#they don’t even realize they should be mad too
Text
Ruptured Amethyst; Splintered Tanzanite
Dark!Satosugu x reader - Yakuza Au
Synopsis: In hopes of paying off your debt, you start working for two dangerous men. Soon, you realize they want more from you than money.
Word count: 9.2k
(Warnings: dark content, sexual coercion, dubcon, noncon, oral sex, piv sex, threesomes, gun, blood, violence) Ageless blogs will be blocked
In this job, you quickly learned that it's better to just keep your head down.
Do what you were called for and leave. Do nothing but sit on your computer and look at numbers. Stepping out of your makeshift boundaries led to nothing but trouble.
It worked perfectly like that for the first few weeks you were brought here. The other workers never bothered you, and it took you a moment to realize they were in the same boat as you were: owing a debt. You wouldn’t quite say things were peaceful; every so often, one of Geto’s men would hurl someone through a table, but things were manageable.
And then Gojo came back.
You hadn’t met Gojo, yet. He was overseas on a business trip when Geto brought you in. You hadn’t met him, but you’d heard enough to make you want to stay away from him. Ijichi had told you enough stories to make you want to sink into the floor altogether. You just had until the end of the year until your debt was paid. It was the beginning of September, right now. Surely, you could avoid him until then, right?
“Ah, you’re the one Suguru was talking about.”
It was your fault. It was entirely your fault. Ijichi had begged you to stay after work for a bit longer and desperate to pay the debt off, you had agreed. No one else was supposed to be in the office besides you and him.
But Gojo didn’t follow other people’s rules. It'd take you a while before you fully understand that.
You could do nothing but stand there, wobbling in your heels as Gojo loomed over you. His sunglasses were tilted, cresting over his nose as he scrutinized you. You clutched the laptop closer to your chest, as though it’d save you somehow.
Gojo didn’t look dangerous. If you had seen him on the street, you would have assumed he was a model. Tall, long hands, pretty features. Gojo doesn’t look dangerous. Gojo is dangerous. He doesn’t need the gun (casually on his side, right in your line of sight) to prove it.
You say nothing. You don’t know what to say. So far, you’ve only dealt with Geto. Geto with his fake smiles and soft words of thinly veiled threats. As intimidating as Geto was, you felt safe enough with him to answer his questions. Speak when spoken to.
Gojo was uncharted territory. Should you speak? Should you greet him? Should you get on your hands and knees? Gojo was new. You had to deal with something new, alone.
You opt to stay silent, hoping that’s the best move. It’s not. Above you, Gojo’s clicking his tongue. He leans down, stooping his head low to get a better view of your face. You stare at him until it gets too much and you’re turning away. He likes that even less, grabbing you by the chin so you’re facing him again.
“You mute or somethin’?” He asks, tilting your head like he’s assessing you.
“No,” you finally murmur. It was a question, correct? He won’t get mad if you answer his questions.
He doesn’t seem mad. But he doesn’t seem happy, either. If anything, he looks a little disappointed.
“I really don’t get it,” he’s talking, but it’s more like he’s saying his thoughts out loud, “Suguru would not shut up about you. Thought I was gonna see something more exciting. You’re so...”
He trails off as though even describing you would be a waste. The thought that Geto speaks about you to his partners scares you, but you’re wise enough not to pry. Instead, you wait. Waiting often works. You’ve been cornered by Geto’s men (before they knew he was the one who brought you), most just want to intimidate you, they get a kick out of fear. When you give them what they want, they usually leave you alone.
Gojo doesn’t leave, even when you’re sure your horror is printed on your face. Obvious to even the blind. Instead, he leans back, eyes trailing down your outfit. Despite how most of the stuff done here was off the record, Geto still prioritized a professional workplace. You were expected to put on a clean blouse and skirt every day.
You yelp when Gojo tugs on the fabric of your skirt, bunching the material on your thighs. Forgetting where you are, who you’re with, you grab his wrist.
“Don’t be like that,” Gojo chides as though you were being the unreasonable one, “I just wanna look. Seriously, what was that guy going on and on about—”
“Satoru.”
Geto’s voice stops the both of you. He’s leaning against the wall, watching the two of you with a less than impressed look. You’re relieved when he’s more focused on Gojo than you.
“Sugu!” Gojo cheers, a complete 180 from his past demeanor. He lets you go and you sink against the wall in relief. “I’m home!”
“I can see that,” Geto retorts, but there’s an odd fondness laced in his tone that you’d never heard before.
The kiss they shared was violent. Tongue and teeth and messy. Gojo reached up, scrunching Geto’s hair, dragging him closer. Respectfully, you glanced away. You don’t yet leave. You know better than that, especially now that Geto is here.
“How many times have I told you to stop harassing our employees?” Geto sighs, once he’s pulled away. His tone is filled with exasperation, as though he were talking to a child.
“I didn’t do anythin’,” Gojo responds. When you finally turn back, Geto is shaking his head.
He smiles at you.
“Apologies, my dear,” he states, “you can leave. Remember to tell Ijichi you’re going.”
You eagerly nod before scurrying away. You can hear Gojo scoff, another murmur from Geto. You couldn’t care less what they’re saying, more than happy to grab your things, bid Ijichi goodbye, and leave.
Keep your head down, and don’t ever bother with what they are doing.
🗡
Technically, you weren’t in debt, your father was.
He had close ties to the underground. You weren’t sure of the details, you were so young when your mother left with you in tow. She was always stingy with the details, but she never failed to remind you that your father was a stupid man who worked with dangerous ones. She passed away right after you graduated from college. You’d mourned her.
Now, a part of you felt grateful she passed just before she saw your life fall apart.
They came in the middle of April. You remember that day purely because of the flower blossoms littering the sidewalk, the first sign of blooming spring.
There were three other men besides Geto that day, and you hadn’t known his name back then—just the man with long, pretty hair. They were all waiting for you, loitering right beside your home. When you hesitated, slowed to a stop, the man with long hair smiled at you. Geto calls your name. When you don’t respond, his smile widened.
“That is who you are, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” you nervously said, “sorry, but—but who are you all?”
He introduces himself. The other three don’t bother. You don’t yet realize that they’re only henchmen, mere puppets for Geto.
“Apologies, but this is a rather sensitive subject. Can we talk someplace private?”
You don’t want to let these men into your home, but his soft words and intimidating company coax you into agreeing. You lead them up the steps, praying to God that you were wrong about this—whoever they were. When you unlock the door, only Geto follows you. The rest wait outside. You don’t know if that’s better or worse.
He seats himself right on the sofa. It’s your apartment, and yet his mere presence makes you feel like he’s the owner. You loiter next to the door, twiddling your thumbs.
“Would you like tea?”
He tilts his head. “Aren’t you a polite one?”
It was more for you than for him—scurrying to the kitchen, away from his searing purple eyes. It’s a reprieve to start the burner, pour water into the pot. You take as much time as you can, but eventually, you have to come out.
Geto says nothing when you place the cups down. He takes it, humming at the taste. You don’t touch your cup.
His tone is soft. His words aren’t.
Your father did far worse than work with dangerous men. He’d stolen from them. He was already dealt with, his punishment had sent him careening off the Earth far sooner than your mother. Still, the topic of the missing money was still there.
Something that had fallen onto you, his next of kin.
You were already crying once Geto finished. Your body is wracked with sobs. You can barely suck in a breath.
“Please—please,” you’re already saying, “he—we—I swear we never received any sort of money from him.”
He takes your hand within his own, curling his fingers around them. Coming from anyone else, it would have been a nice gesture.
“I’m aware,” Geto comforts, “we know you haven’t been in contact with your father for more than a decade.”
His fingers are warm. They trace your cheek as he gently wipes away your tears.
“But in this line of business, family matters, no matter how estranged, my Dear.”
You look at him through your tears. He’s beautiful. Long black hair. If you touched it, you bet it would feel like silk within your fingers.
It’s his eyes that truly suck you in. Purple. It’s a rare eye color, you’ve never seen someone with purple eyes until now. They resemble amethyst, unpolished, but still just as beautiful.
“My partner would have much less...humane ways of dealing with this situation,” Geto continues, “but I think you could be far more useful warm rather than cold, do you agree?” You shrivel in your spot, already having an inkling to what he’s saying. It’s not like you haven’t already figured out where this was going. You’ve heard the stories of what dangerous men do to those who’ve wronged them—to the vulnerable girls who accidentally trip and fall into their trap, forced to work in brothels and debase themselves all for the sake of keeping them rich.
He laughs right then. It’s rich, deep, startling you out of your misery.
"Come now, it's the 21st century."
Geto smiles. Fake. Unsafe.
"Women are worth far more than just their bodies."
It turns out that even the Yakuza had paperwork.
It was a menial deskjob, on the surface, at least. If you don’t think too hard about who you’re working for, it could be a regular office. It’s not like any of the work you are provided with is illegal, but you doubt you’d put it down on your resume.
Your education had saved you. Ironic that it was your father who instilled your desire to learn.
If you don’t think too hard about it, your new ‘job’ wasn’t horrible. As notorious as they were, your new employers weren’t downright cruel. You still got paid. You had a contract. Things could honestly be a whole lot worse.
It was still very hard to get used to, especially in the beginning.
Something you learned very quickly was that the men around here did not like it when women had an attitude. You were far too meek to have one, but the other few women who worked with you became your teachers, showing you exactly what the men would do if you didn’t stay in line. You were more than happy to listen, and even then, your eagerness to learn didn’t help. In order for the lesson to truly sink in, you needed trial and error.
You stepped out of line exactly once. And then you never did it again.
It had been an accident. You’d forgotten that Geto had an important meeting that day. You knocked on his door, shuffling some documents in your hand. It was muscle memory to just go in because he’s never said anything but come in before.
They’d all stared at you, eyes lingering up and down your body. One of them grins. Immediately, you look at Geto. Horrified. Ready to grovel at his feet if need be.
His eyes flashed dangerously. Purple turned into sharp magenta knives. Geto tilted his head.
“Come here, dear.”
You take one step. Another. Then another. The way they look at you makes your stomach twist and sink but Geto only looks at you expectantly. When you linger at his side, his lips quirk.
His grip on your waist is gentle as he guides you into his lap. Your cheeks burn, but you don’t dare move, not even when the men start laughing at the free show. Geto only curls a hand on your waist, keeping you in place as he leans back again.
“Continue, gentlemen.”
The rest of the meeting continues with you on Geto’s lap. You don’t look at any of them, hands balled into fists at your sides. You feel naked. The air within the room is stifling. You refuse to look anywhere else but the floor.
The conversation goes back to business. Despite the compromising situation, he put you in, Geto’s hands don’t wander. He's content to keep his fingers on your waist until the room filters out and everyone leaves.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Geto.” You murmur, your voice barely louder than a whisper.
He doesn’t answer, at least not to that. He just sighs, sinking into his seat. Still, Geto doesn’t let you get up. Not yet. He waits until you’re looking at him, still smiling that fake smile.
This had been a punishment. The next time you made a mistake, you doubt you’d be let off so easily.
“Learn quickly, my dear.”
You nod. You apologize again. When Geto finally lets you go, you are quick to stumble away, pushing your way out the door. Purple eyes follow you out. You don’t think they stop looking until you’re out of the room, curled into your desk, steadying your heartbeat.
You stepped out of line exactly once. You never did it again.
Despite being under Geto, technically, Ijichi is your direct superior. You thanked the Gods for it. Ijichi was the only person here you were certain didn’t have blood on his hands. He was in a similar situation as you were; stuck working off a debt that he didn’t owe. You two bonded on your shared misery. He was the one reprieve you had in your new life.
Unfortunately, now that Gojo was back, Ijichi was far busier. It gave you little time with him. You suppose you were always welcome to join them, but considering your first encounter with Gojo, you’d much rather not.
It’s not like you hadn’t had similar encounters before Gojo's arrival. In the very beginning, one of Geto’s men tried something remarkably similar. You can still remember his hand on your hip, his other hand slowly unbuttoning your shirt while other men stood to the side laughing.
It hadn’t lasted long.
You didn’t realize he was shot until he was already on the ground, twitching in pure agony. He screamed and cried louder than you had. Blood was already dripping to the floor.
Geto had already tucked away the gun, striding away as though nothing happened. He didn’t say anything, the incident was never mentioned. Even to you, his statement rang loud and clear.
You were off-limits.
Clearly, Gojo didn’t care about the unspoken rule.
So far, Ijichi hasn’t acknowledged him. If anything, your superior is hunched behind his computer, typing away, rarely taking his eyes off-screen. You admired his concentration, but it was hard for you to follow suit, considering that Gojo had taken a seat right next to you.
His stare is impossible to ignore. You can feel it even as you desperately try to focus on the screen in front of you. As if he can tell you’re intimidated by his mere presence, he leans over, shoulder pressing against your own. You could practically hear the grin in his voice.
“Watcha’ workin’ on?” He asks as though he can’t already see.
Still, you falter. “Um—”
“Um’” he repeats, “that’s all you’ve been sayin’. Hey, Ijichi—” The man in question jolts up, eyes already panicked.
“Your assistant always this jumpy, or is your personality just that infectious?”
“Sir, uh—” Ijichi starts before getting cut off by a tsk.
“See? Again,” Gojo sighs, “I see why you two get along so well.”
You and Ijichi exchange glances, unsure what to do. When Gojo says nothing more, you decide it’s okay to resume work again, typing away.
Childhood friends, Ijichi told you back when you were still morbidly curious. Gojo had come from a lineage of powerful businessmen. Geto had more or less worked his way up. They became partners somewhere along that time.
It’s hard to imagine them as friends or as anything more. They’re so different. Geto is so controlled, measured with every response he takes. Gojo is more like dynamite, ready to go off at any moment.
You suppose the only similarity is how unreadable they are. To this day, you can’t tell whether Gojo dislikes you or not. Every action you take seems only to disappoint him, yet he constantly hovers around you.
It takes another minute for you to be on the keyboard before Gojo decides he doesn’t like you working peacefully. The chair creaks under his weight as he shifts closer. His head rests against your shoulder. With his new position, you can feel his breath on your collarbone as an arm casually wraps around your shoulders. You don’t dare react, but you send Ijichi a panicked look. He looks sympathetic, but he doesn’t move to help you. You can’t find it in yourself to fault him for his inactions.
“You never answered me, by the way.” He murmurs, quiet enough that only you can hear.
You respond as diligently as you can, making sure you use as few word fillers as possible. It’s clear Gojo doesn’t like that. Or rather, he doesn’t like the nervousness your voice exudes but you doubt you could fix it, especially with his presence around.
“Sounds boring.” Gojo interrupts your rambles. “You don’t do anything else more entertaining?”
“No, sir,” you reply, “I’m only in charge of paperwork.”
Despite the other co-workers you have, you are still an anomaly. Everyone here has had an experience holding a gun—even Ijichi. It’s clear Geto ‘hiring’ you was a change in pattern, something you would always be grateful for. If he hadn't, you wouldn’t want to know what was in store for you.
That’s probably why Gojo was so curious about you. However, considering how close they were, you were now wondering why Geto hadn’t explained it.
“How long have you been working here—hey,look at me when you’re talking.”
You turn, and for the first time, you willingly face Gojo Satoru. His sunglasses are tilted down, and you can see his eyes now. They are blue, so painfully blue, like an ocean, curled up tightly within his eyes. Glittering tanzanite stares back at you—beautiful gemstones that glisten beneath the fluorescent light.
Gojo tilts his head, and you remember that he asked you a question.
“Three weeks, Sir.”
He doesn’t seem all that pleased with your answer. You wonder if you should have lied instead. He’s embarrassingly close, and the position he’s forced you into doesn’t help.
“That quick, huh?” Gojo murmurs, and he sounds a little impressed, “how many times have you and Suguru fucked?”
You gape at him, horrified at even the insinuation. It takes a while for you to even find your voice.
“I—we’ve never. Never.”
Gojo narrows his eyes. “You don’t have to lie to me. C’mon, I'm just curious.”
It feels even worse that Gojo's question isn't even unreasonable. Geto has always treated you differently. Softer. Kinder, if you wanted to be charitable. It isn't a stretch to assume you've been doing favors for the man, in this line of work, it must be a normal occurrence. Yet, you haven't. Apart from that one blunder weeks ago, Geto has never touched you inappropriately.
Still, you shake your head rapidly, feeling heat flush in your cheeks. Being cornered and interrogated like this is humiliating, especially in front of everyone. Ijichi is nice enough to look away while you’re being humiliated, but you know he’s listening. You know everyone’s listening.
Thankfully, Geto intervenes.
“You.” A sigh of exasperation. “Get off.”
Gojo rolls his eyes, but you almost cry in relief when he pushes away and stands up.
“We were bonding,” Gojo argues, though, like everything he says, it sounds like a tease.
Geto’s murmuring something else, and it’s clear that this interaction between them is normal. It's almost a repetition of what happened last time. Both times, you’d been the commonality.
Gojo leaves eventually, shooed away by his partner. The office finally grows quiet when the white-haired man disappears to God knows where. You feel like you can breathe again, but Geto still has not left.
When you look, he’s pinching the bridge of his nose, and you’re strangely reminded of a stressed mother. Finally, he lets out a breath, opening his eyes and staring down at you.
“I apologize for his behavior, my dear,” he says. There’s a hand on your shoulder, mirroring the touch Gojo gave you.
“He’s excitable, like a dog.” You don’t think that part was for you, though you don’t think you could ever even fathom comparing the terrifying anomaly that is Gojo to a mutt. You don’t respond. Geto squeezes your shoulder.
“Come to me if Satoru goes too far. I always take care of my people, don't I?”
