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julietsbody · 6 months

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divine figures — luke castellan + reader : nothing could steer luke off his path to god now, until you came along.

tags : southern setting au, small town setting, loser!luke, idolization, christian religious references & imagery, religious inconsistencies, church sex, religious guilt, body worship, sex but poetic, cannibalistic imagery…………..

a/n : heavily inspired by the lovely @murdrdocs!!

luke castellan was never one to follow a religion, well, not at first he wasn’t. he thought it was all bullshit, to put your all into someone nobody is sure even exists, it’s bullshit. but then his mom began insisting that he went, that he needed to find god, they both did, so he went.

luke lacked a father figure, so when he stared up at the statue perched at the apse of the church, he found the man he always lacked in his life, no matter how much the statue ignored his gaze, never bothering to look his way. he was quick to read the bible like it was a drug he just couldn’t get enough of, he sat straight with his eyes forward during each sermon, he kept himself pure.

and he stuck true to that, until you came.

he never really noticed you at first, but you were always there.

always looking over your shoulder to his place in the pew, always smiling at him when he accidentally glances your way, always passing by his house on your bike on hot summer days in hopes of seeing him outside, shirtless and working on his mother’s car.

you hadn’t mustered up the proper courage to speak to him, not until your parents have tugged you over to where he stood with his mother in the nave. your mother and father immediately sparked up conversation with his mother, leaving you to awkwardly look around the church in hopes of finding something worthy of speaking of. nothing, there was nothing. so you just mumbled out a, “hey.”

he hesitates for a second, “hi.”

“did you like the sermon?” your southern drawl, along with your sugar coated smile, luke can feel the thumping of his heart against his knit sweater.

“‘course,” he smiles shyly, “i always do— um.. did you?”

you nod at him, your ability to hold eye contact so well had him feeling nervous, constantly breaking it to glance around the room, “are you excited for easter?”

luke’s lips curve to a brighter smile, one that proves that he hopes that with jesus’ return, there will be a proper savior for him, his prayers will finally be listened to, maybe for once the statue on the wall will glance his way.

jesus molded everything about luke, at this point, if he couldn’t believe in his father, jesus was going to take that place— and he did, luke was taught everything by the bible, all he ever relied on was the words of the lord, everything he ever did was a representation of what lied in those scriptures. he never worshipped another god, never said the lord’s name in vain, always remembered sabbath day, as well as honored his mother and… father.

he didn’t commit adultery, in fact, he never spoke to women, really. his mother kept him sheltered, he was only allowed to speak to the women at church, not any of the women who rode on their bikes past his house, or smiled at him in the library. he just stared at them for a minute and looked away, contemplating how different things would be if he was able to speak to them.

at the thought of women, luke’s mind races back to you, who is currently blinking at him and thinking he didn’t hear you. “i am excited— for easter, will you be at— the um.. the church that day?”

another nod, then an awkward silence as you find nothing more to say, and neither does he. the church was a beautiful place, decorated with swirls of gold and dark wood, colorful stained glass windows that painted pictures of jesus, or virgin mary. if luke could move out of his home and live somewhere he genuinely enjoyed, it would be the church.

there was something so comforting about it, maybe the faint music that played in the background, or the way it smelled of old books and floral perfumes, or the fact that it was just a place where so many people went to put their faith into someone. god was just so important, if luke didn’t know any better, he’d envy him.

“you should come on sabbath days,” you interject his thoughts, leaning in to his vision.

he blinks, eyes refocusing on your face, and he awkwardly chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “i thought they were for relaxation?”

“and worship,” you correct, and he crystalizes the memory of how each word sounds on your tongue, how it flows out so well, how it makes him swallow.

“right, right,” he wets his lips nervously, “i’ll just— ask my mom. mama?”

as soon as he asks his mom, she’s all smiles at him, nodding and even shaking your hand, thanking you for urging him to go to church more.

“i’ll see you there,” is the last thing you say to luke that day.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

luke would be a liar to say he wasn’t riddled with visions of you in the darkest parts of the night, they started from the day you first spoke to him, and never left him since. he hated how much it plagued him, because it tempted him so well. it was like you were eve, offering him, adam, the apple. you reassure him that it’s sweet, that there’s no harm in taking a bite, and luke is parting his lips, ready to taste it, when he finally wakes up.

the heat of the room is beating down on him, even in the cool of the night. his skin is sticky from sweat, and all he can ever think about is you. it should be a crime, really, how much you had consumed his every waking thought. for once, he wasn’t thinking of the bible verses he would be reading that day, what prayer he would be saying.

luke didn’t know one thing about women, but the way you spoke to him, the way you smiled at him, the glints in your eyes, it had him wondering how he could make your face twist up in pleasure— fuck. he shouldn’t be thinking like this, it’s unholy, it’s weird, but he’s already in too deep.

he’s already fed the memory of how pink your lips are, how soft they look, they probably feel the same. is it a sin to wonder how well you kiss? would you be all - consuming? or slow, sweet? luke doesn’t know why he prefers if you’d be hungry, if you’d bite and nip at him like you’re hungry, like he’s the last supper.

his boxers feel tight on his skin, dick twitching in the confines of them. luke hardly knows this feeling well, he wasn’t one to allow himself to get hard, nor was he one to properly take care of it. but something about the idea of your teeth clashing against his when you kiss him, pushing your tongue into his mouth to taste him properly— it had his fingers pushing underneath the waistband of his underwear.

when his fingertips graze his cock, he immediately shudders, lashes fluttering. every time luke touched himself, it felt like the first time, only now it felt.. better. better because he was thinking of you. luke had never watched porn, he hardly knows what it is, so the idea of what sex would be like is.. a gray area for him.

but he works with what his mind is capable of, which is dry humping. the first setting that comes to mind is the church, which leaves a bitter taste on his tongue, but he goes with it. it comes to vividly, you on his lap, wet patch evident on his jeans from where your hips push down, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. when you moan, he does, when you whimper, he does, when you roll your hips, he does.

everything was in sync, and it was all so sinful. masturbation itself wasn’t a sin, unless you thought of someone, and for the longest time, luke never thought of anyone, but you were a parasite he couldn’t shake, and he honestly wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

luke wonders how much the priest will judge him when he utters these thoughts, these events in the confessional tomorrow. he has only ever uttered small, pitiful confessions, i didn’t help my mom with dinner, i turned in a book to the library late, i forgot to pray. he’s never had to confess anything larger.

heat bubbles in luke’s stomach, it’s pleasant, sweet, but it curls, and curls until it’s suffocating, until his wrist is hurting from the fast pumps of his cock, sweat glistening on his skin, cheeks flushed. he can feel a whine scratching up his throat, in the confines of his mind, something is screaming at him, telling him to stop, but it’s too late, he can barely hear it over the blood pumping in his ears.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

when luke comes into the church the next day, it’s a saturday, a sabbath day. typically on these days, he would be spending his time lounging around his house, reading some piece of classical literature that he has hidden from his mother, wishing to keep the inked pictures of statues reeking of desire for one another a secret.

but he was here, and so, he prayed.

the sun had barely risen over the horizon (courtesy of daylight savings), yet the candles in the church were lit, leaving an orange hue to project around the empty room.

luke felt gross, corrupt, unholy.

for once, luke feels as though the statue above is glaring down on him, and he tries his best to not shrink into himself under the piercing gaze. he knows. his mouth is dry with each prayer, fingers sweaty around the rosary, but he wouldn’t allow himself to falter once more.

as soon as he starts his fifth prayer, he hears the creak of the floorboards that he knows all too well, eyes fluttering open so he can look back to see who was there, hoping they hadn’t heard his last confessions in his prayers.

you. his mind is tugged to a halt, every prayer he had rehearsed on his way to the church, completely forgotten. it was all just.. you. you seared on his skin, burned him until he was nothing but smoke. your gaze softens on him, a stark contrast to jesus’ pointed glares, “i didn’t think you’d come.”

his voice is coarse from the nonstop prayers, “of course i would.”

all he can think about is you underneath him, his own skin bitten and scratched, decorated in mulberry and deep pinks, he’s practically salivating at the idea. he wonders if, behind the confines of the church walls, would anyone hear you? would the priests dare to look for whoever is letting out such unholy noises?

luke feels frozen the second he comes back to reality, dick hardening underneath the fabric beyond his control, his mind is tearing itself apart before he can even realize you’re speaking to him.

