, hoping it was not related to her crash she had not too long ago.

“Sentinel Prime has requested your presence, I am here to escort you” The guard tells her, with a straight posture.

Looking back at her friends, who looked just as surprised of her, (Y/n) shrugs her shoulders. “I guess I'll see you guys later” She says, before following the guard to Sentinel’s palace.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

(Y/n) could only stare anxiously at the ground as she walks behind the guard, fiddling with her own digits. THE Sentinel Prime knew she existed and wanted to see her, for who knows what. The guard leads her inside the palace, its walls were made of gold and bronze, matching that of Sentinel’s armor. She felt so small compared to it all, so insignificant.

She didn’t even notice the guard stopped walking, making her bump into his back. He steps back, spewing out a quick apology. He seems to ignore it and knocks on the big doors in front of him, he clears his throat. “My prime, I have brought the bot you’ve requested for” He announces.

There was a pause, before they heard an answer. “Great, let her in,” Sentinel’s voice chimes from the other side of the door.

The guard nods and opens the doors, motioning for her to enter. Hesitantly, (Y/n) walks in, she flinches as the door is slammed close. She looks up, finding Sentinel looking towards the window with his hands behind his back.

The Prime turns around with a big smile, towering over the poor femme. “Ah, the cybertronian I was looking for. I’m happy I was able to catch you, you’re running all over the place” He chuckles, using some interesting words.

Bowing down, (Y/n) lowers her head. “It’s an honor, My Prime. It truly is” She claims, preferring to not look her in the eye.

“No need to get formal, (Y/n)” Sentinel says, gesturing to her to stand up. She does so, shivering slightly at hearing him say her name. “I called you here for one simple thing” He mentions, a mischievous glint in his bright blue optics.

“What is that, Sentinel Prime?” The (f/c) being slightly tilts her head, the taller bot finding the action charming.

“I want you to be my Conjunx Endura”

His statement makes (Y/n) halt, staring at him with wide optics. “I beg your pardon?” She coughs, making sure she didn’t hear him wrong.

“Even after fifty cycles of ruling Iacon, no femme or mech ever caught my eye. Then I saw you, bumping right into Spark Hope. You are the most beautiful bot I’ve ever seen” Sentinel kneels down, grabbing her chin. “And so, I want to marry you”

So many things were going through (Y/n)’s head. Not only did he notice her, he found her pretty and he was asking her to marry him. It all happened too fast for her to process, she had to think of her next words.

She had no idea that the proposal was shallow, not a trace of love in Sentinel’s motives. He did find her beautiful, there is no denying it. What was better to improve his image than having a Conjunx Endura, the story of that he fell in love with a miner. That he didn't care about her status, only her personality and beauty. Lies, all lies.

It was a huge honor to be asked by a prime to marry them. But yet, (Y/n) can’t help but feel empty. It was like something was holding her back, then her mind flickered to Orion and D-16. She wanted to say no, but she thinks of what would happen if she did.

“I would love to” (Y/n) answers, forcing a smile. She looks up at his menacingly stature. She hoped that he didn't notice her lying through her teeth.

“Great!” Sentinel exclaims, grinning. He didn't notice. Or he did, but didn't seem to care.

˚₊��꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

No one saw her that day after that, it was noticed by many. Elita interrogated the idiotic duo, suspecting one of them had to do something with it. But she backed off once they told her a guard took her away for something.

Then cave in happens with Jazz almost getting crushed if it wasn't for Orion and D-16. The reckless action had gotten Elita-1 demoted by Darkwing, the mech brushing her arguments off as she lacked a cog unlike him.

The next day, Orion dragged his friend to the stadium where the Iacon 5000 was held. But instead of going into the main entrance, the blue miner drags the other through a side door. D-16 finds himself and Orion behind orange glass with a clear view of everything that was happening.

“And now the moment you’ve all been waiting for. The icon of Iacon! The savior of Cybertron! Quintessons fear him, but we love him! Our leader, the one and only… Sentinel Prime!” The announcer proclaims, hyping up the audience.

Flying down and across the crowd was their remaining prime. He almost looked like an angel soaring across the sky. Bots scream his name as he passes by. He lands on a floating platform in the middle of an arena.

“Yes! It feels so good to be here with you all today. My friends. My Cybertronian family. It has been precisely 50 cycles since the Quintessons attacked our home. Fifty cycles since we lost the Matrix of Leadership and our Energon supply dried up. Fifty cycles since the battle that killed the other Primes, my brothers and sisters in arms” He tells the crowd, placing his servo on his chassis.

Behind the racers down below appear holograms of the thirteen fallen primes. “Today we honor the Primes who gave their lives for ours and we show them that the strength of Cybertron will never be diminished” His bright blue optics scan the crowd, stopping at the femme he was looking for.

“Before we start the race, I have one more thing to announce. Not too long ago, I met the most loveliest bot I’ve ever seen. I want you all to meet (Y/n), my soon to be Conjunx Endura” He reaches his hand towards her direction, making those near her look at (f/c) femme.

Three platforms float up as makeshift stairs. Hesitantly, (Y/n) steps on the first platform. She climbs onto the second, before stopping on the third. Right next to Sentinel, their difference in height was very noticeable.

Sentinel prime grabs her hand, smiling warmly. He glances towards the crowd, watching their reactions. (Y/n) looked to the crowd as well, but instead she was looking for her two friends. She was disappointed to see neither of them.

Little did she know that they were behind her, caged by metal and glass. With a conflicted expression on his face, D-16 looks up at the two. He felt his spark crackling, getting heavy in his chassis. He knew Orion was looking at him, but he didn't meet his gaze.

“Racers, on your marks!”

D-16 feels Orion putting something on his back, looking behind he finds his jetpack. “Why’d you bring jetpacks?” He questions.

“It’s time to show them we are more than meets the eye” Orion answers, sounding cocky.

“Oh no”

“And they’re off!” The announcer yells.

The glass in front of them turns green, the floor underneath them opens up. Orion turns on his jetpack and catches D-16 before he hits the ground. They stood out from the big group of racers.

The first to notice them was (Y/n), leaning towards their direction. “It’s them” She gasps, not expecting to find them in the race of all places.

Sentinel notices her moving away from him, making him look over what was happening. He squints his eyes at the two off figures in between the racers. “I’m sorry, are those miners in the race?” He says, confused. He looks at the big screen to get a better view of it.

“I can’t believe what I’m seeing here! Miners trying to run in the Iacon 5000!” The announcer exclaimed in surprise. The miners in the crowd cheer, happy to see one of their own racing besides those with cogs.

Glancing back at his future Conjunx Endura, Sentinel finds her looking in awe at the two miners. Most likely that she was familiar with them as she was a miner herself after all. But he cannot help but feel bitter that she was far more interested in them than him.

Even with just their jetpacks, Orion and D-16 had gotten far. Using their wits, they somehow take down Darkwing in the process. They were about to cross the finish line first, but an engine from another player shoots out and hits D-16. Orion drags his friend further, only to be tackled as a racer rides through them and crosses the finish line. To add salt to their wounds, the rest of the racers finish before the two miners could even get up.

(Y/n) moves away, about to get off the floating platform. But she was stopped by Sentinel grabbing her arms, “Where are you going?” He asks in a light tone. But the way he said it, it felt possessive.

“I’m going to check on them, I want to see if they're alright. They’re my friends” (Y/n) explains, ignoring his grip. She also wanted to tell them what happened during the time they didn’t see each other.

The prime couldn't let her out his sight, he can’t let her slip out of his grasp. “Don’t worry, I will check on them for you. I will get a guard to escort you to your room” Sentinel ‘assures’ her, his servo travels from her arm to her shoulder plate.

Finding no point in arguing with him, (Y/n) lowers her head. “I understand, thank you” She says, defeated.

Without even being inside the palace, she felt trapped in Sentinel's presence. She was escorted away by two guards, one of each side of her. Their height hid her from others and hid the world for her.

They left her once she was brought to her room. She sits down next to the window, leaning against the wall. She wondered what Sentinel said to her friends, did they ask about her? She felt so far away from them, like they were in different worlds. She felt so small.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

After that, she was kept in her room like a caged animal. The clock was ticking down until the wedding, Sentinel seemed to be working hard to plan it all. (Y/n) hoped that once the wedding happened, she would have more freedom.

From time to time, she would ask guards on updates of her two friends. The first few times, she was told that they weren’t able to find the two. But after that, they stopped listening to her requests.

She perks when she hears someone knocking on the door. She wasn't able to say anything before it opened. Walking in was Sentinel, with his servos behind his back.

(Y/n) gets up and walks over to him, greeting him with a smile. “You came to visit!” She calls out. She can’t help but feel joy that she finally had company again.

“I can’t just leave my bride to be all alone, someone has to appreciate your pretty face plate. I brought you something, to celebrate our love” Pulling from behind his back, Sentinel reveals a present wrapped in blue paper with a golden ribbon tied around it. He holds it out for her to grab.

She takes it from him, carefully untying the ribbon. She removes the lid of the medium sized box, peeking inside of it. What she found inside was a cog, giving a soft (f/c) light. Her intake opens in shock, her spark swells in gratefulness.

“I…I–” She was at a loss of words, not sure what to say. She hugs Sentinel's waist, as she is too small to wrap her arms any higher. “Thank you!” She squeals with joy.

Sentinel tenses up at the touch, stopping himself from pushing her off. He pats her head, trying to keep a smile on his face. “It’s no problem, of course. It’s the least I can do. Now come on, put it in” He advises.

Letting go of him, (Y/n) takes the cog out of the box. She places the cog in her chest, feeling warmth emanating from it. Her form began to change, she grew taller and her armor became more complex. She gazes upon her new look, tracing on the edges of her plates in fascination.

The cog felt so right in her previous empty chassis, it was like it was a part of her that was missing. It made her wonder how Sentinel got one and why her and other miners weren’t made with them. But she decides to keep those questions to herself.

“You look divine, sweetspark” Sentinel mentions, cupping (Y/n)’s chin. It made the femme realize she had grown twice her original size, Sentinel now being only (almost) two heads bigger than her.

“Thank you” (Y/n) responds, but this time she was completely sincere. Her feelings of being trapped being pushed to the back of her mind.

“As much as I want to stay, I have to go on an expedition to find the matrix of leadership. See you at the altar, darling” Sentinel spoke in a loving voice. He turns away, his smile faltering. He walks out the room and closes the door behind him.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Orion, D-16, Elita-1 and B-127 return to the cave where Alpha Trion was waiting for them after they witness Sentinel Prime working for their worst enemy: the Quintessons. He was also the one to backstab the primes and killed them off one by one.

“That really was something, huh” B-127 awkwardly utters, feeling the thick tension in the cave. “I’d really hate being married to that guy” He remarks, trying to lighten the mood.

It makes Orion and D-16 freeze in place, remembering something that slipped their mind. They exchange looks before looking at Elita-1, who seem to realise as well.

B-127 notices the reactions, confusing him. “Did I say something wrong?” He asks.

“The wedding!” D-16 paces back and forth, beginning to panic. “(Y/n), our (Y/n) is marrying that tyrant and we have to stand around” He exclaims, frustrated. He was starting to think that his friend didn’t have a choice in becoming Sentinel Conjunx Endura.

“Okay, okay, that is another thing to add to the list of reasons to stop Sentinel. We can do this, stop the wedding and expose Sentinel. Do you know when it’s being held?” Orion asks Elita-1, placing his servo on his chin.

The femme thinks, trying to remember. “After the race, he made a second announcement. The wedding is going to be held in the middle of Iacon over…ten groons if I remember correctly” Elita-1 explains, making sure she remembered correctly.

“Ten groons!? There is no way we can make it back to Iacon in that time AND stop Sentinel!” D-16 yells, throwing his arms in the air.

B-127 stands next to Alpha Trion, both equally confused on what was going on. The prime pieces together that the traitor was marrying a friend of theirs. Meanwhile the yellow bot thinks about how he has never been to a wedding. ding.

The cave that they were residing in began to shake, telling that they were found out. Alpha Trion points the four bots towards a hidden tunnel to escape, while he buys them time. The clock kept moving, so did they.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

(Y/n) gazes into the tall mirror in front of her, not sure of what she thought of her reflection. Draped from her chest, around her arms and ending on her back with a bow was a delicate gold fabric. It reminded her of the present Sentinel gave her not so long ago. Her digits trace it carefully, scared to rip it. She pauses, thinking she heard yelling above her. But a knock at the door makes her ignore the noise. “Yes?” She answers, curious on who it was.

“The wedding is about to commence, it’s time to bring you to the altar” A guard from the other side of the door, the femme had grown quite familiar with him already. Not long after that, the door opens to reveal (Y/n). She kept quiet as she was escorted away.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Right at that moment, above her room was the High guard, along with her friend (and B-127) were held. Sentinel walks past the rows of captured rebels. “ Look at this rowdy bunch! The High Guard! You know, you guys have been tough to find. Every trip to the surface, I’ve been searching for you” He looked down on the ones who escaped him for too long, feeling victorious.

“Tracking the bots in the cave led me right to them,” Airachnid adds, smugly.

Sentinel reaches the two front rows, spotting the leader of the High guard. “Oh-ho-ho! You captured Starscream!” He says in surprise, getting a distorted high pitched voice yelling angry things in return. He laughs at the hilarious sound “You sound ridiculous. It’s weird”.

He turns to his other side, finding D-16 kneeled down. His black helm and armor being replaced with silver, now having a cog given by Alpha Trion. Other changes being his height and a cannon on his right arm. “what a tragic story you’ll be. Atop the leaderboard in your sector and secretly a traitor” The fake prime taunts him, mockingly, “Getting close to the future queen of Iacon so you can give her right over to the Quintessons”.

“Keep her out of your mouth” D-16 mutters, bitterly. He glares up at the taller bot with hatred. His love for his friend was pure, his lie infuriated him. If he wasn’t handcuffed, he would’ve pulled out glossa out his intake.

“All of you are traitors. You’ve been working with the Quintessons to sabotage my expeditions. You’re the reason why I haven’t found the Matrix of Leadership yet” Sentinel makes up the fake truth, the story that he will tell citizens of Iacon.

“None of that is true!” B-127 argues, sitting right next to D-16. “The people are going to find out one way or another”.

“About what? That I plucked the cogs from your newborn chests? Forced you to mine so that I could pay off the Quintessons and live like a king? None of that matters. Because the truth is what I make it” Sentinel declares, leaning down towards the yellow bot. “I was originally going to execute you all right now. But since I’m such a great leader, I’ll let you watch the wedding. An execution is not something you do right before such a beautiful moment”.

In the corner of his eye, Sentinel notices D-16 getting up onto his feet. The blue and gold bot straightens his back, standing in front of the ex-miner. “Well, well. What’s this about?”

“I’m not kneeling in front of you” D-16 declares, not having a single drop of respect for the horrible boy in front of him.

“Feeling confident, are we?”

“You don’t scare me. You want to know why?” D-16 states, standing his ground.

“please” Sentinel smirks, telling him to elaborate. He was curious about what the ex-miner was going to tell him.

“Because I don’t have anything left to lose. You took it all” The silver bot answered. His best friend is ‘dead’, his crush is getting forced to get married to a monster and everything he believed in was a lie.

“I sure did,” Sentinel replies. Before punching the mech, watching him fall onto the ground. His blue optics latch onto the slightly damaged Megatronus prime decal on D-16’s shoulder, he snatches it off. “Ah, Megatronus Prime. Of course you were a fan. Megatronus was the coolest Prime! The biggest! The baddest! The toughest!”

He opens his chassis to reveal a purple cog in his slot. “That’s why, after I killed him, I took his cog for myself” He says, looking proud as talk about the horrible things he has done.

“He was greater than you’ll ever be!” D-16 yells at him from the floor.

“I don’t know. I’m pretty great. But I can understand why you’d want to wear his face over mine. Here. Let’s make sure it doesn’t come off” Sentinel drops the decal onto D-16’s chassis. Airachnid hands him a blowtorch, which he gladly takes. D-16 grunts in pain as he feels the blowtorch digging through his metal. B-127 looks on in horror, helpless to do anything.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

(Y/n) stood at the beginning of the long carpet, anxiously fiddling with her golden accessory. She felt everyone staring at her, making her not feel any better. She began walking down the aisle, passing by rows of cybertronians. She turns her gaze forward to see Sentinel standing at the altar, waiting for her. Next to him stood the officiant, a red mech called Knockout. She reaches the altar, climbing onto it. She stood on the opposite side of Sentinel, hesitantly looking him in the eye.

“Alright, let’s begin this” Knockout clears his throat, looking at the tablet he was holding. “Welcome mechs and femmes to the spark bonding of Sentinel prime and (Y/n). For almost fifty cycles, there hasn’t been a wedding ‘cause of the hard times Cybertron has been through ever since the death of thirteen primes and the disappearance of the Matrix Of Leadership. But once more we are able to witness such a beautiful occa—”.

He was cut off by the ground beginning to slightly shake as a loud crash sound was heard. Sentinel looks to his left, seeing a metro crashing into the tour where the High guard was being held. The crowd gasps in shock and worry, thinking it was an accident. All the screens turn off, playing the same video. “

“About what? That I plucked the cogs from your newborn chests? Forced you to mine so that I could pay off the Quintessons and live like a king? None of that matters. Because the truth is what I make it” Sentinel’s voice echoes throughout Iacon. Footage of Sentinel kneeling in front of quintessons, giving over energon to the. Citizens gasp at what they were seeing, the one they trusted was sabotaging them all along.

(Y/n) steps back with an expression of horror and disgust. Sentinel reaches for her, trying to make up an excuse to cover his tracks. He sees as everything he built began falling down, in a blink of an optic.

“Sentinel!”

A voice yells from above. Knockout was just fast enough to pull (Y/n) away to a safer distance. A bot comes crashing in, tackling Sentinel to the ground. Sentinel tries to fly away, but the cybertronian grabs him by the leg and pulls him back down. The mysterious bot raises their arm, shooting Sentinel’s wing with it. The blast carries through and hits one of the tall buildings.

(Y/n) squints her optics, trying to get a good look at Sentinel’s attacker. Their helm shape seemed familiar, along with the silver color of their armor. But she recognises who it was once they turn around to look at her. “D..!?” She yells out in surprise, she realises how much he changed since last she saw him. It has been like 3 cycles, what has happened since then.

Letting go, D-16 turns around to face the femme. She also changed in the time he was gone. She was just as beautiful as he remembered, if not more. His attention was brought to the golden fabric draped over her form, most likely given by Sentinel. Dressed like was an object that he claimed. It disgusted him.

He turns back to the traitor lying pathetically on the ground. He raises his arm cannon, pointing at him. He was about to shoot, when he was pushed aside. “What are you doing?!” He yells, realising it was Orion who pushed him.

“It’s over, D. Everyone in Iacon knows the truth” Orion argues, standing in front of his friend.

The two go back and forth, tussling with each other. D-16 raises his canon, firing at Sentinel. Orion jumps in front of him, not thinking his friend would actually shoot. It goes straight through it, creating a giant gaping hole in Orion’s shoulder. He falls backwards, almost into a seemingly endless pit. D-16 catches his hand, laying down on the edge.

“Orion!’ (Y/n) calls out, gasping. She tries to rush over to them to help pull the injured mech up. But she was held back by Knockout, she slightly thrashed in his grip. “Hey, let go! I have to help them”.

“No uh, no way” Knockout shook his head, seeming a bit afraid. “No idea who that mech is, but he is way too dangerous” He said, eyeing the view.

Thinking of all that has happened since he met Orion, D-16’s view started to change. He was always the one to get the reckless bot out of trouble, risking his own metal to help him. If Orion was out of the picture, he could finally get rid of Sentinel for once and all. “I’m done saving you” His optics flicker from orange to a fiery red, finally crossing the line. He lets go, letting go of Orion.

“No!” (Y/n) yells, jerking forward. She could only watch as one of her dearest friends fell into oblivion. Then her attention was turned to D-16 fighting the guards that appeared to protect Sentinel. The silver bot easily finishes them off and puts his attention on the crawling bot.

Grabbing him, D-16 pulls him up into the air. With one strong pull, he tears Sentinel in two, leaving the broken bot to lay on the ground like scrap metal. There was a weird satisfied feeling coursing through her circuits. She didn't notice Knockout had disappeared, probably scared off by his former leader getting ripped apart.

D-16 reaches into Sentinel's chest, ripping Megatronus’ cog out of it. He walks to the edge of the stage, facing the giant crowd of cybertronians. He raises the cog in the air, yelling to those down below “The Age of Primes has ended! No more false prophets! Follow me and you will never again be deceived. RISE UP!”.

The High guard chants “Rise up”, eating every word D-16 yelled. The tall mech continued his speech, “I will lead us all into the future!”. He opens his chassis, removing Onyx prime’s cog and replacing it with Megatronus’. His frame became even larger than before, along with his blasters becoming more stronger. “I…am…Megatron!” He announces, naming himself after his fallen idol.

Chaos erupts as D-16, now known as Megatron and the High guard begin destroying buildings surrounding them. B-127 and Elita-1 tried stopping him but with little success. Like a phoenix coming up from the ashes, Orion Pax or more correctly Optimus prime emerges from the depths of Cybertron’s core. In his chassis was the Matrix of Leadership l, given to him by Primus himself. It enraged Megatron.

The two tumble off the podium, fighting with their new found abilities. From friends to foes, how much can change overnight. It all comes to a stop when Optimus slices Megatron’s cannon with his newly obtained axe. With a heavy spark, Optimus banishes his old friend.

Pushing past him, Megatron limps off. He stops in place, he turns around. He holds his servo out towards…(Y/n). His red optics soften, a stark difference from how he looked at Optimus.

(Y/n) gazes at him, then towards Optimus and finally to Megatron’s servo. Now she had to make a decision, one that would change her life forever.

Take Megatron’s hand or stay by Optimus' side

#fanfic #x reader #oneshot #megatron transformers #transformers #transformers x reader #starligt_galaxy #sentinel prime #tf one #tfone sentinel #d 16 #d 16 x reader #d 16 transformers #orion pax #transformers one #wedding #wedding crashing #arranged marriage #me yapping about isolation

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batsycline69 · 2 days ago

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Chapter Five: Merely Players

Summary: A terrible trip to a coffee shop, four smashed knuckles, and a city-wide blackout later, Red Hood is in your apartment.

Pairing: Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Words: 5k

Warnings: profanity, canon-typical violence, descriptions of insecurity and feeling inadequate, mentions of injuries, childhood neglect/tense home situation briefly described, reader is really going through it, events of No Man’s Land referenced, chekov's batman

A/N: hiiiiiii it's been a hot minute. i made you a playlist for this chapter pls enjoy 💛

SERIES MASTERPOST | PREV

After the quake and the inescapable chaos that followed, your days were marked with tense silence. Rattling air conditioning units filled the void where your parents’ voices would be. You would grow to miss that dreadful quiet. It was better than the yelling that came later.

Gotham had been destroyed, but yours wasn’t the only family that lost nearly everything. At least you all made it out. All of the hollow reassurances seemed to lose meaning after a while. If your outcome was good, why didn’t your family seem happy?

Every need after seemed like too much to ask. And year after year, you shrank. When you dreamed of aftershocks, you kept it to yourself because your family was still asleep. If something upset you, you knew better than to draw any attention to it. You just so desperately wanted something to feel right, so you chose not to be a burden. No one else talked about their problems, so why should you?

With time and distance, you grew again. Moved back to Gotham when you could because home was still home, even if it looked different than it once did. Filled up the space you hadn’t dared to for so long. Or at least you thought so. Because a few harsh words from Jason felt like ten steps back.

You can’t really pin it all on him, but his abrupt exit from your life certainly hadn’t helped. Old fears shook loose. And yeah, maybe all those fears and insecurities made things cumbersome. You kept catching yourself trying not to make waves. If you didn’t need anything from anyone, maybe they wouldn’t notice all the issues you tried to hide from sight. The ones that peaked through and scared him off.

Last night, the sticky notes Jason left in all of the books you’d let him borrow nagged at you. Coming across the first one was an accident, but once you saw the familiar, scratchy handwriting, you knew you couldn’t stop thinking of all the others. These notes you’d once treasured—smiling to yourself as you read them—turned into a cruel taunt. Jason left them for you to see, but you didn’t want to see them anymore. Every reminder was—is—a stab at your bruised ego.

You stayed up later than you should have, and in terms of feeling well-rested in the morning, all that crying before bed didn’t do you any favors. A morning trip to your favorite coffee shop was supposed to resolve your funk, but the sight of Jason standing in line, Parable of the Sower dangling from his stupidly big hand, killed that dream entirely.