He doesn’t leave until you give a nod. His hand finally retracts, allowing you to sink into your seat. You watch him until his figure disappears from view.
“I’m taking a break,” you say, not even a minute later.
Ijichi gives a nod as you push yourself up away from the computer. You spend your break the way you usually do: tucked inside the bathroom, trying to wonder how your life turned out this way.
🗡
Sometimes, you accompany Geto on his trips.
You don’t want to, but it’s not like you can reject his ‘requests.’ It’s part of the job, whether or not you can refuse is up to Geto’s whims.
The trips aren’t too bad. Most of the time, it’s a meeting with other dangerous men. You mainly just sit in a corner, peering down at the ground, trying your best not to be noticed. It works, most of the time. The few perks of this new life is how seldom the people of the underground want to associate with you, especially when you're with Geto. His presence is everywhere, a blanket of protection bestowed only to you. These days, you feel safe even when walking home alone at night.
The trips aren't too bad, but Gojo's insistence on tagging along changed even that.
You should be sitting up front. There's a perfectly vacate passenger seat, right beside Ijichi, the least dangerous man in the vehicle. Gojo had practically dragged you into the car with him, holding you hostage. Geto slid into the seat beside you, effectively trapping you between the two men.
Despite your attempts to keep your body to yourself, every other minute, your thighs brush against theirs. It's a miserable affair, but neither comment on your breach of personal space. They're both too invested in their own little worlds. Geto peers peacefully out the window, enjoying the city life pass by. Gojo is glued to his phone, tapping away every so often.
It's tempting to sneak a peek at them in their natural states, relaxed, unbothered. You don't stare for too long.
Every so often, their worlds will collide. Geto will point out a cat. Gojo would reach over you, showing Geto something funny on his phone. Unfortunately, Gojo catches your lingering eyes.
"Wanna see?" He doesn't bother to hear your response, shoving his phone in your face.
It's a cat video, of all things. You almost wanted to laugh at how normal it is, but you're too intimidated to do anything but give a strained smile, more designed to please. You expected something darker. More blood. More screams. On the screen, the orange kitten lightly bats at a ball of yarn.
"Got a cat?" Gojo asks, tucking away his phone.
"No, Mr. Gojo."
He tsks, but before your blood can freeze, he says, "I told you: It's Satoru."
He's been insistent about it these past few days: Satoru. Satoru. Call me Satoru, as though you'd even dare. Beside you, Geto rumbles out his disapproval.
"Don't be childish, Satoru." He chides.
The car rolls to a stop eventually. The relief in your lungs expands. Ijichi gets out first, followed by Geto. Before you can move, a hand grabs you by the chin, halting your movements.
"You're not leaving this car until you say it, pretty thing," Gojo tells you. "C'mon. Sa-to-ru."
Behind you, Geto sighs, but he doesn't move to stop him. Right, Geto promised he'd step in only when Gojo goes too far. Clearly, this is within his bounds.
You wilt under the hardened tanzanite.
"Satoru." You mutter.
Satisfied, Gojo releases his hold on you, hopping out the car, humming a happy tune.
Geto holds his hand out to you. You'd be an idiot not to take it.
"Bear with him today, dear," he tells you when you step out in the pavement, "he's in a mood."
Amythyst sears into you. You can only nod.
Even then, Geto doesn't release you. He gently maneuvers your arm until your elbow is interlocked with his. He takes his time, walking into the building, mindful of your heels. Ijichi and Gojo are already ahead. Gojo takes a look behind him, spots the two of you, scoffs, but doesn't do much more.
It's another thing you don't know how to feel about. The two have always instigated less than friendly gestures toward you. Yet, neither of the two have expressed any kind of jealousy. You know they are clearly lovers, yet the way they allow their significant other to behave with you makes you feel a bit nauseous.
Most likely, they see you as a pet. Not even a threat to their relationship. It makes sense. In their eyes, you're probably a scared gazelle in the middle of a lion's den. Cute. Something to play with.
There's another theory in your head that you're pushing away.
You follow the same procedure you've always followed. You stay still and silent, like a doll, right beside Geto. Strange men come up to him, greeting him with smug smiles. They barely give you a glance. That's good. It means they know you're one of Geto's.
Gojo being there changes the dynamic. He's more serious, in this setting. You sit right next to Geto's side, listening as Gojo talks. They both do that a lot. Talking. Negotiating. Scheming. You're a bit disappointed in yourself at how easy it is to let the words swirl around until there's nothing left to understand. It's easy to ignore them now. The horrors they partake in. The horrors you are indirectly part of.
Are you allowed to be innocent now that you work under these people? You've never pulled the trigger yourself, but is that an excuse? Morally speaking, you're the same as the men you are terrified of.
How laughable. You came to that conclusion right when they were discussing the price of narcotics.
Sometime later, you find yourself alone, roaming down an unfamiliar hall. It's foolish to be out without Geto or Gojo or even Ijichi, but Geto had an errand he wanted you to run. Now that it was complete, you needed to return back to him.
Except, you had no clue where he was.
You were lost. You should have known this would happen. Why didn't you pay more attention to where you were going? This wasn't any old building. Dangerous men lurked around, even the weaker ones carried guns and weapons.
It was only a matter of time before one of them caught you.
"Hey. You."
You were considered one of Geto's, but without him in sight, you were nothing. You knew that. It's why you cower immediately.
"I'm busy," you speak quickly, "My boss, Mr. Geto, he's—"
His hand is rough and scared and filthy on your skin. You are basically thrown against the wall, cornered against this stranger. He smiles. His teeth are yellowed and filled with tarter and plaque.
"C'mon, there's no need to rush. 'Just wanna have some fun. How much?" Disgust rolls off your tongue, but you don't have the courage to reveal it.
"I'm not like that," you mutter, "I'm not for sale."
But, aren't you? You've sold yourself to Geto, haven't you? Underneath his thumb, his whims. What makes you so much different from a hooker?
"Sure." And then there's a shift in his eyes. His face scrunches up, like he's just tasted something sour.
"Hold on...you're—you're that bastard's kid, aren't you?"
He says your last name, the name your father gave you with so much spite that you nearly flinch. In that moment, you realized that your father had messed with a lot more people than just Geto.
"Yeah yeah, you're a spitting fucking image!" He gripes you harsher. "Your daddy fucked me over while you're sitting over here nice and pretty? What the fuck?"
He's dead. He's dead and you hadn't spoken to him in over a decade, but his ghost still wants to punish you for being his kin. And this man is his executioner.
You're expecting something violent. Something that hurt more than his hand's squeezing your bicep. Perhaps he was, perhaps he would. Unfortunately, for him, Gojo interupted his plans.
You didn't even know that it was him, at first, on the floor, on top of the man. Gojo, despite his hungry smile, eager eyes, was always so angelic. He isn't supposed to be using his hands. He isn't supposed to inflict violence, not by himself.
He's punching him. The man isn't a man anymore, reduced to a mere punching back. Gojo doesn't stop until he breaks skin. He doesn't stop until you can hear a distinct crack.
Satoru doesn't stop until Suguru tells him to.
"Don't kill him." Geto warns. "It'd breach the agreement."
You can feel his presence, always silent, never revealing himself until he wants to be known. So unlike Gojo, who is hungry for even a second of attention. More than happy to spill blood over it.
Gojo grits his teeth, as though he's debating to even listen. He stands up eventually, chest heaving. His knuckles are caked in blood. It's not his. His glasses are off. His eyes are blown wide open like he's just hit the greatest high of his life. Geto calmly hands him a clean towel. You don’t want to know how many times this situation has repeated.
"Who gives a shit." Gojo bites out, his eyes , trailing to you, and you flinch away. He looks like a wild animal, growling and spitting. You don’t want to be next on his plate. Geto steps in front of you, barricading you from his sight.
The man on the ground had recovered enough to pathetically crawl away. It such a stark change to how he was just a few minutes ago, when he was lording over you, drunk off of his power.
Gojo steps on his calf. The broken thing gives a strangled scream. It only makes Gojo’s manic grin wider.
"Let him go. You made your point," Geto says, "calm down."
Firey blue eyes. Bright and violent. You don’t know how Suguru is able to withstand the intensity. Even you’re wilting when it’s not even directed towards you.
"Calm down?” Satoru asks. “You want me to calm down? Did you see what that bastard was gonna do to our—"
"Satoru." You've never heard Geto use this tone before. "Not here. Not now."
A silent battle warred between them. Tanzanite bore into amethyst. Which gem would rupture first, splinter into defeat?
Eventually, Gojo looks away, cursing. He glares down at you, as though he were blaming your weakness of all things. In a way, he’s not wrong to.
"I'll wait outside."
And then he's gone, striding down the corridor. Geto watches him go, before glancing down at you.
"Did he hurt you?" He asks.
You're not supposed to lie to him. You nod.
Geto pulls on your sleeves until he can see the imprints. Light bruising, nothing too horrible. You'll survive. Geto looks less than pleased. He glances down at the remnants of the man, the imprints of blood on the floor. You pitied the person who'd have to clean it up.
"I apologize, dear." He sighs. "I should have kept an eye on you."
He stares at the blood some more. Then, he smiles.
"Perhaps, it's better if I just let things run its course, this time."
You blink at him. He ignores your silent question. Instead, he wraps his arm around your shoulders, gently leading you outside. The car is already running. This time, Geto silently ushers you into the passenger seat. You take it immediately. Gojo hadn't taken his eyes off of you. You're grateful for any barrier.
This time, the car ride was silent. You don't relish in it. If anything, it just feels like the calm before the storm.
🗡
Soon, what Geto was talking about became apparent.
The man who had nearly been killed by Gojo had talked. You don't know what your father did to these men, perhaps you never will, but they didn't let you forget his crimes. If they couldn't get to him, then clearly, his kid was the next best option. You know it was them. It would be no one else.
Someone broke into your apartment one weekend. Everything was ruined. The TV was shattered and broken. Your mattress was tossed onto the floor. Every plate, cup, and bowl was smashed onto the floor. They took nothing, but they broke everything.
You hadn't been home that night. Ijichi needed more work from you. If you had, if you had come home that night, alone, locked the door, slept in that bed, then what would have—
Geto finds you on the stairs of your apartment, curled into a ball. You watch with bloodshot eyes as he observes the damage, clicking his tongue. He doesn't look particularly shocked.
You do nothing when you feel his hand on your shoulder, brushing against the sleeves, a feign of sympathy. You don't even care to ask how he came even though you never called him. Geto has a keen sense for you.
"It'll get worse." His voice comes. Soft, and sure.
Yeah, you knew that. You'd been naive, following after Geto with wide eyes. You thought that if he was untouchable, then so were you.
He speaks about an enemy group, people with debts with your father, just as he did. Of course, he knows who did this to you. You’d be more surprised if he didn’t.
You don’t care. His words go in one ear and out the other. The reasons don’t matter. Your home is still destroyed. It’s no longer yours.
"They got my phone, too," you mention to your discarded cell phone. "My emails, messages."
You're trapped, with nowhere else to turn. All the doors are shut and bolted, and only one remains open.
You turn to the devil.
"Can you...help?"
The angler fish uses its darkened habitat to its advantage. Hundreds of miles beneath the water's surface, it produces its own light as an olfactory bulb. It's an excellent predator, swinging its bio lantern around in the dark sea, the only light around for miles.
Geto tilts his head, a smile on perfect pink lips.
"You want my protection? It's a steep price, darling."
You feel like an empty well, forced to give and give until you're all dried up. Who could be so greedy? Who could be so willing to take?
"I've given you everything." It's barely a whisper. "What else do I have left to offer?"
He doesn't say anything to that, not at first. Geto kneels in front of you, a slender hand lifting your head up by the chin. Fingers trail down to your neck. Not choking, just holding. His thumb lightly presses into your throat.
"Not everything," Suguru says quietly.
He's right. You hadn't given him everything. So far, you have always been one of Geto's people. You were Geto's employee. You were indebted to him, but you weren't conquered by him.
Not yet.
He's kneeling in front of you, holding your soul in his hands and demanding for your heart. In a way, you find it a bit funny. You just don’t have the will to laugh anymore.
He's smiling again when he can tell you're finally starting to understand. "We couldn't have been that subtle, were we? Satoru never failed to express, at the very least."
No, they never tried to hide it. Even in the beginning, when you first met Suguru, you saw the hunger. You just tried to ignore it. You tried to keep your head in the sand, hoping it would pass. It makes you wonder if you had just agreed on that very night, led him into your bed, and bared it, would things have been different?
"I can leave. We can pretend this never happened," he coos, "it's all up to you, sweetheart."
He's making it seem like you had a choice. In a way, you did. You're choosing between two monsters. A known and an unknown. It takes longer than you'd like to figure out which one scares you more.
You take the bait. The angler fish siezes its prey.
"One night?" You're trying not to beg but it's coming out anyway. "Just—just one night?"
Geto leans forward, pressing a kiss on your forehead. It’s not an answer.
🗡
Despite the many months you've worked with him, you've never been to his home before.
It's not a house. A villa maybe. The property stretches itself stretches for miles. Filthy rich. Bleeding gold.
Geto—
("Suguru," he corrected you in the car, "considering this isn't really business, anymore.")
—had ushered you throw a double-door entrance. You couldn't even admire the architecture. Not when Gojo was already standing there. His eyes were hidden away, tucked underneath his glasses, but you still felt his stare. And all too wide smile stretched on his lips. He greeted Suguru with a kiss. For the first time, you looked down at their hands.
Matching rings.
You felt sick.
'It's all up to you, sweetheart' Suguru's voice rings through your head all through a dinner that's really nothing but a flimsy padding for the rest of the night. Food was served, wine was poured, all in a bid to ease you into it. As of right now, it's still your 'choice'. You know, without a doubt, if you backed out now, they'd let you go without a fuss. Suguru or Satoru themselves might drive you home. You'd crawl into bed without a scratch.
But you don't. You stare at your plate, picking at it when they ask questions. Satoru's in such a good mood he offers to feed you.
It's mostly because it doesn't feel real yet. You feel like you're watching yourself go through the movements. Eat. Speak when spoken to. Smile when prompted. Empty.
You only come back when you're standing in their room, and the door locks with a click.
The window blinds are drawn, but there's no light to seep in. The moon is already out. You wonder how many hours you've already spent here.
You take another step towards the bed. Then, you turn around.
Satoru and Suguru stare right back. You feel their heavy gazes immediately, flicking your eyes down to your feet, playing with your sleeves.
Satoru laughs, perceiving the terror as shyness, or maybe he doesn't care. He steps forward first.
"Don't be like that." He lightly chastises you, tucking one arm around your waist. "We'll be nice. Promise, baby. We're gonna be so so good for you."
He finds your lips, then. Satoru kisses like the sun, all fire and passion. Sinking into you, wanting to melt. It's impossible to turn away and ignore his presence. He gropes at your chest, your waist, trying to feel all of you at once. When he finally lets go, you feel dizzy.
Suguru's kisses ground you, makes remember where you are, who you're with. He's like the Earth you're crashing back into from your high. You hurdle through the atmosphere as his hands grasp at your throat. He never squeezes, but it's more than enough to sober you.
"You smell so nice, baby," Satoru says from his place at your neck. You flinch when teeth sink into your sink, but you don't complain.
"That's creepy, Satoru." Suguru chastizes him.
Serpentine eyes stare into yours. You don’t get the chance to hide before you feel his breath on your cheek. Suguru tugs at the hem of your dress.
“Take this off.” He whispers into your skin. “And get on the bed for us, sweetheart.”
This is the lesser monster. It’s a mantra you repeat in your head as you pliantly nod, hesitantly gripping the fabric of your dress. It’s horrifically easy to take it off and let it drop by your feet. You can’t bear to look at them anymore.
The soft duvet sinks under your weight. It looks expensive. Silky pillows. On either side is a nightstand covered with trinkets and personal items. You spot one of Suguru’s shirts on the floor, and it takes you a second to realize this is their room, not an impersonal guest room they use to fuck the less fortunate.
They stop paying attention to you. Satoru moans loudly into Suguru’s mouth. Suguru fiddles with the buttons on Satoru’s shirt, close to ripping it off entirely. Satoru palms at the tent in his pants as he unbuckles his pants. Suguru loosens his tie. They’re so violent with each other. Dread soaks through your palms, and you curl even further within yourself. You prayed this was all they wanted from you—someone to just watch, someone less interactive.
It’s not. When they pull away, their lips are swollen. Satoru leers at you, licking at his busted lip. You can’t seem to cry anymore.
They’re both half-naked. You can see the tattoos spread on Suguru’s hand, crawling up to his shoulder. Another peeks just behind Satoru’s neck. You only get a glimpse before he’s on top of you, eager for a continuation.
“Shit, you’re so soft.” He hisses as he squeezes your bra-covered breast. It doesn’t stay on for long. You wince when his fingers trace over your sensitive tits.
Your hands squeeze into fists, because you choose this, choose them. Satoru’s more than happy to sink into your breasts. His warm tongue swirls around a nipple before fully taking it in his mouth.
“Like a baby,” Suguru says. Satoru scoffs, tossing him an impressed look.
“Shut up.” Satoru releases your breast with a wet-sounding pop. They’ll be marks there tomorrow.
His fingers trail down your breasts, your ribs, your stomach. They linger on the band of your panties.
You can’t help it. It’s instinct.
He freezes when your fingers snap around his wrist. There’s no strength behind your grip, he pauses more out of surprise than anything.
His eyes, filled with hardened tanzanite, shoot up to yours. You think, if they’d be anyone else’s, you would have envied them.
He doesn’t say anything. Neither does Suguru. The silence is crushing.