“— wondering if you’d like to sit next to me tomorrow,” you pose, seemingly unaware of the bulge in luke’s pants that he is desperately trying to naturally cover with his hands. but you knew, you knew the effect you had on him, and he had the same effect on you.

is it so cruel to only tease him harder?

luke swallows the remaining saliva in his drying mouth, quickly moving to a stand, rosary bringing more attention to his covered crotch, “sure, yes— um.. i need to— go.”

before you can even say anything, he is pushing past you, hand moving only to chastly grab your waist for a mere second as he passes, an instinct of trying to keep you stable, but it only makes a heat between your legs grow.

desires go both ways, and it’s only a matter of time before they snap.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

easter was once luke’s most anticipated day of the year, but now it was the day of his nightmares. he barely slept last night, kept himself awake with chores, prayers, and reading the bible until it made him sick. he couldn’t have another dream, he couldn’t let you get to him anymore. he thought it would be easy to avoid you today, but he was cursed with his own mistakes as you sat down next to him in the pew.

the worst part wasn’t that you sat down next to it, it’s that his mind was riddled with disgusting thoughts as soon as he saw how your dress brushed up your thighs, it was so simple, such a small act, but it just made him think the worst possible things.

you bent over the pew, the bottom of your dress tugged up to show your panties, his hands are gripping your hips like his life depends on it, crotch pressed to your clothed pussy from behind.

luke blinks back with his cheeks hot, noticing the bible in your hands. when he speaks, he doesn’t even realize what he’s saying, it’s like he’s possessed, “what verse are you reading?”

“luke 22:40,” you say it so simply, a smile barely teasing your lips.

on reaching the place,

he said to them, “pray that you

will not fall into temptation.”

the saliva on luke’s tongue is sour, near poisonous, his lips were stained maroon from the skin of the apple. luke 22:40 was the exact line he had been reciting to himself, luke was his name. the serpent was squeezing him tight, his breath felt swiped away from his lungs.

luke is quiet for the rest of the evening, even through the sermon, when he should be smiling when everyone else is, clapping when everyone else is— he is just silent, blank - faced.

you can’t decipher what he’s feeling until everyone has gone off to eat after the sermon, and he’s tugging you back into the pew once it’s vacant, fingers forming a tight grip around your wrist, “why are you doing this?”

he’s out of breath, and no matter how tough he tries to seem, he sounds pathetic, his voice a near whimper, like he’s pleading with you.

“doing what?” you blink up at him, doe eyes making his teeth press together.

“you’re tempting me— this, this isn’t fair, why?” his breath is shaky when he exhales.

“i’m not doing anything, luke.”

“you’re making me think— making me imagine things.. sinful things.”

“what exactly are you thinking?” your voice is softer, and the heat of the sun is seeping into the church.

“i..” how can he explain himself? every image that he wants to communicate is all too disgusting, a mixture of hunger and desire, it seemed luke wanted you to eat him alive, “you know what i’m thinking.”

“why don’t you show it to me?”

absolution;

formal release from guilt,

obligation, or punishment.

or..

an ecclesiastical declaration

of forgiveness of sins.

morals trickle down luke’s back when he kisses you, he knows it’s all wrong, he knows he could just leave it at a kiss, but he didn’t want to be haunted with these visions any longer, maybe if he made them a reality, they would just leave. he could be himself again, the picture - perfect religious boy he was always supposed to be. the kiss is small at first, the hesitant movement of lips, the adjusting to the feeling, but it quickly grows into something hungry.

luke didn’t know how to properly kiss, so he just followed your lead, and soon enough, he was kissing you like a starving man. from tongues clashing, to his hand mindlessly moving to your hip, body pressing against yours, it was everything he saw in the pictures printed in those books he read.

when luke falls back into his seat on the pew, you had pulled away from him, admiring how flushed his lips are. when your hand meets his jaw, luke forgets who his god is supposed to be, all he can think about is you, even on the day dedicated to the man he has spent all of his life worshiping.

“please,” it’s barely even audible, only made out by the slight flick of his tongue from the l.

“tell me what you want.”

it felt like luke was sitting in the confessional, admitting all of his nastiest desires when his lips part, finally being able to say his thoughts out loud, “can you— ride me? or.. if you don’t want to— that’s okay.” does luke know what riding is? only from the overheard gossip of other men, but he was told it was something he had to try, when he got married, of course.

“i want to,” it’s as if you aren’t in a church, as if nobody could just walk in and see how you’re moving onto his lap, moving his hands to your ass, letting his desperate fingers tug your dress up. his purity bracelet brushes against your skin when you move to guide his hands to your ass, watching the nervous look in his eyes when he squeezes the flesh.

he has no idea what he’s doing, he just wants to please you, to make you feel as good as he made himself feel to the idea of you the other night. maybe, at this point, luke isn’t praying to jesus, maybe he never was, because you were always in the back of his mind. no matter how guilty it made him feel, how many times he had squeezed his tear - ridden eyes shut and wished he was different, wished he wasn’t so easy to fall for temptation.

god is watching, is what his mind tells him, but your eyes tell him to keep going, watching as he moves his hands to unbuckle his belt, the sound of metal clinging being so improper for the walls ridden with crosses, but it just felt so right. he sucks in a sharp breath when he pulls out his dick, the cool air searing his delicate skin, pupils blown wide when they watch your lips slightly part at the sight.

“you’re so big,” is all you can manage out.

luke’s lips twitch around a small smile, “is that a good thing?”

“if it fits,” you move through a few twists to properly take your panties off, letting them hang off your ankle when you reposition yourself to have your entrance pressing against the tip of his dick, “then yes.”

luke’s lips press together as soon as you start sinking down on him, you’re so slow with it it’s almost torturous. the holy water he had dipped his water in and pressed to his skin, was now scorching him with each inch that filled your velvet walls. when you reached the hilt, it was safe to say you felt stuffed, and luke was making more noise than you.

whimpers, grunts, he tried to hide them all behind the confines of his lips, but they dug their nails into his throat and crawled their way up until it was impossible for him to hold them back. as soon as you began moving, luke was purely fighting for his life against the own noises leaving him to the point of where he had to sit up, pressing his lips to your neck, he was quick to press his lips against the sensitive areas, biting, sucking— he wasn’t even sure if he was doing it properly, but he was just so desperate.

he wanted you to shatter him like fine porcelain, to snap off his glass parts and crush them underneath your fingers with pure ease, to deconstruct every inch of him that he had taken years to build. no matter how empty he would feel in the end, to put himself in your hands, like a lump of clay in the hands of a goddess, he trusted your instincts.