That was hours ago, but even still, you feel like you’re operating just a second behind everything else. You sat, stewing in your apartment, staring down Jason’s sticky notes until you couldn’t take it anymore.

So when you go to throw them all out, a sudden voice in the alley has you so surprised, you don’t even make out what was said. You spin to look towards the sidewalk, forgetting that the hand you moved is the only thing keeping the dumpster lid open.

The hard plastic clamors down onto your knuckles. A second passes without pain, though it only makes the waiting more cruel because you know what follows.

On top of an exhausting day, you’ve gone and smashed your hand in front of Red Hood.

Only once he’s at your side do you realize his voice was the one that caught you off guard. The light funneling in from the street reflects off the leather of his gloves as he reaches out for you. “Shit. Lemme take a look.”

“Fuck no,” you spit, voice pinched with pin. Tears swim behind your squeezed shut eyes. If you look back up at him, he’ll notice. And tears from the pain are one thing, but you know once you start, things will only snowball from there.

When you wanted something to replace your heartache, humiliation and a broken hand is the last thing you’d had in mind.

Venomous as you try to be, Red Hood doesn’t falter. It shouldn’t surprise you as much as it does. Only a handful of months ago, you found him bleeding in this same alley, waving off gunshot wounds like they’re nothing to bat an eye at. What are you compared to the dangers he faces? What fury could you send on him that would be anything more than a ripple to someone used to a tempest?

Hood sighs audibly. “Can you show me at least?” he asks.

You’re searching for some sort of sign he’s going to run away as you look up at him, though you’re not sure what exactly you’re expecting to find. Just Hood and his helmet, the hunch of his shoulders. His looming presence that you first saw emerge from the shadows the night you met Jason.

Jason. All this time, and you still can’t get him off your mind. Can’t unlink him even from this masked stranger who’s path time and time again crosses with yours. Who you can’t separate from Jason even now that he’s left you.

Every twitch of your finger leads to bright, throbbing pain. You scrunch your face up as you lower your hand enough for him to see. Even just from the quick peak you spare—wiping the tear that falls away quickly with your unscathed hand—you know there will be an ugly bruise. Carefully, you stretch your fingers out before bending them slightly when he asks if you can move them. He’s gracious enough to ignore your hitched breath.

“Good. Not broke, at least,” he says, giving a small, satisfied nod.

You imagine you must seem so feeble compared to him. Crying over a hand that isn’t even broken. Feeling sorry for yourself over a broken heart. Acting as if the best you didn’t have to offer him was an umbrella when he got shot.

The remains of your pity party are cut short, however, with a flash of light. You only catch a glimpse. Red Hood is on you fast, firmly pushing you back into the cool brick of your building. His bulky frame blocks your view. Not until a thunderous boom fills your ears do you realize Hood is sheltering you.

An explosion. And another soon after. Distant, but close enough to feel the ground rumble beneath your feet.

Now, your eyes are wide, trying to peer behind Red Hood to see what’s going on, but his size makes it impossible. Your mind races trying to fill in the gaps. Tries to convince you the ground is still shaking after it stops. Makes you brace for aftershocks that don’t come.

“What was that?” you whisper when the roar finally dies down.

Red Hood holds you where you are a moment longer. Large hands grip your arms firmly. “I don’t know.”

You haven’t been this close to him before. If you had even half of your mind in the present, you would smell gun oil and his body heat warming the leather. Instead you just smell ash.

When he takes a step away, you take a lungful of fresh air. Your shoulder leans up against the brick, taking stock of all the buildings still standing around you.

Darkness swallows the alley before either of you gets another word out. Gotham’s ever-present hum falls to silence. Even Red Hood seems more silent than ever. You’re thankful, at least, you have the glowing eyes of his helmet to reassure you he’s still there.

“Fuck. Must have been the power plant.” He glances over to where a warm glow brightens the starless sky. “Alright, stay here.”

You tense even more, eyes going wide and desperate. “Wait, are you coming back?” You hold your throbbing hand against your chest, while the other struggles not to reach out and grab his sleeve like a child. Guilt twists in your stomach; he probably only stumbled on you by accident, and here you are begging him to stay.

“Yeah,” he replies as if you’ve said nothing selfish. “Of course.”

As he jogs off to the sidewalk, you back against the wall of the alley, obscured by the dumpster. What you’re trying to hide from, you’re not sure, but the darkness unnerves you. Tugs at the corners of your mind as memories try to worm their way up to the forefront of your thoughts. The pain in your hand brightens as you clench your fist tighter when you need something else to focus on.

Without Red Hood at your side, more tears slip loose. They feel more substantial as you fight against your fears. Not just about heartache. Not even just about the pulse in the meat of your hand. You slide down, crouching low to be certain the ground is no longer shaking. But no amount of convincing yourself seems to save you. A desperate voice inside of you is screaming, warning you Gotham is going to split open all over again and swallow everything whole. That your life will be uprooted all over. That you don’t have Jason anymore, and there will be no one to help you with the mess but yourself.

Before you can go farther down the rabbit hole, Hood’s voice pulls you out. “You good?”

You startle slightly at the sound of his voice, foolishly wiping away your tears in a vain attempt to look like less of a mess than you are. You’re too aware of the hitching of your breath, making a grand effort to steady it as you nod.

If Red Hood believes you, and you’re certain he doesn’t, the helmet hides any sign. Maybe it’s better you can’t see his doubt. You don’t want to know how bad you really seem right now.

“Alright,” he says. “Get up in your apartment. I’ll meet you there.” You figure you’re not wearing your distress well when Hood quickly adds, “probably don’t want your neighbors seeing me with you, right?”

All the walk up your stairs, you feel miles away. Not inside your apartment, not in familiar halls, but buried beneath rubble. The air inside feels stuffy, makes your lungs squeeze uncomfortably. Your ears are straining, waiting to hear rattling picture frames and plates. Instead, you hear the chattering of people inside their apartments as you pass.

An explosion in Gotham isn’t news. The average Gothamite probably didn’t bat an eye. Yet again, you seem to be the only one with a problem.

Red Hood has already worked the latch of your window open by the time you make it inside. His thick thigh swings inside, then the other, and he expertly pushes himself all the way through.

You watch from a distance, still lingering by your front door. Hood moves effortlessly, but you are frozen in place, immobilized by phantoms you’d convinced yourself you shooed away.

Only when he moves to close the window are you nudged from deep in your head. “Keep it open, will you?” You don’t look at him as you ask. Don’t want him to see the desperate, cagey look on your face as you phase between your memories and the present.

“It’s freezing—”

“Just for a little. Please.” The cold air keeps you sharp. Soothes the ache in your lungs that you have to convince your mind isn’t really there.

Eyes you can’t see bore into your skull. How not okay you are, despite your insistence, is becoming more and more obvious, and you weren’t making a convincing case to begin with. And you hate that Red Hood can see it all coming down. You just want to convince someone you’re fine, because you’re not convincing yourself.

His mercy comes in the form of sparing you any further questions. He allows you silence as you fixate on the curtains wafting in the breeze. His boots are heavy on your floor as he roams into your kitchen, avoiding the creaky spot in the linoleum right in front of your fridge.

Yet again, your fingers curl into your palm, trying to give yourself something to tie yourself to your body.

Hood’s voice is what does it, an unexpected lifeline while you’re drowning in your history. “Least this is still frozen,” he says, pausing when he realizes you haven’t moved from your spot by the door. It takes a disjointed second before your eyes flicker to the bag of frozen peas in his hand. He nudges his helmet towards your couch. “C’mon.”

Maybe you’re making things up, but you swear you can hear sincerity through the modulation. You chalk it up to your sorry state. Since Jason left, things had gotten hard. You got up every day, you let life continue, but it felt like something had hollowed out inside of you. And in its wake was something starved to be seen.

You just want to feel important to someone. Loneliness is making you lose it. You need to get out more instead of making up some imaginary friendship with a guy who’s just caught you on the night you were barely holding yourself together. Poor Red Hood was just the sucker that had to deal with your emotional fallout.

You set aside your insecurities long enough to follow him over to the couch. This time, you set your hand in his palm as he holds it out for you. There’s no more fight. Not right now, at least. Not while your mind and your body feel like two entirely different entities.

He’s careful as he holds the bag wrapped up in your ratty dishtowel to your knuckles. “This alright?”

You nod, unsure how steady you’d be able to keep your voice. There’s no optimism it wouldn’t come out quivering or strained. Maybe you’d just start sobbing there and then. You wonder what his voice sounds like without the modulation. What face must be looking at you with disdain as you bat more tears away. Tears that get harder to hide once the sniffling starts.

Right now, you’re happy for his hand, the warmth of it settling beneath the chill of the bag of peas. You’re happy for the wind that rolls through your open window and sends a shiver down your spine. That cold has more bite than the one that settled over your body like a shroud.

The bag ends up in your hand as Red Hood shrugs the worn leather jacket from his arms. Without the bulk, you’d be able to see the definition of his muscles the suit provides, but focusing on anything at all seems like too big of an ask. “If you’re gonna insist on keeping that open, at least take this.”

Warm weight from his jacket settles over your shoulders. The kindness makes your lip wobble. You don’t want it. Don’t want to weigh him down with what will follow. Now the lump in your throat is too persistent to swallow.

When it’s clear you’re not feeling chatty, Hood busies himself with lighting candles throughout the apartment. The low glow of flame doesn’t offer the same solace as it normally would. There’s no relaxing atmosphere. You stare at the candles, doing your best to reassure yourself the flames aren’t straying from the wick.

Red Hood mutters something to himself you don’t catch.

After a graceless sniffle, you clear your throat and thank him. Why he’s so dedicated to helping you, you can’t be sure, but he just waves you off.

“It’d be a pain in the ass to light all these with your hand hurt.”

He’s not wrong, especially when it’s your dominant hand still throbbing beneath frozen veggies. But he doesn’t have to care. You should be meaningless to him. Just another nobody he’s helped out before. Didn’t need to get you something for your hand because you could do it yourself. Didn’t need to look out for you when you’re clearly on the verge of a breakdown. It’s Gotham; it’s not like you would bat an eye at the cruelty this city has to dish up.

“Do you have to go do something about the power?” It’s not the question you want to ask, but it provides you with some distance from what’s really on your mind.

Red Hood’s scoff sounds harsh beneath the helmet. “Not my gig. Let one of those do-gooders take care of it.”

“It’s not like you’re busy,” you mutter.

The broad line of Hood’s shoulders tense. “Listen, no offense, but you’re a mess right now. I’m not going to leave you alone.”

A mess. Don’t you know it. You just wished he was polite enough not to say so. But no amount of feeling sorry for yourself would give you that pity from Red Hood, apparently.

Your exhaustion comes to a head. If you’re not fooling anyone, there’s no point in hiding it. Or at least that’s how you comfort yourself when you finally breakdown into sobs. You don’t even have to look up to know Hood has gone tense beside you. He signed up for helping you out with your injured hand, not providing emotional support to someone who was well past help, but here you are, suckering him into your mess yet again.

Self-consciousness finds you even as you bawl, not giving yourself a moment of relief. Your chest heaves, head falling towards your lap in an attempt to save even a sliver of dignity in front of a dangerous vigilante.

He lets you cry anyway. Part of you really just wishes he’d leave right now, but for some reason, you feel certain he wouldn’t. Big Bad Red Hood sits alongside you as your breath hitches and tears drip onto your lap. He lets your whimpers fill the room. You allow yourself to pretend the weight of his jacket is an arm. Like you’re being held. You let yourself think it’s Jason, because if you’re already feeling pathetic, what’s making it worse?

You want something good, but it feels like every good thing you reach out to grab slips through your fingers. Your whole day has been a parade of good you were never allowed to keep.

When your sobs finally weaken back to sniffles, your old couch groans as Hood leans forward. The tissue box he grabs looks so small in his hand as he passes it over to you. “You wanna talk about it?” he asks.

“No.” You’re lying, but if you started to confess to Red Hood about your problems, you think you’d actually crawl out of your skin.

He gives you the silence you ask for. You miss the screeching of train wheels on the track outside your window. It would fill the space with the even less welcome sound of you blowing your nose. If Hood’s silence is a tactic to make you feel even more self-conscious, it works, because somewhere along the lines, your intentions get lost.

“It’s just….it’s going to sound, I don’t know, pedestrian, probably,” you hedge.

“Okay.”

You hate that he sounds so fine with whatever is going to follow. He shouldn’t care about any of this.

“I saw my ex today. I mean, he’s not even really my ex. We were never technically together.” Another sniffle. “It shouldn’t be that big of a deal. I mean, we weren’t together. But...but I think I loved him. Which is also stupid.”

You could keep going, share the long list of things circling your mind endlessly. But Red Hood’s complete silence no longer feels like a pass to continue. A tension charges the room so strongly you’re surprised the lights don’t all turn back on. You prepare yourself to hear that he doesn’t care about your romantic problems; what would make you think he actually wanted to hear about it?

“What happened?”

Not the response you were expecting, given away by the way your eyes flicker up in surprise, even with the tears still swimming in them. Maybe he’s asking about the breakup, but you’re not going to tell Red Hood your ex thought you were too fucked up to keep around. You content yourself to tell him about the coffee shop.

“I don’t know. He was there one second. I looked away, and then he was gone. Nothing happened.”

That’s the simplified version. The long one is catching sight of Jason in line and feeling like the whole world came to a stop. Dark, wind-tussled curls sticking up, strands of white brushing against his forehead. His cheeks had been flushed pink from the cold.

Before you could hide—or at the very least look away—the barista calling your name out caught his attention. You froze like it would somehow save you from being seen. And then a woman beside you whispered to her friend, “is that Bruce Wayne?”

You didn’t care, not at first. Not until Jason’s eyes landed on him. Because when Jason looked back at you, his expression was guarded. Jaw set. A dangerous, unfamiliar glint in his eye.

The barista called your name a second time. You turned away from Jason for only a second to get your drink, but by the time you turned around again, he was gone. You wanted to hurry after him, but Bruce Wayne directly blocked your exit. He stood in the very narrow isle of the coffee shop, leaning against the back of some smitten woman’s chair, crooning about the home in Switzerland he’d love to take her to. You didn’t try to hide your irritation as you tried to alert him to your presence.

Once he finally left the orbit of his own ego, he straightened up and gave you a quick once-over. “Sorry about that, sweetheart,” he’d said as his hand pressed along the small of your back as he allowed you to pass. You left immediately. Even if the thought of pouring your drink over his expensive suit sounded like just the thing to improve your mood, you knew you didn’t have the energy to deal with the backlash.

“I bet your ex didn’t think it through,” Hood says, bringing you back to your tiny apartment yet again. You must look confused, so he continues. “About breaking up with you. You seem great.”

You let out a tearful scoff and sniffle. You want this all to be about Jason still. You’re wishing for the comfort of heartache over the nagging of your youthful fears. Memories of the past threatening to bury you just as the fragments of buildings had all those years ago.

“I’m not interested,” you say, making an attempt to lighten the mood, draw attention away from how torn up about everything you are. There’s no way he’s coming on to you. Besides, even if he was, you already fumbled a tattoo artist. You don’t have high hopes for your chances with a vigilante.

“No. No, I didn’t mean it like that,” he says.

Maybe you’re kidding yourself. Maybe you should just let Hood fuck you five ways to Sunday if it made you thought it would make you feel like someone wanted you around. It wouldn’t help, though. Wouldn’t starve you of want for what you know you can’t have. What doesn’t want you back. And you really don’t think you’d survive the embarrassment of accidentally calling Red Hood your ex-boyfriend’s name.

“I’m so mad at him,” you mutter, your voice rough with stray tears. “And I’m mad at myself because I didn’t see it coming.” Your confessional, at least, keeps your mind off everything else. The quaking from the non-existent cataclysm seems to fade along with the flashes of a life with a very clear distinction of before and after.

“Well...if you feel...the way you feel,” he mumbles, “would you take him back if he apologized?” It’s impossible to tell if he sounds bashful or not. Like saying love out loud intimidates the fearsome Red Hood.

“I don’t know.” If you had any sense, you would say no and mean it. But you don’t feel like lying tonight, so you settle for a half-truth. “Depends on the apology.”

How are you supposed to explain to Red Hood what it was like to wake up alongside Jason, waking up to the warmth of him with his heavy arm draped across you? What do you have to say to Red Hood about the rough comfort of holding Jason’s hand as you walk along the street? Those aren’t memories to share with him. Even if they’re yours, thinking of them now somehow feels forbidden. Your heart protests it every time you try. Your brain wants only to think of the smell of his cigarettes and how late he’d been for your appointment all those months ago, but that’s just a road that reminds you of the lingering scent of green soap when he’d come to your place after a long day at the shop.

You’re supposed to just move on from Jason, yet he’s literally etched into your skin.

He stays for a while longer. You don’t tell him about your memories of crumbling earth or of Jason. Neither of you speak much longer. He assures your knuckles ave been iced enough, and the peas go back in the freezer. When even beneath the warmth of his jacket, you begin to shiver, you allow Hood to close the window.

Eventually, you know the ground isn’t shaking. You pass some silent test that prompts Red Hood to ask if you’ll be okay on your own. You say yes. Somehow, you always manage, right?

He slips through your window as skillfully as he entered. The flames he lit dance in the wind before the window slams shut just enough to close all the way.

In the new emptiness of your apartment, you gaze off at the candles like you’re tracking the rate at which they burn. You’re still dizzy with your evening, glancing at the spot Red Hood had occupied only minutes earlier as if looking for a sign it actually happened.

Time slips away, and you realize you’ve turned your night over in your mind to the point of exhaustion. You blow out all the candles, save for one you carry to get ready for bed. When you emerge from your bathroom, you almost forget Red Hood closed the window on his way out.

Your curtains wave in a small breeze. The darkness is unnerving; you’re not used to it. On an average night, even with the lights off, you’d have residual streetlight slipping inside.

Cool night air prickles your skin as it brushes over your exposed arms. You slam the window shut, thrilled at the idea of finally crawling into bed after the day you’ve had. Without company to distract you, you realize how heavy your limbs feel. Even the weight of your head feels too heavy for your neck.

A deep voice cutting through the silence and darkness of your apartment abruptly changes your plans.

“What do you know about Red Hood?”

A horrible second passes in slow motion. The second between registering an unfamiliar voice in your home and facing it. You gasp. Spin around. With the extended darkness, you find him right away by the glow of eyes. Not Red Hood. Not a modulated voice you hear. Just grit. Cold, but assuredly human.

Batman is your new visitor.

There is no Jay Peters.

Batman, of course, didn’t tell you this directly. When he was satisfied you didn’t know anything about Red Hood—you think, at least—he left with nothing but cryptic hints. You spun his every word in your head throughout the night with nothing for you to do about it until the hum of electricity returned to your apartment in the early hours of the morning.

The obituary before you says Jason Todd was killed in a car accident. He’s small, but there’s no mistaking the boyish grin splitting his face open. You’d know those dimples anywhere.

Only one thing comes to mind as your logical next step: call Jason. Even so, the idea of it makes you uneasy. Not because he’s Red Hood—it makes so much sense in hindsight, and you feel humiliated for not seeing it earlier—but because Red Hood is still your ex. The very same ex you had casually mentioned still being in love with. To Red Hood. Who is your ex.

You’re scared and humiliated and exhausted. Sleep was meant to have found you hours ago, but the glow of your computer screen is a beacon that keeps urging you to uncover more.

How does Jason Todd, teenager killed in a car accident—allegedly, you suppose, because you know very well he isn’t dead—become Red Hood? To further complicate matters, how are you supposed to tell him Batman is onto him when Batman is clearly already watching you?

All you know is now things are starting to make more sense. Jason’s abrupt exit from your life. The way he danced around talking about his past. No longer can you tell what’s a lie and what’s the truth. But with absolute certainty, you remember thinking he was trouble from the start.

You wished it changed anything. You wished now you were free of your aching heart. But just because Jason is Red Hood doesn’t mean he held you any differently. The point you keep returning to is that tonight, Jason took care of you. Hood or not, Jason is still Jason. Any additional complications to that point are just an afterthought.

You don’t have all the answers. Maybe Jason really did leave because you’re fucked up. If he did, you’re not going to take that from him. Not as the truth takes root in your mind. All prior fear of him has dissipated, both as an ex and a vigilante. The need for an explanation rises above all else, and you very much intend to get one.

Exhaustion finally tugs you into sleep as the sun is beginning to rise. Even as you drift away, your mind settles on your plan: once you’re awake enough to stand, you’re marching into the tattoo shop to demand the truth.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider giving this a reblog 💛 as always, gigantic shoutout to @janybabyy for beta reading. i owe you my life

#jason todd x reader #x reader #hagfitg #dividers by adornedwithlight #dividers by strangergraphics

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bitchinbarzal · 7 hours ago

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The Trade | F Minten

Summary: Fraser gets traded from the Toronto Maple Leafs to the Boston Bruins, and miscommunication tears you apart—until fate brings you back together.

⸻

You find out the same way everyone else does.

Scrolling through Twitter, half-distracted while you wait for Fraser to text back about dinner plans, you see the news:

TRADE ALERT: The Toronto Maple Leafs have traded Fraser Minten to the Boston Bruins in exchange for Brandon Carlo.

Your heart stops.

There’s no text from Fraser. No missed call. Just—radio silence.

You tell yourself he’s probably in shock. That he’s busy with management, figuring things out. That he’ll call when he can.

But hours pass. Then days.

No word from him.

And when he finally does surface, it’s in a rushed interview from Boston, where he talks about how “excited” he is for this new opportunity. How the Bruins are a “great organization.”

Not a single mention of Toronto. Of you. Of the life you shared.

That’s when you realize: he left, and he never even said goodbye.

It’s pure masochism showing up to the Leafs-Bruins game.

You tell yourself you’re over it. That Fraser made his choice. That you don’t care anymore.

But the second you see him step onto the ice, looking like he belongs in black and gold, your heart clenches.

He looks different. Harder, somehow. More closed off.

You watch as he skates past the Leafs bench, exchanging nods with old teammates. But he doesn’t look at the crowd. Doesn’t scan for familiar faces.

Doesn’t look for you.

Anger bubbles up. You were everything to each other once. If he truly didn’t care, why didn’t he just say that? Why not rip the Band-Aid off instead of leaving you hanging?

If he’s moved on, so have you.

You’re halfway to the exit when someone grabs your wrist.

Your breath catches.

Fraser.

Up close, he looks just as conflicted as you feel. His hair’s damp from the post-game shower, his suit slightly wrinkled. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—relief? Hope?

“You’re here,” he says, voice rough like he doesn’t quite believe it.

You jerk your arm away. “Why do you care?”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I—shit, Y/N. I wanted to call. I tried. But everything happened so fast, and then… I didn’t know if you wanted to hear from me.”

You scoff. “You think I wanted to hear about your trade from Twitter?”

Regret flashes across his face. “I didn’t even know it was happening until it was done. One second, I was a Leaf, and the next, I was on a flight to Boston. I kept thinking I’d have time to explain. But there was never time.”

Your walls threaten to crumble. “You could have made time, Fraser.”

“I know,” he admits, stepping closer. “And I hate myself for not fighting harder. For not telling you how much I—” He swallows, shaking his head. “I thought if I let you go, it’d be easier for both of us. That maybe you’d move on faster if I didn’t drag things out.”

Tears sting your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. “You don’t get to decide what’s easier for me.”

He hesitates. Then, softer “I know.”

The silence stretches between you.

Finally, Fraser exhales. “Do you—do you still hate me?”

Your chest aches. You should. But standing here, looking at him, you know the truth.

You never stopped loving him.

You stare at him. At the way his lips part like he’s desperate for you to say something, anything, that will make this easier.

But it’s not supposed to be easy. Not after what he did.

“You should’ve fought for me,” you say, voice steady despite the storm inside you. “You should’ve called. Even if it was messy, even if it was rushed. You should’ve tried.”

His face twists in regret. “I know. I thought I was protecting you—”

“Stop.” You shake your head, stepping back, putting distance between you. “You don’t get to stand here now and act like you didn’t make a choice.”

He exhales sharply, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“But you did.” Your voice wavers, but you force yourself to hold your ground. “And when it mattered most, you let me believe I didn’t mean enough to be worth a goodbye.”

Fraser’s eyes shine under the fluorescent lights of the arena hallway, his fingers clenching into fists like he’s struggling to find the right words. But there’s nothing left to say.

You gave him your love, your trust, your time—and he walked away like it was easier to pretend you never existed.

Now, it’s your turn to leave.

“Good luck in Boston, Fraser.” You say his name like a stranger’s, like it doesn’t belong to the boy you once loved. “I hope it was worth it.”

Then you turn and walk away.