“Sorry.” You feel pathetic apologizing, but it’s outweighed by the fear. “I—I’m sorry. I was just—”
“It’s okay, dear,” Suguru coos. “Satoru just scared you, hm? He’s such an idiot, isn’t he?” He violently smacks Satoru on the head. You flinch at the sound. Satoru just whines, rubbing at his temple.
“Mean.” Satoru childishly says, but he’s slower now, rolling down the hem of your panties.
Suguru is quick to distract you. He’s busy with his own bottoms before he’s taking you by the chin.
His cock is already leaking precum. He’s big, and you don’t think you’ll be able to do want he wants. Suguru smiles down at you, he doesn’t need to say anything. You’re swallowing down your self-hatred before opening your mouth.
You take him in just when Satoru buries his face between your thighs. The two of you have very different reacts. Satoru just hums, finding your clit to lick. You gasp, your legs jolting as you accidentally take Suguru even deeper.
He’s nice enough to let you go at your own pace. There’s a hand on your head, petting you, easing you through the process. Even then, your mouth is stretched uncomfortably wide. Tears prick at your eyes. Suguru’s face gets blurry. You don’t think you want to look anymore.
Below you, Satoru is enjoying his meal. He’s slobbering on your pussy, eating you out like it’s his last meal. His hot tongue finds his way into your sopping hole. You squeeze your eyes, a muffled whine comes from your mouth. The only loss of control Suguru shows was how he ever-so-slightly gripped your head.
By then, you’re unintentionally squeezing Satoru’s head in between your thighs. It’s so much. Pleasure tingles up your spine as Satoru continues to worship your pussy. His nose grinds into your clit and, for a moment, you’re wondering how he’s even breathing.
Suguru’s close. You can feel it every time his balls slap your chin. He’s speaking now, words stilted and heavy. It’s the only hint you get that he’s only holding his control by his teeth. That thought scares you. At any moment he’d snap, choking you with his cock, let you suffocate while he fills your dying mouth with his cum.
“Good,” he’s hissing out, “so good—good for me. C’mon, baby, take it.”
Satoru’s hand squeezes your ass, urging you to arch off the bed. You come like that, pressing your thighs around Satoru’s head, moaning around Suguru’s dick.
Suguru barely gives a grunt before something salty fills your mouth. You have to swallow it down. It burns your throat.
The air tastes sweet by the time Suguru’s cock leaves your mouth. You’re sucking in deep breaths, breasts heaving. Incidentally, you hadn’t suffocated Satoru. He’s kissing his way up your body. A trickle of Suguru’s cum had escaped your lips. His tongue presses against your chin before he pushes it back into your mouth. You can taste your tangy essence on his lips.
“Gotta’ swallow it all,” Satoru says with a teasing lilt, “he gets mad when it’s wasted.”
You can only nod. He gives you another wet kiss before he pulls away.
They switch places, Suguru moving over until he’s between your thighs. His large cock lays on your cunt. He’s still hard, his cock twitches when he angles his hips down, letting the head run over your leaking slit.
“The only reason he's going first is ‘cuz he’s been pining for you for months.” Satoru murmurs into your ear. Strangely enough, Suguru doesn’t comment. Your brain can’t work fast enough to comprehend what that means.
You hold your breath just as he presses himself inside. You’re almost grateful Satoru took the time to prepare you. His salivia, and your stretched walls make it easier for Suguru to bury his length inside you.
It doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. You hiss. Satoru feels enough sympathy to coo at you, kissing your neck, trying to distract you from the pain. It doesn't help, not even when Suguru presses light circles into your clit, easing his way through.
Suguru’s giving a harsh laugh when he’s fully seated inside, his hips meeting yours.
“Feel good, hm?” Satoru goads, reaching up to nibble on Suguru’s ear.
“Shit, so tight—fuck.”
Your hips twitch and you’re clenching down on him. Suguru doubles over, gritting his teeth.
“Oh, darling.” Scarred hands grasp your neck. “I’m going to ruin you, aren’t I?”
Your bottom lip wobbles. He’s eyeing you like a piece of meat. A gazelle in the lion’s den. To them, to men like them, you suppose you’re nothing more.
“Suguru.” You whisper because your voice is failing you. “You-you promised you’d be nice.”
Silence. And he’s laughing so hard his shoulders shake. They both are.
“We did promise that, didn’t we?” Suguru glances at Satoru. “Next time, then.”
He pulls his cock out of you slowly, dragging his head through your cunt. He’s so slow and deliberate that you think it’d feel better if he just went ahead and fucked you already.
And he was, technically. His hips rolled back into you, his cock disappearing inside your wet pussy with each thrust. It’s so much that you’re willingly arching your back, trying to do anything to alleviate the intensity.
Beside you, Satoru is pulling out his cock, his eyes never leaving the lewd sight of Suguru fucking himself into you.
“Fuck fuck fuck,” he’s cursing under his breath, fisting his cocl in one hand, “so fuckin’ hot.”
Suguru growls, grabbing Satoru’s stiff cock, crudely pumping his hand up and down. His movement are getting more erratic losing his pace, his patience. You’re at your end too, almost crying when someone squeezes your sensitive tits.
“How does it feel, darling?” Suguru asks with a ragged breath. His eyes are blown, you don’t even think he’s looking at you, anymore.
When you don't give an answer fast enough, Suguru snaps his hips punishingly in response. You give a sharp wail.
“I said.” Suguru hisses through his teeth. “Tell me how it feels.”
You can barely suck in a breath. You’re losing oxygen too fast.
But you’ll die if he keeps doing this.
“Good.” You tell the truth. “It—it feels good, Suguru.”
He grins, serpentine. You’ve lost a game you didn’t even know you were playing. His fingers descend on your clit.
“That’s my perfect darling.”
You sob when your walls clench around his cock, milking him dry. Your orgasm triggers his own. He curses, and something is spilled into your used cunt. Out the corner of your eye, Suguru and Satoru are kissing, going together like rabid dogs. Satoru shudders, and then all three of you are a panting mess.
You take in deep breaths, barely caring when Suguru lets out an exhausted laugh, collapsing into your chest. He licks at your sweaty skin. You just sink your head further into the pillows
It was over. It was finally over.
“You got it everywhere.” Suguru suddenly says, disgusted. He wipes Satoru’s cum off your stomach.
Satoru just snorts.
“I didn’t have a hole to dump it all in.” He snarks back. “Twice, by the way. So selfish, Sugu.”
“Quit whining.” Suguru groans. “You have your chance now, don’t you?”
What? Exhaustion blinks away.
Suguru stays by your side. Gojo is the one moving, rising from the blankets. He places his hands on either side of your hips, spreading your legs.
Geto catches your panic, easily catching you before you can even do anything. He hushes you while Satoru settles himself between your thighs, his cock pressing right at your slit.
“The night’s still young, dear.” He sounds almost sympathetic. “Be good for just a bit longer.”
By the time they’re finally done with you, it’d been hours. You can’t count how many positions they put you in, how many times your holes were filled by their cocks or their fingers or their mouths. You’re barely coherent by the time Suguru is tucking you under the soft duvet.
You feel sore and used and dirty. His soft words, filled with praises, just make you feel worse. Despite how exhausted you feel, you’re just waiting until they finally get bored of seeing your body and kick you out.
You’ll call a cab home. You’ll cry yourself to sleep. You’ll be okay.
They’re taking a while to get to that part. They’re mumbling soft words too each other, it sounds too intimate to be something you should be overhearing. Satoru’s at your back, hands curling around your waist, another brushing Suguru’s mussed hair. You can feel his soft breath at the nape of your neck.
Suguru’s eyes are on you. Amethyst watches you intently.
"Satoru,” he finally says, “go uphold our end of the deal."
Gojo groans, annoyed. He snuggles closer to you. "Why me? You go do it."
An adoring smile crinkles on Suguru’s lips. It makes him look younger.
"Because I don't trust you alone with this one for the night. Go."
“Ass.”
He sighs, but Gojo sits up, letting the covers shift off his naked body.
"Stay right here for me, baby, 'kay?" He leans over, pressing a delicate kiss on your hairline. Despite everything that happened tonight, this was the most intimate thing he'd done to you. It's too...loving.
When Satoru leaves, you wait for a few moments. Suguru had yet to tell you to go. It probably meant that he didn’t want to waste his breath dismissing you. You take the hint, rising from the bed.
His fingers snap around you wrist just as your feet touch the floor.
“Where are you going?” His voice doesn’t sound accusatory, but you flinch anyway.
A wobbly smile makes its way across your face, you hope it comes across as submissive. Weren’t you done? The deal was made, that meant you could leave now, right?
"I—I need to go home?" Suguru gives a doting smile, as though you said something adoringly naive. He barely pulls on your hand, gently leading you back under the covers.
You follow because the gun glints by the nightstand.
“Is that the best idea right now, dear?” He asks, “Who knows if those men have come back? I’d hate to see them find their target, wouldn’t you?”
He draws you into his chest. Your head is tucked underneath his chin.
“And besides, Satoru will be disappointed if you left without saying goodbye. It’d be horrible to deal with one of his tantrums so late at night.”
He buries his face into your hair, inhaling your scent.
“Why don’t you leave in the morning? I’ll be sure to drive you back myself. By then, I’m sure Satoru will have made the proper arrangements. Don’t tell him I told you this, but—” Suguru drops his voice as though he’s scared someone might overhear”—he tends to be more efficient when you’re in the picture.”
You don’t know what he means by that, and you don’t think you want to know. Still, you lift your head, finding the courage to stare at him.
His eyes are such a beautiful color. Glittering purple in the moonlight. You’d stare at them all night if you could.
“I can leave in the morning?”
Suguru hums, kissing your forehead.
It’s not an answer.
#yandere jjk#yandere#dark jjk#dark gojo satoru#dark content#yandere gojo satoru#non con touching#yandere geto suguru#dark geto suguru#dark satosugu#yandere satosugu#tw:blood#tw:noncon/dubcon
418 notes
·
View notes
Text
long hair // jake sim x reader smut
busanking photo credit edited by me
MDNI: oral fem recieving, pu$$y drunk jake, teasing jake, dom jake, sub AFAB reader, pet names (princess, baby, angel cuz y/n makes me cringe sometimes), long haired jake bias wrecked me at fate plus, lemme know if u want a part two i could go on and on ab <3
“step away from the scissors.” you voice came out a lot more stern and harsh than you intended but it had its own effect, jake sharply turning away from the mirror and setting down the offending tool and moving toward you ready to apologize and grovel like he should.
“princess the company said it’s getting too long, just a little off won’t hurt right?” his arms looped around your waist, tugging you towards him and pouting down at you. the bathroom of the hotel you were staying for the night was connected to your shared room, did he really think you’d let him get away with it so easily? at least now you were out of the crime scene, closer to bed where you could lull him to sleep. you wouldn’t concede to his whining or whatever the fuck the company wanted.
“no you-no it’s perfect as it is.” you gave him your best puppy dog eyes, wide and round as you looked up at him pitifully. as if you hadn’t just demanded he set down the scissors.
“you can do it for me, just an inch baby please?” his hands were lingering, tracing the back of your spine, thumb brushing against the small sliver of skin on your hip that your low rise skirt exposed. he was hypnotizing you, getting his way slowly and you hated that he was still sweaty with his hair styled from the concert. his voice gravelly from use and you wanted nothing but to give in to him. and he could see you were conceding from how your wide pretty eyes fluttered from his touch, how your hand absent mindedly bunched up the material of his shirt.
“nuh uh, it’s your hair you can do whatever you want to it, i won’t partake in a crime.” you pouted and attempted to stomp away, his finger hooking under the band of your skirt .
“don’t be mad angel, at least tell me why it would be so bad.” he turns you by the hips towards him, standing less close than before but still close enough to smell his maddening cologne mixed with scent. even his sweat smelled good to you, you were a goner. a lost cause.
“are you fishing for compliments jake sim?” you narrowed your eyes, crossing them over your chest and jake’s eyes unabashedly trailed to your now propped up cleavage. you fought an eye roll at his actions, what was he insecure after the show? like thousands of girls weren’t screaming their lungs out when he raked his long hair back.
“no besides that you think it looks good, do i not look good in shorter hair?” so your pretty boy was actually a bit insecure maybe you shouldn’t have been so dramatic. he was the hottest man you’d ever seen and not to mention you were in love with him, if he was bald you’d still find him attractive.
“of course you do…it’s just…it’s like my anchor.” you mumbled out the last bit, eyes looking away from him as your cheeks heated. really you’d been thinking about it since you saw the scissors.
“your anchor?” jake was actually confused by you, he wasn’t teasing you and the realization made you blush more. maybe you were more perverted than you thought.
“you know when my mind is being blown having something to hold onto helps.” and how badly you would miss having something to hold onto as jake’s nose and mouth pressed against where you needed him most and made you see stars.
jake’s furrowed brows of confusion eased out as his expression morphed into a smug smile. oh god you were fucked now. “is that right baby? i can’t take that away from you can i?” he was smiling like a cat that had gotten its toy, walking closer to you as you stepped back, arms uncrossing as your legs hit the back of the bed. you almost fell backwards from the surprise of it and instead braced yourselves against his solid chest. looking up at him then was a recipe for disaster as his dark eyes narrowed and laser focused on your lips. were they always this puffy? had you been gnawing at them? his poor baby all stressed about his hair.
“ake-“ you warned, a little terrified by the look in his eyes and also too turned on to stop him. you knew that look, it always ended with you passing out from exhaustion and him still not being done after you lost count of how many rounds, orgasms, screams of his name.
“come on baby, i gotta see it to believe it.” he bit his lip at your small hands feebly pressed against his pecs. you were sure you were soaked below, you’d never live it down. his leg slotted between yours, pushing up against your underwear, wearing a skirt was another cause for jake to lose his composure very quickly.
“please-“ your soft voice didn’t need to say much more, as his hands pushed you down, kneeling in front of you as you now sat on the bed. his head between your legs faster than you could grasp what was happening. his veined hands squeezed the plush of your thighs, your knee highs only covered the skin visible to the world, the rest for his pleasure. he loved when you wore skirts, but it made him unrulier. you still remembered when you wore a particularly short one and you both fucked in the green room before a show.
“pretty baby, how could i take anything from you?” you squirmed in his hold, the vibrations from his deep voice against your inner thighs made you even needier. his soft lips pressed to the sensitive skin.
“jake-.” his left hand pressed your hip down as you bucked in his hold, his tongue teasing the edge of your underwear not delving under the fabric where you needed him.
“what do ya need baby?” he loved hearing you say it, confirming you were just as gone as him.
“your mouth please.” and that was enough for him, usually he wanted specifics but tonight he wanted to taste the sweet scent that was already teasing his senses. he pressed a adoring kiss against your clothed core before weaving his arms under your thighs and pulling you against him, one of your legs was resting on his shoulders now the other spread for him to slot into.
he kissed at your underwear not giving up the chance to tease you, “so wet already baby.” jake could feel himself grow hard in his pants, losing himself slowly to your taste.
he couldn’t take much more teasing himself any more as he pulled your underwear off you, shoving up your skirt and inspecting your pretty cunt under the dim beside lamp light. his second favorite girl shone in the light, red and puffy and slick with need. you squirmed from his attention, feeling ashamed from his eye contact and he quickly dove in, giving into the meal in front of him. his thick tongue purposefully collected your slick before circling your perked up clit. you whined at the contact, hands flying to his hair and the smug fucker smiled against you.
“taste so sweet, need more.” he was already drunk off you, tongue licking up everything he could as his nose clumsily bumped against your clit making you clutch his dark strands a bit tighter. he noticed that, now surging so his sharp nose grinded against your clit. your fingers twitched as the obscene sound of his devouring you filled the air. your quiet sighs were music to his ears and the taste of your ichor staining the back of his teeth made his head dizzy. one of his hands left your hip and traveled down to your inner thigh. the cold of his rings made you shiver in his hold.
it was all too much, he kissed against your folds, sloppily making out with your cunt as two of his lithe fingers entered you, curling up and filling you instantly. you clenched around him as more slick poured out of you, jake quickly drinking it in and pulling more out of you. his mouth moved fervently against you, tongue delving into where his fingers drew moans of his name from you. the combination of his nose, fingers, and mouth made you reach your climax closer than ever. his fingers moved in and out you, you embarrassingly kept pouring out straight into his mouth and clenching around his fingers. as he felt you getting closer he removed his fingers, pulling you flat against his face as his tongue fucked you instead, his nose bumping your clit as he moved back and forth and making you scream his name as you came hard on his tongue. once your back had stopped arching and your mind came back to earth you realized your needy boyfriend was still lapping at your juices, your sensitive cunt making you whine at his touch. you shoved at his forehead with your fingers still in his hair, a few strands of his long bangs fell into his face with his chin and lips shining in the light from your wetness and you felt yourself grow hot at the image. you were so glad you told him to put down the scissors.
“come on baby one more, can’t get enough of your taste.” he licked his fingers clean, eyes shuttering close as he moaned at the taste. you clenched on air as your pussy drunk boyfriend begged for another round. you knew it was never just one more round, it would be at least four with you falling asleep with his dick inside you.
“but what about cutting your hair?” you wanted him to admit defeat and his eyes shone at your words, smile lifting his puffy lips.
“princess i meant it when i said i’d never take anything away from you.” he smiled wide at you that puppy smile that was entirely too endearing and you almost forgot he was still between your legs. you whined a bit at his words, thankful and a little bit dazed from how insane his statement was. yeah you lost the bratty attitude pretty fast, you’d go for as many rounds as he needed, because you needed it too.