“i want you to ruin me,” he mumbles against the flesh of your neck, barely audible.

“what?” your voice is breathless between moans, walls tightening around his dick with each movement of your hips.

he whimpers out a simple, “sorry.”

you didn’t forget his words, though, in fact, you let your fingers run through his dark curls, tangling through them until you tugged him back from your neck, just so you can take his place, now the one pressing your lips to his neck. he felt small underneath you, but he didn’t hate it, he liked the way that your lips felt on his skin, enough for him to lean his head back to provide you more blank canvas.

you painted him in maroons and mulberries, blooming rose petals on his skin, marking him as your own. no matter how much luke knew he would be praying for forgiveness tonight, in this moment, everything he’s ever stood for has fallen off his broad shoulders. his hair is messy and sticking to his sweaty forehead, skin peppered with bite marks, deep reds, purples, every color in between and beyond.

“‘m gonna—“ luke’s words come out choked, dick pulsing inside of you, “gonna cum—“

luke’s orgasm hits him hard enough to have tears pooling into his eyes, maybe it was the guilt, or the everlasting pleasure, he wasn’t entirely sure, how could he even be? all he could think of was you, now.

“do you still believe in god?” you offer him once you’re off him and he’s putting his belt back on.

he stares at you for a second, hesitating, then his lips part, “yes.”

#୨୧ (jules yapping) .ᐟ #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan oneshot #pjo luke #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x you #charlie bushnell imagine #charlie bushnell x reader #charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell x you

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lucabyte · 4 months

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Finally: The NoHats AU doodles. Plus some sprite edits.

Usually I'd let things speak for themselves and keep my chattering in the tags, but I'll ramble about my context thoughts...

So. First of all here's a link (x) to the Nohats Origin Post for those coming in and going ????.

Anyway. These doodles are not in any obvious chronological order, though Loop going from pilfered bandolier (my headcanon for how Siffrin has all those pockets) -> custom outfit made by Isabeau, is supposed to generally denote 'just after the ending' -> 'a few months down the line'.

And speaking of, Design & Characterisation notes:

Overall: NoHats is suppooooosed to have the range to not just be ULTIMATE MISERY ALL THE TIME (but if you're a major whump/angst fan. go fucking nuts.) so these are supposed to be. The steps toward overcoming and living with grief but. The Misery Is Kind Of The Punchiest Part.... Oops....

Mirabelle: Taking the lead, continuing to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. In the game proper she's already shown to, while yes, be emotionally fragile at times, be prone to trying to hold the team together. I feel she'd do the same here. It also would help that she'd presumably be medicated again? But I can't imagine her chosen-one anxieities would be super ailed by the death of her friend. I wanted to try and give her more differences? She follows the change belief after all and is thus liable to switch up her style in general... But I didn't have a strong vision for this, so. The ball is in anyone's court. Her design changes here are keeping one of Sif's safety pins a la qpr bonding earring, and has the bell pendant at Loop's (oddly pushy) suggestion.

Isabeau: Taking it. Badly. Depression mullet and beard in tow. However, you best believe he is trying real badly to hide it. Loop very much does not reveal their identity to him because What The Fuck Would That Even Do. That's Scary. but they do try to comfort him while mentally regarding him "off limits". Backs themselves into some very unfortunate corners by alluding to their unfulfilled relationship with their Fighter as a point of common ground. I don't imagine this would go super great when recontextualised later after Loop is inevitably found out. Just in general oh good god what the fuck. this is like a radioactive pit of survivor's guilt.

Bonnie: Taking it probably The Worst. This is a child. Who was already feeling guilt. This is who everyone else is trying to keep it together for. Mirabelle and Isabeau would likely be putting up far less of a front without Bonnie around. They take the hat and take on Pocket Duty. They also have slightly more sif-y hairstyle but... Don't worry about it. They'd have Nille to fall back on once she's picked back up, and Loop almost certainly attempts to redouble efforts on making them feel better but seeing as how closed-off Bonnie can already be, it'd likely be difficult. However they would probably take Loop's identity reveal best...?

Odile: Odile's design.... ! Does not seem to have changed? How odd! Well. I'm sure she's dealing with things in a regular and non-cloistered manner. I already think that a regular Postcanon Activity for Odile could be her finding out about the potential for sif/loop to translate books and thus Knowledge in their native tongue assuming that ability sticks around postgame. Something something culture can never truly be wiped out etc etc. But putting it in this context. Makes it more desperate, more of a deflection for something else.

Loop: Helpful Loop. Well. They win! I feel like the entirety of ISAT being about Siffrin's mental state means I don't need to spill much ink here? You get it I think. I can't outdo the source material man. Anyway I imagine Loop is given clothes by Isabeau before they know who they are, but after they've become genuine friends. The outfit is in genuineness, on both sides from Loop and Isa, in having the cloak be a nod in respect to Siffrin, since Loop's "shared culture" would have to come up vis a vis cultural funerary traditions. Hard to avoid divulging that one...

#and since its too blunt to put in the body of the post. yes these are all distinct calls to game events.#mirabelles endgame spoilers comment. prologue odile's 'just one thing. not the thing'. shoulder touch. observatory conversation #odiles is the least obvious because i couldnt find satisfying more direct wording. it was too clunky....#in stars and time #isat spoilers #in stars and time spoilers #nohats au #isat au #isat loop #isat fanart #lucabyteart #isat odile #isat bonnie #isat isabeau #isat mirabelle #anyway once again . accidentally invoking the king with that fucking corset. christ. that ones on me #long post

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brucewaynehater101 · 5 months

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Just read a fic about Tim finally getting post patrol ice cream and his own renovated room after admitting to never getting any unlike his siblings and now I'm imagining an AU

Imagine this, Tim is tired, pulling an all nighter, because he did too poor a job at pretending as Robin, and it's too late to do damage control. Not in front of villains or heroes alike

But the people

They've caught onto how the third robin receives less than the first two

Robin acts less like a child, less like a son to Batman, and more like a 'Business Partner's as he said with his own words. Like a handler

Robin who has to put work into keeping Batman from overexerting himself, from cruelly punishing those who fall victim to him

Robin who receives less praise or care from Batman and cares for both himself and his "Boss" as he said with his own words

And it gets worse after the mantle passes down to Stephanie and Damian because the people notices how even as Batman treats them better than the third, now rebranded as Red Robin—

—Red Robin is still as much a Business Partner to batman as he always has been since the Dark Knight's loss of his second bird

And as much as tries to keep things buried, word is spreading that Red Robin is black sheep of the batfamily, and he won't be able to hide it for much longer

Have fun with this idea lol

I know the fic you're talking about! "with the exception of..." by DSS1101. That's a good one!

"Home Decor" by sElkieNight60 is about Duke remodeling his room as part of the new Wayne member tradition. This brings up feelings in Tim cause his bedroom still looks like a barely used guestroom.

The concept you've mentioned gives similar vibes to a hc/au post I read about how JJ (Joker Junior) isn't known by anyone but the goons/Rogues, Barbara, Jim, and Bruce. All the other Bats don't know. In consideration of Tim, electric shock weapons are immediately put away when Red Robin arrives on scene (I love that idea so much).