You don’t look back.

#fraser minten imagine #fraser minten x reader #boston bruins imagine #nhl imagine

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tortoise-teapot · 8 months ago

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i have genuinely the most cursed birthday possible.

#election day destiel day guy fawkes day and by extension v for vendetta day #but most importantly it is ROBIN'S BIRTHDAY!! YIPPEE!#and my 18th fell on an election year. i voted for obamas reelection by a few hours #i was the only one in my high school who could vote in the US election (including teachers) so i heard... OPINIONS #wait did i just mention this the other day this feels familiar #i talk in the tags too much. head full many thoughts.#ok MAYBE leap year babies have it more cursed

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nanamiskentos · 3 months ago

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SHE TOLD YOU THAT SHE CELIBATE, SHE TOLD ME I COULD NAIL HER SH*T — gojo satoru minors dni

PART I. of the new years letters, a series of fics dedicated to some of my lovely mutuals! 🎁

prologue. → you wish gojo satoru would stop trying to ask you out. not that you don't like him, but dating the one guy that you're smacked silly about would mean that he could break your heart and leave you in ruins. so it's best to keep some distance right?

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. college au, reader wears a skirt, reader is choso's twin and yuuji's older sister, but no appearance detailed. kissing, making out, óral (f) receiving, general bitchiness and fuckups 😚 ensemble cast of poor bystanders (geto, shoko, sukuna, yuki etc)

word count. 10k! song inspiration. gang baby — nle choppa

a/n. it's because of that one edit by satorupedia that's going around rn. yall know which one 😭 art by touno_stupa on twt!

dedication. yayyy decided to start my little gift series for new years with this fic inspired and dedicated to @fushitoru who was one of the first blogs i followed on here before i was super familiar with jujutsu kaisen. aashi writes thee most wonderful gojo fics that are so well characterised and heart-stoppingly adorable and HAWT. 😁 🤭 and i easily associate her with physics/college au gojo now, ever since her spiderman gojo fic that lives in my head!!!!

gojo in this fic:

ACT I. don't puck around and find out!

"i ran into gojo today," choso says, his voice as unbothered and monotone as ever, scraping the gravel lazily with the heel of his scuffed combat boots, "or he ran into me."

"gojo satoru?"

"how many gojos do we know?" your twin brother huffs, giving you a dry side-eye. but before you can retort something equally acrid, he's yanking at the sleeve of your sweatshirt, halting you midstep, "wait. car."

you blink out of your tired daze just in time to see a battered camry putter past, its engine groaning like it's on its last legs. just how you feel after a long day of seminars and lectures. the car rattles down the street with the grace of a tin can tied to a string.

"thanks," you mutter, half-heartedly as you shift your laptop case from one tired arm to the other, "could have been the end of my genius academic career."

"would have been a short one either way," choso quietly quips, earning himself a sharp elbow to the ribs.

"so?" you press on.

"so, what?"

"what did gojo say?"

"ohhh," choso drawls, in that irritating way of his that indicates he has no idea how to deliver good gossip, news or any form of tea, "he asked if i wanted to play hockey for his team tomorrow. they're down a player ever since kento went on exchange."

"hockey?" your eyebrow arches, and skepticism curls your lips for choso is hardly known for his athleticism. you mean, you're sure he has the physical ability in him somewhere but you (and the rest of the world) are yet to see it, "are you gonna join the team, then?"

not that you care about gojo's stupid, state-tournament winning team. of course not. you're just curious. and curiosity is harmless.

it has nothing to do with the fact that you woke up last night wanting to jump gojo satoru's bones. just like you did the night before, and before. and the week before that. yeah, suffice to say that this has been going on for a while.

"nah," choso says, shaking dull, greasy strands of dark hair out of his eyes, "got placements tomorrow."

right. placements. choso's all about pathology and lab medicine and test tubes, while you get queasy at the mere mention of haemoglobin. and it unsettles you mildly at how your twin brother's eyes light up at the mere mention of a blood test.

"and?" you prod when he starts to drift off again, his attention wandering like it always does.

choso is often like a calm river. slow, broad and lazy.

this time, you pull at his one of his headphone cords to reel him back, "did gojo say anything else?"

choso gives you that dull look, quiet but loaded. like he's already solved a puzzle that you didn't know you were trying to hide. it just makes your stomach twist, "why do you care what gojo satoru says?"

"i don't," you snap, far too fast, like your tongue is racing your brain to a crash site. the lie sits heavy in your throat, thick and obvious.

choso's pale and dry lips twitch, and you wondered what happened to the lip balm you threw into his christmas stocking last year, "should i have told him you could sub in for his team instead?"

"no-one likes a smartass, cho," you grumble, speeding up your steps as your twin leisurely rummages through his fraying backpack for his house keys. you roll your eyes and push ahead, jamming your own keys into the lock before you die of boredom waiting for him to dig through the trash heap that lies at the bottom of his bag, "anyway, i was just asking. you brought gojo up."

choso trails behind you, his tone infuriatingly casual, "you always get weird when someone mentions him. i thought you guys were friends."

"we are friends. and i don't get weird."

"you get so weird. even yuki said so."

"i love yuki, i do. but she has no idea what she's talking about —"

the door swings open, cutting off your false deflection. standing there is yuuji, with half a sandwich dangling from his mouth like he's some kind of feral creature. there's a smear of mayonnaise clinging to his cheek as he yanks a red, track hoodie over his tank top.

"mmph! hey, you guys!" he muffles through a mouthful of bread, waving at you with the enthusiasm that only a teenage boy could muster after inhaling half the fridge.

"where are you off to?" you peer at your younger brother, your eyes zeroing in on his mutilated sandwich. a sandwich that you're certain you made for yourself this morning, leaving it for a study session upon your return.

"track practice," yuuji says, swallowing the last bite whole, "then dinner with fushiguro and kugisaki." he's already halfway down the driveway, sneakers untied and laces flopping on the pavement behind him.

choso narrows his eyes, "got money? or a water bottle? a hat? did you wear sunscreen?"

"i'm good!" yuuji calls back without breaking stride, waving a quick hand at the two of you.

"why don't you hold his hand and walk him to school, mother?"

"shut up," choso grumbles as he brushes past you into the house, throwing you an exaggerated scowl of wounded, elder-brother pride over his shoulder, "why don't you hold gojo's hand to hockey practice?"

your bookbag swings through the air, connecting to the back of choso's oversized head and a loud thud follows.

ACT II. long overdue and lacking a spine

you had been in this library for hours, eyes blurring as the words in your textbook stubbornly refused to make sense. it was all a gross blur of terms and diagrams, and your $8.00 coffee had gone lukewarm an hour ago.

study, pass, graduate. get a good gpa. that was the plan, no distractions.

your phone, however, had other ideas as it sat innocently next to your stack of notes. you tapped the screen quickly under the guise of a 'quick break' but before long, you were deep into instagram stories. someone's dog, a flyer for a rave that you definitely weren't going to, and then, of course, him.

gojo satoru. on someone's reposted story with a classic, grainy photo of one of the campus's most darling boys. long arm draped casually over some girl. both of them lit in the neon glow of what looked like a party bus. he wasn't even looking at the camera, just flashing that effortless grin that you had seen your entire life growing up. and the girl was gorgeous, obviously. not that you cared about that.

but speak of the devil and he hath appear. a long shadow fell over the table, and you felt the chill in your bones, trying not to shift in your seat.

"go away, gojo," you muttered, not even deigning to look up.

"how'd you know it was me?" his voice is teasing, all light and airy as he's pulling out the chair next to you.

"what can i say? lucky guess," you reply dryly, keeping your eyes glued to the suspiciously-stained textbook. worried that you'll look up and your iron resolve will disappear from one glance at big, blue eyes.

but out of the corner of his eye, you try not to twitch at the sight of the soft, pale blue hoodie that swallows his broad frame whole. thick, white strands of hair that fall gently over his face. and that cloying scent of mint and something faintly sweet that leaves your ears hot and your heart sitting in your throat.

study, pass, graduate. get a good gpa. that's what you tell yourself in a now failing mantra.

"are you following me today?" you ask, flipping a page with exaggerated nonchalance, like you're not about to tear up pathetically from a stupid crush.

"caught me," gojo says, the grin audible even in his voice, "i just couldn't resist finding you. is that what you want me to say?"

you finally look up, swallowing at unfairly fine features, "saw you were at some party yesterday. i didn't think you'd be on campus today."

gojo just laughs, the sound soft and infuriating, "keeping tabs on me now?" and he's rifling through his bag for something, "or you don't think the library's a good look for me? i'm broadening my horizons. testing the waters."

you narrow your eyes, willing the heat rising in your face to stay put and not crawl into your voice, "i think you're testing my patience. i have a test tomorrow, so if you're here to waste my time..."

"maybe i just wanted to hang out with my friend," gojo says, tearing open a kitkat wrapper in an obnoxious way that echoes through the silent hall, and the crinkle of plastic grates against your nerves, "we haven't seen each other in ages."

"don't you have a lot of other people to hang out with nowadays?" you're mentally beating yourself with a bat at your question, wincing at how it sounds like you keep count of who he hangs out with, and you're pathetically down bad for him. like a 90s singer begging on his knees for a kiss.

"i mean, i could hang out with them," gojo says, breaking his kitkat horizontally like a monster, "but they're not you."

his sunglasses are gone, revealing eyes so blue they look otherworldly, and he's throwing you that smiling, lopsided grin that makes your heart run around a room and bang into the walls. but no. you were not going to let gojo satoru get to you. he probably made every girl feel like this, like they were the centre of his fast-paced universe. until the next shiny thing came along.

besides, gojo satoru dated models. or stunning cheerleaders. the kind of people who looked good under strobe lights, and in the glow of his party bus digital camera pics.

and hey, it's not like you were self-depreciating or awfully insecure. you liked who you were and you would never change it for anyone. quiet and ambitious. reserved, but down for some fun. you'd like to think you were the type of person who saw the world in a beautiful, cinematic light. but it was maddening how gojo satoru seemed to bring out the most juvenile issues in you that had your stomach turning itself into ugly knots.

"gojo," you try to sound as nonchalant as possible, "are you even here to study?"

as in why are you really here? please ask me out.

gojo looks unbothered, unshaken, "coffee. cake. maybe even some flirting, if you're up to it."

the universe hates you. it has a way of delivering what you want right into your hands, when...you don't exactly want it.

you blink at the white-haired man, disbelief bubbling under your skin, "you're not serious."

"why wouldn't i be?"

"c'mon, satoru. everyone knows you're not the actual dating type. you ever been in a relationship that wasn't pr and lasted for more than two weeks?"

absolutely bonkers at how your heart and your tongue are not on the same wavelength at all. it's like your mouth missed the memo and is just firing bullets that have gojo's grin faltering a bit, as a flicker of heated annoyance flashes in his eyes. even hurt, but it's gone too quickly for you to read into it.

"didn't realise that you thought i was that much of a joke," and you're not fond of how gojo's voice is quieter now, and a pretty sneer is dancing across his lips. you're biting your lip before you lose your stupid, petty resolve to not get involved with someone who could truly break your heart.

"if you didn't make everything a joke, it wouldn't be," you snap at him, and you're not even sure what you're angry at. there's no reason to be annoyed, or frustrated or even hurt and snippy with a friend who came and sat with you to catch up.

but you don't want to untangle whatever you're projecting onto gojo satoru, so you let bitter words spill over, "some of us don't have time for your games, gojo. we have real lives to deal with."

gojo's expression shifts completely, and that playful spark in his eyes is replaced with something colder as he stands up and shoves his hands into his pockets, "right." and his tone is clipped, pissed, "got it. no time for games."

you watch as gojo walks away, already tapping away on his phone, but his footsteps are quieter than you expect. part of you wants to call after him, to take back the teeth and claws that painted your words.

but instead, you just look away from him and grimace. you must have pulled an awful, twisted face — for the man sitting across from you leans in and asks if you need to take an aspirin, or if you're low on fibre.

ACT III. between the covers

the bookstore smells faintly of old paper and new ink. a sharp contrast to the chill lingering outside, so the warmth hits you like a welcome blanket. the air buzzes with the muted chatter of customers, and the occasional beep of a cash register.

you're winding your way through the aisles, set on two missions. find that jacket-cover book that you had been wanting for weeks, and to hunt down the manga that yuuji had begged you to pick up for him.

you dart past a couple lingering in front of a 'booktube' bestseller display, narrowing avoiding a child wielding a stuffed dragon that you can only assume is smaug the magnificent from the hobbit. straight into the quieter section of the store, tucked in the back and smack-bang right into —

thud!

your shoulder collides hard with someone else, sending you stumbling back a step.

"fuck's sake. watch it," the person snaps, his tone sharp.

"maybe you should —" you start to retort, before the words die and patter out on your tongue as your mouth goes dry.

gojo satoru, ladies and gentlemen.

he's scowling at you, with sunglasses pushed up onto his head that expose those ridiculously pale eyelashes under the glow of the overhead lights. he's layered on a crisp varsity jacket, over a thick hoodie, all shades of soft blue and grey. and he looks irritated, with thick brows furrowed at you. but you don't miss the faint surprise that flutters across his face when he takes you in.

"seriously?" gojo murmurs, though more to himself, and his voice still holds an edge that has you wilting, "out of all the aisles in this store..."

you blink, caught somewhere between an apology that dances on the edge of your lips, and a bewildered laugh at how the divine powers deliver the worst luck on you. instead, you shove your hands deep into the pockets of your aviator jacket, "sorry. didn't see you."

gojo's shoulders relax, but just barely. as though he's still caught in the heavy fog of tension from your last words to him. but to your mild credit, he doesn't quite look ready to storm out either. progress?

"so. what are you doing here?" you ask, trying to break the ice and pretend that you're not doing internal pirouettes.

"just had to pick up a textbook," gojo mutters, holding up a thin and over-priced looking book on something like...quantum mechanics, "exams are coming up. gotta keep the top spot, you know."

you blink, "you're actually studying?"

gojo raises his eyebrow, lips twitching into the faintest smile, "what? you think i roll into my classes and ace everything through sheer willpower? or i spend all day being a joke and annoying everyone, right?"

you sigh, feeling the frosty, ice-gaze settle once more over you, paralysing you from head to toe, "look, gojo. i don't know what came over me that day," and now you're being sincere, looking away from his narrowed stare, "it's like some crazy, evil monster came over me and it possessed me. i think i incarnated some demon king in me and i said all that mean shit."

he shifts slightly beside you, and you don't miss at how gojo's lower lip juts out at your apology, or how close he is to you right now. "and i was jus' being stupid. swear i don't think you're a joke." you try to pick up some random book, pretending you're very busy as you speak.

but it's very hard to look genuine when you've just picked up a glossy copy of 'stand and deliver: a hard look at fixing male erection problems.'

it earns you a small laugh, light and quick, that has you almost falling to your knees, and you can hear choso's voice in your head. muttering out a dulcet 'i told you so. you want him so bad.' but it's worth it as gojo leans against the nearest shelf, the annoyance from earlier starting to ebb.

and for a moment, gojo studies you and his expression is unreadable. for your part, you're pretending to read the back cover of 'stand and deliver' and some blurb about how this award-winning author managed to help her husband 'get it up' after twenty years of marriage.

but the tension in his posture dissolves, relaxing further and gojo hums, "noted." that's all he says, and an awkward silence hovers. it hovers so uncomfortably, leaving you floundering for a new topic until gojo's voice breaks the silence.

"choso's doing good, yeah? i heard he got a girlfriend."

you smile, "yeah. yuki, she's like really cool. i don't know how he did it."

gojo snickers, "i asked if he wanted to play hockey and i think he's been avoiding me all week."

you try to pretend its not because of how you re-enacted your little spat with gojo, demonstrating the entire thing for your twin brother. who had just called you stupid afterwards. among other not-so-flattering terms, with little consideration for your crushing, beating heart.

"you going to suguru's party next weekend?"

ah, now that's a curveball.

because, again, you are your own brand of cool. or so you'd like to think, so this isn't really a matter of pitying comparison. but geto suguru is like on another level of effortlessly vogue. at least in your eyes. you know that he's gojo's best friend and he delivered a (controversial) and killer project on gene editing last semester. you know that geto's involved with gig photography as a hobby, and thus, has personal access to some of the coolest bands in the city.

and you also know that he occasionally waves a hand to you, but it's not like you actually know the man. it's just mutual association.

"i wasn't planning on it," you hesitate, for you really had been planning to cram through a mid-term session, "but someone asked me to go as their date."

gojo's smile evaporates, "who?"

"naoya zenin," you say cautiously, watching as gojo's face twists. like he's resisting the urge to gag and tear his hair out.

"naoya? he's like a walking billboard for being an entitled cunt," gojo groans, running a hand through glossy hair that has you trailing your gaze over slender, sculpted hands.

you narrow your eyes, "he seemed...okay. smart, i think."

"oh, he's smart. i'm not questioning that," gojo crabs, "he's so arrogant though. i grew up seeing that guy everywhere. our families were like, half friends."

you cross your arms, suddenly defensive, "are you warning me? or just mad that he asked me out?"

gojo seems to flounder for half a second, quick enough that you could miss it and he could deny it, "jealous of naoya? please," and he scoffs as he leans back against the shelf, "i have taste. unlike some people."

"you can't be the one giving me a lecture on dating etiquette. i mean, how many dates do you have lined up for geto's party? two, three?"

gojo gives you a sly grin, "more than that, hah. gotta keep my options open."

"tacky," you wrinkle your nose, trying to pretend that you don't feel like you just guzzled a gallon of curdled milk, "and classless."

"yes," gojo sighs sadly, "and endlessly charming. it's so hard being me," shooting you back a quizzical look as he pulls up to the register, paying for his textbook.

as he paid, you linger near the shelves, pretending to browse while stealing glances at gojo satoru. there was something different about him today, something quieter that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

and on gojo's way out, he pauses in the doorway, turning back to look at you. his expression is still entirely unreadable, his gaze lingering for just a second longer than usual. and then he was gone.

ACT IV. blush confidential

there's a soft hum of pop music wafting from someone's phone, blending in with the rustle of fabric and the hiss of a straightener. your bedroom is a whirlwind of motion and chaos, with clothes thrown over chairs, and pre-game drinks piled up over your vanity.

"i can't believe you're not coming with us," you gripe to yuki, watching as she lounged up on your bed, denim crinkling as she shifted to adjust herself.

"tch, you know i love a good party," yuki grins with sparkling ideas, "but choso and i have a date tonight. he's been texting me about it all day."

you snicke at the thought of your hapless twin, "yeah. he was practically glued to your dm's. ran into the kitchen table twice this morning."

shoko snorts from her spot at the vanity, from where she's running a brush through cropped, chestnut hair, "choso nervous? i need to see that," she catches your eye in the mirror, "do you still have that lip gloss?"

"on it," you're digging into the vast depths of your purse, grazing your wallet and a hal-featen granola bar. stubbing your finger on an opened gel pen, before clutching a small shiny tube that you toss to shoko.

"so," shoko smacks her lips, "how's it going with naoya?"

you blink, pausing in the middle of capping all your drying pens, "what do you mean how's it going? nothing's going."

your friend swivels on her stool, raising a thin eyebrow, "he's your date at this party, right? and why him, of all people?"

"seriously. that guy's got a reputation. and not a good kind, for a very good reason," utahime chimes in from her corner, where she's yanking on a ribbon woven through her hair.

you shrug, suddenly feeling defensive under their collective scrutiny, "hey. he asked, i said yes. it's not that deep."

shoko exchanges a pointed glance with utahime, and both of them looking equally skeptical in a way that has you flushing.

"he's just annoying, you know," shoko points out, "he thinks he's better than everyone else, and half the time? it's just hot air."

"and the other half?"

"still hot air," shoko flatlines, "you can do better."

"anyone's better than gojo," utahime mutters, "you don't want to be stuck with him."

yuki's snickering, and you're doing your utter best to pretend that the mention of gojo satoru doesn't have you crawling up and down the walls like a termite on crack.

"speaking of gojo," yuki drawls, running a comb through a golden sheaf of thick hair, "is he going with anyone to this party?"

you freeze for half a second, before busying yourself with some new body mist that you picked up from a sale, all vanilla and coconut and macademia, "i ran into gojo the other day," and you keep your tone as neutral as possible, "and he said he had a few dates."

"ugh," shoko groans, wrinkling her nose, "of course he does," and utahime mutters an affirmative, exasperated sigh, echoed only by yuki, who pauses mid-brush to look at you sympathetically.

"what?" you snap, defensive, "why are you all looking at me like that?"

shoko tucks a thin strand of hair behind her ear, "well, i mean. you like gojo, right? like really like him?"

"huh?" the question catches you so off guard that you're left sputtering, as the perfume leaves a sharp and awful taste on your tongue, accidentally leaving a fresh spritz into your mouth, and not the curve of your neck.

"oh, blech. absolutely not," you say vehemently, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, "i don't like him like that. not that i think he's awful or anything —"

utahime crosses her arms, white sleeves brushing against each other, "he is awful."

"yes, thank you for that, utahime. but he's just not my type," you finish firmly, "he's loud. he's disruptive. he can't take anything seriously. i can't date that."

yuki gives you a long and knowing look, "oh, he likes you," she says lightly, as though she's telling you a casual piece of news, and not something that has you biting your tongue till iron spills, "he's been crushing on you for so long."

you feel your stomach twist uncomfortable, like little, evil goblins are dancing in your gut, "that's ridiculous," you mutter, fiddling with the clasp of your purse, "if he liked me, he would ask me out properly. and not date half the student population."

"he probably thinks it's fair, because you keep turning him down," shoko says matter-of-factly, standing up to grab her bag.

"i just don't think he's good for you. or anyone," utahime mutters, earning a pinch from you.

ACT V. stereo love

normally, gojo thrived at these parties. suguru was always able to pull a crowd that straddled the line between chic and cool, with just enough alcohol to keep things interesting. the thrum of the bass-heavy music should have been the perfect escape after a gruelling day spent staring at equations, leaving him half-convinced that his course coordinator was plotting against him and wanted him dead.

but now gojo satoru was just jittery, restless. and he hated that.

so for now, he leaned against the kitchen counter with a full cup in hand, watching people spill out of the living room and into the backyard. it seemed that other students had been aching for a party, something to take them off mid-terms and yet here he was, scowling like a storm cloud. he took another swig of his drink, ignoring how his own stomach was doing unexplained cartwheels.

"you good?"

suguru's low voice cuts through the noise, startling gojo enough that he has to tighten his fingers around his cup so sticky beer doesn't spill over pristine tiles.

gojo waves his closest friend and confidante off, "i'm fine. obviously."

suguru's frown deepens, though it's obscured by his loose, choppy dark hair. and there's skepticism painted all over his face, "you're never this quiet at any party. i thought that by now, i would have had to convince you not to jump off the roof."

"you think too little of me."

"you think too much of yourself," suguru drawls, but he's leaning against the counter beside gojo, as leather and cool metal rustle against each other, "so where's your date? or dates, i should say?"

gojo freezes, his cup halfway to his lip, "come again? what are you talkin' about?"

suguru arches a thin brow, "it's practically all over campus, man. apparently, you had several dates with lovely, young ladies lined up tonight. and i tried to defend your fragile honour, said it was too ambitious even for you. but..."

this revelation hits gojo like a punchline that he wasn't in on, and then it clicks for him. oh, he had started that rumour a few days ago. in the bookstore, to you. his brain replays the scene like a cruel, little highlight reel: the way your expression had wavered minutely, just for a moment, when he had straight up lied and claimed that he had a few dates.

truth be told, gojo had only said it to make you jealous, to see if he could ruffle you and play your game even better.

but now the joke was so clearly on him.

because gojo satoru had no dates. and you? you were here with someone who wasn't him.

suguru's following his gaze across the room, and gojo doesn't even bother to hide his petulant interest. he can see you standing near the back walls, laughing at something that naoya zenin, mayor of all things putrid, had said. naoya, with his stupid green roots and louis vuitton jacket, standing just a little bit too close to you for gojo's liking.

but before he can stew in it any linger, suguru's reaching out and pinching his ear. hard.

"ow! fuck was that for?" gojo's yelping, jerking away from his clearly evil, traitrous best friend.

"that," suguru says evenly, "was for looking like a lovesick idiot. pull yourself together, man."

"i'm not lovesick," gojo weakly protests, rubbing his bruised, throbbing ear and moving further away from suguru geto.