#jake sim smut#jake sim#sim jaeyun#sim jaeyun smut#jake sim x reader#jake sim x y/n#jake sim x you#enhypen smut#enhypen x reader#enhypen imagines#jake sim imagines
218 notes
·
View notes
Text
good luck, babe! | chapter 3
regina george x reader
summary: After the Queen Bee of North Shore makes up rumors about you taking pictures of girls in the changing room, you decide to take matters into your own hands. You didn’t think that would mean coming to a reluctant agreement with Regina George.
a/n: not proofread 😗 sorry
———————————————————————
After Regina’s demand that you help her with her math, you set up an arrangement for you to come over after school on Mondays and Wednesdays. Lucky you.
She’s in the lowest possible math class you can take as a junior, so you don’t think the tutoring thing will be too hard. What you’re really worried about is being at her house. The woods were your turf; Regina’s house was completely different territory. God, you wish you never got caught up in any of this in the first place. Not like it was your fault.
What makes it even worse is that Regina isn’t even bad company most of the time. Sure, she’s a total bitch, but she’s funny and some of her stories are entertaining to listen to. Mostly because they’re so stupid. You’d consider her a friend if you could find an ounce of compassion in her and if she didn’t practically ruin your life at school. You had to start eating lunch in the bathroom because even your group of guitar geeks started to turn on you. It was embarrassing, but perhaps a blessing in disguise since you don’t really like talking to them anyway. It was kind of nice to be ignored sometimes.
On Monday, you go back behind the baseball field anyway. You have no way to communicate with Regina and you doubt she’ll want to be seen with you in the student parking lot, so you wait for her to find you.
This was such a waste of time. Lately it felt like your entire life revolved around her. You’re a pariah at school because of rumors she made up, and then right after the bell rings you’re smoking and laughing with her. Just to go home, sleep, and do it all again the next day. You lay your head back against a tree. The days were starting to get colder.
After a couple of minutes, you almost doze off until you hear the harsh snap of twigs under storming feet. Uh-oh. Regina was pissed.
“What the hell? Are you stupid? Did you forget what day it is?” You hear her before you even see her. If she was gonna be like this, you’d rather just go home. You bite your tongue absentmindedly.
“Aren’t I too embarrassing to be seen going home with?” you respond dryly, but you can’t help but smile a bit. She got mad over the stupidest things. If anyone should be angry, it should be you.
“Obviously. But making me walk all the way back here was cruel.” she says with a small raise of her eyebrows, and you realize she’s not really pissed. You’re not used to her joking with you. You flash her a smile.
“I’m sure you’ll survive,” you snide, throwing one strap of your bag back over your shoulder.
“Won’t. Anyway, are we going or not?” Regina says with exaggerated annoyance, turning back around with a grace you’ll never have in a million years. She throws her hair over her shoulder and begins to stalk off between the trees.
The drive to Regina’s house is awkward. Mostly because she makes you sit in the back in case anyone were to see you in the passenger seat. Just about everyone in town knew what Regina’s car looked like, so you can’t say you’re surprised.
When Regina finally pulls into her massive driveway, you’re instantly in awe of the giant house that sits before you. You’ve seen it before on Instagram, but never in person. It has elegant pillars and a round shape that makes it look like a giant jewelry box. You grew up on the poorer side, so it feels like a movie to step into a house like this.
“Ugh. You’re acting like Cady, it’s gross,” you hear Regina complain as you look around the inside of the house with wonder. It’s so pristine that it doesn’t even look lived in. How a child was raised here is beyond you.
Regina seems eager to get upstairs, and you realize why when you see a woman round the corner as if she’s been waiting for this moment her entire life. You can tell she’s Regina’s mother almost immediately. They both have bleach blonde hair, sharp blue eyes, and a sharp face. Regina’s is intimidating while her mother’s is a bit kinder.
“Ooh, who’s this? Definitely not the usual three!” Regina’s mother asks with sparking excitement, taking a few steps towards you and reaching her hands out to cup your face. You’re sure she’s just trying to be nice, but her hands are cold and her attention on you is uncomfortable. Regina’s annoyance is almost palpable in the air.
“She’s just helping me with math, don’t be gross,” Regina spits out, as if the words were bile in her throat. “Please leave.”
“Okay, sweetie!” Regina’s mother says, her voice still light as if Regina’s tone didn’t phase her at all. You blink in shock at the whole interaction as her hands drop from your cheeks. “Let me know if you want snacks later! Slay the day away!”
You cringe a bit at her use of modern slang, but you instantly feel bad. She’s obviously trying her best.
Regina seems to have the same reaction, just without the pity. She immediately purses her lips in annoyance and shepards you up the stairs, apparently urgent to get away from her mother. This is the first and only time you will ever be grateful for Regina.
“God, sorry about that. She’s so annoying. It’s just like being at school; she literally wants to be me.” Regina scoffs, the perfect mix of annoyed and amused. You hardly even hear her anyway just by the sight of her massive room. It’s probably over triple the size of your own and a lot more majestic. It’s almost regal. If you lived in a castle like this, you’d act like a princess too.
Regina throws her bag on the ground and kicks her shoes off. She’s wearing a black leather vest today along with pants of a similar texture. The whole biker aesthetic she’s got going on clashes with her bright pink room, but somehow she makes it work. She looks good in the leather.
She obviously doesn’t want to start right away, but you’re not trying to stay for dinner so you make her get her math stuff out. Apparently, sitting at her desk is too much effort for her, so you both end up sitting on her bed.
She’s taking Geometry, which you don’t know how that’s even possible for a junior, but it starts to make sense when Regina displays not even an ounce of skill when you go through her review packet. If she’s trying to stay on the soccer team, it’s going to take a lot of work on her part. She doesn’t even seem remotely interested in what you’re trying to explain. You’re biting back the annoyance at this point; she could at least make the smallest effort.
“Regina, you’re not gonna learn anything unless you actually pay attention to what I’m saying.” you eventually snap, putting your head in your hands for a moment as you rub your temple. Proofs were basically just logic and she was even having trouble with that. It didn’t help that you were starving and Regina seemed adamant on keeping her mother from bringing the two of you anything.
“I was at school all day, I’m tired,” she says lazily, pushing the side of her head into one of her palms. Her hair furls up into her hand and she looks straight out of a daydream. How she manages to looks perfectly articulated even while annoyed is beyond you.
“So am I, but I’m here helping you instead of in my bed. At your request, by the way, so can you please just help me out here?” You want so badly to snap at her, but she really does look tired. You seriously can’t believe you feel bad for Regina George, whose biggest problem is staying awake while trying to do homework, but you’re tired too so you kinda get it. She’s basically falling asleep in the palm of her hand until she looks up at you indignantly.
“Do you want to play soccer?” you ask, putting your hands in your lap. Have to scare her into doing math somehow.
Regina seems to think for a moment before pursing her lips slightly. “You are so annoying.” she says, but props her head up to look at the packet again. You smile a bit and point back at where you left off.
It takes a while, but eventually you get some terms down. She’s only doing proofs for line segments so far, so you try to explain to her that it’s basically just a set of directions of how to figure something out. She kind of gets it. ‘Kind of’ will keep her on the soccer team, so overall you’re happy with today’s progress.
As Regina puts her stuff back into her bag, you slide off the bed to get your own. You want to go home, but at the same time, you want to pass out on Regina’s bed and never get back up. It was almost comforting in here with the large, soft bed and the colorfully decorated walls. You bet sleeping in that bed would be like drowning in dough.
Regina frowns at you when you stand up and gather your things. Per usual, you pretend you don’t notice to avoid an unsavory comment.
“Where are you going?” she asks. You bite your lip. You guess pretending not to notice isn’t going to work this time around.
“It’s staring to get dark out, I should probably go.” you say with a shrug. You’d probably have to make dinner for your brother tonight.
“Well, duh, it gets dark out, like, super early now.” she complains, looking at you the same way she looks at Gretchen when she says something Regina doesn’t like. “Come on, don’t be a loser. I wanna show you something.”
You like it a lot more when she’s nice to you than when she’s not, and the small smile on her lips makes her look all too innocent. You know this is just how she lures people in; you’d seen it happen in real time with Cady. But if you were aware of it, then you couldn’t be fooled, right? Besides, you want to know what she has to show you. Your brother was old enough to make his own dinner.
“Fine,” you say with a slight roll of your eyes, and Regina gives you an approving smile. You can kind of understand why people at school seek out Regina’s approval so much. It does feel nice to be accepted by her, even if it’s just by the small gesture of staying in Regina’s room a little longer. You’re not dependant on it like they are, however. It’s just nice to not be slandered by her for once.
You sit back down on Regina’s bed as she looks in her closet for something, supposedly whatever she wants to show you. The bed’s so lush it threatens to swallow you. Your eyes watch Regina’s back as she digs through baskets of what you think to be old clothes. You’d always imagined she would have one of those giant walk-in closets that are almost like another room, but her closet looks similar to yours, maybe a bit more modern.
Regina comes back with a big pink book in one hand and a dangerous smile on her lips. You raise an eyebrow at her as she tosses it on the bed, front cover up. It says “Burn Book” in different sized letters that remind you of those ransom notes you see on TV. You raise your eyebrows.
“What is this? Did you make it?” you ask as she plops back down on the bed beside you. You reach a hand out to touch the letters, but Regina slaps your wrist away before you get the chance.
“Obviously, I made it,” she responds snarkily, flipping open the cover. “I kinda forgot about it until we looked through it a couple weeks ago. Now I can’t stop.”
At first you think it’s some kind of scrapbook until you see the text underneath each photo. Calling people bitches, sluts, shrimps, or whichever demeaning name Regina saw fit. It’s demented, but exactly what you’d expect from Regina. It’s almost like having a catalog of every rumor she’s ever made up. Sure enough, you see your name on the next page. The caption on your page is along the lines of what you hear in the halls every time the bell rings.
“So this is where that came from?” you ask, feeling the annoyance bubble up inside of you again. You were beginning to forget about it after hanging out with Regina so much, she almost seemed like somewhat of a friend.
“Come on, don’t act all pissed about it. I thought you didn’t care.” she says, sounding more annoyed you mentioned it than apathetic.
“I punched you. I obviously care.” you snap in response.
What you expect to come next is an apology. You openly admitted that what Regina did hurt your feelings, although it was more of the fact that her rumors drove away all of your friends. She quite literally ruined your social life, even if she does hang out with you now. If you could even call it that. All she does is smoke your weed for free in exchange for her to not further ruin your life.
But she doesn’t apologize. Regina just scoffs then goes right back to flipping through the pages of the Burn Book, completely unbothered. She really doesn’t care. You know she doesn’t really know you, but you thought she knew you well enough to at least feel bad about spreading false information about you.
You should get angry again, storm off like you did the other day in the woods. But all you do is sit there. Why do you care, anyway? You knew she was awful, inside and out, when you made that deal with her. You know she doesn’t care about how her actions affect people, not even her closest friends. Even if she would be nothing without them. It makes sense she would disregard your feelings just the same.
You realize you’re stupid for expecting an apology from Regina. She obviously didn’t care. It’s not like you were expecting to form some kind of bond with her, but you thought she’d at least recognize you as someone decent instead of the predator she’s made you out to be. Maybe it’s unfair of you to expect decency from someone infamous for being intolerable. You sigh deeply through your nose and push yourself off the bed.
“I really should go. See you,” you say, exasperated, slinging your bag over your shoulder and leaving the room before Regina gets the chance to respond. You think she yells something at you, but you’re already halfway down the stairs. She doesn’t follow you.
It was probably a dick move to leave so suddenly, but you had to get out of there. You know you shouldn’t be surprised Regina doesn’t care about ruining your reputation, but you were starting to think she was all right. You roll your eyes. This is so dumb. You shouldn’t even be giving it second thought. This is just the way that it is now, whether you like it or not.
-
By the time you finish walking home, it’s already dark outside. There’s a pot of mac and cheese sitting on the stove, the light still left on in the kitchen. You guess your brother managed to figure it out.
You’re hungry, but so tired from not eating that all you want to do is lay down. You make your way down the hall to your room. You’re sure you’ll find your way to the kitchen sometime in the night.
You don’t bother to change as you lay down on your bed. It seems so insignificant compared to Regina’s giant princess bed that seemed more like laying on the world’s softest stuffed animal. Yours was like a rock in comparison.
You pull your cart out of your bra and take a couple hits, staring up at the dark ceiling. Everything’s already beginning to feel farther away, but it may just be the illusion of the dark. You can’t seem to get Regina off your mind. It was such a random thing to begin your junior year; you’d never imagined you’d fall victim to one of her rumors in such a devastating way. And then the whole smoking after school thing and now tutoring her. It almost felt like Regina wanted to spend time with you the way she always asks you to stay longer than you had to.
It felt rewarding to have her attention. You can kind of understand the dependence everyone at school has to it now. She’s charming in a way that lures people in, only to discard them after she gets what she wants. You’ve noticed the first few signs of Regina trying to do the same to you, but you’re not sure what you can offer her that she doesn’t already have. Either way, you have to be careful. She could just be trying to get more shit on you to spread around. You can’t fathom why; the worst thing you’ve ever done to her is avoid her.
And the fact she didn’t apologize is really starting to bother you. You feel it’s unfair to see someone every single day, smoke with them, tell them the little parts of your day, and then not even feel bad for turning them into an outcast. Maybe it’s on you for even expecting one. This is Regina George, after all. Even if she did treat you like a friend sometimes, which isn’t much better considering the way she treats Karen, Gretchen, and Cady.
Why you’re still thinking about this is beyond you. Maybe you’re not as immune to her manipulation as you thought. Whether it was positive or negative thoughts, you were still thinking about her. It was really starting to piss you off. Just the fact that you didn’t mind her company anymore was enough to make you mad.
You roll over and stick your nose in another blanket. The weed does its job at making you feel disconnected from your body and you’re thankful for it. This whole mess had you thinking way too much. It was stupid.
Maybe you’ll ask for an apology tomorrow.
#mean girls#mean girls 2024#regina george x reader#mean girs x reader#regina george#regina george x you#mean girls 2024 x reader
179 notes
·
View notes
Text
3.3 Bucky
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader
Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.
Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, brunch, toxic plants.
Word Count: 1.5k
Previously On...: Your coworkers warned you about the history of the Winter Soldier.
A/N: Time for Brunch!
NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates
Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!
Bucky held the diner door open, allowing Lily to walk in first. It was a sort of tradition of theirs– brunch every other Saturday at Melinda’s, a cute little cafe about a twenty minute drive from the Compound– that they’d been doing for years now.
“I’m so glad to finally be spending some time together,” Lily said as she slid into their usual booth by the window. “I feel like it’s been ages.”
Bucky chuckled as he picked up his menu– not like he didn’t already know exactly what he was going to get: a black coffee, scrambled eggs with sausage and bacon, a plate of home fries, and a short stack of chocolate chip pancakes. “Lil, we hung out last night,” he told her.
“Last night doesn’t count,” she pouted, picking up a sugar packet from the little ceramic container on the table and beginning to play with it.
Bucky put down the menu. “Why not?” he asked.
Before she could answer him, the waitress came to take their order. Bucky liked her– Mya; she was always friendly and put an extra pancake on the pile for him, free of charge.
“Hey there, Buck,” she greeted warmly, “Lily. Good to see you two again.”
“Hey, Mya,” Bucky replied with a dazzling smile. “How are you this morning? How’s Frankie?” Mya was a single mother, working two jobs, so Bucky always made sure to tip well and inquire about her son.
“He’s good, Buck; thanks for asking. He really appreciates the autographed Avengers picture you got for him; brought it to school for Show & Tell and everything.”
Bucky laughed good naturedly. “My pleasure,” he said. “They always make us take those dumb publicity photos; figured something good should come outta them.”
“Well, he’s very grateful, all the same,” she said with a grin. “How are–”
“I’ll take a Cobb salad, no bacon, dressing on the side, and a Diet Sprite. Thank you,” Lily interjected, smile tight.
Mya blinked a few times before replying “Yeah, sure, absolutely,” as if she hadn’t just been interrupted. She turned to Bucky. “The usual for you, Buck?” she asked.
“Yeah, please. Thanks, Mya.” Mya took their menus and, promising their food would be right out, walked away. Bucky followed her with his eyes to make sure she was well out of earshot before he turned back to Lily. “What the hell, Lil?” he asked her.
“What?” she asked, seemingly nonchalantly. “I’m hungry.”
“So, you couldn’t wait five seconds for her to finish speaking?” he asked accusingly.
“Hey, she gets paid to serve, not to flirt,” Lily snapped.
Bucky rolled his eyes as he leaned back. “You always think everyone’s flirting with me. We were just talking about her kid. What is with you today?”
Lily sighed and looked up at him, blue eyes turning sad. “I’m sorry– I’m just tired. I told you, I didn’t sleep well last night, and it’s making me cranky. Don’t be too mad at me, okay, Jamie?” She smiled and reached her hand across the table to grab his. “It’s your fault, after all.” She winked at him.
Bucky smiled and squeezed her hand. “I told you I was sorry,” he said. “And now I’m making it up to you by buying you brunch. Gotta take care of my best girl, right?” Lily beamed at him.
“Right,” she agreed with a nod. “Hey, just out of curiosity, where did you end up staying last night? Did you go back to the Tower?” Though Tony Stark had moved the Avengers operation to the Compound Upstate, he still utilized the Tower for Stark Industries, and kept apartments available there for the team to use if they found themselves in the city overnight.
Bucky pulled his hand back from hers and scratched the back of his neck. Lily squinted her eyes at him, and he knew he’d just revealed a sure tell that he’d done something she’d not be pleased with.
“Oh my god, Bucky,” Lily said angrily. “Do not tell me you stayed the night with Nat’s friend.” The way she said ‘friend,’ with her voice getting incredibly shrill at the end, had Bucky inwardly cringing.