I think, with the Gothamites around when Bruce was going on his grief spiral almost killing spree, people feel a kinship with Tim. They couldn't have stopped Batman and, with part guilt and part relief, it seems only a child could. They watch this child, who seems to be sacrificing everything for a brutal and cruel man, and how he pulls Batman back into the symbol he's supposed to be. It brings out the protective and parental instinct of a lot of people.

This cues civilians, goons, and rogues alike trying to assist Robin in small ways. Tim as Robin had people offering him food (in sealed containers), giving him compliments, handing him scarves or hats (how could Batman let a child out in this weather without a hat?!?!?), and more. They tried to give him small moments to be the child he was pretending he wasn't. He obviously wasn't getting decent parenting at home if Batman was just his boss and his real folks were letting him out to fight.

There's a kind of guilty gratefulness towards the third Robin and a protectiveness of him. All young Bats are treated with care by civilains and some goons, but Robin three was special. He willingly became the barrier between Batman and Gotham. A lot of folks owe their ability to work (and not have exorbiant medical debt and medical conditions) to Tim. He saved them by damning himself. He needed the support Batman obviously wasn't providing.

Tim, as intelligent as he is, doesn't realize the affect he has on Gotham's older population. The younger ones will react with slightly more respect towards him than the other Bats, but they weren't around to see what Tim's sacrifice did for everyone.

Tim, with his self-doubt and hero-worship of his predecessors, thought his treatment throughout Robin was the work of those who came before him. Of course Gothamites trust and help out Robin when Dick and Jason built that foundation.

He's not exactly wrong, but it isn't to the extent they actually do for Tim.

Unfortunately for Tim, Damian and Jason do know that his Robin was treated with such reverence. They don't know why, but their Robins did/do not get treated that way. They chalk it up to Tim being the "perfect" and "can do no wrong" Robin. It's one point of contention they are unable to clear up due to Tim not knowing about it and the other two not wanting to explain their jealousy.

Steph was not treated as well as Damian and Jason when she was Robin. She, in this AU, was not treated as much of a crutch as Tim is. Despite that, her Spoiler/Batgirl/whatever persona gets some of the protectiveness that Tim's personas do. Bruce was more healed with Steph, but he was still an ass. That was obvious to any Gothamite watching.

Steph, because she was around at the time and talks with Gothamites to know what rumors are floating around, becomes aware after her death of why Tim's Robin is held up with such respect. This allows, unknowingly to Tim, for them to reach more understanding. With her knowledge of Tim's time as Robin, she's able to point out how he was being an ass, what he should've done instead, and that she herself was sorry for some of her actions.

When more and more individuals cue into Tim's black sheep position in the Batfam, this could go two ways.

One, Tim is targeted more due to his lack of support.

Two, Gothamites and Rogues increase their aid to Red Robin and become slightly cold to the Bats for their treatment of him.

#dc comics #dc universe #tim drake #thank you for the ask!!!!#it's my hc that Tim's robin went through hell #part of the reason tim is great at making friends (even with people who have hurt him) is because he's trying to build Bruce's support grou #steph brown #jason todd #damian wayne #bruce wayne

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cherrifire · 7 months

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Please share your thoughts on the other 5 cutie marks, I'd love to hear!

Hi everypony! I got like 20 asks for the Dogwarts cutie mark lore so I'm here to speak my truth!

Before we start, I would like to write a quick reminder that a pony's cutie mark is not always their "special talent", but can also represent who they are, their personalities, and a possible destiny. Different cutie marks have different meanings and interpretations, but they're not just about representing what you're good at.

That being said, let's start with the cutie mark design I'm proudest of!

Ren's Cutie Mark

Ren's cutie mark is of a sunrise and looks pretty simple at first glance but there was a lot of thought that went into this one.

First of all, I bet you're wondering why a sunrise? Well, in the show, it is pretty typical for unicorns with great magical abilities to have one relating to space (examples being Twilight Sparkle, Sunset Shimmer, Starlight Glimmer, and Sunburst). And I figured since I wanted Ren to fall into a similar position of potentially becoming an alicorn, I gave him a cutie mark following the same trend. And I chose a sunrise to reflect the way Ren seems to glow when he enters a room. The way he carries himself is very warm and bright it just catches your eye in a similar way the sun would.

Also, Ren wears sunglasses. So a sun-themed cutie mark seemed appropriate.

Additionally, there are a couple of smaller details I want to point out too. Like the sun rays, if you look at them for a moment you'll see they're shaped like little crowns! I of course had to put a crown in thanks to how much Ren likes to play royalty, so I snuck it in there. And then the red spots underneath could both be interpreted as the sun reflected over water or blood. (But of course, this is a kid show AU so there wouldn't be any blood in Ren's destiny, just a fun reference to the red king and his whole thing about blood dyeing the snow red)

Martyn's Cutie Mark

I explained this one in an earlier ask but I thought I'd explain it again here for anyone who didn't see it!

Martyn's cutie mark is of a chopped log and a small stick.

This one is mostly a play on the name "Littlewood" but has other meanings too. As a character, Martyn tends to travel and explore quite a bit. In the Life Series specifically, he is usually the last one to find a permanent base and even then doesn't spend a lot of time in one place. Always on the move. Additionally, he's more of a wild card compared to other characters, always trying to be as unpredictable as possible.

The smaller detail here is the little swirl on top of the log is the same as the one on his Minecraft skin's shirt.

BigB's Cutie Mark

Cookies! Cookies! Cookies! BigB's cutie mark is of 3 cookies where one is trying to eat the others. There are also a few sprinkles there made to look like action lines.

We all know BigB loves cookies so of course I had to give him a cutie mark with cookies in it. For this one, I decided to follow the cutie mark trend of "symbol/item important to the pony duplicated 3 times" (examples being Fluttershy, Applejack, Rarity, Pinkie Pie) but I added a bit more creativity to it with the top on trying to eat the others to represent just how tasty they are 😋

Additionally, rather than the first cookie trying to eat the others, you could interpret it as opening its mouth to talk. Because BigB can not keep a secret to save his life! In Double Life when he started "secret soulmates" with Grian, he didn't last a day without opening his mouth. He told Ren about it immediately because he felt bad for keeping things from him.

Also worth quickly mentioning: People pointed out in my original post that they don't think BigB would be the element of honesty because of his behaviour in Secret Life. But that's just Secret Life. I think Secret Life to BigB was like that episode of My Little Pony where Discord makes the main 6 act the opposite of their true element. BigB was just going through a weird phase of telling very obvious lies because a book told him to.

Skizz's Cutie Mark

Skizz's cutie mark is of a lightning bolt from a couple storm clouds hitting the ground.

I think this is the cutie mark with the least thought put into it, unfortunately. There was still though just not as much as the others. The big thing I thought was fun was I made the lightning bolt shaped like an "S" to stand for Skizzleman. But other than that, this cutie mark sort of has the same meaning as Rainbow Dash's cutie mark. Quick like lightning, loud, bold, dangerous, and powerful.

Impulse's Cutie Mark

Impulse's cutie mark is of a lit-up lightbulb.

I absolutely crowded this cutie mark with the letter i. If you look closely, there are 6 of them. Impulse's design also has an i-shaped pattern on the belly if you look closely enough. But that's more of a fun easter egg and doesn't exactly reflect Impulse as a character.