"you're not exactly screaming cool and collected," suguru dryly comments, "sulking like a sore loser while your crush laughs at another guy's jokes."

gojo feels his face heat up, just a little bit, because he knows that suguru's hitting close to home, "i don't sulk and do all that whiny shit. second of all, it's not my fault she went with zenin of all people. it's up to her if she wants to be stuck with someone who talks about his family's real estate portfolio as foreplay."

suguru snorts, and it's clear that he's not playing the role of sympathetic best man for life, "you know what's more obnoxious? watching you fuck around like this. you need to figure out how to ask her properly."

"i did all that!" gojo shoots back, throwing his arms up so his drink dances over the edge of the cup, "she said no. each time. you know what they call a guy who can't take a hint? she thinks i'm a loser!"

"and are you?"

gojo narrows his eyes, "am i what?"

"a loser."

"is it easier for me if i just say yes?" gojo half-heartedly gripes, "is that what you want me to say?"

"or," suguru says calmly, "you're a guy who hasn't proven he's worth saying yes to."

gojo groans, tipping his head back so he can block out the vision of his irritatingly wise best friend, "you sound like my grandmother."

"that's not even an insult. your grandmother is on some metal shit," suguru counters, unbothered, "and you sound like a twelve-year old. you can't flirt and sleaze your way through this. if you want her to take you seriously, i don't know how else to say this, you have to stop being...you."

"excuse me?"

"no. stop, don't make that face," suguru scowls, "you know what i mean. stop being a stupid flirt, and be a genuinely better person. otherwise, you're just spinning and burning out your wheels."

"did you pick up a self help book?"

suguru elbows him, sneering, "i'm trying to help you. if you don't want my help, i'm telling her you have an std."

"maybe you should just do that. end my misery," gojo downs the rest of his drink in one go, the burn of cheap beer doing nothing to ease the olympics in his alimentary canal. what's worse is that suguru is right, the bastard always is.

suguru claps him on the shoulder, "relax, satoru. you've got charm in spades. just use it...wisely."

"yeah, yeah. thanks, man," gojo mutters, brushing him off as suguru wanders away, probably to mediate some dumb argument between that big oaf, toji fushiguro and the even bigger oaf, ryomen sukuna. honestly, why were they even invited?

but gojo stays where he is, eyes flicking back to you. away from the distracting curve of your thighs in that skirt, and rather on how interested you look in naoya's stupid, animated gestures. and you look so at ease, but there's something hot and sharp twisting inside his gut.

suguru's soft, measured voice echoes in his head, "prove yourself as a person first."

oh, yeah. gojo could do that. he would absolutely do that. for you, he'd do just about anything, short of donating his vital organs (but he would definitely be considering it). but how hard could it be to be better? more mature? more grounded?

gojo satoru can handle all that. all he had to do was be a dignified, charming man. you know, someone who puts his best foot forward into the world. someone that you might actually consider taking seriously. someone calm and respectful.

if you were happy with naoya zenin, then who was he to interfere? who was he to ruin that for you? even if the guy looked like wile e. coyote when he smiled. even if naoya zenin was the most smug bastard to walk the earth.

gojo scowled at nothing in particular. but the point was that it wasn't his place to meddle. not if it meant risking your happiness. all he could do was be the best version of himself. polite, kind and above reproach. a good and respectful friend.

ACT VI. a shot of love, on the rocks.

"please, i want you so fuckin' bad."

gojo satoru is on his knees. at a party, in the middle of the living room. for you.

you feel like your mind isn't able to process all this fast enough, like your brain is on some pause. the music is still thumping in your head, but not as fast as your poor cardiac muscles as you're rendered frozen from pathetic, piercing blue eyes blinking up at you.

"please," gojo satoru repeats, and his voice vaguely warbles out like he's kinda lost his marbles and —

let's rewind.

five minutes ago, you had been standing with naoya zenin. and despite your initial reservations, you had been entertained. he's sorta witty, and definitely loaded with snarky remarks that cut through the noise of the party. it's hard not to laugh at his biting commentary, although half the time he's skewering people for fun, and the other half? just out of pure spite.

his golden eyes gleam with that edge, the kind of sharpness that makes you think of a hyena circling around its next meal. naoya is definitely full of himself, but it doesn't help that he's also ridiculously good-looking. and he knows how stunning he is, but its bothering him that you're not showering him in enough compliments for it.

still, he's here with you. he's your date. and you're doing your best to remind yourself of that. naoya is the only option you have at the moment, and he's definitely offering you more attention than anyone else tonight.

from across the room, utahime gives you an exaggerated, pained thumbs-up — while shoko shrugs in her usual blithe manner, but she gestures for you to smile more. you plaster on a wider grin, a little too obvious but naoya doesn't seem to notice.

"you know, if you're getting bored of all this, we could always find another room," naoya's low hiss slices right through the bass-thrum of the pulsing room, "do a little more than just talk."

for a moment, it's easy to imagine slipping away with him. but the sharpness in his killer-smile makes something in you bristle, like he's already envisioned you saying 'oh yes, naoya! please take me to bed!' and you shake your head, and give him an amused look.

"maybe later," you say lightly, "not now."

naoya zenin doesn't seem quite offended, but his smile grows wider as he stands up straight again, from where he had curved his tall frame into you, "i'm a patient man. fine by me, 'm gonna get some more drinks."

and you watch as his golden head of hair disappears into the crowd, leaving you all alone while the music blares around you, like a suffocating fog. you rub your temples, wondering if you should just go after naoya and tell him to go to town, something for the night's enjoyment. but before you can go any further, you hear a shout cut through the noise.

"hey!"

you whip around, blinking in surprise at gojo satoru.

but also not quite the gojo that you're used to. the one that you grew up with, and held hands with in kindergarten, one who smiled easy and laughed too loud. it seems he's ditched the oversized hoodies and varsity jackets tonight, opting for a black tee that fits him a little too well and dark cargo pants that only highlight...

you're getting distracted. but it's hard to remain focused, when he's walking towards with you. seemingly determined, as his white hair falls forward over thunderstorm-eyes. for a moment, you're not sure if you’re hearing him over the pounding music, or if it's just your own pulse making everything seem louder.

"i hate that you're here with naoya," gojo says suddenly, and his voice is low and serious, something that you've never really heard from him before.

your brow furrows, "what?"

"i lied about the dates," he continues, as words just jumble out his candy-pink mouth, "i don't have a bunch of dates. fuck, i don't even have one date. i only want to date you."

you blink, and then you blink once more, because again what?

the sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, you think you might have misheard the man. his blue eyes are wide and earnest, and they're staring right at you.

and before you know, he's on his knees. muscular thighs bending so his knees hit the cool tiles with a heavy thud, hands splayed out for you.

"please," he implores, "you gotta understand. i need you to feel what i feel, because it's not even a passin' thought, i swear. it's not even a stupid crush. this is like —" and he's gesturing wildly with one hand, still kneeling like a knight about to beg for his lady's favour, "this is destiny."

"gojo," you manage, "are you on drugs?"

the white-haired man, bless his sassy heart, rolls his eyes, "no. i'm on beer and vodka. will you please let me finish?"

"yes, but what are you doing?" you hiss, exasperated and sibilant, as more eyes turn to the most ravishing man on campus, who's absolutely off his rocker. and there are phones being pulled out, god help you.

"what am i doing?" gojo smiles, and it's unnervingly wide, "i'm like laying it out all here for you. my love. because that's what you are, to me. like you're everything. and i swear everyone knows this already. should i call you my sun, my moon, my entire universe? it's like time stops when i see you, a-and trust me, i do physics. i know time shit," and he must have caught at how your mouth is flapping open because he suddenly wags a finger, "no! i'm not done. i haven't even told you how the world fades, and all that's left is you glowing. like a star that i can't reach."

he's placing a hand on his broad chest, digging into the tight top clinging to his pectorals, like he's being dramatically wounded, "i have to reach you. i have to be with you."

you're not sure what parts you've processed, or what part of this slow train-wreck has settled in your head, "are you, like, actually begging right now?"

gojo's eyes flash with the intensity of a thousand suns (well, fuck — gojo's awful poeticism is rubbing off on you already). you can hear the low snickers of two men that had been beating the living daylights out of each other half an hour ago, those fuckwits that go by toji and sukuna. you can hear sukuna's deep mutters about how no-one ever would like toji enough to do this for him. and yep, you can hear them scuffle again.

"yes!" gojo booms, and more than a few heads have turned now. you wonder if naoya zenin is watching in the background, and realising that this isn't a battle he wants to pick, "i will kneel for you. like i'd do this shit for eternity, even if my knees hurt so bad right now. but as long as you give me a chance to prove my worth. and my devotion, d-don't forget that! deep as the ocean, endless and vast. and the stars align...oh, how they align for us."

"ah, satoru," you cut in, and you realise that you're now smiling. embarrassment and mild humiliation be damned, there's a quirk tugging at your lips, "you can get up now. this is a bit dramatic."

gojo blinks, not missing a beat, "i'm dramatic because i'm in love, okay? and —" he swivels his head to the crowd, grumbling, "shut up, sukuna! i heard that, i'll beat your wonky ass. you don' know shit about love."

he's turning back to you, all sticky and soothing sugar once more, "where was i? eh, my confession. well, it's all for you. and it's me, givin' you every part of me. beggin' you to see that you're the only one who can break the walls around my heart."

you think that you've completed a full speed-run on every stage of grief that there is to experience, and if the small plink! coming from someone's phone is any indication, gojo's monologue has already made it's way onto someone's private story. and so naturally, everyone will have seen it by tomorrow.

"can you get off your knees? you look ridiculous."

gojo's grin falters for a split second before he straights up, all with a hefty groan as he runs a hand through snowy strands, "ridiculous? i'm being vulnerable as hell, and you think i look stupid?"

"a little," you admit, but you're reaching a hand out to push a strand of thick hair out of his eyes. and it's maddening at how gojo seems to tremble mildly under your touch, at the brush of your fingers against his temple, "kneeling at a frat party is crazy work."

gojo sinks his teeth into a plush lower lip, "that was me trying to show how much i care, and all that sweet shit. you make me lose all my cool, and this isn't even a joke."

"you never had cool, and now you've lost your dignity too," but you're blushing, and it's a giddy feeling at how he's now close enough that you can feel his body heat.

gojo satoru's eyes twinkle, "maybe. but i'd do all that again if it won you over."

"with your future oscar nomination?"

the man shrugs, broad muscles rippling, "he who be a fool for love is far better than he who doth never dare to try at all."

"fair point," you murmur, feeling dizzy in that familiar scent of lemon candies and mint, like the world is swirling around in a heady haze, "do you wanna kiss me to seal the deal?"

"yes please. i think i'm gonna pass out and — mmph!"

you've pulled yourself up, and thrown your arms around his warm neck, drawing gojo into you. crashing your lips into his before either of you can say anything else. it's an urgent, reckless kiss. like a dam has burst and all the pent-up emotions that you've been carrying have finally exploded.

gojo's lips are soft, but demanding, taking more and more air from you. they fit against you with an ease that feels almost too natural. and his broad arms come around your waist with a force that leaves the air punched out of you. he's holding you tightly, as though he's afraid that you'll just disappear if he doesn't keep you close enough.

you can feel the heat of his body against yours, the muscles in his arms that flex as he pulls you in, deepening the kiss. all while his mouth moves against yours with a slow and deliberate intensity, as his tongue parts your lips. all so messy.

when gojo finally pulls away, the last brush of his lips catches your quiet whimper. just as his breath goes ragged, and you're left standing there, dazed, with your forehead resting against his. you can still feel the warmth of his lips on yours, that electricity that's crackling and buzzing through your veins as you giggle.

gojo, however, doesn't give you a chance to catch your breath. he tugs your wrist with a sharp, swift motion. but his grip is firm, not harsh as you pulls you away from the living room, "c'mon. let's get outta here."

shoko's eyes are wide, her jaw practically locked in disbelief, "what the hell just happened?"

utahime's lips curl, "someone took gojo's brain out and replaced it with a clone. ah! geto, what did you do?"

suguru has been standing near the kitchen counter, absolutely floored, and he's shaking his head so hard that he feels a headache forming, "hand on my heart, ladies. i told him not to pull any stunts. swear on destiny's child that i didn't tell him to do all that."

ACT VII. i bet we'd have really good bed chem!

gojo satoru has absolutely lost his mind. but you wish that he had lost it a bit earlier, because you're practically pawing at his top now. critically working to make quick work of the tight fabric, letting your fingers run over hard planes of muscles and lower.

right until you're reaching a trail of soft white hairs that disappear into the band of his pants.

"seems like you're just as desparate as me, hah," gojo snickers, and his broad hand is trailing further up your thighs, letting your skirt bunch and crinkle under his ministrations. thick fingers brush over dewy cotton, and you moan.

"s-satoru!"

"you don't even know how long i've w-wanted this," and his hand clenches at the fabric, gripping it so tightly that you fear it may just be on the verge of tearing, but you can only buck your hips into him further.

no longer even mindful of how you must be already dripping onto the palm of his hand, "and i thought you knew. i r-really thought you knew how much i wanted you."

his middle finger is gliding through your damp and searing slit, with clinging strands latching onto his skin as you muffle a whine into his chasing, teasing lips.

it's sending deep, low curls of arousal in thick waves, settling low in your groin and you don't even care what room of the house you're now in, someone's bedroom with a dark, stylish bedspread and vinyls up on the walls.

the force of his large hands drives you down onto the bed, pressing your back onto the soft mattress.

and gojo looks so pleased, at how you're splayed and sprawled out underneath his torso, his hands tugging at your now bare thighs to spread your legs even further. pulling them far enough so they come to rest on either side of his face.

"fuck, she's so pretty. even better than i imagined," and gojo's voice is husky and low, almost strained, "and believe me. imagined her plenty." the sound of drenched cotton being torn rips through the air, slippery and resistant from your arousal.

it's even stubborn as the fabric refuses to budge, until it gives way under the force of gojo's tug, soft and tearing. leaving your pussy open to the cool, cold air. bare for gojo's eyes to rest upon and widen.

his lips brush against your thigh with an uncharacteristic gentleness, one that makes your entrance clench and wink.

but gojo is nothing if not teasing, and he feels light-headed. pressing featherlight kisses to the crevice of your thigh, and then closer to your aching mound. but even he cannot hold off for much longer, and he's pressing a flat, lazy print of his tongue against your cunt.

that first munch sends a burst of tangy sweetness dancing across gojo's tongue, and he thinks he might just bust a load right then and there. the heat of your clenching cunt is almost overwhelming, but hey.

gojo's never been a quitter, and he doesn't care if he creams his pants at this very moment, he needs to hear that sweet whimper of his name from your lips again.

his lips part, blowing a quick breath on your aching clit, right as his fingers begin to press and meld into your syrupy folds. it's got you practically jumping further into him, so wet strands are clinging to the very tip of his nose. and gojo knows that this is heaven. that he's unlocked true paradise.

"satoru, c-can't you...?"

he's too busy running his tongue over your clit, drawing small circles with the very tip of the hot muscle, "can't i what, pretty? don' want me eating you out?"

and you are so adorable, pushing your head up to scowl down at him with furrowed brows, but the flush in your cheeks paints you the most beautiful shade of cherry red. and gojo vows to spend the rest of his life ensuring that this shade never leaves your cheeks.

"can't you get to the eating part? thought that you were gonna — f-fuck! hnngh, 'toru!"

he's pulling your thighs tighter around his head, and he doesn't give a fuck if this is how he goes. suffocated in this tantalising heat, with your fingers lacing themselves into woven patterns in his white hair.

he's lowering his tongue once more into your throbbing pussy, making sure that his pleased vibrations send pleasurable rumbles right through your core.

grinning and slurring his tongue further into you, right as you buck desparate hips over and over. dragging yourself against his chin, so he's sure that the lower half of his face must be glistening with your sweetness.

gojo absolutely thinks he can get used to being like this, at having you angle and force his head further into your cunt. letting you angle and toy at him and use him for your pleasure. he snaps his teeth around glossy strands of arousal, once and then twice, before delving back in.

making sure that his spare hand finds your clit to draw quick flicks and shapes over it, pushing a finger right up against the throbbing hood.

"satoru, ah, satoru! 'toru!" it's all you can even manage right now, just chants and groans of his names, as he's practically sunken your hips into the mattress, while he's on his knees for the second time this night.

"hey, none of that, yeah?" and gojo's gently tugging at your arm. trying to get you to stop muffling your whimpers and cries, because he just needs to hear your adorable sounds. and he needs to hear your bird-like cries when you come undone.

what a joy it is for gojo. to be able to dive between your legs and run his tongue between your folds. he's losing his mind at how your body trembles under his touch, and how he makes the mistake of peering up at you. your lips are parted, open and glossy. and your brows are furrowed, as lashes flutter against your cheek. you have to cum, gojo satoru needs you to cum right now.

and so, he exerts all his effort ten fold into having you finish. it's so sloppy, and so messy. gojo lets his own eyes dip shut, letting himself feel your glossy, glistening cunt pulse around his tongue. and let there be no doubt that gojo satoru is a munch, for he's eating you out in such an ardent manner, and it basically sends you barrelling towards a heart-stopping orgasm, where tears spring to the corners of your eyes.

you needn't have even tried to warn him of your impending climax, for gojo knows in the way that your legs quiver and get sloppier over his face. stars fall over your vision as you heave and toss your head back, muscles rippling as "satoru, satoru!" falls from your lips, long and drawn out as the rest of the world goes dark around you.

you gasp, struggling to inhale as the syrupy air is stolen from your lungs, all while gojo runs his tongue through your folds, head spinning with the dizzying rush of sensation. it's as if you've been swept away, hurtling towards space, weightless and disorientated.

only to crash back into reality as gojo seemingly hasn't stopped letting himself taste all of you, with not a drop of arousal wasted. your back is further pressed into the soft mattress beneath you, and the surge of overstimulated numbness follows, all pleasurable pins and needles and ferocious need.

"look at that, 'm already addicted," gojo coos, almost to himself, scooping a finger through the translucent gloss that leaks from your cunt. bringing it up to his mouth to wrap his tongue around, "think you can handle giving me another one?"

you let out a weak, breathless laugh. your gaze lingering on gojo's face, the soft moonlight that casts an ethereal glow on his features. his chin still faintly gleams, coated in your mirror-sheen and his lips are a plump, rosy red. you part your lips, propping yourself onto your elbows, but before you can form the words, the door slams open with a force that makes your ears rattle.

"i've looked in every fuckin' room in this house, and i swear to everything holy, satoru. if you chose my bedroom, i'm gonna —"

geto suguru's voice cuts off mid-rant, his words dissolving into a strangled, pained gasp as he takes in the sight before him. gojo, kneeling between your legs, wearing a ridiculously pleased grin. just like the cat who got the cream. you let out a squeak, hastily tugging your skirt over you, but it's hard to look innocent when gojo is still unabashedly pawing at your thighs.

geto pales, his jaw going slack, and he looks like he's about to collapse, "god help me. satoru, i'll kill you tomorrow," and then he shoots you both a nasty look, "and you're both paying for new sheets."

"so you and gojo are...dating now?" choso pries, with a tone that is entirely too casual but his eyes are keen. your twin is nursing a cup of coffee while he absolutely demolishes a plate of fried eggs. he had been quiet so far, but it's clear that curiosity gave out and now he's peering at you like a big owl.

you try, or do your very best not to smile too hard. to not look giddy and ridiculously pleased, "yeah, i guess we are," you admit, keeping your voice as level as possible.

choso blinks once, before setting his fork down and shaking his head, "i knew it. it was only a matter of time," he mutters, and without further ado, he resumes shovelling eggs into his mouth, utterly unfazed.

before you can respond, sukuna appears in the doorway, leaning lazily against the frame, his tattooed arms crossed and his expression dripping with disdainful amusement, "oh, i was there," he drawls, sharp fangs flashing in a wicked grin, "that loser pulled the dumbest, most dramatic stunt of all time. got on his knees and everything."

choso freezes mid-chew, raising a thick brow as he glances at the older man with mild interest, "wish i'd seen that," he mumbles through a mouthful of toast.

to your utter astonishment, sukuna nods gravely, his face taking on an uncharacteristically serious look, "yeah. i've got a video if you wanna watch."

your jaw drops as you glance between them, "this is officially the first time that i've ever seen you two agree on anything," setting your mug down with a thud, "if i had known that dating gojo would bring about world peace, i would have done it ages ago and —"

yuuji bounds into the kitchen like an overeager puppy, his blush-pink hair still a mess from interrupted sleep. but he's clapping his hands together like he's just won the lottery, "finally! look at that! everyone's getting along for once."

sukuna doesn't even bother to hide his irritation, shooting yuuji a withering glare. but it's hard to take him seriously when his own pink hair rivals yuuji's in sheer disarray, "don't push it," sukuna warns darkly, grabbing a glass of orange juice and downing it in one morose gulp. he slams the empty, cold glass on the counter before stalking off towards the door, "i'm seriously gonna move out at this rate."

"promise?" choso quips, without missing a bit, "wish you'd stop getting our hopes up and actually do it."

yuuji is undeterred, and he elbows you with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop, "you have to invite gojo over all the time now. i like him a lot. he's like super cool."

"of course," you grin, sliding a plate towards him as he eagerly digs in.

and your younger brother beams like the sun itself. right as a mocking, high-pitched voice floats from the other room, "and then we're all gonna be lovesick, and skip around town while holding hands!" right before falling back into sukuna's usual gruff tone that echoes through the kitchen, "god, you're all so insufferable."

your phone buzzes on the table, and you glance down. gojo's contact photo lights up the screen. it's a snapshot from a year or two ago, taken the summer that you both graduated high school. he's standing at the edge of the beach, with the sun dipping low enough behind to catch his white hair. turning it into a halo of glowing light. it's a photo that you never had the heart to change.

satoru 🪐

good morning princess!! my one and only!!!! my sugar plum (too much? i can tone it down but you just can't put a lid on love) hope you dreamed of me 🙂‍↔️ so what are you doing today because i've got abt eight possible things we can cover today starting with [read more.]

"ugh, gross."

sukuna's disdainful drawl cuts through behind you, as an icy finger prods at your phone, trying to scroll up and snoop through your messages. you freeze and slam your phone down on the table. whirling around to come face to face with the world's most judgemental gargoyle sneers at you, "i think i'm gonna throw up."

"get a life, holy fuck."

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chuluoyi · 1 year ago

Text

the secret wife

- nanami kento x reader

follow the first years’ misadventures as they find out that apparently, the infamous 7:3 sorcerer is also a dutiful and loving husband in private!

genre/warnings: crack, fluff, the first years are simply chaotic, an attempt at humor, gojo cameo (he’s so insufferable), mentions of pregnancy, nanami being the best husband there is

note: based on an anon's suggestion, this is a spin-off to love entries' wife (so gojo is married to love entries reader naturally!) this is full chaos and crack omg so sorry and isn't proofread bc i’m kinda tired so pls forgive any mistakes and my dry humor :')

general masterlist

On one fine, sunny day, which was supposed to be a calm and relaxing afternoon...

“Hello? Yuji—”

Megumi could've sworn, they weren't usually this nosy.

“Gojo-sensei! It's urgent!”

Call it indulgence, because Nobara's curiosity just got the better of her.

“Oh? What's—”

“Does Nanamin have a wife!?”

And Yuji... well, he just needed answers, because the three of them were now in the ‘Mom and Baby’ section of department store, having just witnessed a monumental sight of their esteemed mentor, Nanami Kento—

—with a remarkably stunning woman hanging onto his arm.

“Huh?” Gojo's confusion was evident from the other line. Oh, yeah. Yuji had decided to cut to the chase and call him too, hoping for a swift clarification.

Okay, so why were the trio—plus Gojo on the speakerphone—hiding behind a pillar just to spy on Nanami and his very possible wife? Let us rewind 30 minutes before...

Yuji considers himself to have an exceptional eye and taste for women.

And 30 minutes ago, when he fell on his butt on the rough, hard asphalt in the jammed Shibuya crossing after accidentally getting shoved by the crowd, and encountered a kind, vivacious older woman—you, who extended a hand to help him up, he was even more convinced of that.

“Are you alright, Itadori-kun?” your soft voice entered his ears, catching him off-guard, and Yuji was certain of two things then.

One, that you were just like a literal angel descended from skies above, all dolled up and pretty with your flowy sundress.

“Ah, uh—” he stammered, eyes darting everywhere and anywhere at once as his palm started sweating after clasping your hand. “I-I am…”

And two, for the life of him, he had no idea who you were.

But it registered late in his mind to ask as he was busy controlling his ragged breathing and instant crush, and before Yuji knew it, you graced him with another kind smile and went on your way.

And did he feel so miserable afterwards.

. . .

“She’s sooo hella pretty, Fushiguro! And she knows me! Me!”