“Well, by the time I got her back to her place,” Bucky defended, “it was already pouring. Wouldn’t’ve been safe for me to head back in those conditions.”
Lily seemed to be mulling over his words. “I guess,” she said, after a moment. “So, what? You sleep on the couch?”
For some reason, Bucky couldn’t get the words out to tell his best friend the truth– that, no, he hadn’t slept on Major’s couch. In fact, he’d slept on her bed, but it didn’t really count, because the two of them had hardly done any sleeping at all. Instead, he just brought his coffee cup to his lips, took a long sip, and nodded.
“Good,” said Lily, seeming satisfied with his answer. “I don’t like the idea of you hanging out with her. She was a total bitch.”
Bucky frowned. He realized that the interaction between Major and Lily last night had been… tense, but he fully hadn’t expected that she would call Major a bitch and tell him she didn’t want him to spend time with her. “She was just defending herself, Lil,” he said cautiously. “You were kinda out of line with that anti-girly stuff.”
Lily gave him a wounded look. “I cannot believe you would take the side of a complete stranger over your own best friend,” she said, looking affronted. “She was incredibly rude to me.”
Mya returned then with their meals, and Bucky waited until she had walked away before continuing: “I’m not siding with anyone. I just think you should take into consideration that you were rude to her, first, Lil. She was acting defensive because you put her on the defensive.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong!” Lily crossed her arms, pouting.
“Lil, doesn’t it bother you that you don’t have any female friends?” he asked carefully.
She scoffed. “What do I need female friends for?” she asked. “They just wanna talk about stupid girl shit and it’s dull and boring. Besides, I have you. I don’t need other friends.”
It struck Bucky then how very sad that seemed. Sure, he didn’t have many friends, himself; just Steve, Lily, Sam, and the team, but he was a 100-plus year old, formerly brainwashed, ex-assassin with PTSD and a list of issues a mile long, so it was to be expected. But Lily? Surely a young, vibrant person like her should be hanging with more people than just him?
“This was what Major was talking about,” Bucky said gently, choosing to ignore his observation for the time being. “You can think feminine things are dull, and boring, but it’s not fair of you to consider them stupid just because you don’t enjoy them. And it’s definitely not cool of you to look down on people who do.”
To Bucky’s dismay, Lily’s bottom lip began to tremble, and he feared she was going to start crying. “Why are you mad at me?” she pouted.
Bucky felt his facial features soften as he looked at her. “I’m not mad at you, Lil. I just think that, maybe, you should reconsider your stance on some things, that’s all.”
Lily seemed to consider his words for a moment, before she broke out into a giant grin. “Okay, Jamie,” she said, digging back into her Cobb salad. “If it’ll make you happy, I’ll do better.”
Well, Bucky thought, that went better than expected.
They ate companionably for a while after that, sharing small talk and enjoying each other’s company. When it came time to leave, Bucky paid the bill, making sure to leave a little extra for Mya to make up for Lily’s earlier rudeness.
As they were walking out, Lily interlocked her arm with his. “Do you want to do a movie night at my place tonight?” she asked. Since Lily was a member of SHIELD, and not an Avenger proper, she didn’t have an apartment at the Compound. Instead, like most of the other agents who were based there, she had a place of her own in town. Usually, Bucky relished spending time at her place, where it was quiet and far less crowded.
But then Bucky remembered he’d asked Major out to dinner for this evening. “Shit, Lil,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with his vibranium hand. “I can’t tonight; I’m sorry.”
“What, you abandoning me for a hot date or something?” The words were phrased as a joke, but there was an edge to her voice that told Bucky she was genuinely afraid that was why he was saying no.
He let out a forced laugh. “Of course not,” he said, immediately wondering why he was lying to her. “I just, uh, promised Sam we’d do a guys’ night. You know how he gets if he thinks people aren’t paying enough attention to him.”
Lily scoffed. “He’s such a fucking drama queen,” she said.
“Heh, yeah.” Bucky sent out a silent apology to both Major and Sam for the lie, and hoped he could get Sam to back him up on it. He had told Bucky he’d be his wingman when it came to Major, after all.
<- Previous Part / Next Part ->
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky x you#bucky x reader#bucky fanfic#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky x female reader#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fanfiction#james bucky buchanan barnes#james buchanan barnes#mcu bucky barnes#james barnes
75 notes
·
View notes
Note
I know there’s a bunch of stuff about Bruce being oblivious about Tim being his parent. I want to see the moment of dawning realization. (This might have been addressed.) I don’t know if it’s a slip of the tongue where he calls Tim “Dad” or someone in the know casually asking Bruce about his parent (referring to Tim and maybe even Bruce answering without thinking about it and then realizing what he said). I want to know if Bruce freaks and tries to establish himself as the parent, only for it to backfire horribly, or if he makes a family tree and stares at it until he starts to have those optical illusions behind his eyes that you get when you look at things too long.
In the Tim is Bruce's parent AU, there is a semi-established point where Bruce finds out. It's after the BruceQuest. I'll go more in depth below, but I wanted to acknowledge that I'm totally chill if people utilize any of the ideas for their own fanwork (and thus have a different "discovery" method). Feel free to write or draw about whatever scenario inspires you most.
Anyways, the semi-established one already cooked up occurs because Tim has a famous reddit account. From years of receiving and then finally giving advice to other parents, he's established himself on a few parenting threads. His account has become something of a legend, especially for his advice with superpowered kids. He hasn't asked for advice for a few years and mainly just helps other parents out. From his past requests and his more recent advice giving, everyone knows that the kid he is raising is quite the handful. The kid sneaks out, gets hurt often, doesn't sleep, doesn't eat, destroys things when mad, screams, pushes away others, and isolates. The legend account states that they adopted their kid and, after establishing rules and open communication, have been doing much better with the extremely traumatized child.
Bruce, who's returned from the timestream and realized how important family is (and how much of a lacking dad he's been), goes to reddit for advice. He finds this really famous account with an extremely traumatized kid and realizes a lot of the advice (and perspective of where the kid is coming from) is helpful to Bruce's relationship with his own kids. Tim and Bruce befriend each other unknowingly until Bruce asks for advice that is pretty similar to Tim's siblings.
Tim suggests Bruce implement specific advice to deduce that Bruce is the account he's befriended.
Tim has a mental breakdown for a bit cause of that.
Bruce notices that his online friend is being distant and becomes a bit sad. He's suspicious, but he's trying to respect boundaries now. Besides, this account is at least five years old (Tim is eighteen now and started when he was thirteen).
I don't have quite the method of discovery set, but Bruce finds out both that it's Tim's account and that the "kid" is actually Bruce (although feel free to add misunderstanding shenanigans and angst where Bruce thinks Tim's been hiding his kid from him for that long).
Bruce, understandably, does not take this well. A child should not parent an adult. The fact that Tim did is a failing on Bruce's part. Bruce tries to correct this by suddenly being a parent to Tim (and ignoring some of the advice/habits Bruce has picked up from Tim). This is frustrating for both parties. Tim is an adult and has always been allergic to parenting/authority. He would rather have a fake uncle than a parent who tells him what to do (I know this isn't the actual reason for the fake uncle). Bruce doesn't know how to parent a child like Tim either.
Suffice to say, their relationship falls to part for a bit while they both try to work through the new dynamics and emotions. Tim is trying really hard to let Bruce be a parent to Tim, but it's just not their relationship. Tim has always been the parent. It feels condescending, belittling, and restrictive.
The entire time Bruce is trying to change their dynamics, he's getting the sense that Tim is only letting him do this in the way that a father let's their kid make mistakes or decisions so that they learn a lesson or practice. It doesn't feel genuine.
Eventually, they manage to figure out the new limits of their relationship and new boundaries. Bruce will always be Tim's child, but Bruce doesn't have to acknowledge Tim as his dad. He never did before.
But, yes. Bruce does spend many days after the realization blankly staring in space as his entire worldview shifts, and he goes over every interaction he's ever had with Tim
87 notes
·
View notes
Text
Genshin SAGAU, Creator of Teyvat, but not Humanity Part 5
This chapter was like pulling teeth, I swear I switched POV's like 3 times.
Thank you guys so much for reading! Just as a heads up future chapters will be much much slower to update since real life hast decided to reassert it's presence. That being said, enjoy!
Warning for Spoilers up to 4.6
Masterlist | Prev Part
~~~
The sharp edge of a sword hovered extremely close to your face. Its wielder's furious golden eyes stared you down.
“Who are you, how did you get here?” They demanded, their floating companion hovering behind their shoulder anxiously, watching this exchange.
For some reason, even though your life was being threatened, you struggled to feel any sense of fear or urgency. That’s probably something you should revisit when you didn’t have a sharp weapon pointed at you.
But you did, so you should pay attention to that, shouldn’t you.
Oh, but you haven’t, you’ve probably been silent for a while, getting lost in thought.
You redirect your attention back to your current situation.
You are in this fancy bedroom you don’t recognize, whilst being threatened at sword point by a pretty teenager you don’t recognize.
Great, go brain, you can do things!
You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for an explanation.
“I don’t mean any harm,” you say, slowly.
The teen in question didn’t seem to believe you. They narrowed their eyes further, actually they were really pretty. Not just the teen themselves, though they are quite pretty, but their eyes sparkled like molten gold, not a common eye color at all.
Now that you think of it, are golden eyes even real? Don’t you need contacts to get golden eyes?
Oh wait, you’ve gotten off track, you’re being threatened.
They were saying something, their mouth was moving and you missed all of it.
You blinked, “sorry could you repeat that I didn’t hear it,” you asked politely, hoping they wouldn’t get mad at the request.
Oh looks like they did, considering how they’re clenching their teeth, they don’t look particularly pleased with you.
Well, you suppose it is rather rude to ignore someone mid confrontation.
Why were you in a confrontation anyways, you weren’t a particularly confrontational person, you liked to avoid drama whenever possible.
You probably shouldn’t be here, you realized. It’d be nice if you were somewhere else, like a nice park or a meadow or something.
Just as you finished your train of thought your surroundings changed.
The chirping of birds and the warmth of the sunlight distracted you from your earlier train of thought.
You were in a lovely meadow, with beautiful golden flowers and a gigantic tree with blue crystalline branches.
It seemed rather empty though, which was a bit of a shame considering how nice it is, but you were hardly going to complain about having the entire place to yourself.
You started walking through the meadow, when a slight pain in your foot distracted you.
You checked to see that you were pricked by a rather sharp piece of gravel.
That’s weird, why are you barefoot outside? Now that you think about it, your clothes are rather strange.
It’s this white flowy garment, reminiscent of the clothing worn by Ancient Grecians.
But you weren’t cold at all, it was honestly quite comfortable.
Wait, what were you thinking about again.
Oh right, you’re talking a walk in this pretty meadow!
~~~
The Wanderer, or well, Hat Guy as people now know him sighed as he flipped through a tedious book about the Origins of the Production of Wood Lacquer in Inazuma and its Effects on Weaponry.
Unfortunately for him, I was there, does not count as a citable source if he doesn’t have the receipts to prove it. Now he has to sort through all these old books to find one with the information he needs to prove his point.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a familiar figure examining the shelves.
It seems that they noticed him too, judging by the white haired fairy’s flailing. How troublesome.
“What are you doing here,” she whispered fiercely, at least she had enough decency to not raise her voice in a library.
He looked over at his piles of books and papers covering his workstation, and then back at her, wondering if she actually expected an answer to such an obvious question.
She seemed to realize that too, considering the sheepish look she adopted. “Well, you can’t blame me for being curious. You don’t seem like a big library kind of guy.”
“I’m not,” he replied curtly, turning back to his workstation. “Trust me, if I had it any other way, I wouldn’t be here right now.”
Yet somehow, him turning his back to them and ignoring their presence wasn’t hint enough of his lack of enthusiasm to engage in conversation with the two, since they ended up hovering over his shoulder, attempting to read his papers and more importantly, distracting him from his work.
He swears, if he could get a headache, he would. He ends up slapping his hand on top of his notes, disrupting their reading and whipped his head back to give them the most annoyed glare he can.
It doesn’t work, because of course it doesn’t.
Instead the Traveler just gave him a smug smirk, they did this on purpose to annoy him, which makes it worse because he fell for it.
“What do you want,” he gritted out, knowing they won’t let him have his peace until they’re satisfied.
“I need to speak with Nahida,”
Wanderer scoffed at that, “then why are you bothering me? Did the Matra turn you away at the door and now you're begging for my help to get you in?”
“Not at all,” the Traveler smiled, “I just wouldn’t mind your insight on the topic as well,”
“Plus we couldn’t find her in the Sanctuary of Surasthana, ” Paimon chimed in.
He couldn’t stop himself from pulling a face at that inane statement, “Why would she be in the Sanctuary of Surasthana?”
“It’s where we’d meet up with her before,”
“That’s because she didn’t have any rooms or offices of her own,” he explained slowly, like he was talking to a child, well he probably was considering the intellect of the white haired one. “Why would she willingly go back to her prison of 500 years when she now has the resources of all of Sumeru to build herself a new place.”
The white haired fairy in question made an exaggerated face of revelation that he couldn’t help but roll his eyes at.
He looks at his notes longingly, well not quite longingly, it’s still quite annoying, but its bound to be less troublesome than whatever the Traveler has planned.
Sighing to himself, he gathered up his notes and research and headed to the exit of the House of Daena, the Traveler and Paimon hot on his heels.
The three made their way up the winding paths of the Akademya. The puppet ignores all the glances and whispers garnered by the students and visitors alike, and moves as fast as he can without breaking into an outright run.
It doesn’t take long for them to arrive at The Dendro Archon’s new residence. Designed by the Light of Kshahrewar himself, its a beautiful structure with many windows and balconies, designed to be everything the Sanctuary was not.
He headed straight in, the Matra having long gotten used to his frequent comings and goings with the Dendro Archon. He honestly doesn't know what reasoning they’ve decided on to explain why Lesser Lord Kusanali spends so much time with him, and honestly he couldn’t care less. It’s simply the fact that they couldn’t keep their mouths shut and now he has to deal with complete strangers coming up to him in an attempt to learn more about her.
He could hear the other two, awing at the architecture as they made their way in. Privately he did appreciate the architect's tact in designing this building. Whilst still made in the classic rounded Sumeru fashion, he managed to avoid any references to the Sanctuary of Surasthana, ensuring that there weren't many large empty spaces or darkened ceilings.
He knew she still avoided the building whenever she could, even though she rejected his proposition to have it torn down. It’s a curious relationship, for whilst it was her prison for so long, it was also the only place she knew and could call home.
Regardless of the matter, it wasn’t for him to pry.
Before long he had reached her office, offering a cursory knock before barging his way in. If she had a problem with his way of entering her rooms and offices she would've long told him to stop, but she didn’t so he didn’t.
It was a lot messier than he’d seen it last. Papers and reports scattered around the office, stacked in messy piles on her desk.
Lesser Lord Kusanali blinked up at him from where she was seated, before breaking into a smile when the Traveler and Paimon walked in.
She greeted them with enthusiasm, moving out from behind her desk to talk to them properly.
He tuned out the rest of their small talk, it was nothing more than empty pleasantries to fill the air before they got the actually important parts that were relevant to his presence.
“-ject Stuzha,”
He blinked, focusing back onto the topic of conversation.
“Hmm, I must admit I haven’t seen many records on this project before,” the Dendro Archon said, her expectant gaze turning to him.
He couldn't help but bristle slightly at the attention. “I’ve already given you most of the information I have about the Fatui.”
“Most is not all,” she replied simply, “and besides, from what the Traveler just said it seems to be something they’re mobilizing all their forces on.”
Logically he knew that it would be in everyone’s best interests if he told them all he knew about the project, but old habits die hard. The Tsaritsa’s court was nothing more than the world most extensive chess game. Every action and movement had to be calculated to give the player the best advantage, every scrap of information hard won.
As much as it rankled him to admit, he was only the 6th Harbinger and the Director only gave out as much information as was strictly required, no more no less. But he did have some information, some he was given, some through sleuthing and others through his own conjecture.
He warned them of that before launching into an explanation of what he had seen and figured out.
“From the timing of things, it is clear that Project Stuzha is related to the gnosis, especially since the only one of the seven that they’re missing is the Pyro Gnosis.” His audience nodded at that assumption.
“It’s also related in some way to the state of things in Teyvat and the survival of humanity as a species. As things stand, Teyvat is becoming more and more inhabitable for regular humans. With ley line disorders, abyssal energy and dead godly remains lurking about. Project Stuzha is supposed to fix that, permanently.”
“But how,” Paimon interrupted, her head darting back and forth in confusion.
“No idea,” he shrugged, “All I know is that it has something to do with the Abyss.”
“The Abyss? I thought that place had nothing but monsters and dead gods?”
Wanderer shook his head at that, “That’s just a common misconception. There’s actually the remains of an entire world down there. A human world.”
Both the Traveler and Paimon looked shocked at that statement.
He’d already shared this information with Lesser Lord Kusanali so she didn’t look surprised, but she was deep in thought.
“I didn’t know that there were entire realms banished to the abyss, and I thought Enkanomiya was creepy.”
“It wasn't banished,” he refuted, “From my investigations, it seems that the civilization was built and founded there.”
There was a moment of silence as they contemplated his words.
“That brings up more questions about the origins of humans,” Lesser Lord Kusanali commented, “Irregardless of that, I believe you had another question for us Traveler?”
“Oh right!,” Paimon chimed in, looking over to the Traveler who stepped forward.
“We’re looking more into the blessings that keep happening and we'd like to hear your opinion of it.” They paused, looking between the two of them.
“Ah,” the Dendro Archon paused, looking at Wanderer.