There are a couple of reasons I chose a lightbulb for Impulse, the first and probably most obvious is that he's a redstone guy! He's a technical guy who likes to work smarter, not harder. So I figured the My Little Pony equivalent would be a light bulb/electricity. The second reason for the lightbulb is that it's usually used as a visual representation when characters have that "eureka!" moment in cartoons. When someone has a brilliant idea a little lightbulb turns on above their head. So since Impulse is the ideas guy, I figured a lightbulb would work for his cutie mark.

Etho's Cutie Mark

Etho's cutie mark is of a snowflake with a missing branch.

I promise there is more to this cutie mark than just "Canada is cold" even if that's part of the reason I wanted to give him a winter-themed cutie mark. While it is fun to make a nod to Etho being Canadian, I thought a winter-themed cutie mark would be fun to represent how he sometimes presents himself. Cold and a bit mysterious. I think deep down once you get to know him, those attributes melt away, but for people who have never met him, he may be intimidating that way.

I'll be honest, I don't watch a lot of Etho content, but I do have a few friends who identify as Etho girlies so I did my research. I was told in his Minecraft Let's Play World, that he has a snowflake build somewhere. I believe they said it was an iron golem farm? (Please correct me if I'm wrong) but I thought that was perfect for the cutie mark. And if you're wondering why there's a branch missing, it's because one of my friends said he was incapable of finishing builds sometimes so I thought that would be fun to include.

-=+=-

Alright. Rant over. To celebrate, here are a few pony doodles so I can put this post in my art tag.

#cherri.speaks #cherri.draws #trafficblr #my little pony au #renthedog #inthelittlewood #bigbst4tz2 #skizzleman #impulsesv #ethoslab #Third Life x MLP #mclp

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loving-barnes · 7 months

Text

LOGAN HOWLETT - BAR

A/N: It took me some time, but here we go again. Chapter Seven, my friends. Just something stupid, fun.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Warning: none

Summary: It's a fun night out at a bar.

Please, do not read if you are under 18. This story is suitable for mature audience.

Words: 3300+

Important note: Again, Logan is a tall MF, because they fucked up in the movies. Also, Hugh Jackman!Wolverine. This is set in AU.

A TOUCH OF HOPE MASTERLIST | Chapter Six

LOGAN HOWLETT - BAR

Y/N stood in front of the mirror, looking at her reflection. When was the last time she dressed up and put on make-up? She couldn’t recognise herself in the mirror. Since she came to the school, she would wear simple outfits and almost any make-up. Tonight, she wanted to look nice and make an impression on the people. Hell, she desired to catch Logan’s eyes. Honestly, she would catch his eyes even without all those things.

White blouse, dark blue jeans, black combat boots and a black leather jacket - this was her style. She put her hair into a high ponytail. Y/N couldn’t help but smile at herself in the mirror. It felt like lifetimes since she felt this confident and sexy. Damn, even the drawn cat-eye looked good.

She winked at herself in the mirror and then glanced at her phone. Yes, they’d given her a phone. It was time to head out. She put it into the back pocket of her jeans. Before leaving, she had to check herself one more time just to be sure everything was perfect.

To her surprise, she didn’t see any familiar faces. Usually, the students would walk around the school at this hour and hang out. Some noises came from the kitchen or the TV room. She didn’t recognise JJ’s voice. Maybe he was in his room.

Y/N made a mental note to spend more time with the boy. She didn’t keep her promise when she told him she’d come to him before the accident happened.

“Well, look at you,” said a voice beside her.

Y/N jumped, gasping. She was ready to hit the man in his face. “Jesus, Peter,” she glared at him. “You scared me, you ass,” she punched him in the shoulder. He could have easily dodged it, but he decided to not use his ability and laughed it off.

“You get scared easily, Y/N. You should work on that,” he winked at her. “Can I walk with you?” he raised a brow.

“You already are, so why ask?” she grinned at him.

They walked out of the school and headed to the main entrance gate. Peter kept his hands behind his back. He had silver aviator goggles on top of his head that matched his silver jacket. “So, Y/N, what is your weirdness? You know about mine. I want to know about yours.”

That made her laugh. “Nice way of saying it. I have, uh, protective abilities?”

“You ask, or you know?”

She glared at him playfully. “I know. I wasn’t sure if that description was correct. Let me put it this way - I can create and manipulate forcefields.”

“Nice.” That was his only comment. “So, you have a codename?”

“What?” she raised a brow.

“You know, like Scott is Cyclops. Logan is Wolverine. I am Quicksilver,” he explained. “Do you have any name you go by?”

Wheels were turning inside her head. “No,” she said. “I never thought about it, actually. Do I need one?” Was it necessary to have a codename? Holy shit, Logan was called the Wolverine? She could see why. It suited him well.

“That’s up to you, I guess. Okay, changing the topic - how long have you been here?”

“Over a month,” she replied. “It’s been a hell of a ride. What about you?”

He thought about it. “It’s been over a decade. I love this place, to be honest.”

They slowly approached the main gate. They could see some people standing there, talking. Y/N was sure Logan was not there. “You took a break or something?”

Peter nodded. “I needed some time off. It was all overwhelming. Charles granted me a lengthy vacation. I took a break, travelled the States, and here I am, ready to work again.”

Storm, Kitty and Kurt were the first three there, chatting. Y/N felt some excitement building inside of her. It was nice being a part of something bigger and better. Both Storm and Kitty were great women and friends. Were they friends? God, she hoped so. The last three to arrive were Bobby, Logan and Rogue. Rogue and Logan were squabbling. She couldn’t hear what it was about until she heard: “Let it fucking go, Rogue.”

She had to chuckle. What got Logan so worked up?

“Let’s fucking go, people,” Peter called them.

Thus, a thirty-minute walk to the bar started. Rogue linked arms with Y/N, and they walked ahead of everyone. Her arms were covered with gloves that hid under the denim jacket. That way, she could touch the other woman without fear of hurting her.

“Isn’t it annoying?” Y/N asked her.

“The gloves? Yes, a little bit. Luckily, I can touch Remy without them,” she said with a smile. “He’s the only person that I won’t hurt. I don’t know how it is possible, but I don’t care. What matters is that I can touch the person I love.”

“What if you subconsciously learnt to not hurt him?” Y/N thought out loud. “I can shut my brain from the Professor. I don’t know how, but I do it. Well, I might have already figured it out.”

They talked together the entire way to the bar. Rogue wouldn’t let anyone speak to Y/N. She wanted to have her for herself and get to know the woman better.

Y/N felt a pair of eyes on her back the whole time. She suppressed the urge to turn around and look at Logan. She was more than sure it was him staring at her. It kept happening until they arrived at the empty bar.

It looked like an old dive bar. Country music was playing in the background. An older-looking man was standing behind the bar, cleaning glasses. He had short white hair and glasses on his nose. When his grey eyes found a group of mutants at the door, he smiled.

“Welcome, friends,” he greeted them with a raspy voice. “I was wondering when I will see you again. Come, sit. Ah, I see a new face here,” his lips crooked into a smile.

Rogue grabbed Y/N by the shoulder and brought her closer to the man. “This is Y/N,” she said happily. “She’s been with us for some time now.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Y/N, shaking hands with the man.

“What can I get you, sweetheart?” he asked.