Megumi sighed, eyeing his friend in disgust. Truthfully, all he wanted was to return to the dorms and collapse onto his bed, and not listen to his friend’s incoherent ramblings.

"You sure you weren't imagining things?" Nobara questioned with slight irritation. "After you embarrassed us in front of Gojo-sensei's wife a while back, please think more before you act."

"I'm not, I swear! She said my name!"

"Itadori, can you please just not?" Megumi grumbled, having enough of this ruckus. "I want to walk back in peace."

And so tucking away his pout, Yuji walked in silence just as his best friend asked, and he was really going to leave it at that when suddenly he caught the sight of a familiar pristine coat and the sundress from earlier. “Oh?”

"Isn't that Nanami-san?" Nobara also spotted him, her eyes widening when she saw you, who was happily beaming as well as Nanami's light chuckle. "And wait, who is—?"

"That's her!" Yuji burst out, pointing decisively in your direction. "That's who I was talking about!"

Oh, no. Megumi dreaded it already. He could already see the utter catastrophe—

"I'm going after them!"

"Wait, Itadori! Me too!"

Too late. Before he could stop them, Nobara and Yuji had followed the pair. Reluctantly, Megumi trailed behind them too, albeit wearing a vexed scowl. Yet despite his misgivings, he couldn't deny that the things he saw over the next 30 minutes were genuinely unexpected.

Nanami consistently led you to a quieter spot away from the bustling crowd, his hand holding yours firmly. He would occasionally throw you a smile, or when you didn’t hold hands, then he’d wrap an arm around your waist. And to the trio's bewilderment, they also saw him tenderly brushing his lips against your head while on the escalator.

Soft and gentle. It was a side of Nanami Kento they had never witnessed—either with anyone else or even himself.

The two of you ventured through home appliances, visited food stalls, and eventually... the ‘Mom and Baby’ section.

"Do you want to rest for a bit?" Nanami's voice held a touch of concern as his hand settled on the small of your back, and seeing that, Nobara positively swooned.

"Oh, no, I'm fine," you responded with a reassuring smile. "Let's head over there. I'd like to see that next!"

Watching you and Nanami meticulously going through strollers and cribs like a pair of would-be parents was apparently too mind-blowing for Yuji and Nobara, leading to the decision to call Gojo right then and there. And, as they say, the rest was history.

"Last I heard, Nanami wasn't married," Gojo answered resolutely. "If he is, then it's the ultimate betrayal because he never told me!"

"But we see him with a woman! At mother and baby care section!"

Gojo hummed in thoughtful manner. "Okay, students. Now I'm tasking you to see this to the very end! Keep me on the line!"

With that, Operation: Uncover Nanami's Wife was officially underway, and frankly, the way the three of them were clumsily tailing the 7:3 sorcerer made Megumi want to facepalm. How was it that Nanami hadn't noticed their rather conspicuous attempts at all?

Now you were fawning over baby clothes, cutely trying not to squeal as you picked a little blue and yellow overalls. "Kento! Kento! Look, how cute!"

And all of them were floored once again when the expression on his face softened, as a warm smile adorned his lips. "Yeah, they are."

"Is she pregnant? She doesn't look it..." Nobara remarked, squinting and frowning, still watching the two of you like a hawk.

"Or maybe they're shopping for someone else?" Megumi suggested, earning teasing grins from Yuji and Nobara, to which he quickly rolled his eyes, as they chorused, "Looks like you're curious too!"

After a while, you moved from the clothes to sections stocked with mother's necessities. Yuji leaned against one of the racks, pressing his ear against it, with Nobara and Megumi crowding behind him, attempting to catch a snippet of your conversation with Nanami.

"I think we should get some heat packs and these pillows—"

"Oh, Kento! You're such a worrywart, I still won't need them for a few more months—"

"Wait, what?" Yuji whipped his head around in surprise, causing Nobara, who was leaning on him, to stumble and inadvertently collide with the racks.

"Eh? Huh!?"

Unfortunately, the racks weren't sturdy enough, and the force caused them to sway dangerously. Nobara, sensing her imminent fall, instinctively grabbed Yuji's arm to steady herself. However, he got tugged instead and their combined weight exacerbated the situation, leading to the racks quickly toppling over and a deafening commotion ensued—

Crash!

"Careful!" Nanami immediately pulled you behind him, a protective arm around your shoulder, sensing your shock from the sudden crash. He was on high alert, expecting some sort of attack of cursed spirits, but instead, he was met with the most astounding sight of the bickering culprits amidst the fallen racks.

"Kugisaki! What are you doing!"

"You dumbass! Why didn't you stop me from falling?!"

"Itadori-kun...?" Nanami called out in utter disbelief, his mind couldn't fathom as to why the first years were here. However, his attention quickly shifted to Megumi, who was seething and sending his friends a glare so hard it could drill a hole into them.

Then, the boy swiftly fixed himself into a low bow in front of him, ashamed, disregarding Yuji and Nobara's groans altogether. "Nanami-san, I'm very, very sorry on their behalf."

"What are the three of you doing here?" he inquired, and poor Megumi seemed at a loss, huffing as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of where to even start.

Meanwhile you were full of worry for the fallen kids. "Oh my gosh, are you alright?"

For the second time today, you tried to help Yuji to stand on his feet, and this time, he really had a good look over you.

It wasn't exactly noticeable due to how loose your dress was, but now he could see that under it, your belly was slightly rounded—an unmistakable baby bump.

Amidst his shock and pain, Yuji couldn't bring himself to take your hand as he inadvertently let this slip, "N-Nanamin! You knocked her up!"

Nanami blinked. You gaped. Megumi and Nobara went pale in sheer horror, ready to murder their friend on the spot for his extreme height of rudeness.

“Itadori-kun,” Nanami cleared his throat then, and if he was offended, then he chose not to show it. “First of all, I’m sorry for not introducing you sooner. This is Y/N, my wife, and yes,” his tone hardened slightly, “She’s carrying our first child.”

“S-so you are married!”

“Yes, that was what I—”

“What the hell?! NANAMIIII!”

Oh, the freaking phone. After his fall, Yuji’s phone ended up on the floor, and of course, Gojo did hear all of the entire madness, evident from how his voice blared from the phone.

Nanami frowned, unwittingly reaching out towards the phone. “Who—?”

“NA-NA-MI!" Gojo screeched in righteous exasperation, and the former immediately pulled away from the phone with a cringe. “How could you?! I invited you to my wedding! Are you a hermit or something—how could not tell anyone!? Didn’t you say I can officiate—”

“I said no such thing. Please refrain from saying outrageous things, it’s both annoying and misleading,” Nanami stressed, growing more irritated by the mere sound of Gojo's whining voice and feeling his patience waning rapidly.

"Aren't we friends?! How—!"

"Should I find you instigate one more of this... shenanigans with the kids, I won't hesitate to report you to Yaga and your wife," he interjected then with clear irritation, and right that second, Gojo shut himself up.

Yuji, Nobara and Megumi couldn't help drawing that one conclusion in wonder: So, that's what Gojo-sensei is afraid of.

Nanami swiftly ended the call with a flick of his finger, returning the phone to the still mystified Yuji. Turning back to the trio, Nanami's irritation simmered as he glanced at the mess of broken goods on the floor, as well as noticing the approaching clerks.

"You three..." Nanami started, his voice rising slightly, unfaltering even as the three of them flinched. "Do you realize what you've done? Are you so idle that you can ditch your assignments?"

"Kento, don't be too harsh," you rebuked, placing a hand on his arm with a frown on your face. Nanami sighed, looking over the situation once again. It was a whole rack of baby necessities destroyed; plates, glasses, and whatnot scattered across the floor.

Nobara bit her lip in anxiety. “Oh my god, who's going to pay for all this damage?” She could already imagine the staggering amount this mess would cost. This is worth millions, anyone can go bankrupt.

There was only one person who can and will. Immediately, both Nanami and Megumi turned to her with a shared resolve.

"Gojo," Megumi blurted.

"He will be charged for everything," Nanami added with spite.

Epilogue

"You just love those kids, don't you, Kento?"

That night, when both of you were ready for sleep, Nanami had one hand caressing your still growing belly, and you teased him with a chuckle.

"Huh?" your husband looked at you in mild confusion as he stopped stroking you. "What do you mean?"

You giggled again. "You said to put it on Gojo's name, but in the end, you were the one who covered the damages first."

Nanami huffed lightly. "That's because I can't get the kids in trouble. But mark my words, I'll make sure Gojo pays up later, by force if I need to." He made a face when he remembered just what a massive bill it was. "That's too much money to be spent carelessly. We have our child and our future to consider."

"You're always like that," you sighed fondly, taking his hand and placing it back to the swell of your belly. "Always on the first line of defense for the students." Your smile widened. "It makes me think... just how lucky our kid will be with you as their father."

"On the contrary, I'm counting my blessings that they'll have someone as soft as you for their mother," your husband retorted with a smile, kissing your temple. And your heart melted into a puddle by his affectionate gesture.

"That's too sweet... ah, yeah," suddenly, you were reminded of a critical thing. “Kento, have you ever considered telling everyone else that we're married? At least to people at school?”

Nanami always wanted privacy for safety reasons most of the time, and you understood that, but seeing that Gojo and the first years knew already, you thought it might be the best time to let everyone know.

"I honestly don’t see the need to, why?"

"People like Gojo are confused—"

Your husband rolled his eyes then. "Don’t worry, dear. People like Gojo exist to spread the word so we don't have to."

#nanami kento x reader #jjk fluff #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento #jjk x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento fluff #kento nanami #jujutsu kaisen #kento nanami x you #nanami fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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sanjisblackasswife · 9 months ago

Text

JJK Men with a GF with a Fat Ass (NSFW-ISH)

…I’m taking a small break from drawing and I missed doing HCs. Shaddap.

Ft. Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Choso

Black ! Fem Reader in Mind

CW: Twt Links!, mentions of sex, men are a bit OOC

Gojo

Gojo definitely does this to you anytime you lay on his lap. And if he finds out you’re not wearing any panties under it…welp..all plans are now cancelled

He’s a pervert and it’s your fault.

He’s never really seen women of your stature often so when you both were younger he was so BLUNT with his thoughts about your body.

“You have a very voluptuous—“

“Imma stop you right there….VO-WHO?”

“You don’t know what the word vo—-“

“No, I know. I’m confused as to why you are using that word when talking about my ass.”

Gojo is 6’6-7” , he’s a big nigga, but can he handle a big behind?

No.

No he cannot.

He constantly uses his blindfolded eyes to shamelessly watch the way your walk across the room in public. His poker face is actually impressive, but if you couldn’t see how tight his fist were in his pockets it’d prove otherwise.

He’s so got damn childish he does this shit sometimes because he thinks your ass is perfect for playing on

“CAN YOU STOP.”

“Whhhyyyyuuuhhhhhh.”

When you wear moomoo’s or a big shirt it is his favorite

Yup.

Moomoo.

Your ass is free to move and shake to its desire and he just watches in awe. He loves you bad.

Another thing he loves doing is napping on your butt, he doesn’t sleep often, unfortunately, but he can attest that the best nap he has ever taken was in between your plush thighs and ass.

He blames his pretty little girlfriend as to why he is now an ass man when he initially was a boob guy.

Geto

He takes these kinda pictures with you which sometimes leads to him pulling down your underpants and massaging it with his bare hands to then licking or kissing it to then…eating…you…out…while you’re standing.

He loves watching you put on clothes.

Having to shake, jump, and wiggle yourself into some pants is actually so sexy to him.

If your butt is anything like mine and is HEAVY. He LOVES it even more , watching the way the movement in your butt and thighs to match is something Geto finds so so mesmerizing.

One thing about Geto he’s very sneaky, he’ll come up behind you to help pull up your bottoms you clearly need no help putting on, and everytime he does you can feel a slight pressure on your ass that is a verrrryyy familiar feel to a bulge.

He can’t help it, your ass is so pretty.

Sitting on his lap is a must, whether he is talking with someone in public or doing some work he needs to feel your weight on him.

The first time you sat on his lap you swore you heard a groan. When you turned to ask him if he was okay, his cheeks were very pink.

He denies it to this day, but even if he did it’s your fault because why does your ass feel so good against his pelvis?

Showers with Geto are so insufferable in the best way because once you finish cleaning yourself your long haired boyfriend can’t wait to practically grind and hump against you into the cool shower wall.

He definitely loves hugging you from behind, swaying you back and forth. To others it’s a cute gesture seeing such a big man hold you so close, practically dwarfing you , only you and him know the real intention behind it was just him whispering how good you look in that dress and how badly he wants you.

Geto is such a sensual person next to nanami. Even after sex and you’re laying with him in a bliss he finds his way to continue his love by kissing and licking you down and praises of how beautiful and sexy you are even after such activities. He calls it “Cleaning you up”…little perv.

“‘Was wrong?… Embarrassed?”

“YES.”

“Good, now c’mere.”

Toji

Ass eater.🫵🏾

That’s an ass eater he eat ass🫵🏾.

Toji “Ass Eater” Fushiguro

You thought gojo was shameless? Toji is WORSE

As an ass connoisseur he prides himself on always reminding you how fine you are to him.

“You like my dress?”

“Hell yes, mama. Turn around for me.”

SWAT to the ass just to see it recoil

He definitely slaps and GRABS. It’s kinda hot though because he’ll do it anytime anywhere

For example you went with him to some horse racing game for him to make bets and got hungry so you headed to grab a few drinks and snacks. Before walking past him, his legs were spread, tooth pick in his mouth and just like clock work you feel a firm hit to your Jean covered behind.

“OOWWUH!”

“Sssh, Baby im watchin the game….what? Your ass was all in my face what else could I do?”

Whether you are a chunky girl or a skinny girl with a larger butt he don’t care he quite actually is your biggest fan.

Toji is your new seat btw.

Not just his pretty face but his lap too.

He’s a big strong man so don’t EVER think or assume you’re too heavy for him. It ACTUALLY wounds his ego more than you think.

Of course Toji being the ass eater he is almost every other night is spent just like this or sitting on his face. He never seen himself as a pleasure dom kinda guy. With his one night stands he only had sex for himself, but with you of course being the first woman he finally got to love after MamaGuro he takes his time with you. It’s a slutty sight but he knows it’s exactly what can get you off before him

Nanami

This man here.

A KING.

Freaky king but a king none the less.

He loves every part of you.

Which is what he does say and prove everytime you both are together but he does have a small little quirk about him that you aren’t sure whether or not to point it out in fear he may stop out of embarrassment or awareness.

Most men guide their woman by putting their hand on their lower back

Nanami however does this

ESPECIALLY on date night.

Just like Geto he loves to watch you dress, but also dresses you himself

“Wear this, yes? It compliments your skin beautifully.”

“You sure it’s not, because it’s a bit tighter below the waist?”

And now hes blushing.

He’ll admit. Whenever you come and visit him during lunch to feed him a home cooked meal he hates to see you go but LOVES to watch you leave.

Especially with that sundress you wear during the spring.

Nanami definitely is another man that will practically BEG for you to sit on his face.

“It’s okay, baby, honest. Use my face.”

“Kentoooo—!??”

One of his favorite ways to eat you out is like this. It was actually so embarrassing for you at first only because of his SLUTTY MOANS. Which was something you wouldn’t expect from a man like him, but you wasn’t complaining!He whined and whimpered so shamelessly inside you, you couldn’t even make eyes contact after cumming on his tongue.

Choso

Lord bless him.

He is very….confused to say the least.

He never understood the attraction of women’s parts.

Of course he found YOU attractive, but that was all over until he seen your shape.

“Oh.”

“…oh?”

“You—“

You usually wore baggy clothing like him. You decided to change really quickly at his new apartment and he was watching you.

Who knew you had a BODY LIKE THAT under all of those clothes!

“You’re sex—cute…”

Choso isn’t necessarily a shy man, but more hesitant when it comes to touching and complimenting you…

You’ve told him time and time again he is free to touch you when he wants but you sometimes have to guide him.

Usually when he wants to grab your ass he walks DANGEROUSLY close behind you.

So a few times you take his hand and place it on your cheek. For a moment he just rubs his hand across the soft skin and then SQUEEZE.

Choso loves to kneed and rub on your ass while he licks you so usually it’s 69 or you laid to your side.

Another things he actually loves seeing you in are sweats with a small top. Your lower body being heavier than the top is so attractive and you look so squeezable he can’t help but to hug you from behind

Please. Please PUH LEASE wear thigh high socks around him the ones that go RIGHT UNDER the cup of your ass and shake it JUST A LIL in front of him.

Moans at the sight everytime

No like literally MOANS by just looking at your ass jiggle.

He doesn’t think he’s a pervert but from how he grinds and hump against your ass while you sleep says otherwise.

If yall are wondering why I didn’t really speak on backshots it js because ALL OF THEM GO FERAL DOING IT.

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hederasgarden · 3 months ago

Text

Post tenebras lux

Summary: You are gifted to Lucius as a reward for his prowess in the arena. Pairing: Lucius Verus x F!Reader Word Count: 5.9 K Rating: Explicit, 18+ only. Heavy angst with a HEA, dubious consent (reader and Lucius are coerced into having sex), public sex (PIV and f receiving), mentions of spousal death, and brief descriptions of blood/injuries from combat in the arena. A/N: I futzed with the timeline in this fic. Instead of coming home after conquering Numidia General Acacius is sent out on another campaign for the emperors. Also, fun fact — the Romans considered oral sex taboo. A HUGE thanks to @aliensupastar, my beloved B, @clairewritesandrambles, @ryebecca, and @faebirdie for their help with the fic. Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Gladiator Masterlist ♡ Masterlist

The warm steam of the bath clings to the air, thick and heavy, as you move past the large pools where gladiators soak and laugh. Their rough voices fill the humid air and the afternoon sun filters through the open atrium, casting a muted, golden glow across the water. None of the men bother you as you make your way to the quiet alcove at the far end of the room. If Lucius's reputation in the arena hadn’t been enough to keep them away, the man whose hand he took for daring to touch you certainly was.

You’d learned quickly that in this place violence was power, and your gladiator wielded it well. It was a far cry from your life as a fisherman‘s wife, and then as a slave in Macrinus’s household. When you were gifted to Lucius, you braced yourself for the brutal ways of his world, where strength ruled above all else, and men like him took what they wanted without hesitation. But he never did. Instead, Lucius treated you with something you hadn’t expected: respect and kindness. His touch only ever lingered long enough to offer reassurance, never to claim.

In time you both learned to play your parts to survive. By day, Lucius was the victorious gladiator, and you, his spoil of war. They were roles neither of you had chosen, but ones you took on to survive. The night became your refuge, a time where the weight of your reality could be put aside, if only for a while. Curled around one another on the thin cot the ghosts of your past weren’t silenced but shared through whispered admissions. You could speak of the people you had once been – before Rome twisted you both into something unrecognizable.

Trust came with time. And now, as you approach the alcove where he waits, you can feel some of the tension leave your body. You are safe with Lucius, a thought that would have been absurd to you just months ago.

You shift the small wooden tray — laden with fresh bread, olives, figs, and a jug of strong wine — to your other hip. The soft scrape of your sandals against the stone floor alerts Lucius to your presence. His dark gaze lifts from the water, meeting yours with the quiet intensity that you’ve come to expect. Even in the haze of sweat and steam, his presence is impossible to ignore.

Where others would let their gaze wander lower, drifting toward the rest of his bare form submerged beneath the water, you always look at his face. It‘s there that you find what you seek: the sharp edges of your own pain and anger mirrored in his dark eyes. It’s a reflection of the hurt you carry, of all that Rome took from you both.

“You fought well today,” you say, settling beside the pool, the water lapping at the stone.

The words come easily, practiced—part of the familiar routine you’ve both come to rely on. Though the bath is quiet and you seem to be alone, you know better. You’ve learned the hard way that the walls have ears. Every word, every glance, carries weight here, and even in the relative solitude of this alcove, your interactions could be reported back to Macrinus. Only when you’re hidden away in the cell you share each night can you let the pretense fall away.

Lucius hums in response as he lets his head fall back against the cool stone. His muscled arm rests on the edge of the pool and you offer him a brief, gentle touch before withdrawing. The tension in his frame eases a fraction and his eyes flutter closed, but the sharpness of his presence doesn’t fade. He’s aware of every shift in the air, every sound around him. Even in the quiet comfort of this place, Lucius is never truly off guard.

You pick up a ripe fig, its skin velvety and fragrant, and drag it slowly through the warmed honey. Gently, you bring it to his lips, offering it with a quiet gesture. Lucius sighs—softly, almost imperceptibly—and then his lips part, taking the fruit from your fingers. As he bites into it, you feel the heat of his tongue brush against your skin. You try to ignore the traitorous feeling that springs to life in your belly. That feeling has become a frequent companion, one you never asked for, and one that sits uneasily beside the grief you still carry for your late husband.

“You must eat too,” Lucius commands. “You will need your strength for later.”

His rough words carry no real threat, but you react like they do, tucking your chin to your chest in a subtle gesture of submission. At times, it feels like a performance—like you're both actors on a stage, with an unseen audience watching every move. You eat in silence until the tray is bare and the goblet empty. When he rises from the pool, water cascading from his sun-kissed skin, you reach for the fresh robe laid carefully over the stone bench.

“Do you wish…” you begin, lifting your eyes to Lucius, only to falter at his expression. His eyes flicker briefly past you, and then, just as swiftly, return. He gives no warning before he pulls you forward and drags you into the water. Your cry of surprise is swallowed by the splash your bodies make as ripples spread outward. The wet robes cling to you like a heavy second skin and you sink deeper into the water.

“I’ll have you here,” Lucius announces loudly. He grasps your biceps and easily forces you to straddle him. Your face shields his from the outside world. His expression softens and even as his lips part to speak, you shake your head, stopping him before the words can leave his mouth.

You understand, without needing to hear it. The two of you are no longer alone.

He leans back, arms stretched along the edge of the bath. “Ride me,” he commands.

You struggle out of the heavy outer robe and your knuckles unwittingly brush over his abdomen. Lucius tenses beneath you. You offer him a quiet apology before withdrawing and rising to your knees. Your hips shift forward in a facsimile of his request, meeting nothing but a swell of water as you keep a careful distance from his body. He groans and you answer him with a quiet moan of your own. You rise up and down almost mechanically, staring at the chipped stone above his head. His hot breath fans over your neck, the heat of it lingering on your skin. You shudder as a warmth that has nothing to do with the pool gathers under your skin, shame twisting your insides.

Lucius grabs your waist urging you to move faster, and the sounds of his pleasure rise in intensity. The muscles of your thighs protest, burning with effort as you hold the distance between your bodies. The air around you shifts and the murmur of conversation in the other pools begins to fade as the gladiators are drawn in, listening to your performance. The silence grows almost suffocating, but you force yourself to push through the charade. This is just one of many indignities you’ve endured since Rome descended onto the sleepy fishing village you called home. It pales to what could await you if it were gifted to a different gladiator.

“Fuck,” Lucius growls loudly, abruptly stilling your movement to feign his pleasure.

After a beat you gather the courage to look over your shoulder, meeting Viggo’s stare. You tense. Calloused fingertips brush lightly over your jaw, drawing your attention back to Lucius. You stare down at him, taking in the light flush of his dusky cheeks and the steady rise and fall of his chest. His touch lingers for a moment more before his hand disappears beneath the water.

“Use my robe to cover yourself,” he instructs roughly.

It’s then that you realize how transparent your dress has become in the water. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment and you slide away, only to freeze when your thigh brushes over an unexpected hardness. Your eyes jump to his and Lucius’s throat bobs, the usual intensity of his features faltering for a brief moment.

"I will fetch more wine," you stammer after a pause, your gaze flicking nervously to Viggo still lingering at the edge of the bath, all too aware that Lucius cannot leave in this state.

Wrapping your arms around your chest, you rise from the pool. The cool air instantly prickles your damp skin. You reach for a robe nearby and pull it around you quickly, grateful for its modesty. Viggo shoots you a brief, assessing glance, but it’s Lucius who commands his attention next.

"Come to admire what isn't yours?" Lucius taunts.

He leans back casually, as though completely unfazed by the situation. It’s effortless the way he slips into his confident, unshakable mask while you hurry away, eager to break the silence and escape the strange weight of the moment.

–

The clang and clash of metal from the arena become a distant hum, fading into the background as you clean the wounds on Lucius's body. Ravi is occupied, tending to the more seriously injured men, so it falls to you to care for your gladiator. You kneel between his thighs and the coarse sand scrapes against the soft skin of your knees. The heat of the day clings to you both, the air thick with the smell of sweat and blood. But beneath it all, there's a scent you’ve come to recognize as uniquely his — a mix of earth and salt that’s oddly comforting.