“The thing is, we've already tried,”
“And failed.” He couldn’t help but add, to quash any hope that the duo may have.
“What do you mean by failed!” The fairy gasped.
“Well, that’s not exactly the case,” she tried to reassure. “It’s more like, there weren’t any results where we were looking. ”
“That’s just another way to say you found nothing!”
“Actually Paimon, finding nothing gives you a lot of information about where it is found!” She explained. “The thing is, the blessings we experienced aren’t connected to Irminsul in any way, so we can conclude that it originated from somewhere outside of Teyvat.”
”Does that mean that it can’t be tracked?” The Traveler asked,
”Hmm, well from our experiences, it’s quite easy for those who’ve been blessed to recognize each other since they can feel each other’s blessing, but the range for that is no more than the size of two Sumpter Beasts.”
That was an irritating experience, having to stand in the middle of Sumeru City for hours as that annoying forest watcher had to try to find him through only his blessing. It took over half the day before they concluded that the energy of the blessing was far too weak to use as a tracking mechanism.
Thankfully, any experiments they had were benign and didn’t involve anything close to what he imagined that damned doctor attempted to inflict on Tartaglia before being shut down by the Tsaritsa.
If that were the case he’d probably have hated the flame flickering in his hollow chest a lot more.
Well, hate is a strong word. He didn’t deny that having the blessing made him a lot stronger than he ever was previously and on some level is grateful for its calming warmth. But a private part of him wished it had appeared to him sooner.
Logically he understood that the blessings were in some way connected to the Traveler and that they hadn’t appeared until well after his appointment as a Harbinger.
But the other small quiet part of him wonders just how different his life could’ve been had this blessing appeared before that.
Would he have been able to save Niwa, or that little boy. Maybe even the Sho-
No
He can’t go down that train of thought.
What’s done is done and all he can do now is attempt to make amends and move on.
He tuned back into the topic only to find them talking about some kind of dessert they had in fontaine. Ugh.
He waited,
And waited,
And waited some more.
…
This conversation was taking too long.
And he isn’t even in it!
“Can I leave,” he butted in, realizing that their conversation is never going to go back to anything useful.
“Oh I’m sorry, are we interrupting your incredibly important work about glazeworks or something,” Pamon mocked.
Ignoring her he turned to the Dendro Archon who looked delighted.
“You’re still working on the new essay?” She exclaimed, clapping her hands together in delight.
He felt his eyebrow twitch in irritation. “I would’ve had it done a week ago, if someone actually let me use accurate sources,” he snapped.
“Oh come on, it’s not so bad. Besides, how are you going to explain how Hat Guy knows so much about ancient Inazumen weapon crafting techniques that have been lost to time.”
“You could vouch for me,”
“But that wouldn’t be fair to all the other students now would it.”
He took a deep breath, remembering how he’d already tried and failed to argue his case a week prior, “so can I go or what?”
“Oh course, what kind of Archon of Wisdom would I be if I prevented learning and research!”
He took that as his cue to leave, stomping out of her office, faintly hearing the fairy commenting about how she’s surprised that he’s actually doing his schoolwork.
As if he’d let some inconsequential mortal get better grades than him.
Besides, being the top of his class means that he won’t have any irritating students come up to him and ask if he needs help or offer tutoring.
Of course, being top of his class also means that there are now people coming to him to ask for tutoring or help.
But at least those are easier to turn away.
Hopefully he doesn’t get interrupted anymore today, if so he should be able to finish this reference by tonight.
~~~
Masterlist | Prev Part
Things are heating up huh!
I wonder where our dear creator has found themselves. Oh and don't worry too much about their state of mind, that will come up again soon!
Taglist: @bunniotomia,@lucid-stories, @ymechi, @chocogi, @ra404, @ash1, @esthelily, @tottybear, @mmeatt, @quacking-simp, @reemthetheme, @universallyenthusiastsage, @resident-cryptid, @fantasyhopperhea, @thedevioussmirk, @etherisy, @naynayaa
Once again, my ask box is open if you'd like to join the taglist or just leave comments or questions. I promise I don't bite!
72 notes
·
View notes
Note
The way substance abuse has been handled on the show thus far genuinely upsets me and reeks of writers who either 1.) don't understand the subject matter they're presenting and haven't done even the bare minimum to research it or, worse, 2.) simply don't care.
Apologies for the slight rant incoming, your comment about how it has been mostly "handled" off-screen got me going because that's 100% true and in that truth is such a missed opportunity for the show. The way it has been handled winds up feeling incredibly shallow and juvenile at the end of the day, especially for a piece of media that is attempting to present itself as "adult" and navigate multiple incredibly sensitive topics. I'll try not to get into my own personal experiences and will speak broadly, but the show uses substance abuse more as a cheap character flaw to poke fun at or something to magically handwave away when it is inconvenient, rather than the life-altering, debilitating illness that it is.
Nothing about Angel's use is ever meaningfully explored. It's so (apparently) unimportant to his arc and development that one rude comment from Husk (a character who ALSO has a problem with gambling and alcohol that is never addressed) is all it takes for him to suddenly "resist temptation" and be shown as "recovered" (unless I'm misremembering). Or was he suddenly going to counseling off-screen too and its just another thing that will be told to us rather than shown? And how does Charlie even handle that at the Hotel (I'd be really interested in this as a moment for her character to have to grow/change too)? Does she even understand substance abuse and the many unaddressed systemic factors that can influence it? Or is the entire recovery process just shame based (because that works so well /s) combined with some more corny trust exercises? Why is this incredibly serious topic relegated to the background as if it's unimportant?
Recovery is hard. It is emotional and exhausting. Withdrawal (depending on what you're coming off of) can sometimes mean excruciating, unimaginable pain and in some cases people literally die. It is not a funny "ha-ha I take drugs because I'm chaotic and wild" quirk to be adored or glorified and it definitely should not be presented as something that can be wrapped up in a month or two off-screen without any development whatsoever. That's just insulting.
When you approach a topic like substance abuse and recovery, I personally feel you need to take in all sides of it. All the missteps that come with it (two steps forward one step back - mistakes are expected and okay), the self-loathing, the guilt and shame, the joy, the sense of freedom, the loss, and the best part of all: the incredibly difficult but liberating journey that is rebuilding your life and learning to love yourself and your body again, once you've chosen to be free and to live life.
Mad props to anyone who has ever battled this disease. You are strong, you are worth it and you are valued. Lol I am so sorry for going off here but I so appreciate you calling out the lack of exploration on this topic in the show. I guess I didn't even realize how annoyed and upset it was making me feel (praying this is coherent...).
This was absolutely coherent don’t worry!! Im really glad to see other people talking about this. I myself have not struggled with drug addiction but I have struggled with other kinds and as someone that studies a bunch of medical junk, I’d say I’m decently knowledgeable.
I’m mainly going to focus on Angel for this since he’s the main character I write for, but I assure you other characters addictions are also handled in my rewrite.
During the actual canon show, we don’t see Angel actually abusing substances that often; there’s a few times, most notably in episode 4, but from the rest of the show onward we hardly see anything. Yes in episode 6 they mentioned relapsing, which, mind you, was done horribly, but I digress. They touch on relapsing; Angel relapses, and then… what..??? What happened from that? I don’t feel upset or second hand guilt of any kind from this scene because we haven’t seen Angel’s attempts to stay sobre and off drugs.
His name is fucking Angel Dust. You don’t, I dunno, think that’d entail a higher dependency on drugs? Why do you think he named himself that?
About his name before anything else, the show has so much potential later on to talk about Angel picking out his drag name and why he chose that specifically. So much potential to explore how he views drugs and himself. He sees them as an escape and something “fun” to take his mind off of his actual life. When you die in a fucking coma and wake up in hell as a spider you’re going to want an escape. You will want to ignore reality. I am fully convinced Angel picked his name once he started performing because thats what he needed at the time. He needs to be like that to survive in hell. Angel is an incredibly mentally ill, troubled, traumatised, and unstable person, and being surrounded by so much intense negative influence only amplifies his current problems. I don’t mean to drag Vox in here but in my last redesign post I mentioned how very mildly bad people can become even worse people in hell because of the environment and this is no different for Angel. He’s been surrounded by crime and drugs his entire life and unable to live comfortably because of his sexuality. He has very likely been struggling with substances since he was a teen. Possibly even younger. He is not going to suddenly get over his addiction because of something like this. It could pave the way to him looking into dealing with it, but things like this can take years. I don’t remember when my addiction started; I’ve been clean for 2 1/2 years now I think, but the amount of relapsing and anguish I experienced while working towards that isn’t something that can be done in a few days or months. I still struggle with feeling like I deserve to say I’m recovering.
I’m hoping they tactfully handle this as they should, but my hopes are low. It’s okay to show a character relapsing. It’s okay to show a character feeling guilty. What matters is that the struggle is there to signify they’re trying. For a character with a song called “Addict” you really don’t see much of it. Drug and alcohol addiction is not a silly thing to just twiddle your fingers with and be like “well I guess thats over!” It’s incredibly insensitive to do so.
Whenever I write about Angel’s struggles with addictions, I focus on how small they can feel until you realise what’s actually happening. Just me talking about my rewrite again, but to get my ideas out here: Angel smokes often. He smokes at the studio when he’s stressed, he smokes at the hotel when he’s stressed, he smokes at in alleyways when he’s bored, there’s almost no location he won’t, but sometimes he tries to smoke less. His lungs aren’t the same as humans and technically he has 2 pairs of lungs, but smoking causes him to cough. This is painful in general and especially painful for Angel since he has barbs going down the back of his throat. Imagine choking on sandpaper, kind of like that. It’s painful, he doesn’t like the sound, Fat Nuggets REALLY doesn’t like the sound, and it’s an overall inconvenience, so he tries to stop smoking as much. Periods like this usually go fine for him until the stress returns or he starts to feel the withdrawal. Withdrawal from any sort of addiction is terrible, and in Angel’s case, just from not smoking it worsens his mental state further. He becomes irritable and stressed and that stress leads to wanting to smoke again to calm down. He may resist a few times and those times should be praised, but he gives in eventually. One cigarette to calm down becomes two, then three, and before he can process himself getting carried away, the entire pack is gone. It’s things like this that make addiction horrible. It’s something that deeply scared me when I was struggling. When I was struggling I was still in the mindset of “I can stop when I want to” and then being so suddenly hit in the face with the realisation that I’m not longer in control of this is terrifying. I could not stop when I wanted to. There were even points where I didn’t want to stop. Even just getting the smallest glimpse of this in an incredibly serious manner with Angel Dust would surprise me. To think the bar is this low on a show that seemingly prides itself on tackling such sensitive topics like you said is appalling. Your show shouldn’t have to be told how to write itself.
#hazbin hotel#raimble#hazbin critical#hazbin hotel criticism#hazbin hotel critical#angel dust#hazbin angel dust#hazbin angel#angel dust hazbin#anti vivziepop#tw drugs#cw drugs#tw addiction#cw addiction#tw relapse#cw relapse#tw relapse mention#cw relapse mention#tw substance abuse#cw substance abuse
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
Alchemy 410, Chapter 6. Enthalpy
RATING: M; NSFW
PAIRING: Gale x OC
TAGS: Enemies to friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, pre-canon, Gale in college, drunk sex, one night stand, potion accident (kinda), creampie (if you squint), PIV sex, face-sitting, nerds falling in love in slow motion
SUMMARY: Gale and Illyth decide to try the draught of truth for themselves and get more than they bargained for.
WORD COUNT: 3k
A/N: Whooo boy, this is a very spicy chapter. Hold on to your hats, y’all.
Gale held the spare potion vial between his fingers, grinning mischievously. “The ultimate test,” he said with drunken bravado. “To try it for ourselves.”
“This is a terrible idea,” Illyth slurred. The only reason Gale was able to talk her into this was because they were both too drunk to think rationally.
“Oh, you’re no fun,” Gale goaded drunkenly. “We can make a game of it. We flip a copper and whoever loses shall drink the potion.”
“No, no, no, no,” Illyth argued. “We both drink half. May not be as strong, but I don’t give up my secrets for free. Certainly not to you.”
Gale chuckled. “Alright, alright.” He uncorked the bottle and raised it as if making a toast. “To the truth, whatever it may be.”
He took a long swig of the potion before passing it to Illyth. He grimaced as he swallowed, shaking his head vigorously. “By Mystra’s eyelids, that’s vile.”
Illyth drank her half, gagging and sputtering as she finished. “Understatement of the century.”
She blinked hard, swallowing her saliva to clear the bitter potion’s flavor from her mouth. It should be kicking in any moment…
“So, Illyth,” Gale began, smirking. His speech was still slurred from the ale he and Illyth drank earlier. “What are you trying to prove?”
Illyth’s posture stiffened. “Oh, fuck,” she sighed. “I envy you. You have it so damn easy around here. You steal the bloody Blackstaff and somehow don’t get expelled. You barely show up to class and still do as well as I do, even though I work my fingers to the bone. It drives me mad.”
“I constantly feel like I don’t belong here and that I need to prove to everyone how capable I am. You never have to do that. Your presence is desired and accepted. I am persona non grata. If I let my guard down for a damn second, the whole act will fall apart and I’ll just be a scared drow, trying to fit where she doesn’t belong.”
Illyth looked into Gale’s eyes as her shoulders heaved. She was breathing heavily as the truth spilled from her like the Chionthar into the sea. There was no holding back now.
“What I hate the most is that I don’t even hate you anymore,” she spat. “I hate that I appreciate your presence.”
Gale fell silent as he processed Illyth’s words. The impenetrable fortress she created within herself crumbled, leaving her exposed and vulnerable.
“Illyth, if there is anyone who belongs here at Blackstaff, it’s you,” he said finally. The alcohol and the potion coursed through Gale’s veins and honesty began to pour from Gale’s lips before he could contain himself. “You frustrate me. You bait and tease me, but not even a moment later, you cover me with a blanket as I sleep. You mystify me, Illyth. You are a puzzle I cannot solve. And —“
He was interrupted by Illyth drunkenly pressing her lips to his. Gale’s lips melted into hers and he moaned softly. The taste of ale lingered in their mouths, a reminder of their abandoned inhibitions. Illyth sucked flirtatiously at his lower lip before pulling back.
“Gods, you really are puzzling,” Gale smirked. “Lucky for you, I like puzzles.”
He rolled onto his knees and planted a hand beside Illyth’s hip. His gaze smoldered as he gazed into her eyes.
“And I enjoy a challenge even more.”
Illyth chuckled under her breath as she reached out to cup Gale’s freshly shaven cheek. She appreciated the smoothness of his skin under her hand, stroking his jawline with her thumb.
“Then let’s play, prodigy.”
Gale pulled back, his eyes wide with realization. “I mustn’t forget.”
He stood and stumbled to his nightstand, producing a small vial labeled “nararoot tincture”. Still plenty left, Gale noted. He removed a smattering of scrolls and books from his unmade bed and beckoned Illyth to join him.
Illyth looked at the glass bottle and smirked. Although it was usually steeped in boiling water and consumed as a tea, nararoot was a strong anti-contraceptive. It was even stronger in a concentrated format, such as a tincture.
“Oh, mighty presumptuous of you, Dekarios,” Illyth drawled teasingly.
“Shut up,” Gale snorted, setting the bottle aside. “A wizard is always prepared.”
Illyth eyed the vial in Gale’s hand. It was much emptier than she expected it would’ve been. Her mind began to wander down an uncomfortable path; Who else shared Gale’s bed? Who were they? Were they skinnier, taller and prettier? Were they from the Sea Ward like him?
“Open up,” Gale instructed, placing his thumb on Illyth’s chin.
Illyth opened her mouth as instructed, allowing Gale to squeeze the pipette’s contents into her waiting mouth.
“Good, good,” Gale cooed. This was a ritual for him when he took a lover to his bed. He wanted them to feel protected and secure under his hands, including with respect to contraceptives.
The nararoot tincture was bittersweet and warm, emitting a pleasant heat as Illyth swallowed it.
“Shall we?” Gale rasped, bringing his hand to Illyth’s cheek.
Illyth pulled Gale close to her, leaning back until they were both on the bed. Gale hungrily pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was sloppy and passionate, the sort of kiss one would share in an alcohol-fueled liaison.
Gale bit Illyth’s lower lip playfully as he kissed her. His tongue slid past hers, exploring her mouth while she explored his. Gale knelt over her, pressing one of her legs to the side as he advanced his knee forward. He planted his hands on either side of her head to steady himself as he kissed her.
Their foreheads rested together momentarily in a shared moment of tenderness; the calm before the storm of passion.
“Is this what you want?” Gale rasped.
“Yes,” Illyth breathed. “Gods, yes.”
Gale caressed Illyth’s cheek, appreciating its softness. He pressed his lips to hers once more as his fingers worked deftly to unfasten her robe to reveal the violet underdress that lay beneath it.
He traced his hands over the ample curvature of her body. She was short and full-figured, something that made her distinct from the other elves at the academy. Gale’s lips parted as he exhaled shakily.
“Mystra-ryl,” he whispered, looking into Illyth’s heavily lidded eyes. He could feel himself stiffening, his cock straining against his trousers. Never before had he experienced such desire, such an urge to sink himself into a lover.
Gale’s hands trailed down the curve of Illyth’s hips, finding the hem of her dress and snaking his long fingers beneath it to find Illyth’s thighs. He bit his lower lip as he squeezed the soft skin that lay between her legs, just below the warmth of her slit.
Illyth was unable to stifle the soft moan that fell from her lips at Gale’s exploration of her body. Her hips lifted reflexively towards him, responding carnally to his touch.