“A beer would be nice, thank you,” she replied with a smile. They told her the owner was a mutant. What was his mutation?

Rogue took her to the table where the rest of the people were seated. Y/N sat next to Storm, right opposite Logan. Rogue sat by the man’s side.

It felt like a friendly gathering. The atmosphere was inviting. It’s been years since Y/N felt safe in a group. They were all like her, unique and not criminals. When Y/N’s eyes travelled around the table, her soul got warmer and relaxed. A gentle smile appeared on her face. She listened to Bobby talk about his day. The teens got on his nerves today.

“In case you haven’t heard,” Storm interrupted him. “Y/N will become the newest English and Literature teacher.”

“No kidding!” Rogue shouted excitedly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

All eyes were on her now. “I asked the Professor today,” she explained. “I don’t know. I simply didn’t. I kind of forgot, I guess.”

“Another smartass,” Logan commented.

“Aren’t you one, too?” Y/N glared at him, her lips turning into a grin. “Listen, I asked if he’d need an English teacher, and Charles said yes. I’m glad that I would be able to repay him at least a little.”

The bartender brought them a tray of beers. They all grabbed one. Y/N put the drink to her lips and took a sip. Then another one. Before she knew it, she drank the whole glass in one go. She burped a little and smiled. “Damn, that was a good beer.” When her eyes lifted from the empty glass, everyone stared at her. Some had their mouths open, and others were impressed. “What? It’s been years.”

“You’ll be out before you know it,” Bobby warned her. “Be careful.”

“So,” Rogue clapped her hands. It got everyone’s attention. “Since we are all here, let’s get more information about Y/N.”

“Oh, no,” Y/N hid her face in her hands.

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” Storm nudged her shoulder. “We want to know everything about you. Let’s start with the basics. Tell us something interesting about yourself. For example, I like gardening.”

Y/N peeked at Storm, raising a brow. “That’s quite shocking. I could never picture you in a garden, on your knees and covered in dirt.”

“The more you know. Now, it’s your turn.”

“Ah,” Y/N sighed and thought about her life. “I used to attend guitar lessons,” she said after a while. “My parents made me take guitar lessons. That was years ago. I don’t think I remember anything.”

“At least someone who’s not tone-deaf,” Peter commented. “I can’t listen to some of you singing off-key.”

“I’m saying I played the guitar, not that I can sing,” Y/N corrected him.

“It’s still the same,” Peter shrugged.

“Anything else?” Storm asked.

Y/N’s eyes moved around the place. She found darts and a pool table farther away. “Nothing is interesting about me,” she said. “I’m going to get another beer. Anyone want anything else?” she asked them.

Y/N’s eyes fell on Logan’s empty glass, and she raised a brow. Their eyes locked. It was a silent plea to save her from the interrogation. “I’ll go with you,” he said.

They walked from the table and straight to the bar. Logan ordered them more beer. He leaned against the wooden counter, elbows resting on it. “Everyone is curious about you,” he commented.

“I hate that,” she sighed. “It’s like going to a confession. They all get information, and I get nothing out of it. It makes me nervous. I feel like the least interesting person here.” She turned her body to him. “Back in the day, when I started high school, this was a nightmare. People wanted to know everything to convince themselves that their lives were more interesting than others.”

Logan’s eyes travelled around her body until they landed back on her face. “True,” he shrugged. “But here, people are genuinely curious and want to know you. You are part of the team, you know?”

“It feels forced,” said Y/N.

The bartender handed them beers, and he winked at Y/N. She chuckled at that. He wasn’t too discreet about the flirting. Then again, she didn’t mind.

Her eyes landed on the pool table again. “Listen. Do you want to play?” she pointed with her head.

Logan turned to look at it and then back at her, smirking. “Not only do you want me to kick your ass during training. You also want to lose playing pool?”

“Is that a threat I hear in your voice? I will beat you,” she threatened with a finger.

“Only one way to find out, princess,” he grabbed his beer. “We’ll have a game, Stan,” Logan said to the bartender.

Storm and Kitty watched them walk around the pool table and play. They both had grins on their faces, squabbling here and there. “They are so blind,” Kitty whispered to Storm.

“Let them have this dance,” Storm whispered back. “Five bucks, they’ll end up together by the end of the month.”

“I’m giving them a week,” Bobby joined on the bet.

Y/N held the billiard cue tightly in her hand. Logan was the one who started the game. They flipped a coin, and he won. Logan got himself solids while Y/N remained with the stripes. When he screwed up his move, it was time for her to play. The last time she played pool was years ago. It was a game she wasn’t able to master. All she could do was to try and have a good time.

She sank one of her balls and moved to another one. She leaned over the table, placed the cue on the table and focused. There weren’t any good shots for her. Therefore, she had to play something and try.

Logan stood next to her and laughed. “Your stance is wrong,” he said. He reached for her hand and brought it higher on the cue.

His body was oh so close to her, and Y/N forgot how to breathe. She could smell the cigars, a heavy man’s cologne and something musky. When he pulled away, his hand brushed against her lower back. It made her hit a ball that sank one of his solid balls. “Shit,” she cursed.

Logan’s howling laughter echoed around the bar. “You really want me to win, princess.”

“You are distracting me,” she frowned at him when she straightened her stance. She reached for her beer and drank from it.

Her eyes were stalking him, watching his every move. When did he light up a cigar? He held it between his lips while he played his turn. Y/N huffed. She took off her leather jacket and threw it on the nearest chair. Then, she fixed her blouse and popped open the highest button to show some cleavage. If he could distract, so could she.

He sank two other balls when the third try was unsuccessful. “Fuck,” he growled.

Y/N snickered. She walked to the table and scanned her stripes. This round sucked. There was nothing good to play. She sat at the edge and held the cue behind her back.

“You won’t be able to make it,” Logan stared at the scene. “It’s a difficult move, kid.”

Y/N exhaled and hit the red stripe ball perfectly. “Ha!” she shouted happily when the ball sank. “Did you see that?”

Logan smiled at her and rolled his eyes. “Go on, it’s still your turn,” he goaded her. “Show me what else you can do.” He took a drag of the cigar.

Y/N felt confident. Even though she was three balls behind, she started to believe she could win. She gave him a smug face as she walked around the table, trying to find another good shot. It was all fun and games. When she brushed past him, Logan wanted to grab her by the neck and bring her lips to his. He only took a deep breath and pushed the thoughts away.

Y/N leaned over the table and hovered the cue on the table. There was one ball that had the potential of being taken down. She took a deep breath. Again, Y/N felt Logan’s eyes on her body. She started burning up. With this knowledge, she hit the white ball, and with some dumb luck, she managed to sink the black eight ball.

“No!” she shouted, horrified.

Logan’s roaring laughter brought everyone’s attention. “Holy shit,” he placed a hand on his belly. “You did not!”

Y/N leaned against a wall and hid her head in her arms. “What the fuck was that?!” she shouted, pissed.

Laughter came from the table where the rest of the people sat. They saw what happened. “Oh, Y/N, no,” Kitty gasped, laughing.

“I’m never playing this dumb game again,” Y/N made a dramatic announcement. “Oh my god,” she pushed from the wall and turned around. She noticed all eyes on her. “Listen,” she blushed. “I am talented. I am the best there is. I should stick to drinking,” she said ironically.

“Hey, hey,” Logan walked to her and put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it. “If you’d like, I can also kick your ass while playing darts,” he teased.