You gently press a cloth to one of the deeper gashes, cleaning away the blood before you begin stitching the wound. Lucius hisses as you draw the needle through his parted skin, and you glance up at him in concern, but his eyes are closed, his breath steady despite the discomfort. His fingers curl into the edge of the cot, gripping it tightly. You smear the thick, fragrant paste Ravi left over the wound once you’re done.

“You’re getting better at this,” Lucius observes.

“Flesh is not so different from cloth,” you reply.

“A far cry from mending fishing nets,” he says, and for a moment, your eyes meet and you share a small, pained smile.

“And you are a long way from a farm, gladiator,” you acknowledge, shaking your head.

You help him stand, your hands steady as you support his weight, but you pause when you spot Viggo standing in the doorway. Lately, he seems to haunt your every step, his presence a constant shadow. On instinct you shift a little closer to Lucius, your body seeking the reassurance of his proximity just as he draws you near. The subtle movement doesn’t go unnoticed. A small, knowing smile tugs at Viggo’s lips. It’s a look that sends a trickle of unease down your spine.

“Macrinus is entertaining some important guests tomorrow evening, and you are required to attend,” he announces looking at Lucius. “They wish to see a real gladiator up close, to witness your strength and skill firsthand.”

Then, to your surprise, Viggo turns his gaze toward you. “Your presence is also required,” he adds. Although his tone is casual there's an edge to it that makes your stomach tighten.

Lucius doesn’t speak, but his fingers flex against your hip as he considers the other man’s command. You both know there’s little room for refusal when it comes to Macrinus.

“I understand-” you say at the same time Lucius’s voice cuts through the silence, low and firm.

“She is not needed. I alone will attend.”

His gaze never leaves Viggo, and you can see the challenge in his eyes. It’s an attempt to shield you, one you appreciate but understand is futile.

Viggo’s smile remains unchanged. “Macrinus insists.”

The matter is settled and you bow your head, waiting for the other man to leave. Once he is gone you look to Lucius, voice tinged with concern.

“You should not challenge him.”

Lucius steps away, anger rolling off him in waves. “And you should not submit so easily.”

You touch your throat, then turn away to busy yourself with the bloody scraps of cloth and scattered supplies. There’s no point in arguing. You know the truth: that sometimes submission is the only way to survive in a world ruled by men like Macrinus. As you work the silence between you stretches on, thick and charged before Lucius steps toward you.

He sighs, his breath warm against the back of your neck. A moment later, his hand rests on your shoulder. The calloused pads of his fingers graze the nape of your neck, sending a fleeting sense of unexpected longing through you as they briefly sweep over your skin.

“I….” His voice trails off and you close your eyes.

“I know,” you say quietly.

So much of what transpires between you seems left unsaid. You reach back, your hand finding his briefly as the two of you share a quiet moment before he must return to the arena.

–

The bangles on your wrist are heavy and ornate, far too extravagant for a slave. They feel less like adornments and more like shackles. Beside you, Lucius looks equally as uncomfortable in his fine clothes. They’ve trimmed his beard and his tunic—lined with gold thread—glimmers in the dim light. From across the room, Macrinus raises his goblet to the two of you. All around you his guests mingle, sharing hushed conversation and knowing smirks that deepen your discomfort.

The servants, once familiar to you from your time as a slave working in Macrinus's kitchen, all avoid your gaze. You spent years alongside them before you were plucked from that world and thrust into Lucius's service. Their hesitation, the way they look past you, is more than simple discomfort, it’s a warning you don’t yet understand. Your fingers tremble where they rest on Lucius’s arm.

“Something is not right,” you whisper, fear rising in your throat.

Before Lucius can reply, the conversation around you falters, and the air grows still as Macrinus moves to the center of the room. Then, with a sharp clap of his hands, the noise dies completely.

“Our entertainment is about to begin,” he announces, beckoning you forward.

As you approach, his eyes drift between you and Lucius. His smile widens, though it never quite reaches his eyes. “I hope you enjoyed your meal. You’ll both need your strength for the show,” he says.

“I am to fight?” Lucius questions, his voice edged with suspicion.

“No, not today,” Macrinus replies. “My guests are eager for a performance of another kind.”

Your brow furrows and Lucius stares blankly at Macrinus until two servants, moving in unison, pull a table forward. It is laden with the remnants of the earlier feast — half-finished plates, empty goblets, and discarded silverware. They work to clear away the table until it is left bare.

“It is no bed, but it’s finer than your cot,” Macrinus assures.

Lucius jerks back as if struck, his body stiffening in shock while cold dread settles over your shoulder as you both understand Macrinus’s meaning. He watches the small exchange between the two of you with amusement.

“Or, if you prefer not to,” he offers, watching Lucius intently. His voice is smooth with mock consideration as he continues speaking. “I’m sure another gladiator would gladly take your place.”

“No,” Lucius snarls. Before he can move, you dig your nails into his forearm, trying desperately to hold him in place.

Macrinus leans in close, his next words meant only for the two of you. “I expect a good show. Not like that mummer's farce in the bath.”

Ugly surprise washes over you as the full reality of your situation sinks in. Beside you, Lucius shifts and you see the familiar spark in his eyes. It’s the look he gets before a fight when the fire that lives inside him is ready to explode and consume everything in its path. You’ve seen it a thousand times in the arena, and it always ends the same way: with blood.

You almost wish you could let him fight, but you know better. You step closer to Lucius, your presence a quiet plea for him to stop. It takes a moment before he meets your gaze and when he does you see the pain beneath the rage, the knowledge that this moment is slipping beyond his control.

There’s no glory in this—only survival. Yet that truth doesn’t make it any easier to watch the fire in his eyes fade as he steps back. It’s the kind of defeat that no arena or battle could ever impose on him.

“My guests are eager for the show,” Macrinus says and gestures to the table.

You straighten your shoulders, willing your body to follow the courage your mind struggles to summon. Lucius follows with heavy footsteps. You stop before the table, heart pounding, and take a slow, steadying breath to gather your resolve before you turn to face your gladiator. You know the role you’re meant to play, this moment is just another part of the spectacle your life has become.

Without a word, Lucius steps closer and his hands come to rest on your hips, guiding you to sit on the edge of the table. When he moves between your legs, you can’t read his expression. Unexpectedly, one of his large hands cups the side of your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheekbone. He leans in, his forehead pressing against yours.

“Focus on me,” he urges. “It is just us here, no one else matters. Do not think of them. Do not think of anything but me.”

His words are a command and a reassurance all at once, grounding you in the moment even as your pulse quickens.

When he speaks again, his voice is louder, carrying across the room. “Lay back.”

The table is hard and cold beneath you as you follow his instruction, the chill seeping through the thin silks you wear. Lucius pulls you forward until you’re at the very edge, your legs hanging loosely off the sides. Gently, your dress is peeled away until you’re bare to him. His broad frame blocks the crowd from seeing much but you still feel vulnerable and exposed. You curl your fingers into the palms of your hands, trying to remember Lucius’s words as you close your eyes.

The murmurs of the observers increase, and you feel them shift, edging closer. Then, a woman’s gasp cuts through the tension, followed by a wave of hushed surprise that ripples through the gathered Romans. When you open your eyes you can only see the top of Lucius’s head from where he kneels between your thighs. Guilty anticipation zips through you, followed by a spark of heat that flickers low in your stomach at the sudden realization of what he intends to do.

“Barbaric,” a man utters, his voice thick with disdain.

“Now now,” Macrinus says with a slight chuckle. “Remember, our gladiator hails from Numidia. Their customs are not ours."

The first touch from Lucius is barely there, a whisper of contact against your inner thigh, but it grows firmer the higher his fingers climb. Instinctively, you hold your breath, waiting for him to reach the most sacred part of you. At the first touch of his mouth to you, the rest of the world fades away.

Lucius builds your pleasure with slow, steady strokes while his calloused hands knead your thighs. His touch is an anchor and spark all at once. There is little resistance when he curls a finger inside. A second joins the first a moment later and without thought, you thread your fingers into his curls. A long, shuddering moan leaves him, and the vibration tightens the coil in your belly. Lucius’s touch grows rougher and more demanding. He drinks from you like he’s starved for it, as if every drop is the only thing keeping him alive while his fingers work you open.

You come with a throaty cry, your hips leaving the table. Every nerve in your body is alight. You cannot help but hold Lucius against you until the mere brush of his nose against your center makes you quake again, sending waves of warmth through your veins. As much as you want him to stop, you’re desperate for him to continue and keep you in this moment where nothing but the two of you exist.

Lucius pulls away and reality crashes in with starting clarity while the eyes of the crowd cut through you like a thousand sharp edges. Before it all overwhelms you, he climbs onto the table. He lowers himself onto his forearms and the weight of him presses against you.

“Eyes on me,” he murmurs.

You open your mouth but the words you want to say seem to get caught, trapped somewhere between your chest and your lips. To your surprise, wetness gathers at the corner of your eyes. But even that feels like something you can't fully surrender to. You’re trapped in this strange, painful moment where nothing feels real and everything feels too real all at once. It’s all too much – his tenderness and the horror of the situation.

There’s a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in Lucius’s expression in response, but it’s enough to reveal something beneath the surface and allow you to see the guilt he bears. The lines around his eyes seem to deepen and the tension in his expression makes him look older, wearier, and more vulnerable than you've ever seen him. The desire to soothe him is enough to break the strange spell on you.

"All is well," you assure him, gently brushing your nose against his. “I am no maiden.”

“Fuck her already,” a voice shouts and Lucius pulls back, his handsome face twisting into a snarl. You feel the tension in his muscles, coiling like a spring, ready to snap—and a knot of anxiety tightens in your chest.

You breathe his name, soft and pleading, and he stills, the clench of his jaw betraying the war within. “It is only us,” you remind him, repeating his own words back to him.

He stares down at you, nostrils flaring and then suddenly he bows his head. You feel the fight leave him as he chooses restraint over the violence you both know he’s capable of.

"Only us," he replies, strained.

You hold his gaze as you feel his knuckles brush against your inner thigh to line himself up. He pushes inside slowly and you lift your hips. Your body welcomes him with only the briefest flare of pain, eased by his earlier attention.

“Oh,” you gasp.

Your eyes close as he fills you completely. The sensation is both comforting and alien all at once. You can’t help but think of your late husband, so different from Lucius in every way. You wonder fleetingly if the man above you is thinking of his lost love too. Does that unspoken grief weigh on him as heavily as it does on you?

Before your mind can wander further, Lucius begins to move and your thoughts fizzle out. He curls his powerful body over yours and keeps up a steady pace that makes your skin buzz. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and the smell of him surrounds you, familiar and comforting. As you move together each breath and shift of your body becomes a silent conversation between only the two of you.

“Gods,” he groans into your ear. “You take me so well.”

His unexpected praise has you rocking into him, needy for more. The table creaks each time he thrusts back into you. His lips trail along your neck and you feel that familiar climb to ecstasy begin, like a delicate crescendo inside you. Your nails dig into his skin and his rhythm stutters.

“Sweet girl,” Lucius sighs, pulling back just far enough to meet your gaze.

The tenderness in his eyes is unexpected. Since Macrinus gifted you to Lucius nearly six months ago, you’ve shared many looks; full of pain and grief, anger and understanding, but this is something new, fragile. You stroke his cheek and he surges forward, kissing you roughly.

His lips on yours are a revelation. A storm of emotion rolls through your chest, crystallizing into the realization that you want him. You long for him in a way that goes beyond the need for protection, or a desire for connection. You grasp his face in both hands, your fingers trembling against the hard line of his jaw, and return the kiss with urgency. It’s desperate, almost frantic, as though you’re trying to pull him closer, to merge with him in a way that makes the world outside of the two of you disappear.

He responds with a sharp thrust, angled so perfectly that it sends a flash of heat up your spine. You taste yourself on him when his tongue delves into your mouth. He hardly lets you catch a breath as he pours himself into you over and over until another orgasm washes through you. It’s more intense than the last, bleeding into his own as he comes with a quiet moan.

He gives a few more thrusts and stills, his lips hovering over yours as you share the same air. Your thumbs stroke the soft skin under his eyes and you hold his gaze. In the depths of it, you feel a thousand words rising in your chest, aching to spill out, but you are all too aware you’re not alone.

Before you let the world back in you tilt your chin up, lips brushing over his in a slow, tender kiss that he returns with heartbreaking gentleness. When you finally pull apart, the applause from Macrinus makes you flinch, and Lucius’s expression clouds over.

“What a performance,” Macrinus exclaims.

A titter of applause follows from the audience as though they’ve witnessed something to be praised. Lucius pulls away and you wince as he slips from inside you. A trickle of his seed follows and cold air blankets your body. You curl in on yourself, feeling vulnerable and anxious. When Lucius moves to stand, he carefully pulls your dress to cover you. Then, he helps you upright, and draws you into his side, shielding you with his body. He lifts his chin and offers the crowd a sharp, almost vicious smirk that’s more a baring of teeth than a smile.

“I thought you might fuck like you fight,” Macrinus says. He lays a hand on Lucius’s shoulder like they are old friends and leans close. “I’m pleased to see that I was wrong.”

There’s some other meaning in his words that you don’t catch but Lucius seems to understand. Anger flickers across his face, but beneath it, you see something more unsettling, something you’ve never seen before. Fear.

“We will do a great many things together, I think,” Macrinus continues in a pleased tone, his gaze lingering on the hand Lucius settles possessively on your hip. “A great many things.”

This time when he smiles it reaches his eyes; cold, calculating, and full of something far more sinister.

You spend the rest of the party seated on Lucius’s lap, his arm banded around your waist while the other rests on your thigh. He’s tense and angry as you expect but his focus seems distant, lost somewhere far beyond the room. He rubs the fabric of your dress between his thumb and forefinger, the motion almost absentminded. The wine you sip is overly sweet and sits like a sour stone in your belly. Neither of you speak. Occasionally, some guests, perhaps emboldened by drink or bravery, approach, but Lucius quickly sends them on their way with nothing more than a look.

Only once the party dies down are you dismissed by Viggo. On the journey back to your cell Lucius’s grip on you remains firm, as if he's afraid you might slip away. He doesn't speak, and you notice every so often, his free hand curls into a tight fist at his side, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. It’s not until the door closes behind you, locking you both inside the small, dimly lit space, that Lucius finally speaks.

"You know my true name,” he begins pacing the length of the cell. “But there are things I have not told you."

He speaks slowly, each word carefully measured, as though he’s weighing the cost of revealing what’s hidden. He tells you the truth of his origin, and with each sentence, you sink deeper into the thin cot you both share, the weight of his words pressing down on you. When he finally falls silent, you remain there, frozen. A thousand thoughts flood your mind, but none of them seem to form into anything coherent.

"Does this mean-" you begin, words faltering as you try to process the magnitude of what he’s revealed to you. “Does this mean… you are the rightful emperor?”

“I am.” There’s no pride in his admission, only worry. He releases a harsh breath through his nose like he’s trying to clear something from his chest before he speaks again. “There is a plan in place, with my mother and Acacius, but he will not return from Persia for several weeks yet. We cannot wait for them.”

“What has changed?”

“Surely you must know,” he whispers, regarding you softly.

You shake your head, a quick, instinctive denial, but a deeper part of you already understands. Or perhaps, hopes you do.

“You," he says simply.

It’s the way he says it, so certain and knowing, that makes your breath catch. You stare at him and your heart throbs in your chest, low and sweet like a song.

“I never thought I could want someone again,” he admits. His unexpected words summon the ghost of all you've both lost, and they rise between you like a shadow, lingering for a long painful moment. "I thought it would feel like..." His words trail off.

“A betrayal,” you finish for him, keenly aware of what he must feel.

The vulnerable look on his face awakens something deep and real inside you that you never expected to feel again. You rise from the cot without thinking and move to stand before him.

"It feels right," he continues, his voice softer now, but no less certain. "As easy as breathing."

And then he kisses you, tentative at first, before he grasps your jaw, seeking more of you. The way he holds you, possessively, protectively, makes you feel like you’re the only thing that matters, like you're his lifeline in a world that’s about to crumble. It fills you with such longing that you chase his lips when they part from yours.

"Macrinus knows now. And he is planning something," Lucius says, his voice tight with urgency, "and whatever it is, it will be at odds with the good of Rome. He will use you to get to me. And I cannot lose you."

“What will you do?” You ask.

"I'll send word to my mother in the morning," he replies. "You and she must leave Rome. It’s the only way."

You shake your head, unwilling to part from him.

“I will come for you when it is safe,” he promises, capturing your lips in another kiss before he pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. "But tonight… tonight, I need you again. Will you have me?” He questions.

You answer him with your lips and he gathers you in his arms. The coarseness of his beard against your chin and the firm press of his lips to yours ignites a bone-deep need within. Suddenly all the danger, the uncertainty, and the inevitability of what’s to come fades into the background. It's just the two of you, the heat of his touch, the depth of his kiss, and the unspoken promise in his embrace.

When he pulls you down on the cot, urging you on top of him, you let his momentum carry you.

“Ride me,” he pleads desperately, framing your hips with his hands.

He gazes up at you with such a mix of desperation and love that you couldn’t deny him, even if you wanted to. The shudder he gives when you take him in hand emboldens you to stroke his length. He groans and pushes his head back, exposing his thickly corded neck. You rise up and sink down on him slowly, savoring each inch. It’s near perfect how he fills you, and even though you’re still sore from earlier, the blend of pain and pleasure thrills you too much to stop.

“Your dress,” he pants, “remove it. Please. I want to see you. All of you.”

You pull the fabric from your body and shed the bangles on your wrist while Lucius removes his tunic. You’re familiar with every inch of his body from tending to his wounds and time in the bathhouse, but you gaze down at him now with renewed appreciation, resting your hands on his firm shoulders. His eyes are filled with affection and desire as they roam your body.

“You’re beautiful,” he praises.

He cups your breasts and draws his thumbs across your nipples until they grow hard. The touch sends sparks of pleasure along your nerves and you twitch around him. He moans and rolls his hips. His arms encircle you, holding you close while he fucks you with strong, powerful thrusts. You bury your face in his neck and drag his skin between your teeth. He answers your action with a groan.

“Gods, the way you feel. You’re perfect,” he praises.

You sit up and plant your hands on his chest, moving your hips to take him deeper. You gasp his name and arch your back, rocking forward with an urgent need that eclipses everything else. For the first time in what feels like forever, you close your eyes and let yourself simply feel. There’s no need to shield yourself, no barriers to maintain.

“Look at me,” Lucius begs, grasping your waist to take control of your movements.

Your eyes flutter open and meet his, the beginning of your orgasm rising to the surface like a tide pushing its way to shore. It grows steadily until it finally crashes over you, flooding your senses and leaving you breathless in its wake. Lucius finds his own end moments after with a low, shuddering gasp. It takes several moments for your breathing to return to normal and when it does Lucius sweeps his hands up your sides comfortingly.

"Stay with me like this,” he asks.

You acquiesce and he gently guides you to rest your cheek against his chest. His hand slides to the middle of your back, his palm warm and steady as he holds you close. Even though he remains inside you still your body relaxes, pooling in his. You close your eyes and listen to the steady drum of his heart, feeling a profound sense of stillness.

You’ve always felt safe in Lucius’s arms, but now, you feel loved in a way you never dreamed you’d experience again. It’s a kind of peace that settles into you, filling all the broken, hollow spaces in your heart where your grief and pain have lingered for so long.

Whatever comes next, his love and strength are something you can hold onto. And for now, that is all you need.

♡

Also part of this series:

Ab Initio

Finis

Protego te

My inbox is open for your thoughts on this story, requests for drabbles with Lucius and further scenes with Lucius and the Fisherman's Wife.

#lucius verus x reader #lucius verus #lucius verus x you #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #paul mescal #hanno x reader #Post tenebras lux #Lucius and the Fisherman's Wife

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sttoru · 9 months ago

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Can we have mamaguro and toji go to megumis school sports day event where the kids parents go against each other. Mamaguro wins amongst that games thats for mama's. And well toji yk guys 🙏🏼🤲🙏🏼

𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. dad!toji x wife!female reader. fluff, one mention of angsty-ish thing. suggestive comment. reader gets called ‘mama / ma, pretty’

“woah, mama’s so fast!” megumi points at you with his tiny finger, watching as you participate in a 400 metres relay race. toji stands right beside the preschooler, grinning from ear to ear as he watches you go.

to say you’re competitive is an understatement. both toji and you have done your best to win all events the parents could participate in during your kid’s sports event. it may not be that serious to the other parents, though for you two, it is.

seeing megumi’s face light up and hearing his giggles whenever toji or you win a competition is all the reward needed for your hard work.

“oh yeah, y’r mama is gonna get that win,” your husband nods proudly. he crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes following your figure as you speed across the other mothers that are participating. toji’s attention is caught by a little hand tugging at his sweatpants.

he raises an eyebrow as he sees the way megumi’s reaching his arms out to him. “hah, little brat. c’mere,” toji lets out a chuckle before scooping megumi up, placing the clingy preschooler on his shoulders.

your gaze is set right ahead, body moving as quick as it could. your ears pick up on two familiar voices, your eyes catching a glimpse of toji and megumi at the sidelines. you smile at the two while you run. you don’t have to look back to keep track of where your opponents are. you’re too fast for them anyway.

“yeahhh, tha’s my fuckin’ wife!” toji yells above everyone else, embarrassing you a little. though, it sure did boost your energy levels and your legs move in an even faster tempo. the other parents look at toji with a frown, some whisper about his vulgar choice of words around little children, but he simply couldn’t care less.

megumi tries to imitate his dad and throws his hands in the air, waving at you with a big smile. “that’s my mama!” the little child shouts at the top of his lungs, having the time of his life. he’s been having fun all day with toji and you, his popularity under his classmates increasing because of the outstanding performances of his parents.

you laugh to yourself as you hear their encouragements. you glance over at them as they stand near the finish line, just waiting for you to pass over it. you wave at them whilst you’re running and watch as megumi happily waves back with both arms.

“mamaaaaa!” the small boy squeals, kicking his legs. he looks at you with big, sparkling eyes—cheering once you cross over the finish line. toji joins in and whistles, impressed by your performance. he walks over to you as you catch your breath.

“how’d i do?” you ask your husband with a smirk. toji nods, humming in satisfaction. he feels megumi squirm around on his shoulders, so he lets the preschooler down. toji faces you again and pinches your cheek in a loving yet teasing gesture, “amazing, ma. y’ did well.”

megumi runs up to you once he’s free and hugs your leg. you giggle and crouch down to hug him. “mama’s so fast. and so cool,” your son exclaims and mimics how you ran, making noises to indicate how fast you were going, “like—woosh, woosh!”

“haha, thank you,” you giggle and kiss megumi’s forehead. a teacher comes up to you and gives you your gold medal for winning first place, a big number one on the middle of the metal. you put the medal around megumi’s neck instead, clearly seeing his eyes light up once you do.

toji follows the gesture and puts all the medals he’s won around his son’s neck as well. those were quite a few since toji’s competitve and athletic self had won every round of the parent matches he’s participated on. out of all the dads present, he’s won most games.

“there y’ go,” toji comments in a proud tone. megumi laughs happily and jumps up and down in place to show his excitement. he sees a couple of his friends nearby and scurries over to them, going to brag about how he’s got the best parents.

your husband hands you a bottle while he keeps an eye on megumi. “thank you,” you nod and take a couple sips of the refreshing cold water. you catch toji glancing at you, looking you up and down. that’s when you already know that whatever’s going to come from his mouth, is going to be out of pocket.

“y’know, while ya ran out there, i couldn’t help but stare at that fat ass of—“

you smack toji’s chest, a warning for him to not finish that sentence. you’re too embarrassed by his words to even look at him properly. “don’t say such stuff in front of literal children,” you whisper shout with a flustered expression on your face.

toji playfully rolls his eyes at your comment. he wanted to give your behind a smack - an appreciative ‘well done’ gesture - but he refrains from doing so. he wraps an arm around your waist instead and squeezes your side.

“ugh maaann, who cares about these little brats,” toji complains and leans his head down to your level, kissing your temples gently. he smirks and gives your lips a quick kiss, “i just wanna appreciate my sexy wife.”

you can’t help but crack a faint smile after toji’s last comment. you kiss him back quickly, keeping an eye out on your son, who’s cluelessly showing his classmates all the medals around his neck.

“we made the kid quite popular,” toji hums as he sees the same thing you have. it warms his heart to see his son enjoy his childhood like this. so carefree, so loved. megumi’s got both of you, both loving parents, which brings the dark-haired man a sense of peace.

toji’s glad that he can give his son everything he couldn’t have as a child. that also means participating in megumi’s school events and the like of it. he’s never had anyone supporting him as a kid and he never wants the same to happen to your child.