“Feeling eager, are you?” Gale smirked, finding the hem of Illyth’s underwear. “Never did I think I would find my hands between your thighs, but —” He pulled Illyth’s underwear over her thighs, discarding them unceremoniously on the floor. “— I cannot say I am displeased by this turn of events. Far from it, in fact.”
“I’ll ask you about that in the morning,” Illyth snorted.
Gale grunted, working to pull the underdress over Illyth’s shoulders and head. “Gods,” Gale breathed, taking in the sight of her body. The moonlight that shone through the window danced over Illyth’s bare body which lay ensconced in his dark grey bedsheets.
Illyth looked up at Gale and saw the moonlight and saw the flickering candles highlighting the bone structure of his face and the taut muscles of his neck. The shadows danced over him as he shed his robes and underclothes, stripping down to meet Illyth’s level of nakedness. She couldn’t help but bit her lower lip as she took in the sight of Gale’s exposed body. His body was lean, but not excessively so. He practiced staff-fighting and his body showed it. Illyth’s heart skipped a beat as he stood there, taking in the shape of Illyth’s body once more.
Gale laid alongside Illyth as his hands traced the length of her body. He was learning the geography of her figure, studying it as if committing it to memory. One hand came to rest on her hip while the other buried itself in her thick drow-white hair. His fingers carded through her tresses, gaining enough purchase to pull gently. Even in his intoxication, he approached intimacy as if each encounter was a work of art unto itself.
Illyth moaned softly as Gale pulled at her hair, revealing her neck and collarbone. His lips traveled from beneath her delicately pointed ears downwards to the rounded prominence of her breast, ultimately bringing his lips and tongue to suck gently at her nipple.
“Gods above,” Illyth whined. Her body was responding so eagerly to his touch. Her hand curled around Gale’s stiffened cock, caressing the foreskin with her thumb.
Gale let out a huff of pleasure as Illyth began to stroke his member. His eyelids fluttered shut at the softness of her hands and the care with which she tended to him.
“Illyth,” Gale breathed, returning his lips to hers in a passionate kiss. “A woman like you deserves pleasure and I intend to give that to you tonight.”
In a swift but unexpectedly dexterous movement, Gale pulled Illyth on top of him. Her soft, silken pussy brushed against his cock, causing him to moan. “I wish to caress you in a different manner, if I may.”
Illyth chuckled under her breath, looking at Gale with confusion. “What?”
Gale half-smirked as he planted his hands on Illyth’s full hips. “Allow me to be more explicit. Sit on my face, Illyth.”
Illyth bit her lower lip, moving into a kneeling position above Gale’s face. Before she could alight to his lips, Gale gripped her hips and pulled her towards him. Illyth squeaked in surprise, feeling Gale’s tongue against her sensitive skin.
“Oh, Gods above,” Illyth rasped, gripping the headboard to steady herself. Her lower body shuddered with pleasure as Gale encircled her clitoris with his lips, flicking his tongue against it.
Gale looked up at Illyth from beneath her, a place he never imagined being. He never imagined tasting and savoring her arousal, but the reality was far better than anything his mind could conjure. While cunnilingus was an activity that Gale enjoyed thoroughly, watching Illyth respond to his touch made it that much more pleasurable for him.
He moaned softly against her pussy as he lapped his tongue over its inner vestibule. His eyes locked with Illyth’s, adding another component of intimacy as he watched her gaze intensify.
Illyth whimpered loudly, trying to stifle herself. The walls of the dorms were thin and if she was too loud, Gale’s neighbors would no doubt hear them.
“No,” Gale murmured, breaking away from his ministrations. “Don’t you dare silence yourself. As long as I am betwixt your thighs, smelling and tasting and touching you, I wish to hear you too.”
Illyth chuckled under her breath. “If you say so.”
“That I do, dear Illyth.”
With that, Gale returned to Illyth’s soft sex. He slid his tongue inside of her momentarily, teasing her with what was to come.
When Illyth’s squeals and whimpers grew louder and her hips rolled ever more aggressively against his lips, Gale flipped Illyth onto her back and mounted her. His mouth was still coated in Illyth’s arousal, making his lips shine in the moonlight.
“Are you ready for me?” Gale asked breathily, leaning down to press his lips to hers. As he did so, he gently splayed her leg apart with his own, leaving the soft delta of her sex open to him.
“More than ready.”
Gale pressed the head of his cock against Illyth’s entrance and grinned. He loved teasing her and watching her get flustered, but he couldn’t resist the siren’s call of her pussy squeezing his cock and he sheathed himself into her.
Gale hissed with pleasure as his eyelids fluttered shut. “Mystra-Ryl,” he whispered reverently as he trained his eyes on Illyth once more.
Illyth swallowed hard and attempted in vain to regain composure. Her heart was racing and her breathing was ragged. She was so desperately desiring him and eager to continue. Just before she flipped Gale over to take him for herself, Gale pressed himself into her, holding her hips as he thrusted. His pace was slow at first, but accelerated gradually over time.
“Godsdamn, Gale,” Illyth shuddered, half-smiling. She abandoned all pretenses of toughness, calling him by his name instead of his last name which she always spat out with vitriol. At that moment, they were Gale and Illyth and their rivalry no longer mattered.
Gale gave her a self-satisfied smirk. “Enjoying yourself?” He pressed his lips to hers, leaving the remainder of Illyth’s arousal on her face. The question was rhetorical; judging by Illyth’s writhing beneath him, he could infer how she felt, yet he always wanted to hear it from whomever he took to bed.
“Gods, yes,” Illyth whimpered.
Gale gripped her thighs below the backs of her knees and pushed Illyth’s knees to her chest.
“Aren’t you a limber one?” Gale cooed, squeezing Illyth’s thighs. “How fortuitous —“ His expression darkened. “— For both of us.”
Gale wasted no time in burying his cock into Illyth at full force, his hips slapping against hers as he did so. There was no gradual build-up to his full speed this time. Gale was too consumed by pleasure to restrain himself in any capacity.
Illyth was rendered speechless, only able to moan and whine between gasps as Gale pounded into her. The sensation of his cock hitting her cervix was overwhelmingly intense and Gale showed no signs of stopping.
Suddenly, he retracted from her and flipped her onto her stomach. He spread her legs apart and sunk his member inside of her one more.
“By the Weave, it’s — oh, fuck,” Illyth wailed, gripping the bedsheets. Gale smacked her thick ass forcefully, taking a moment to appreciate the way his smack reverberated across her flesh. He groaned in pleasure as he resumed his rapid, desperate thrusts.
“Oh, Gods, Illyth,” he breathed. “You are Elysium incarnate.” His voice was growing strained as he struggled to continue.
“Illyth,” he rasped, “Say my name when you reach the apex of sexual satisfaction.”
Illyth could only moan in response, writhing beneath Gale as he continued pounding into her. His movements began to falter as his climax approached.
Illyth whimpered through clenched teeth. The pleasurable heat that smoldered within her became an inferno burning out of control.
“Gale!” she cried out as her body clenched around his cock, throbbing rhythmically as she climaxed forcefully.
Gale shuddered as his hands clamped down on Illyth’s hips. His orgasm followed hers by a matter of seconds, accompanied by soft whimpers of pleasure.
The room seemed to spin around him as he tried to regain composure from the intensity of it all. His attempt to slow his breathing was interrupted by someone banging on the wall from next door.
“Oi! Keep it the fuck down!” a voice bellowed from the other side.
Illyth erupted into a full bodied laugh as the student next door ordered them to be quiet, which was the direct opposite of what the neighbor’s request. Gale couldn’t help but join her in her laughter as he pulled out and laid beside her.
“Veni et iuveme,” Illyth giggled, summoning a mage hand to get a towel for her so she could clean herself up.
The mage hand returned with a towel. Illyth dismissed the summon and blotted between her legs. She and Gale lay facing each other, still breathing heavily as they locked eyes.
“You can stay tonight,” Gale offered, looking into Illyth’s eyes with an unexpected affection. “You needn’t depart and I wouldn’t say no to your company.”
Illyth gave him a half-smile. She was tempted to agree to staying the night, but —
“I have an early class tomorrow,” she lied, sitting up.
Gale hummed in quiet acknowledgment, watching Illyth get dressed. Both of their minds spun with questions that neither of them wanted to ask. Would this happen again? Would they never speak of it and return to business as usual? Was business as usual — taunting and teasing — within the realm of possibility anymore?
“Thank you,” Illyth said quietly. “For tonight.”
“You needn’t thank me,” Gale mumbled, already half-asleep. “Generosity is a virtue.”
Illyth half smiled as she opened the door. She lingered in the doorway and looked back at Gale’s naked form.
“Goodnight, Gale.”
When he didn’t respond, Illyth assumed he had already fallen asleep. She crept across the room once more and stood by his bedside. She bent down and planted a soft kiss on his temple.
“Goodnight, Illyth,” Gale muttered sleepily.
With that, Illyth departed for her own dorm room. She walked stealthily down the hallways to the women’s dormitory. Illyth took care not to set off any of the arcane alarms that would notify the prefect that she was sneaking out of the men’s dormitory.
Illyth made it back to her room without incident and collapsed onto the bed. Her room was the diametric opposite of Gale’s — clean and neat as a pin. Yet as she planted her face into the perfectly fluffed pillows on her neatly made bed, all she could think of was the feeling of Gale’s unmade bedsheets against her skin.
#bg3#gale dekarios#bg3 gale#gale of waterdeep#baldur's gate 3#bg3 fic#baldur's gate#gale fic#gale x oc
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
tw maybe idk, i say p*doph*le
this pedophile ass mfer Brian Peck is just out there living his life… that makes me so upset for real. what the fucking hell.
#16 MONTHS#that’s it#then he gets hired on to zack and cody#that is fucking I N S A N E#despicable#makes me livid#I’ve been so stuck on this shit#like grown child stars have been coming out periodically for awhile now even before this#I keep saying that we can only hope the new generation doesn’t come out with dark secrets once they’re older#and the meds declassified clowns are getting on my nerves more and more by the day#they don’t even realize they should be mad too#what they expirenced and did on that show is fucked up and not normal for kids#like it’s really obvious they’ve developed absolutely immoral humor to get through they’re trauma#screaming lost and unhealed#it’s so sad#all of it#I have so many feelings#I wrote a whole paragraph to Kyle and Christopher masseys mom on IG 😭😭😭#bc it’s that serious#it makes me so fucking mad#i even personally feel violated#like that shit was not made for us fr even if it was#it’s got me all fucked up and im so done with the world in so many ways#WE CANT EVEN JUST HAVE KID SHOWS#THE WORLD IS A GD MESS IM TIRED
0 notes
Text
Something I’ve been thinking about lately is that small moment in “Air Turtle” where immediately after the Daves lose yet another game, Leo says how sorry he is and how he’s doing his best as the mascot. This moment is so short but it’s honestly jam-packed with a whole heap of characterization.
His need to apologize for things clearly not his fault - especially when it feels like he messes up the job he was given despite doing the best he can (the phrase “it’s not about you” takes a new meaning when this is one of the lessons to be learned from that - that he is not always solely responsible for things going wrong), his need to save face and make a connection with an older adult man in his life (something he consistently does throughout the series - he’s got a few daddy issues, always collecting potential father figures, it’s no wonder he jumps at the bit to keep rapport), and the way he sounds and looks and the words he chooses really pushes how he is just a kid (“Mr. the Dunk, I’m so sorry”).
Like I know it’s a one off moment that doesn’t truly mean much, but when put against the rest of the series it works really well with the rest of Leo’s established character and helps in solidifying later concepts as well.
#rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rottmnt leo#rise leo#rottmnt headcanons#am I looking too much into things? almost assuredly yes#I actually appreciate how tim immediately goes ‘it’s not your fault’ as well? like he could’ve just blamed this 15/16 year old but he didn’t#but yeah this moment got to me a little mainly because it made me realize that Leo…DOES take responsibility for things a lot#he messes up a ton yeah but he says sorry at a pretty consistent rate#and y’know thinking about it#THIS IS TINFOIL HAT TERRITORY BE WARNED#he’s mentioned being betrayed by his brothers before - I wonder if it was something as simple as taking the fall for like#breaking something of Splinters or whatever#point is it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for him to get the full blame for something only partially his fault#or not his fault at all in some cases#like in bug busters where Raph gets mad at Leo for not getting captured with them#(I understand Raph’s mindset here a ton - Raph’s the leader and he’s likely lashing out so I don’t blame the poor kid)#but this plus the moment at the beginning of the movie#where only Leo is reprimanded despite Mikey and Donnie having full autonomy to join the fun pizza stacking#make no mistake this is not at all a diss on everyone else!!! it’s just something I noticed#I think that “it’s not about you” doesn’t just pertain to being arrogant and wanting the spotlight#I think it’s also about how responsibility is meant to be shared#and like#Leo DOES mess up a lot! so he’s honestly probably used to having the blame because it is often at least somewhat warranted#he’s specifically described as being good at apologizing after all#tldr: Leo messes up a lot of the time so he is very used to blame and attention both good and bad#even when the full blame should not be solely on his shoulders
294 notes
·
View notes
Text
Not my mom asking me what my brother’s email and password is and me knowing it lmao. Why does no one around here even acknowledge that I’m more of a parent to my brother than they are
#she’s mad that he listens to me better than he listens to her#not only do not constantly yell at him and not bother to work with him#but Im the one who wakes him up in the morning#Im the one that makes sure he showers and goes to bed at a decent time#Im the one who helps him with his homework#hell I’m the only one who bothers to make sure he does it BEFORE he gets the zero in the grade book#and he doesn’t even see me as an authority figure because they don’t respect me so why should he#if I try to punish him or reinforce his behavior in any way they always overrule me#and then give him a worse reinforcement tactic that clearly doesn’t work#like i really feel like we’d be better off if they just fucked off and left me completely in charge of him#they refuse to take any accountability yet blame me for anything he does wrong#they are literally such shit parents and it took them so long to realize it because my sister and I parented ourselves#but my brother was spoiled too much growing up so he never learned how and they never learned how to parent#and refuse to learn now#they get mad if I try to offer any tips despite being the only one who’s ever successful#they ignore the fact that I have a degree in psychology and took classes in childhood development because I don’t have the experience#but apprently they don’t have the experience either or else they’d be better at this!#Ugh it’s so annoying watching them do everything wrong and being comoelehlt powerless to do anything#i cant imagine how bad it would be if I wasn’t here#they’d probably beat him constantly since I’m the only one that can stop them#the only thing they really provide is transportation and money#and still they’re too lazy to drive us around anywhere half the time and are constantly blowing their money on frivolous things#so we don’t have enough sometimes to pay bills or have nice dinners#that *I* make btw cuz they’re too lazy to#which is fine cuz I don’t work but before I moved back in they were eating ramen noodles and mac and cheese every day#and have the audacity to say I don’t do shit around here#they would FLOUNDER without me#god i cant wait until I can get out of here but I literally don’t know if I ever will cuz ive not been well mentally#and theyre behavior isn’t helping
1 note
·
View note
Text
my joker era is hooking up w one of my closest, longest friends bc i’m bored ig
#i like… kinda feel bad? but he made the move on me#he asked me to come over bc he was feeling rlly emotional about a breakup#and needed to ‘hold someone/be held’#so i did bc im feeling chaotic#and things started out pretty platonic but later on he started definitely making moves on me#not that im mad about it! i was having a good time and encouraging it#but he told me he may not have the best judgement rn so i’m unsure if it was just an emotional reaction or if he’s attracted to me#like the kind of friendship we’ve had for like 3 years now i dont think he would do that completely on a whim#i’m just worried i kinda took advatange of his emotional state and should have stopped him even tho we were asking each other#if we were okay w it the entire time#idk i know he going thru it rn too still so i don’t wanna make him answer to me on top of it#so i’m going on the assumption that it was just an emotional reaction thing which i’m kinda okay w bc i’m also touch starved and he’s kinda#the only person i would wanna do that kinda thing with#he’s also autistic and it’s been convos w him that helped me realize i’m neurodivergent#so if it’s anything else i can also trust him to like… tell me about it#shut up chloe
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 11:07 P.M 」
divorce scare apology fic🤞🏻 yes people, in the spirit of april 1, it’s gojo who is having dreams :)) and i promise you it’s straight up comfort fic~
a part of gojo's love entries
you’ve known something is bugging satoru as he hasn’t been teasing the heck out of you for these past three days.
and you were proven true when tonight, on your marital bed, he said—
“so… i’ve been thinking…” he started, seemingly deep in thought, playing with your hair. “oh, more like it’s because of this one bad dream…”
“what are you on about?” you raised an eyebrow. okay, you knew something was up with him, but him being a bit skittish made you a bit worried.
“umm, yeah. so, the other day i had this dream about us in tokyo district court—”
“district court—?”
“—getting a divorce, yeah.”
your eyes rounded, and satoru could feel himself almost regretting his words seeing your stunned expression, so he added a band-aid—
“no, it was just a dream! i’m not divorcing you, okay?!”
however, your expression had soured, as you looked down, visibly heartbroken. alarmed, satoru immediately pulled you to his chest.
“oh, ooh— there, there,” he soothed you, stroking your hair. “sweets, no. never. okay? i’m just telling you, just like what you did the other day.”
you had a dream of him cheating on you once, but this was wholly different.
“you’re the worst,” you accused, and despite yourself, you felt an ache in your chest. “how could such thought even cross your mind— that you dream about it?”
“if i can pick my dream… i’ll pick the memory from our honeymoon— precisely when i ripped your black and pink lingerie off and made you scream my name, you know that.”
you huffed, burying your face in his chest. “hmph. explain.”
satoru smiled, finding you so incredibly precious. silly wifey.
he proceeded as he pat your back. “nothing really, i’m still bitter too! no way in hell! but then i started thinking… what would you do in 0.001% chance of us being divorced?”
you pulled away, growling. “…so there’s still a chance—!”