She glared at him. “Very funny,” she shook off his hand and went to get her beer. “I will kick your ass when we have the next training session,” she threatened. Once she got to her beer, she went back to him. “I will find a way to burn all your clothes.”

Logan tilted his head and grinned. “If you want to see me without clothes, all you need to do is ask.”

“Is that a challenge?” she looked into his eyes and wiggled her eyebrows. “Think twice, or you might regret it.” And then, she drank the rest of her second beer in one go. “Refill?”

He snorted. “You’ll get drunk, princess.”

“Well, you only live once, right?” she shrugged and walked to the bar to order another beer.

The rest of the night went smoothly. Everyone talked and laughed. Y/N wasn’t interrogated as she was at the very beginning. Bobby told her about the students and what to expect from them. Kitty added some of her funniest memories and challenges as a teacher. Storm included what to do when the school is under attack.

“It happens,” she said. “Not often, but at least once a year.”

Before they knew it, Y/N was on her fifth beer and feeling it. Her face was burning, the world spinning, and she could feel it in her veins. Her voice got louder, and words went flying out of her mouth.

“I love my life,” Y/N said out of nowhere. Some giggles spread around. “Everything’s good, you know? I have a place to sleep, food to eat, and amazing friends,” she said with a wide smile. “I fucking hope we are friends.”

“Of course we are,” Bobby nodded.

“No more beer for you, young lady,” said Peter. “By the way, how is it possible to get drunk from beer?”

She took a big, dramatic breath. “Let me tell you a short story, my friend. When you are locked up for years, barely able to eat and an involuntary abstainer, you can get drunk easily.”

More laughter followed. “Take it easy, girl,” Storm patted her shoulder.

Y/N stood up from their table. “I’m going outside to take a breather and clear my head.” She tripped over her feet but managed to stand tall. “It’s the floors,” she blamed it.

The midnight air was cold. Y/N walked outside without her leather jacket. She wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes. Getting drunk was not the plan. On the other hand, the beer tasted good. It eased her nerves. Walking around Logan got easier the more she drank. That fucker was such a tease.

Y/N let her hair loose and put the elastic band between her fingers. She let her hair fall over her shoulders and face.

How would his lips feel against mine? Where did that question come from? Her mind was racing miles. All she could see was Logan’s face and those lips she wanted to taste. She shook her head to get rid of those thoughts.

“You okay, kid?”

She sighed. Of course, Logan would be the first one to check up on her. It was nice. But it brought back all those impure thoughts.

“I’d like another beer,” she said to him.

“Go get some. But I’m warning ya, I’m not the one carrying ya back to the school.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Y/N winked at him. When she took a step, she almost tripped again. Sighing, she said, “Seriously, what is with the floor?”

“Y/N, you are drunk,” said Logan. “The floor is fine. Also, you are outside, so there is ground under your feet. I think it’s time to go back to school.”

“You are right,” she nodded and yawned. “I’m going to get my jacket. I’ll head back to school. You guys have fun.” Y/N wanted to walk inside to get her belongings. However, Logan stopped her. Y/N was about to protest, but she noticed he already had her jacket. “How did you get that? You are not the one who can run fast. That’s Peter.”

Logan was a bit annoyed when she mentioned his name. He put the jacket around her shoulders. “Come on, princess. Let’s get ya home.”

“You are coming with me?” she looked up at him, confused. “Why?”

“You think I’m letting you walk there alone in this state? Come on, Y/N, I’m not leaving you when you are drunk and barely able to walk on your own.”

A bright smile appeared on her face. “Aw, you are my knight in shining armour,” she sang.

#Logan Howlett x reader #Logan Howlett #Logan Howlett x female reader #Wolverine #Wolverine x reader #Wolverine x female reader #x-men #x-men fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

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brighteuphony · 7 months

Note

I LOVE your Sakura AU, thank you so much for making it 🥹

Even though her ending is supposed to be “good”, I always thought that canon didn’t do her justice and threw any character development she had out of the window so she can be with Sasuke

I SO wanted her to finally move on and just let go

And I don’t have anything against Sasusaku

But I think it’d be much more beautiful if Sakura long let go of her feelings by the time Sasuke came to his senses and they developed their relationship TOGETHER from the START

And, once again, your work is AMAZING and I can’t wait for next pieces ❤️

Btw, can I ask a question?) Will we see Naruto’s and Sasuke’s reaction to her condition (maybe flashback to before she left the village?), if not, can you please tell me a bit about it? I can’t imagine them to ignore her after the incident, especially considering that they are at fault as usual

Thank you so much for the kind words! I've also never been a fan of how Sakura ended up. I have no beef with SasuSaku, but my biggest issue was that we never saw Sasuke try to make up/connect with Sakura in the same way we saw him do with Naruto, so their romance in Boruto just felt so...abrupt?

As for what happens to Sakura and her friends....

Sasuke was essentially put on probation/jailed, but broke out and defected to Otogakure as canon. This devastates Sakura, as she's both in deep denial about his contribution to her injuries and also the fact that she basically threw herself in there for nothing. Kakashi shuts down completely. It's a nightmare replay of his own past, including the female team-mate being horrifically injured by the chidori. The guilt of everything is eating him alive so he basically withdraws into himself and uses her demotion to civilian status as a way to trick himself into thinking that if he just 'rips off the bandaid' and cut ties, she'll be able to move on more easily.

Naruto is the only person who is really able/willing to face justice. After the incident, he was basically also put on probation/awaiting trial but busted himself out to join Jiraya.

So for context, Sakura got clapped hard by the Rasengan/Chidori combo (hearing gone, nerve damage, eyes shot etc) and basically had to be put in a coma to try and stop the damage from getting worse, but unfortunately none of the medics in Konoha had the ability to reverse anything but the most superficial damage. So Naruto joined Jiraya in an attempt to find and bring the only person in the world who could give Sakura a sliver of hope.

I felt like this worked well with canon and the desperation to get Tsunade to be hokage and Naruto basically begged her on his hands and knees to help Sakura. Tsunade made it there in the nick of time managed to save everything but her eyes.

But Sakura's life has fallen apart, her career is over, her parents dead from Konoha Crush and her eyes gone...and Naruto is the most convenient and available person to take out all her rage on, so...while he deserves a lot of that rage..she is essentially punching down on who she perceives to be the cause of all her problems.

Lee is in the same boat as her, but while he tries very hard to be there for her, Sakura can't stand to be with him right now, as it just makes the reality of life hit that much worse- especially when she finds out there's a surgery that might give him a better chance than she'll ever have.

And Ino visits often at first, but then it's awkward...and painful as the weeks go by. They have lunch and gossip but at some point, there's not much a shinobi and civilian have in common, especially after the shortage of manpower post Konoha-crush has Ino entrenched in the shinobi life more than ever before.

I hope this answered some stuff! Thank you so much for the questions and the interest! I love Sakura and I just wanna give her the development and power she deserves!!