“yeah, he deserves it,” you say with a fond smile. as long as megumi’s protected and loved, the rest is fine. you’re glad that he’s taking the opportunity to interact with his classmates, considering he’s usually a bit shy and quiet.

while you’re watching megumi, toji’s staring at you. there’s a subtle smile tugging at his lips because of your own content expression. he looks back at his kid and sighs in relief.

all that hard work was worth it if it meant to have both his wife and son enjoy themselves.

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #toji x you #toji x y/n #jjk fluff #toji fluff

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zorobff · 1 year ago

Text

how to disappear. (opla!zoro x fem!reader)

synopsis: joining luffy’s crew made you believe that you’d finally escaped your former pirate crew and nightmare of a captain for good. that is, until a certain butler starts looking a little too familiar. good thing zoro’s keeping a close eye on you.

warnings: opla spoilers (ep 3), some direct dialogue from opla, mentions of verbal/physical abuse, kuro is just a weirdo tbh, reader is called a bitch, protective zoro, for the sake of the story sham and buchie joined the black cat pirates after reader left

word count: 4.7k

“this guy is full of shit.”

you knock your shoulder into zoro’s wider one. “be nice. and so what if he is?”

zoro gives you a pointed glare. “then we should turn around and look for someone who can actually help us find a ship.”

“all business, as per usual,” you reply, with a purposefully dramatic sigh. “why can’t you have a little fun?”

“what about this is supposed to be fun?” zoro spits out the word like it’s poisonous. “this is the blandest village i’ve ever seen.”

you scoff. “now you’re the one that’s full of shit. nothing’s ever bland with us and you know it.”

the us in question was your newly formed pirate crew… if you and luffy could even be considered that. having left the ship you’d been on a few years ago, you were in search of a new crew. luffy was persistent and charming — when you’d crossed paths in shells town, it took little to no time for him to convince you to join his hunt for the one piece. zoro and nami, on the other hand, had yet to follow in your footsteps.

“well, considering that we’ve only been traveling together for a day and a half and i’ve already escaped a marine base, defeated a marine captain, and fought a clown with devil fruit powers… i’d actually have to agree.”

you can’t help but giggle at his sarcastic delivery. “be grateful, zoro. not many pirate crews are this fun to be on, trust me. oh wait, that’s right, you still haven’t officially joined—”

“tell me about your old pirate crew,” interjects zoro, your comment having piqued his interest.

you notice that the playful atmosphere dissipates. “god, where do i even start?”

zoro answers that for you. “why did you leave?”

“starting with the hard hitting questions, huh?” you joke, mostly to stall. you clear your throat before you answer. “well, it was different. nothing like what luffy has going on. he actually cares about his crew… and even those who aren’t technically on it.”

at that, a smile tugs at the corner of zoro’s lips. even you crack a small grin. although as you continue speaking, it fades.

“on my old crew, we were dispensable. anytime something went wrong, our own captain would threaten to kill us. it was… scary, to be completely honest. there were so many times when i thought i’d die with that filthy crew. and i never wanted that. so as soon as we docked at shells town, i left.”

zoro’s jaw clenches as imagines the things you’d seen and been subjected to. “this old captain of yours sounds like a real—”

“he was a nightmare,” you tell him. “he didn’t care that i was the only woman on board, he treated me just as horribly, if not worse.”

zoro stops so suddenly that it takes you a second to realize he’s not walking alongside you.

“what do you mean by that.” the way zoro phrases the inquiry doesn’t even make it sound like a question. more like a demand. his narrowed eyes are fixed solely on you. holding his gaze feels… intense.

you can’t help but glance away as you answer him. “he was just a bit of a creep.”

before zoro has the chance to try and extract more information out of you, a familiar voice calls both your names. you’re not really sure when you and zoro had fallen behind but from where you currently stand, the rest of your group looks miniature. or perhaps it’s just the massive size of the mansion behind them that makes luffy, nami, and usopp look pocket-sized in comparison.

“why’d you stop walking?!” your captain shouts, hands pressed on each side of his mouth to amplify his voice. “get over here, we’re about to go in through the top secret entrance!”

you vaguely make out usopp gesturing for luffy to keep his voice down. you’re sure that would warrant another comment from zoro about his reliability but he’s too busy staring at you with that expectant look in his eyes.

“we better catch up,” you tell him, heading in the direction of the deluxe home.

he allows you to dodge the subject and sighs, walking in long strides to catch up to you.

“i’ve never seen a house this big before,” luffy admits, admiring the mansion along with the wellkept greenery surrounding it.

“awesome, right?” usopp gloats, walking around like he owned the place. “kaya’s given me an open invitation to drop by anytime i want.”

“wow.” you’re not sure if luffy was just going along with usopp’s act or if he really believed him. knowing the devil fruit user, it was more than likely the latter. “all this for just one person?”

“well, she lives here with her butler and a few other staff,” usopp replies, leaning against the stone well that sat in the middle of the lawn.

“money really shows you who people truly are,” nami mutters, eyes scanning the property. “most people only care about themselves and what’s theirs.”

zoro is quick to throw the insult back at her. “sounds like someone i know.”

you roll your eyes at his comment, though you make no effort to disagree with him. nami was a little on the materialistic side.

“and a small staff makes for easy pickings,” she continues, proving your point.

“we just got here and you’re already planning on robbing the place blind?” you ask though you already know the answer.

“at least a little blurry,” she smirks, following behind luffy and usopp who walk toward the entrance.

you and zoro share a look. one that says disappointed but not surprised.

going under a shrub shaped as an arch, you’re met with a beautiful pond. you admire the pink lilies that float at the top and the bushes that were intricately trimmed into the shape of various animals. even if the people that lived here were filthy rich, at least they had good decorative taste.

“so if you have an invitation, why are we going around the back way?” luffy ponders.

usopp’s answer is nonchalant. “oh, i never use the front entrance. like i said, this is the vip entrance reserved for special guests.”

zoro scoffs. “this guy’s definitely–”

“don’t start,” you groan, cutting him off.

abruptly, usopp freezes and spins around, attempting to usher your crew back. “you know what, there’s actually a more exclusive entrance this way–”

the sharp swoosh of a knife cutting through the air and burying itself in the ground between usopp’s feet cuts him off. from the direction the kitchen utensil was thrown stands a heavyset gentleman with his face wrinkled in anger. his demanding voice booms through the garden, “the hell are you doing here, usopp?”

the dark-skinned boy fumbles over his word. “buchi, buddy, uh, kaya’s expecting me.”

“another one of your lies,” the man – seemingly named buchi – seethes, grabbing him by the collar. “you ain’t welcome here and you know it.”

“i know nothing of the sort,” usopp retorts, keeping his cool even when he was practically being lifted off the ground by his shirt. “i’m here to give kaya an extra special gift.”

before buchi can get another word out, a feminine voice calls out for your companion. coming down the steps is a frail looking girl in a pink dress. on her arm is a man dressed in a crisp suit, presumably the butler usopp had mentioned earlier. though, from where you stand you can’t see either of their faces too clearly.

“what a wonderful surprise,” she exclaims, breathlessly.

“kaya!” usopp exclaims, returning her enthusiasm. buchi has no choice but to let him go, begrudgingly. usopp makes sure to shoot him a smug look before walking towards the young girl. “happy birthday.”

the butler clears his throat, not afraid to intrude on their special moment. “usopp, we’ve discussed this before. you mustn’t show up unannounced.”

“nonsense, klahadore.” kaya smiles warmly. “have you come to tell me another story? i do love hearing about your adventures.”

“i’ll do you one better,” usopp smirks with such confidence that even you’re left wondering what kind of surprise he has up his sleeve. “i brought some of my crew!” he gestures back towards the four of you, proudly.

your excitement vanishes. “oh. the surprise is… us.”

“well, that’s boring,” luffy agrees, just as disappointed as you are.

kaya, on the other hand, is none the wiser. “it’s so nice to meet you. you must all stay for dinner.”

klahadore lowers his voice. “miss kaya, it is a bit last minute. i’m afraid the kitchen hasn’t prepared for any extra guests.”

“please,” begs kaya, softly. “it’s my birthday. can’t be too much trouble can it?”

giving in, klahadore purses his lips. “anything for you, miss kaya.”

luffy claps his hands together. “alright! when do we eat?”

“you don’t. not dressed like that, at least.” the butler directs himself to a staff member with teal colored hair. “sham, kindly show usopp and his friends to the guest suites. you will bathe and change before dinner.”

she follows his orders and leads the way. luffy, usopp, nami, and zoro trail behind her and you go to do the same. however, all it takes is a quick glance to stop you dead in your tracks. usually, you weren’t one to stare but klahadore’s face. that stare. so dark and depraved.

“yes, miss?” he asks, holding your gaze. “can i help you?”

“n-no, i…” your throat goes dry as you attempt to recover smoothly. “i just wanted to, um, thank you for being so hospitable.”

his lips curve upwards into a sinister grin. “the pleasure’s all mine.” as if to confirm your worst fear, klahadore uses his palm to readjust his glasses. his beady eyes gauge your reaction closely.

the familiar gesture sends chills down your spine. appearance-wise, he had changed drastically but his aura was still just as menacing as you remember it. he was still the corrupt pirate captain you used to serve under. you feel like a weak and helpless subordinate all over again.

“klahadore!” giggles kaya. “you’re smiling! that’s certainly a rarity.”

he hums. “i’ve simply come to the realization that having guests once in a while can truly be a delight.”

his sickeningly sweet tone makes your stomach turn. just the fact that you were standing in front of him – captain kuro – again after all these years was nauseating in itself. last you’d heard he had died at the hands of captain morgan. how was this even possible? then again, he wasn’t dubbed kuro of a hundred plans for no reason. he always had a trick or two up his sleeve. you assumed this was no different.

“hey, you comin’?”

you turn around to see zoro waiting for you. he meets your gaze for a moment. the softness of his eyes is a stark contrast to kuro’s. it’s a breath of fresh air. he then shifts his attention to your former captain and you swear his eyes darken.

“yeah, sorry,” you mumble, trying not to look shaken as you walk up the steps.

zoro follows behind you, this time closer than before.

“why would anybody even need this many clothes?”

“it’s not about need with these people, luffy. it’s about want,” nami spits, thumbing through the various fabrics on the wall.

“at least she’s rich and nice,” luffy replies, innocently.

nami rolls her eyes. “yeah, letting us stay for dinner must be her idea of charity work.”

“what are we even supposed to wear?” luffy continues, uninterested in nami’s criticism of the rich.

“anything you want. when are you ever going to get the opportunity to wear things this nice?”

you step out from behind the changing board where you’d swapped out your old tee and cargo skirt for an elegant satin dress. it was a stunning shade of olive green and frilly lace decorated the edges. not to mention, it hugged your curves in all the right ways.

nami’s eyes widen. “see, she’s got the right idea. you look amazing.”

you smile, bashfully. “honestly, i feel amazing.”

“you look the same to me,” your captain shrugs.

nami shoots him a death glare but you intervene before she can scold him.

“way to keep me humble, luffy.”

“no problem!”

at that exact moment, a freshly showered zoro arrives donning a silk robe. he eyes the multitude of garments that cover every inch of the room, not particularly impressed.

“there you are. don’t you think she looks nice?” nami asks him, gesturing towards you. she doesn’t notice how you shrink under zoro’s gaze. neither does he, as his eyes take their time raking over you, from top to bottom.

he hums. “suits you.” with that, he sets off towards a chair in the corner of the room.

“seriously?” sighs nami, exasperated. “are you two physically unable to give compliments or something?”

“hey, doesn’t that butler seem familiar to you guys?” zoro asks, promptly ignoring nami’s complaint.

his question causes your breath to hitch. you’d pushed the kuro problem to the back of your mind while you were in search of a suitable dinner outfit. you figured that as long as your crew was by your side, he wouldn’t dare try anything. and even if he did… well, you’d seen what had happened to axe-hand morgan and buggy.

“yeah, i think he was at the last dinner party i attended,” nami replies sarcastically, taking a handful of dresses behind the changing board.

as he takes a seat, zoro grumbles, “i swear i’ve seen him before.”

“where?” you can’t help but ask, fiddling with the lace on the neckline of your dress.

“so far, i’ve got two suspicions. a wanted poster or funky bar on mirrorball island. you ever been?”

you know zoro’s teasing you, judging by the grin on his face. after all, funky bar was known to get insanely rowdy; never would he imagine finding someone as gentle as you there. but what he didn’t know is that it happened to be one of kuro’s favorite bars. per his request, you and the rest of the black cat pirates frequented it often, so he was more than likely right about having seen kuro there. he’d probably even seen you in passing, once or twice. thankfully, he doesn’t seem to have any recollection of that.

the thought of zoro knowing about your past forms a knot in the pit of your stomach. would he think less of you for having joined such a ruthless crew at one point in your life? what if it put a strain on the friendship you’d worked so hard to form?

“i’ve, uh, heard of it,” you decide to reply, pushing down your worries for the time being.

he tilts his head slightly, thinking out loud. “then again, i have seen a lot of wanted posters and bars in my time as a pirate hunter.”

you feel a grin creep onto your face. “probably more bars than posters, huh?”

zoro mirrors your smile. “shut up.”

by the time dinner rolls around, the entire crew is doing what they do best.

luffy is stuffing his face, nami is attempting to swindle one of the staff, zoro is hanging by the drinks, and you’re hanging by zoro.

“hey zoro, you gotta try this!” luffy calls through a mouthful of food.

“i’ve got all i need right here,” he mutters, taking a swig out of his champagne flute.

“you know, i don’t think i’ve ever seen you choke down something that isn’t alcohol,” you comment, watching the way he downs the glass in one go.

dryly, he replies, “that’s because i haven’t.”

“very on brand.”

“ladies and gentlemen,” calls out that voice from the top of the stairs. “may i present… miss kaya.”

arm in arm, kuro and kaya walk down the steps, all eyes on the birthday girl and her stunning gown. well, except you. your eyes never leave the so-called butler by her side. your jaw clenches when he has the audacity to meet your gaze and hold it. shameless bastard.

once they reach the bottom, merry leads kaya to the guests while kuro takes his post at the bottom of the stairs… right next to the drink table. before you can think about steering yourself and zoro away, kuro speaks.

“forgive me if i am speaking out of line, madam, but i must inform you. you look positively radiant,” he purrs, soaking in your appearance. he looks ready to pounce.

you can’t stop your eyes from rolling. good to know he’s the same pervert he used to be.

looking between you both and sensing your discomfort, zoro steps in. “and you look familiar.”

kuro’s head stiffly turns to face him, eyes peeling away from you. “highly doubtful, sir.”

“funky bar? mirror ball island?”

“funky bar?” kuro repeats, disgusted. “well, i can assure you i’ve never patronized that type of establishment.”

while it was amusing to see your highly esteemed former captain lie through his teeth, the tension between him and zoro was unbearable.

“well then.” zoro continues with his little interrogation. “ever been on a wanted poster?”

you cringe at his bluntness. sometimes it seemed like he had less of a filter than luffy.

kuro puts on a scandalized face at the question. “sir! such an accusation is highly offensive.” tugging on his collar, he goes to remove himself from zoro’s probing. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i’m going to help prepare the dinner table.”

he leaves, en route to the dining room. zoro’s eyes follow his figure until he disappears, squinting as he racks his brain for any further recollection of this suspicious butler.

you sigh. if zoro was going to continue being so relentless, you were sure the night would end in bloodshed and uncovered secrets.

“keep this coming,” zoro demands, handing the empty wine bottle to sham. she takes it with a glare.

“would it kill you to say please?” you ask, slicing the slab of fish on your plate into smaller pieces.

“the service here is shitty. why should i have to be polite?”

you scowl. “remind me to never have dinner with you again.”

zoro turns to you with that cocky grin of his. “what if i asked nicely?”

his quip makes your heart flutter but you manage to keep your composure. “you can try your luck.”

before he can respond, usopp speaks up. “luffy, isn’t there something that you wanted to talk to kaya about?”

luffy gesticulates enthusiastically with his fork. “oh, yes! usopp told me that you own the whole shipyard.”

“well, actually, my parents founded the shipyard and merry’s been running the business since they… passed. but all that’s about to change. tonight, at midnight, i will become the sole owner.” she smiles somberly.

“well, that’s great,” luffy says, raising his drink at her. “because we want to buy a ship from you.”

“ah, i see. usopp mentioned that you’re sailors.”

“nope, not sailors. we’re pirates!”

you’re certain at least three people at the table choke on their food, yourself included.

“this ought to be good,” zoro mumbles behind his glass.

you’re too busy coughing into your napkin to chastise him for finding this entertaining.

“pirates?” kaya repeats, unsure of how to react.

“yup! we haven’t sailed together for very long but we’ve already defeated an evil clown, raided a marine base, and taken down a captain with an axe! for a hand!” luffy holds up a fist, presumably to impersonate axe-hand morgan.

“sounds a lot like your adventures, usopp,” kaya says, turning to the brunette.

all he can do is laugh dryly. “yeah, that’s… that’s crazy.”

“and we’re just getting started!” luffy continues, climbing up onto the table.

“someone put me out of my misery,” you mumble, looking down at your plate to ignore the secondhand embarrassment.

a tap on your shoulder answers your plea.

turning around, you find yourself face to face with kuro once again. “madam, a word please?”

“might i ask what for?” zoro cuts in before you can so much as think of a response.

kuro offers him the most forced grin you’ve ever had the displeasure of seeing. “i’m afraid that is between the lady and i.”

the swordsman turns to you, scanning your face for any ounce of discomfort. “you okay with that?”

you inhale, figuring it was finally time for you to confront the darkest part of your past. it was silly to assume you would be able to ignore him throughout your entire stay here. besides, you were sure zoro, just like the rest of your crew, would be on standby if kuro got brave enough to try anything. “sure. just… keep an eye out.”

zoro understands completely. truthfully, you didn’t even need to ask – he always looked after you. “got it.”

you push yourself out of your seat and smooth out your dress. you allow kuro to lead you to the doorway – he was smart enough to know that was the farthest you’d let him take you.

“what do you want, klahadore?” you seethe, folding your arms.

he arches a brow. “why must you call me that? it’s ridiculous.”

you tilt your head with faux innocence. “oh? is that not your name? must have misheard.”

he gives you an irritated look, dark eyes drilling into you.

“i remember that look,” you mutter, your memory serving you well. “it’s the same one you’d give me before you’d threaten to slice me to bits with your claws.”

kuro has the audacity to chuckle dryly. “but i never did, did i? although there were certainly times times where i should’ve.”

“what you should be is dead,” you hiss bitterly. “when i heard the news, i knew it was too good to be true.”

“you wound me, kitten,” he drawls, reaching up to fix his glasses.

the condescending nickname makes your skin crawl. it carried so many awful memories of your time spent with the black cat pirates. it reminded you of just how weak kuro viewed you — nothing but a helpless, pitiful kitten in his eyes. typical of the man that abused his authority and treated you with not a single ounce of respect.

he continues, putting on a sweet tone. “after all these years, stuck waiting hand and foot on that spoiled brat, there’s nothing i’d love more than to hear my favorite crew mate say my real name.”

you snap at him. “i’m no crew mate of yours.”

he sighs, dramatically. “sadly, you’re correct. after all, you did slip off the ship the moment we docked in shells town. locating you on an island crawling with marines proved to be nearly impossible. we had no choice but to leave without you.”

“that’s exactly why i chose to escape there.”

“and to this day i can’t for the life of me figure out why you would ever do that. why would you want to leave us? leave me?”

you actually laugh right in his face. “is it really that hard to figure out? you were evil. you threatened and harassed me on a daily basis.”

“so your solution was to join that ragtag crew?” he glances at the table. “it’s pathetic, even for you.”

you lean into his face, lowering your voice down. “i’m happier than i ever was on your shitty crew. every day i wake up grateful that i managed to escape you.”

you see that vein on his forehead bulge before he’s gripping you by the chin. “listen here, you little bitch–”

the shiny silver of a sword slides between you and kuro, coming to rest against his neck. his adam’s apple bobs as he gulps anxiously, releasing you. thanks to zoro’s sword, it seemed as if he finally remembered where he was. you were no longer on his ship, he was no longer allowed to treat you like the dirt he walked on. not without someone noticing, that is.

“why don’t you step away?” zoro offers simply.

that much was a kindness. usually those who found themselves on the end of zoro’s blade(s) weren’t lucky enough to receive a warning. however, the swordsman didn’t wish to cause a scene. at least not when you were right there and everyone was watching with shock from the dinner table.

kuro obliges, stumbling back. he meets kaya’s horrified eyes, feeling ashamed that he allowed his act to slip. surely this would cause some setbacks in his plan. with no excuse for his uncharacteristic behavior, the raven haired man scurries away and up the stairs.

zoro turns and locks eyes with luffy, giving him one singular nod. luffy returns it, jumping out of his seat and going after the butler. quiet murmuring breaks out at the dinner table, everyone surely confused.

sheathing his sword, zoro directs his attention to you once more. “are you alright?” a calloused hand comes up to grip your chin, much like kuro had. however, this time, the touch is gentle. loving, almost. you welcome it.

“yeah, i’m… fine.” your heart is beating out of your chest and it has everything to do with your close proximity to zoro.

he tilts your face around, inspecting every inch of it. once he finishes, he pulls back. his demeanor goes serious once more. “we need to have a talk.”

you nod. “i know. i’ve been keeping some things from you guys and–”

“just tell me what’s been going on,” he demands. “and don’t overcomplicate it. you can be straightforward with me.”

his sincerity makes you start over, this time far more candidly. “klahadore used to be a pirate. i was part of his crew. he was my… captain.”

the shame in your voice pulls at zoro’s heartstrings. didn’t you know there was no reason to feel guilty with him? “is that it?”

you open your mouth to speak but come up empty. all you can do is furrow your eyebrows at his unexpectedly dismissive reaction.

“i knew it,” zoro continues, annoyed. “i knew i’d seen him on a wanted poster before. just didn’t have any proof.”

“wait, so you don’t– you really don’t care?” you ask, still avoiding eye contact. “me being a former black cat pirate doesn’t bother you?”

he shrugs. “you said it yourself. ‘former.’ all that matters is that you got the hell out of there. and away from that creep. would he always put his hands on you like that?”

you blink a couple times, sighing. “his temper was really bad so–”

that seemed to be enough for zoro. “i’ll kill the bastard,” he hisses. “wanted to slice him to bits the moment i saw him grab you.”

though it’s a violent threat, you can’t help but smile. the idea of zoro being so protective that he’d kill a man just for touching you made you blush. pirate love language, you suppose.

“well, i wouldn’t have stopped you,” you tell him, more than ready to see your former captain go.

zoro clicks his tongue. “nah. could’ve stained your new dress with his blood. i never would have been able to forgive myself.”

“so you do have a soft spot,” you tease.

“only for pretty things.”

“do you mean me or the dress?”

now it’s zoro’s turn to become bashful. though, his lack of response is an answer in itself. you can’t help but giggle.

a loud bang from upstairs interrupts your moment with the green-haired man. you assume luffy had gotten his hands on kuro… or vice versa. zoro must be thinking the same thing judging by the way he instinctively rests a hand on the handle of his blade.

“you should go up there,” you tell him. “i’ll stay with kaya.”

he gives you a nod, though he doesn’t make any effort to leave. he stands there like he wants to say something… or do something. before you can think about it too much, you pull him in by the collar and crash your lips onto his. they’re slightly chapped and taste like the wine that’d come from the cellar – it’s pleasant. his large palms come to rest on your lower back; his hold feels tight and secure.

when you finally allow yourself to pull away, you’re biting back a smile. “kick his ass for me.”

“will i get more of that if i do?” asks zoro, wetting his lips. they now taste like the cherry lip gloss you’d borrowed from kaya. he takes a step forward, attempting to close the gap between you two once more.

you shrug, pushing him away by the chest. “go help luffy and we’ll see.”

you both know that means yes.

#zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #opla zoro x reader #opla x reader #one piece x reader #zoro fluff

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izadi234 · 5 months ago

Text

Forget me not

-Warning: Contain yandere themes, neglected! gn!reader, mention of low self-esteem, the writer's first language isn't English. Yan! Batfamily x gn! reader

Chapters Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 (You're here) Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Chapter 3

For Duke it was a normal day after going to a classmate's house to finish a group project. He was eager to show you the project and talk to you about his day as he had started to do since the first day he set foot in Wayne Manor.

He could never forget that day...