“noooo! that’s statistically impossible! aren’t we having a late night talk? we’re always talking about imaginary scenarios at night, aren’t we?!”
what was the point of this? it was only upsetting you with each second.
“how could you ask me that?” you glared at him resentfully. “if we’re divorced, then—” you grabbed his hand and placed it on your belly. “what about baby? do you not want to see him anymore?”
and in that moment it seemed like he just realized it too as he sheepishly scratched his head, mouth gaping. “ah—”
his response caused your hormones to stir, and combined by your disbelief, you spitefully threw his hand away and turned to your side, refusing to face him.
“if you dare to divorce me, i’ll move out japan at a moment’s notice,” you spat out, crossing your arms. “i won’t let you see my baby— and i’ll put a restraining order on you too, just so you see.”
“whoa, wait—”
“or i can also jump from yasohachi bridge and then become a curse—i’ll haunt you to your dying days!”
“—?! you can’t do that!”
“oh, i can also remarry! i’ll marry ichiji so fast and by the time the baby is born, your kid will have his name instead!”
“ichi— hey! that’s insulting! i would’ve forgiven if it was nanami, but ichiji?!”
“shut up! you’re— you’re annoying!”
in hindsight, this wasn’t something you should get this much worked up for. satoru was obviously just being his dense self and you knew it, but somehow the thought of him suddenly not by your side anymore hurt you— and perhaps your unstable hormones played a part too.
. . . but then his strong arms wrapped around you in that instant, enveloping you in his warm and reassuring embrace from behind. “hey… sweets, don’t be mad…”
“…”
“if you do, baby will also be—”
“you are making us mad.”
“okay, okay.” satoru sighed, his right palm reaching out to caress your five-month baby bump, and his voice was tinted with slight regret as he replied, “sorry…”
you melted a bit, but still gave him the cold shoulder, showing how cross you were that he brought it up in the first place.
and both of you stayed that way for a while, and you started to get sleepy, until you heard him muttering—
“still… whatever you do,” his voice sounded strained, and it made you awake again. “even when i’m not here… you can’t get yourself hurt, alright?”
“what does that mean?” you finally turned towards him, your eyes shone with slight panic. “what do you mean with you not being here?”
“nothing, sweetheart.” satoru grinned, pinching your cheek. “just saying—since i’m away often, don’t do anything reckless, you can get hurt.”
“don’t put it as if you’re going to go some place far away.” you didn’t know what you were spouting now, but you were tired and just didn’t want to pursue this conversation any longer.
you bit your lip, not looking at him. “or… i’ll get sad.”
seeing you so vulnerable and open like this made satoru realize that as much as he needed you to stay sane, you also needed him. the clarity stirred something within him, causing warmth to rapidly spread in his chest.
and he felt soft. so soft for you. and he adored you, more than anyone else in this wretched world.
“aw, look at my baby girl.” your husband cradled you close to him with a wide grin, patting you soothingly, his heart fluttering. “how can i leave you be a single mother? i’m here, yeah? always.”
and you believed him. otherwise, you were willing to risk it all just to get him home, by your side.
you smushed your face into his chest, ignoring your burning face. “hmph, being a single mother isn’t that bad. i can still drain your wealth.”
“huh?! wait, you just said you’ll be sad without me!”
and you thought, being in his embrace is the most comforting place of all.
epilogue
“by the way, i just realized…” satoru fixed his frown on you accusingly in the next morning. “how is your taste in men so bad? why ichiji as your first pick?”
“uh,” you were at a loss of words, totally not expecting this discussion on a brand new morning. “because… he’s kind? he’s easiest to sway—”
“so you’re saying… you can seduce him easily?!”
“…sort of? but you’re right, i should go for nanami. he’s way good-looking. or his apprentice… what’s his name again? ino takuma—”
“nanami? ino?! wait a minute…! y-you’re my wife… but you’re also thinking about which man is easier to seduce and which is more attractive?!”
“uh— you’re the one asking first!”
“still! so you do think about them! about weaker, lesser men who are not me!”
“nanami is not—!”
“hoh?! so it’s nanami, huh!?”
“don’t you dare to start anything, gojo satoru,” you hissed. “you said my taste in men is bad. so that includes you too.”
“wha?!”
#𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#jjk drabbles#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk imagines#jjk x you#jjk fanfic#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo satoru#satoru gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#gojo x you#gojo fluff#gojo satoru imagines#jjk fluff#gojo satoru fluff#satoru gojo fluff#jjk gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jutusu kaisen x reader#satoru x reader#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
wanderer can fly; you cannot. he makes it his problem.
“What? Giving up already?”
“Shut—” heaving, you barely have the energy to flip him off, “shut the fuck up. Fuck off.”
Wanderer chuckles, all low and mean, as if his entire purpose in life is to ridicule you. He continues ascending overhead, moving and looking like an angel, but the words that come out of his mouth are far from angelic. “Careful, now. I know you overestimate yourself, but I won’t save you if you continue to scale a mountain with one hand.”
“Stop agitating me on purpose then!” You nearly slip from the intensity of your yell, but thankfully, it isn’t your time yet.
“How can I? You’re cute when you’re mad.”
Grumbling, you focus back on the mountain. Cute when mad. He must think he’s goddamn adorable, then.
You’re starting to lose sight of dents or protruding surfaces to get a hold of, and the mountain is getting steeper. You curse under your breath. If only you had Geo or Dendro—that’d help a lot much more. Maybe even Anemo, but that would be admitting defeat to the man who’s currently watching you intently.
Wanderer scoffs when your breath hitches, the surface you’re holding onto crumbling. He descends until you’re eye level. “Idiot, I told you that it’d be safer if we didn’t climb this all the way.”
“I know my limit.” Maybe. You may or may not have gotten a little over-competitive and jumped a few times, but that shouldn’t be a problem.
“Not more than I do,” he says.
“Don’t say it like that, weirdo.” You appraise the mountain overhead and, with a sunken stomach, realize that he’s right. There’s still a long way to go, and it’s a long fall back.
“Damn,” you say. You turn to Wanderer and blink up at him with wide eyes, hoping he would take the hint without having to say it outright.
Wanderer sighs, holding out his arms. “Jump.”
“Are you serious?”
“I won’t let you fall—of course I’m fucking serious.”
You grit your teeth, wondering if it’s easier to humiliate yourself and jump into his arms or to let gravity do its work.
“Hey,” Wanderer says, gliding closer and hovering an arm behind your waist. “No stupid ideas. Just jump and hold onto me.”
It’s always unsettling when Wanderer is not acting all bratty, like you’re not quite sure if you should goad him back to being mean or watch him bristle when you point it out. It’s been happening too often recently. That must be saying something about him if his soft moments are scarier than his jabs.
Wordlessly, you reach out for his shoulder with one hand and hold back a yelp when the lack of balance causes you to slip. You hold on tight around his neck, eyes wide and heart jittery. Wanderer secures his arms, moving in one swift motion. Before you even know it, he has one arm on your back and the other under your knees.
“How convenient it must be to have a ride as your companion,” Wanderer mutters in amusement at your relieved face.
“Yeah. That’s why I keep you around,” you say as he glides upward, barely straining from your weight. He looks as unaffected as ever.
He looks as infuriatingly and devastatingly beautiful as ever.
“Ha,” his smile is all sharp, “and not because you have a little crush on me?”
“You follow me around because you do. Don’t get it twisted.”
He snorts, tipping on something a little more genuine. You wisely decide to stop ogling at his face and enjoy the view of the sky instead. The blue of his clothes and the shade of his eyes are much prettier, but you’d rather lose that than start squirming in his arms. Not when he’s carrying you bridal style and all.
Finally, he descends, hardly disturbing the grass with his grace. He sets you down, arms crossed, as you pat yourself off from dirt and stuff.
“Well?”
You eye him warily. “What do you want?”
“Some semblance of manners will do,” he says, then leans close as if he’s baring his face for you. He’s been less and less subtle recently, too.
Nonetheless, you find yourself smiling. The things he’d do just to get a kiss—it nearly makes you laugh out loud. But then he’d start getting all irritated like a cat, and you much prefer when he’s sweet like this. Sweet in his very Wanderer way, you mean.
You kiss him on the cheek. He puffs up like some proud peacock. He calls you adorable all the time, but he’s the one who’s acting like this. It’s no wonder you keep him around.
#genshin impact x reader#scaramouche x reader#wanderer x reader#kunikuzushi x reader#scaramouche fluff#scaramouche x you#genshin impact x you#wanderer x you#genshin x reader#genshin drabble#scaramouche drabble#wanderer fluff#genshin impact
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ SORCERY SCHEMES — GETO SUGURU.
contents. non sorcery au!, husband! suguru, gn! reader, nanako and mimiko are still your kids, silly lil shenanigans of cult leader! suguru being in your dreams
suguru has been the source of your anger for lots of things over the years. some fair, others not so much.
that one important date he accidentally missed because he got caught up at work. that time you vented and he tried to tell you to toughen up instead of picking your side. that time he accidentally shrunk your favorite sweater in the laundry. that time he fell asleep while you were talking late at night (he had insisted he was tired, in his defense—you were just too stubborn to let him sleep.)
marriage has its ups and downs, but suguru likes to think you’re a strong couple—but this? this is the most outrageously ridiculous reason to be mad at him—he’s simply at a loss.
“so let me get this straight,” he starts slowly, as if trying to comprehend something far too complex for his simple mind, “you’re mad at me because i had some superpowers in your dream—”
“it was sorcery,” you hiss, “were you even listening?”
“right. sorry. i was…a sorcerer,” he apologizes. he looks at you like you’re insane—your eye twitches just a little. “and then suddenly i went crazy in the head and killed a village and adopted nanako and mimiko and…left. to basically cleanse an entire demographic. is that right?”
“you had a cult too.”
“and the cult,” he nods slowly, “can’t forget the cult.”
“yeah,” you glower—if looks could kill, suguru thinks he might have never been born at all. this is a new one, he has to admit. “and it was really fucking rude. you left. and you took the kids before i could even meet them.”
“okay,” he says tiredly, rubbing his forehead, “baby, i don’t know if you realize this, but i don’t…i can’t perform sorcery. and i don’t have a cult i can lead either. i’m just a literature teacher—”
“i know what you are,” you snap, shoving away the hand he tries to reach at you with, “you’re a selfish psychopath who committed heinous crimes and left me single and alone as you led a group of people to follow your crazy ideas. don’t even think about touching me—”
“so do you want me to apologize?” he sighs, “because i’m sorry—”
“what if i left you? huh? and just started killing everyone who has blue eyes? what then? i’ll take the kids this time and leave you alone, see how you like it.”
“well, at least that gets rid of satoru,” he mutters quietly. and then he grins—chuckles a soft little laugh that makes the edges of your lips curl just a bit. “you’re crazy,” he snorts, shaking his head. and then— “but i love you. c’mere.”
you don’t fight the hand the reaches towards you this time, letting his arm curl around your waist and pull you into his side. that’s a good sign, he thinks, so he tests the waters and plants a kiss to your head. you melt just a little.
“i’m still mad at you,” you mumble.
“yeah, i figured,” he grins, “anything i can do to erase my sins as a mass murderer?”
“you can make breakfast,” you hum, leaning closer as you rub circles into his chest, “and wash the dishes.”
“easy enough,” he nods, pulling a scowl from you.
“you’re not off the hook yet,” you click your teeth.
“of course,” he nods in agreement, “i still have to atone for my radical actions. i’ll start by resurrecting all the people i killed. that should do it, right?”
“suguru, be serious,” you huff, “i was very sad, okay?”
“did you miss me?” he wriggles his brows—you look at him incredulously before slapping his chest. he chuckles a little too long for your liking.
“what a stupid question,” you pinch your nose, “so if i became delusional and ran off to erase a population, you wouldn’t be upset with me?”
“actually, i’d follow you because i love you,” he shrugs, pinching your nose lightly, “i’d be your cult’s second-in-command. obviously you just didn’t love me enough in your dream to do the same for me.”
“you didn’t invite me,” you pout through a glare, “what was i supposed to do? show up unwelcome?”
“well, nothing was stopping you. was i at least a strong sorcerer?” he asks in wonder.
you think for a moment before nodding. “yeah,” you say thoughtfully, “one of the strongest.”
“nice,” he grins—he seems a bit too pleased for something that happened in your dreams.
you decide to deal the harsh blow. “but not nearly as strong as satoru. you know he was the literally the strongest?”
“okay,” he scowls, “if you do kill blue-eyed people, start with him.”
you giggle, leaning up to kiss his jaw as he lets a soft grin pull over his features. he laughs with you—and suddenly, you’re both chuckling together uncontrollably.
it’s a bit of a silly circumstance, but he kisses your forehead and means it when he says, “sorry i left you to kill people and led a cult and committed a bunch of crimes while i wiped out a whole group of people. i didn’t mean it.”
“you took the kids too,” you remind him.
“i don’t know what i was thinking,” he shakes his head, “those two are a handful. how was i managing being a single father with all that on my plate?”
“that’s why you shouldn’t have left me,” you point out.
“you’re right,” he agrees, “i’ll invite you if i ever snap and lose my sanity.”
“good. you’re forgiven. now, i want chocolate chip pancakes—and make coffee while you’re at it.”
“yeah, whatever,” he rolls his eyes. he kisses you though, a soft little peck over your lips as you hum into the kiss and cup his cheek, “you got it. whatever you want.”
“i want you,” you murmur, “unhinged sorcerer and all.”
he laughs at the craziness of it all—but he loves it anyway, loves you despite it all.
“and i want you too,” he grins, hopelessly in love, “if you’ll do me the honors and join my crazy sorcery schemes.”
hi i’m tee and i had a dream that my rude ass sister stole my car and totaled it and now im very mad at her and i am not speaking to her until she apologizes. she refuses so im now double mad
#teepods.writings#drabbles.#geto x reader#geto x you#geto fluff#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk fluff#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru x you#geto suguru fluff#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen fluff
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
JL: Nightwing! It’s a delight to see you! You should come by more often.
Nightwing: Thank you! I’m so sorry, work has been piling up on me but I’ll try to drop by the office party this Sunday.
JL: Ofcourse! Looking forward to seeing you there. By the way, is Batman coming late?
Nightwing: No, I’ll be filling in for him today.
JL: Did something happen?
Nightwing: Nothing much, he’s just grounded.
JL: ???
48 hours earlier
Dick: Bruce, I’m telling you now and we’ve had this conversation before but you need to build a better rapport with your children. They look up to you as a father figure and your actions influence their behavior.
Bruce: …hmrgh
Dick: And you might not be aware but you unconconscious behavior is damaging. Tim has picked up your terrible habit of constantly working in front of a screen-it’s going to strain his eyes. He’s always inside too, so you need to make him go outside more. I’m not always here, I have an entire city to run, the titans need me, I'm mentoring hundreds of heroes, the Justice League calls on me to help them, and I need to keep up with my social life. The people in Bludhaven where I teach and work also call me if I’m gone for a day-the point is-I can’t always be playing second parent here in Gotham.
Bruce: ……hmrgh
Dick: Damian always looks up to you
Bruce: *side eyes*
Dick: He does! See you don’t even realize it! He wants to make you proud and Jason gets mad when you don’t make time for him because he cares too. Stephanie doesn’t have a dad she can turn to and it would mean the world to her if you took her out to an amusement park or something. When was the last time you spent time with her.
Bruce: ….hmrgh
Dick: And-
1 hour later
Dick: -that’s why you need to stop working, go to them right now, and bond with them.
Bruce:
Dick:
Bruce: ……...hmrgh
Dick: I’m waiting.
Bruce: *dragging himself off the batcave chair and begrudgingly trudging upstairs under Dick’s watchful eye*
Bruce: *listening to the sounds of his kids in the living room and pumping himself up* Better relationships mean better teamwork. Better relationships mean better teamwork. Better relationships mean better teamwork. And Dick. Do it for him.
Bruce: *entering* *clearing his throat* Children. We will be going-
*The living room is in utter chaos. The cushions are strewn and ripped with stuffing coating the couches and floor which for some reason is stained yellow, the flower vase is shattered and so is the table it was sitting on, there’s string confetti on the chandelier, there’s spray paint and neon goo across the walls and in Tim’s hair, Jason has deep claw marks down his face as he wrestles with Damian who’s sporting massive bruise on his cheek and trying his hardest to bite him, Stephanie is dunking Tim’s face in a tub of soda which splashed everywhere while he’s ripping out Jason’s hair and also trying to kick Damian with his foot, the tv has massive spiderwebs and looping on tellatubies like a broken record machine, Titus is spitting out a feather while a random goose runs around honking while Alfred the cat chases after it at full speed, knocking down decades old paintings.*
Bruce:
Bruce:
Bruce:
Bruce: *rolling up his sleeves and stomping forward to join the fight* HMRGH.
#Bruce is NOT a responsible parent#he is the type of parent who sees his kids throwing punches and would jump in and start throwing punches too#dick only found out later what happened from Alfred during his biweekly calls#when he goes and lectures them he asks them who started it and the kids all point to bruce who points at them in his it’s them grunt#dick grounds all of them#bruce wayne#batman#dick grayson#nightwing#tim drake#red robin#damian wayne#robin#jason todd#red hood#stephanie brown#spoiler#batfam incorrect quotes
5K notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
swamp-rat
Secretly 4 Rats In A Trench Coat
crochetlifearabic
Sans titre
bi-the-way-drbloom
It's The Bi-ble, Not The Straight-ble
aa0213
无标题