The first time Duke went to Wayne Manor he was a bundle of nerves along with other emotions. He had just lost his parents due to the Joker's toxin and had just started his training with Bruce. He couldn't deny that he wasn't grateful to the billionaire and his family of vigilantes but he did miss that normality in his day to day life like when his parents were still well.

It was a day that he was lost in the mansion that was the one that found you. He had just finished his training with Bruce and Damian and had the intention of returning to his room when he got lost, but it wasn't until he ran into someone that he finally paid attention to where he was walking.

You were walking down the hall with your laptop in your hands, it seemed like you had just come from outside. He had never seen you before but Damian had mentioned that he had an older sibling that he didn't give much importance to.

"Oops, sorry. You okay, kiddo?" you asked him kindly

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine. I should apologize. I didn't see where I was going" the young man apologized

"I see you're lost, these hallways of the mansion aren't that frequented" you commented

"Really? And what are you doing here then?"

"My room is over here" you commented

"Ah..." He didn't know what to say

"You must be the new kid that Bruce adopted, right?"

"Yes, it's me" he nodded

"It's a pleasure, I'm (Name)" you extended your hand to shake it and he took it

He could immediately notice the warmth of your hand, they weren't rough and hard like the hands of others, but he could feel familiarity in your grip. It felt like home.

"Duke" he nodded as he shook your hand

"Well Duke, if you want I can guide you through these halls. It's almost impossible not to get lost in this place" you chuckled

"Yeah... I'd like that" he said with a smile

"Well, then follow me!" you said with a smile as you then guided him through the Manor

From that meeting on, Duke looked for any excuse to go talk to you. He soon discovered that the family didn't show much interest in you, which he couldn't understand why. In a family of vigilantes, being the most normal should be a relief, right? Or at least that's how he saw it, since when he was with you, he felt like he was going back to his old life, without worries or training.

That's why from then on he always waited for the time to be able to go find you.

What a surprise he would get when he saw that you weren't there

Once he entered Wayne Manor, Duke immediately went to look for you in your room only to find it empty. He felt his heart stop for a second.

No... It can't be...

"Alfred!" Duke shouted in search of the butler as he ran to the kitchen and there he saw Alfred who was making food for the Waynes.

"Alfred! Have you seen (Name)? Her room is empty!" the boy spoke quickly

"Yes, I am sorry to have to tell you this Master Duke, but our dear (Name) has left the mansion" informed the butler

"What?! So fast? N-no… They couldn't leave here… Much less without saying goodbye…" he said incredulously

It was like losing his parents all over again.

"They left me a letter in my room. I suppose they left one in yours too Master Duke"

Without saying another word, Duke ran to his room where he found a letter on his bed that had his name on it. He read it and right there (Name) said goodbye to him, thanked him for his company and just like with Alfred, left him the cell phone number of his second phone in case he wanted to talk to them.

"No… It can't be…" said Duke as he let a few tears escape from his eyes

How could he not stop them?

"Please don't cry Master Duke" said a voice from the door of his room. It was Alfred who looked at him with eyes that reflected sorrow and sadness but at the same time determination.

"I know that the departure of Master (Name) was something that hurt you and me" the butler began to speak

"But I assure you that they will return home"

"How Alfred? It was more than obvious that they wanted to leave here" he said between sadness and bitterness "But I don't understand, why did no one in this place pay attention to them? They are a Wayne too"

You were like a refreshing stream for him, you were like a glass of ice water in the middle of a desert.

Why did no one in this damn place notice?

"I couldn't answer that, Master Duke, but what we both know is that the behavior of the members of this family towards (Name) has been unfair and unjustified" Alfred walked towards the young guard and sat next to him

"I spent years waiting for someone else to see how amazing they were, but no one noticed, no one tried to get to know them" he unconsciously closed his hands into fists "And I can say that it was partly my fault, but you came along and finally someone realized what a great person we had in the family"

Alfred turned to look at him and put a hand on his shoulder which he gave a light squeeze.

"And for that same reason that they have such a powerful light, in a place like Gotham it is important to take care of them"

Duke looked at Alfred for a few seconds and then looked at the ground.

He is right. Their light is very bright. He can't let anyone turn it off.

"But… How are you going to do it Alfred? How are you going to get them back? Not even half of the people who live here remember who they are" said the young vigilante irritated

"Don't worry about that Master Duke, but you will have to help me with some things"

Don't worry (Name), you will return home.

Whether you want to or not.

But you will be by their side

It's been 2 weeks since you left Wayne Manor and to be honest… You've never been happier in your life!

Sure, you'd always had a lot of independence but now this independence felt different, it felt more refreshing.

Likewise, college had also been an interesting change from a social and academic point of view since a few years ago you had studied online and life at university was a bit chaotic but you were starting to like it.

You rented your apartment to an old man who owned the building and who kindly let you pay your rent little by little. Inside it were a few pieces of furniture that were already there, however, you gave it some personal touches to feel more at home. But what couldn't be missing were photos of your parents (F/N) and (M/N), Alfred and Duke with you.

You couldn't complain, you were living a true dream.

But live it up and savor it while you can

Because soon you'll lose it all

You were in the kitchen of your apartment making dinner when your phone rang. You picked it up and answered without looking at who it was,

"Hello?" you said as you answered your phone

"Hey (Name)!" a familiar voice greeted you

"Oh, hey Duke!" you said enthusiastically "How have you been? How's school going?"

"Oh been good, lots of homework" he chuckled "I was calling you because I wanted to see you"

"Oh yeah, sure" you nodded "Do you need me for something specific?"

"No no. I just want to see you. I miss you being around the mansion" he admitted

"Aww, you're really sweet Duke but I'm sure you have plenty of company at Wayne Manor" now was your turn to chuckle

"Yeah, they're good company but you're my best confidant and sibling"

You're MY home…

"Okay Duke, if you want we can see each other tomorrow" you proposed

"Sure!" he excited

"Perfect" you giggled at his excitement "How about we meet at the park near downtown Gotham?"

"Okay" he nodded

"Fine, see you tomorrow bro!" you said goodbye to him

"See you tomorrow sibling" he said goodbye before hanging up the call

You smiled just thinking about seeing Duke tomorrow. You couldn't wait to do it.

This was your first mistake. Trusting him.

"It's done Alfred" said Duke from the doorway of the living room

"They agreed to see me tomorrow"

"Okay Master Duke" Alfred nodded and then dusted the furniture again

"Now what?" asked the young man

"Now all that's left is to wait for me to arrive tomorrow and just follow my instructions" the butler commanded

"So… do you think all this is going to work? What if it doesn't?" he asked, half scared and half anxious

Alfred turned to look at the nervous boy and walked towards him. He placed a hand on his shoulder in an assuring manner.

"It's going to work" he assured him "Now go rest, tomorrow you're going to have a busy day"

Duke nodded, still a little unsure, but he didn't say anything else. Then he retired to his bedroom.

When he left Alfred couldn't help but smile a little. Everything was going as he had been planning and although he knew that this plan wasn't going to be to your liking in the least, he was also sure that this was the best for you.

Yes… This was the best thing for you…

For you…

For y…

For them..

For them...

For him…

This was going to be the best thing for HIM

This was going to bring you home to HIM

His little ray of sunshine

Helloooo. Here it goes the third chapter! I hope you like it and I swear that in the next one the rest of the family will appear, still I would love to heart what do you expect of this work! And even some ideas!

Also I added the people that told me to add them in tag list so if you want to be added please tell me and I will happily add you. And also if I missed someone please tell me as well because I'm a bit blind most of the times and despite being on tumblr for a while now I'm still getting used to using it ":v

So if you liked this chapter please leave a heart and I'll see you on the next one!

-Izadi

TAG LIST

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malavera · 7 months ago

Text

Peaches: “Would you be so kind in lending a hand?” (18+) — Logan Howlett

summary: the friendly old man neighbor of yours is helping you with your wash day

warning: the setting of this one-shot is AU no correlation to Wolverine & Deadpool, SMUT! MDNI, fingering, female oral receiving, age gap (legal), no use of Y/N, the use of pet name peach, sir kink, squirting

wc: 3.5k (well it's a full shot not a drabble ehe)

creds: i forgot where the divider is from, creds to the creator!

dedicating this one to my favorite authors!

@velvrei @wolverinesleftclaw @stark-ironman @lovelybucky1 @cyber333angel @dollverine @joelsgoldrush

peaches masterlist

The day had finally come when you decided enough was enough. The laundry had been sitting there for three days, staring at you from the corner of your room like a silent accusation. Today was the day you would conquer it. Armed with your resolve, you hauled the overflowing basket to the laundry room. But as fate would have it, the universe had other plans.

The washing machine, that steadfast appliance you’d trusted for years, chose this very moment to betray you. The once familiar hum was replaced by a groan, a sputter, and then—nothing. You stared at it, disbelief turning to frustration as you realized the mountain of clothes in your arms was going nowhere. Your favorite pair of undies, buried somewhere in the pile, would have to wait.

You let out a long sigh, leaning back against the machine, its cool surface doing little to soothe your annoyance. Arms crossed, you dialed your father’s number, hoping for some semblance of a solution.

“Dad, the washing machine broke,” you said, half hoping he’d have a quick fix, half dreading his response.

There was a pause before he spoke, his voice calm, almost too calm. “Ask Logan for help, he’s pretty handy with stuff. I won’t be back until 8 PM tonight, buttercup.”

You nearly dropped the phone. Logan. Of course, it had to be him. The very thought of knocking on his door, asking him for help, sent a thrill of anxiety coursing through you. Why did it have to be him?

Logan Howlett—the man who occupied your thoughts far too often, the man who was the face of your wildest dreams. Just the mention of his name made your heart race. And now, you were supposed to ask him for help? The universe certainly had a twisted sense of humor.

You ended the call, staring at the washing machine like it was some cruel joke. The burnt toast theory, they called it. Sometimes, when things went wrong, it was the universe’s way of steering you toward something better. But as you stood there, contemplating the inevitable encounter with Logan, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was a blessing in disguise—or a test you weren’t sure you could pass.

Logan Howlett had been a fixture in your mind for five long months, ever since he moved into the neighborhood. It wasn’t just his rugged good looks or the way he carried himself with that effortless confidence; it was the way he seemed to have slipped so seamlessly into your life. Your dad, always quick to befriend a fellow drinker, had taken to him immediately. They were practically inseparable, sharing beers on the front porch, watching games in the living room, and even lingering over meals in the dining room.

And there you were, sneaking glances every time Logan was around, feeling that unmistakable flutter in your chest whenever he caught your eye.

Today, though, was different. Somehow, you found yourself standing on his porch, heart pounding as your fist hovered in mid-air. What were you thinking? Asking Logan for help—it felt too forward, too direct. But here you were, ignoring every ounce of self-doubt, raising your hand to knock on his door.

You barely had time to second-guess yourself before the door swung open. And there he was, the embodiment of everything that had been haunting your thoughts for months: tall, effortlessly sexy, his dark hair tousled just right. He was wearing a white shirt that clung to his broad chest and shoulders, tucked into denim jeans that fit him perfectly. You couldn’t help but notice how the summer sun cast a warm glow on his skin, making the moment feel almost surreal.

“Hey,” Logan’s voice broke through your reverie, casual yet deep enough to send a shiver down your spine. He squinted against the sunlight, his expression shifting into one of familiarity. “I was about to come over. Your dad called and asked me to check on something.”

You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady as your mind raced. “Yeah, the washing machine broke. Dad said you could help… Would you be so kind in lending a hand?”

You could hear your own voice, slightly strained as you tried to strike the perfect balance. Not too high-pitched, not too low. Not too eager, not too aloof. But before you could overthink it any further, Logan flashed you a small smile, one that made your heart do a little flip.

“Yeah, sure, Peach.”

And there it was—that damn nickname that never failed to turn your insides into mush. It started innocently enough, the day your dad brought home a bag full of peaches and peach-flavored drinks. Logan had been there, chuckling at the sight, and ever since, he’d called you “Peach” with that easy, teasing tone. Now, every time he said it, you couldn’t help but melt a little, even if you tried to play it cool.

As you turned to lead him to your house through the backyard, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the universe’s way of pushing you closer to the man who had taken up residence in your thoughts.

“It made a really loud noise and it was shaking really bad, the sound was a bit scary,” you admitted, your voice tinged with worry. “And also, can you check if my clothes are alright? Did it tear them off or something?”

Logan nodded thoughtfully, a low hum of consideration escaping him as he surveyed the situation. “Where did your dad put his tools?” he asked, his gaze already scanning the room.

“Oh, it’s right there,” you said, pointing towards the shelf against the wall. Determined to be helpful, you stood on your tippy toes, stretching to reach the toolbox. But before you could grasp it, Logan moved past you with ease, his hand already closing around the handle.

“Careful, Peach. It’s pretty heavy,” he murmured from behind you, his voice close enough to send a subtle shiver down your spine. His presence loomed over you as he reached up effortlessly, the scent of his cologne mingling with the warm summer air.

You stepped back, feeling a mix of flustered and grateful as he handled the heavy toolbox with ease, making you feel small and protected all at once.

“O-okay.” The stutter slipped out before you could stop it. Seriously? Get a grip, you scolded yourself internally. Trying to regain some composure, you quickly added, “I’m just—gonna… fix you something to drink.” You gestured awkwardly towards the kitchen, hoping to retreat before you embarrassed yourself further.

Logan nodded absentmindedly, his focus entirely on the washing machine that seemed to be on its last legs. He didn’t even glance your way, which was both a relief and a disappointment. You took a nervous step back, then another, finally turning and heading to the kitchen, hoping a moment away would help you steady your nerves.

Leaving his presence created an unfamiliar ache in your chest, a tug of reluctance you hadn’t anticipated. It was as if some part of you didn’t want to leave his side, didn’t want to be apart from the quiet strength that Logan exuded. The thought of retreating to the kitchen, of putting physical distance between you and him, felt wrong, almost unnatural.

You wanted to stay. You wanted to watch him work on the broken machine, to see those skilled hands in action, to listen to the steady, assured way he moved and spoke. But at the same time, you knew you couldn’t trust yourself around him. Not when your heart raced at every little interaction, not when just being near him made you feel so unsteady.

You didn’t have the confidence to be casual, to act like you weren’t hanging on his every word and gesture. And you certainly didn’t have the strength to face the feelings that threatened to overwhelm you every time you were close to him. So instead, you sought refuge in the kitchen, hoping the distance would help calm the storm inside you, even as it left you aching for more.

Twisting the faucet, you watched as the water streamed out, the steady flow almost hypnotic in its simplicity. The kitchen was quiet, the only sound the gentle rush of water hitting the sink. You leaned forward, letting the coolness soothe your heated skin, and splashed your face with the cold water, hoping it would bring some clarity to your muddled thoughts.

For a moment, the shock of the cold jolted you back to reality, away from the overwhelming thoughts of Logan that had been swirling in your mind. You closed your eyes, letting the droplets drip down your face, trying to steady your breathing and collect yourself. It was just a broken washing machine, just a neighbor doing a favor.

You swung open the fridge, your hand instinctively reaching for your favorite peach-flavored soda. The cool metal of the can felt reassuring against your palm as you pulled it from its place. With a satisfying hiss, you cracked it open, the sweet, fruity scent immediately filling the air.

Reaching for a tall glass, you filled it with ice, the cubes clinking softly as they settled. Then, you poured the bubbly soda over them, watching as the fizzy drink cascaded down, swirling and dancing around the ice. After inserting a straw into the glass, you carefully picked it up, the cool condensation forming on the outside of the glass. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, and made your way back to where Logan was.

"Here you go," you announced, placing the glass on the nearby table. Logan turned his attention from the washing machine to you, his eyes briefly darting to the drink you’d set down. A smile curved on his lips, the warmth in his gaze making your heart skip a beat. “Thanks, Peach.”

“Ehe…” You offered a nervous smile in return, your cheeks heating up at the casual endearment. Trying to steady your fluttering nerves, you grabbed the straw and shoved it into your mouth with a little more force than intended. It was your way of silencing the awkwardness bubbling inside you, a desperate attempt to keep any embarrassing sounds from escaping.

“So, your dad’s going on a date later today, huh?” Logan’s voice was light, but he noticed the nervousness you were trying to mask. His intention was to ease the tension with casual conversation.

“Y-yeah, he’s working now, but that’s what I’ve heard,” you replied, nervously fiddling with the straw. You decided to sit on the edge of the table where Logan’s drink was, adjusting it carefully to avoid spills.

Logan glanced at you, then back at the washing machine, his smirk widening. “You okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you responded, a bit defensively.

Logan chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve never been too thrilled about him dating. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of Logan’s question pressing on you. Taking a deep breath, you decided to let your guard down. “Well, it’s just… I’ve always felt like I have to compete for his attention. It’s silly, I know, but it’s hard when you’re used to being the center of someone’s world.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he gave you an understanding nod. The moment of connection hung between you as Logan turned his attention back to the washing machine. He worked with focused precision, his hands moving deftly as he made the final adjustments. The clinks and whirs of the machine were soon replaced by a steady, rhythmic hum.

“There we go,” Logan said with a satisfied grin, stepping back to admire his handiwork. The washing machine was back in action, its gentle whirl now a reassuring sound.

You let out a relieved sigh, watching the machine function smoothly. “Thank you so much, Mister Howlett. I really appreciate it.” you said, your gratitude sincere as you adjusted from your sitting position to stand up. You set down your now-empty glass on the table, the slight clink of the glass breaking the brief silence.

Hearing you address him as "Mister Howlett" sparked something within Logan—an unfamiliar, yet undeniable feeling. It was a sentiment he had been trying to avoid, one that stirred within him despite his best efforts to keep his distance. The formal address seemed to intensify the feelings he had been wrestling with, making them more pronounced.

You're not the only one who has a crush, he does too.

From the moment Logan had closed the trunk of his truck while moving into the neighborhood, you had been on his mind. He remembered the day vividly—watching you step out of your car in a beautiful white sundress that hugged your upper body and flowed gracefully. The way the dress accentuated your figure, combined with the ease of your movements, had captured his attention in a way he hadn’t anticipated. As you came knocking on his door with your dad beside you to welcome him into the neighborhood, those peach-flavored pie you brought had been lingering in his mind ever since. He wondered if you smell as good as that pie where he devoured in one full bite that night. And here you are, wearing the same white sundress that's gotten him obsessed with.

As Logan took a step forward, you instinctively stepped back, forgetting about the table behind you. Your hips brushed against it gently, causing a small jolt. Logan had intended to reach for the glass of your beverage, but his proximity brought him uncomfortably close.

With a casual yet deliberate movement, Logan took the glass from behind you, his body nearly brushing against yours. He lifted the glass in front of you, tilting his head slightly with a smirk. “Thanks, Peach,” he said, his voice low and warm.

Without breaking eye contact, he chugged down the drink, his gaze locked onto yours. The act was both confident and intimate, making the moment feel charged with unspoken tension. The shared space between you seemed to crackle with a newfound energy as you both stood there, the air thick with the lingering effects of the brief but intense connection.

You cleared your throat, feeling a flush of heat spread across your cheeks as you managed to wiggle your way out from the proximity of Logan. You made your way toward the washing machine, watching it work through the glass as your laundry tumbled inside.

“Tell me, Peach,” Logan’s voice came from behind, smooth and deliberate. “Is your taste as good as this peach soda?”

Your breath hitched, and your mind raced. Am I hearing this right? Is this a dream? You thought, trying to process his words. Despite the possibility of it being a dream, you couldn't bring yourself to face him. Instead, you leaned against the washing machine, the rhythmic vibrations grounding you.

“Um—W-what do you mean, s-sir?” you managed to stammer, your voice barely more than a whisper.

You could feel Logan’s presence closing in behind you, the air growing warmer and thicker as he approached. The vibrations from the washing machine seemed to pulse more intensely against your torso, amplifying the sensation of his proximity. Each step he took made your heartbeat quicken, your senses acutely aware of the space between you shrinking.

Logan’s shadow fell over you, and you could almost feel the heat radiating from his body. His breath, though not yet touching your skin, was close enough that you could sense its warmth.

“You wanna know what ‘m thinking, Peach?” He mumbles behind your ear. You wished he didn’t hear your shuddered breath and the swallowed saliva down your throat from the way he makes you nervous.

“I don’t think so, Mister Howlett.” you managed to reply, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to maintain your composure.

“Naw, why? Afraid you might like it?” You could feel the smirk slowly forming in his face.

“I-”

“I’m thinking of bending you against this washing machine, lift up your very short sundress and get on my knees. Slowly taking my time smelling that scent… of arousal from your pussy, where I know, she’s dying to be touched, to be fingered, to be fucked, by me.” You gasp once you feel the bulge from his rough jeans, teasingly grinding against your ass earning a chuckle from him as he continues,

“Oh yes I know, Peach. I know how much you want to feel this cock inside you. Should’ve known better to close your blinds at night when your delicate… fingers desperately trying to reach that high, because I’m always watching you, Peach. Even though you’re such a pain in the ass with that, Peach flavored pie, and that fucking beautiful smile. I wanna turn those smiles into tears… Tears of pleasure from me, fucking this cunt.” You gasped loudly as Logan roughly thrust his bulge against your ass, hitting you against the washing machine.

“L-Logan,” you stammered, your voice trembling with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

“Call me, Sir,” Logan’s tone was laced with full authority, each word deliberate and commanding. You choked back a swallow before you corrected yourself.

"Sir, I don't know what you're talking about." You stood on your ground.

"Yeah? Let me remind you how it feels then, this time, with me." Logan grunted in your ears before you felt a rush of cold air blowing against your damped panties resulted from Logan lifting your skirt up. You whimpered once you feel his fingers grazing against your soaking wet cunt, earning a mocking tut from Logan.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk... Your cunt says otherwise, Peach." He rubs you through the panties before ripping them off of you, the sound piercing through the room.

Logan crouched on his knees, proving his promise to you the one where he'd like to take his time smelling you from down your legs up to your thighs, dragging his warm tongue on your delicate skin upwards earning a moan from you. Logan hummed once he connected his lips to your glistening pussy lips, his tongue swirling and lapping your gushing juices.

You feel like god had just granted you your wishes into doing this sinful things. You finally can experience the feeling of his tongue against your throbbing cunt that keeps on gushing. Logan moaned, while he laps your juices up like a dog. "You taste just as I imagined, peach-flavored cunt." He murmured against your pussy.

A rosy hue crept across your cheeks hearing his statement. "Come on, Peach. Gimme more." Logan breathed out, his two hands that were gripping your thighs pushed and lifted you upward attempting you to bend over more over the top of the washing machine. Spreading your legs wide, you moaned out loud once you feel his tongue crazily lap your pussy like a dog in thirst.

"S-sir.." You squeaked, feeling yourself close.

"Hmm, yeah, give it to me, Peach." Logan grunted, burying his face even more.

"Ngh, I'm gonna-" Before you could finish that sentence, you froze as you heard your dad's voice calls out to you.

"Buttercup! I'm home, have you managed with the laundry yet?" He hollers from the other room. You gasped while Logan didn't even budge, he kept resuming his action.

"Y-yes, Dad! Everything's good now!" You holler back, holding yourself back from moaning.

"Do you need any help, darling?" You heard the sound of footstep, your eyes widened and hurriedly answer, "No- No, Dad! Everything's good, I'll be coming in a second." Logan smirked.

"Okay darling, I'm gonna get some rest." Your dad holler back as his footsteps fading away. You sighed in relief before you gasped when you feel Logan entering two fingers inside your cunt.

"What a naughty little girl, she needs to make herself cum before she gets back to being the dotting daughter huh?" You whimper to his words.

"Please, sir. Don't stop, it feels so good.."

"Yeah? Wait till you feel my cock." Logan vowed. He curled his fingers inside you, effortlessly flicking your g-spot before he stood back up on his feet, leaning against your back. He gently guide you to stand on your feet even though it's impossible for you as you're still in daze from his fingers still working their magic.

Logan whispered all kinds of filthy things in your head to get you to reach your high. "Is this just like what you imagined, peach?" — "Feels so good yeah?" — "Yes it does. Are you gonna cum for me?" — "Yeah come on, almost there, I know," — "Make a mess on my fingers, baby."

As you choked a loud moan, Logan's other hand went to silenced you while you came gushing down on his fingers. Your whole body shook while Logan holds you in place as you're coming down your high.

"There you go, good girl." You panted once you've gained your strength to stand on your own, you turned around and to find him smirking, a notable wet droplet covered some parts of his jeans as you now just learned, that you squirted on him a little.

He brought his fingers up to his mouth, his gaze never leaving yours as he tasted what's remained of you on his fingers.

"Hmm, taste just like a peach."

let me know if you want me to start the journey for Logan & Peach 😉

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