#naruto #naruto au #sakura #haruno sakura #ino #kakashi #tsunade #rock lee #sasuke #sakura pov: ur life is falling apart #no hating on sakura here #yes she's cruel #but she's also TWELVE and has NO real support #and honestly naruto is part of the problem rn

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gladiatorcunt · 6 months

Note

i’m thinking about modern!coryo again… ‘n the way he’d just love humiliating you. when you’ve been particularly bratty (let’s be real, any time you tell him no he thinks you’re being defiant… no matter the circumstances), he loves to shove your face into the mattress so your ass is facing him, and grip your hips, teasing his cock against your entrance until you’re whining and begging for him to fuck you. but he doesn’t! he just lets his cock slap against your clit and tease your slick hole until you’re soaking your panties. his favourite thing though, is filming you take his cock, because even though he’d never let anybody see the videos (besides maybe his friends), he gets off on the way you’re whining for him to put the phone away as he fills you up, pearly cum sliding down your soft thighs. but he won’t, because he just loves the way you’re absolutely humiliated at the thought of somebody seeing how much of a whore you are for him

CW: anal, sejanus mention (throuple au tease), typical coryo type warnings, yandere/possessive & obsessive behavior, gn reader but there is feminization (reader calls themselves a "good girl", coryo calls your pussy "sweet girl" & assigns it she/her pronouns), blood (coryo has a fantasy of you tearing), accidental slight pet play/dumbification, my modern coryo's typical inability to understand/care about poor(er) people, the ending is inspired by ghostface's finishing move in dbd, implied plus sized reader (who's afab) he loves you really.

So true, you could do something as small as say “i want to be alone in the bathroom for 5 minutes” and he’d lose his shit. Something about that arrogant rich boy behavior turned up to 100 because he’s inherently a psycho….. like he loves you deeply but wdym his prized possession has a mind of their own (if you just decided to do everything he wants, he’d support you making your own decisions). His whole vibe was being untouchable and unavailable but now it’s coming apart. Like do you know how much he planned to hoe around when his family inevitably made him get married??? But now you’ve fucked it all up and made him feel like he’s constantly writhing around in every circle of hell fr.

So yeah, he can’t take it if he feels like you aren’t “putting in as much effort” as he is. And i don’t mean that he’d be pissed if you’re not cooking or cleaning, i mean that he’d be peeved if you weren’t matching his energy (batshit balls to wall insane). He’ll do a little cute open palm wave like “Hi, baby 🥰” when you look at him over your shoulder with tears in your eyes. King of false sympathy with all the cooing and mocking your facial expression (which you wouldn’t even have to make if you were behaving). His weird ass is completely naked even though he made you keep your clothes on, and he tore a hole in your leggings with his teeth for easy access.

He’ll put his dick in between your ass cheeks and fuck you like that until the sheets are soaked because you got so desperate (you nearly pissed yourself). He’ll press the head against your asshole and see how deep he can get before you realize that he’s using the wrong whole. Sometimes he wishes that he’d tug his cock from your hole to find the whole thing covered in blood. If you catch on him, he’ll just say that it was an accident. But to be real, you knew immediately. It just gets you hot watching him go on his little power trips. The pleasure of letting your rabid dog off of his leash but he thinks it’s his idea does something to you that you’re currently ignoring.

The iPhone camera you can see from the standing mirror by your bed doesn’t exactly catch you off guard. Coryo’s got a fair few videos of you getting backshots in his family’s limo and even more of him devouring your pussy anytime and anywhere he pleases. Your stomach rolls with shame but your pussy clenches in arousal. A big part of being able to handle being his s/o means having the ability to straddle the line between calling his bluff and baring your neck in submission. So you just whine pleadingly and let your head fall forward onto the pillow.

You'd never admit that there are times where you'd be perfectly happy if your ass was all he fucked; that on mornings when the sunlight beams down on you as Coryo pushes the velvet curtains from the large penthouse windows and all you can see out of the eye that's not smothered in the pillow is your boyfriend in a pair of gray sweatpants, you feel feral with the need to swallow his cock all the way to the base and lie there forever.

A "love tap" to your clit brings you out of your thirsting. When all you do is gasp, you receive a firmer strike.

"Don't tell me you're already out of it? Did I make my smart baby all stupid already?"

"Hngh~ Uh huh, don't stop..." You beg, the carefully maintained image of the prim and proper perfect student crumbling under his touch.

Your need to be praised and to have male approval can really be a curse sometimes, because outside of the bedroom you don't let yourself be as willing of a kept pet as Coryo wants. But as soon as you're alone, you gratefully sink into the safe space he creates for you where you can just... let go and have someone else think for you for a change.

It feels like bolts of electricity go through you when two of his fingers start to trace letters on your pussy lips. It makes you think of his family crest branded on the gates of their mansions.

C-O-R-I-O-L-A-N-U-S S-N-O-W, pinching your clit after every letter. (training)

"That's okay, I like you dumb anyway. Can't use that big brain to think about anything else but me when I get this dick in you." He says and wags it in his hands at you like it's a treat.

The bed creaks as he sits back on his heels, and like a good girl you parts your legs as far as they can go.

Welcome Home.

The heavy weight of his palms clutching your hips calms any lingering anxiety, his nails bite into your flesh but you know he'll be licking and nuzzling the marks soothingly later. He's told you how beautiful you are in the beginning, that he relishes in the way you give up all tension to him with a sigh; that one of his favorite versions of you is the you that shuts down. Has him feeling like the "family man" he always vowed to never turn into.

"Now, you know the drill, take a deep breath..." He pants, somehow already pussy drunk, "It's going to be a tight fit, dove."

His grip tightens as he feeds his tip to your clenching hole, you soak in the mutters of 'aw, I missed you too, sweet girl.' You know he wasn't talking to you.

Your breath hitches when you start taking him past the tip, and like always, Coryo wraps a hand around the nape of your neck and massages it to distract you from the inevitable sting of pain. It'll always be there no matter how much of a mess he's made of your cunt.

"That's my dumb bunny, biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiig stretch." He grunts, dragging his words out when the thickest part of his cock comes to greet you.

You moan when he takes his other hand off of your hip to reach it around and rub your twitching clit. More juices drip from your hole, making the remaining inches slide in a lot easier.

You hear shuffling and the bed creaks as Coryo leans over to grab something off the nightstand. He quickly finds what he's looking for and settles back into position behind you. He gropes one of your ass cheeks and gives it a couple long squeezes before he jiggles it, letting out a low whistle when he does it again.

You mewl impatiently, clenching your pussy around his long cock. He doesn't give you what you want, however, until almost a minute later. He jostles his hips against your ass, showing off for the camera that's focused down on where the two of you are connected.

Coryo's head shoots up when he hears you sniffle, and even though he could tease about how much of a needy whore you are, you're HIS needy whore so he only smiles.

"Alright, alright. 'M sorry, petal, I know your pussy's gagging for this dick. I'll give her what she wants, don't you worry."

Your mouth falls open on a silent moan as he leisurely drags his length out of you until the tip catches on your entrance; being forced to be broken down and rebuilt around it until you both turn to ash. He has never wanted anything more than he wants you to somehow grow to only survive of his own body. His blood would be your water, his very dna would be your floss, his bone marrow would soothe your raw throat, his organs would be your snacks, his bones would be your jewelry, his teeth would be your little trinkets, and his surrounding flesh would be your every meal until you could eat no more.

You have no idea how much of your boyfriend's time has been spent making sure he tastes delectable, in every way.

Like those people from Pompei who are forever immortalized in the arms of their lover, chained to the passage of time but the eyes that dust them off are the only things about them that change.

You made him watch Titanic once, saying that your MasterChef binge could be paused for a night. He huffed but complied, and gun to his head, he wiped his tears on the arm of the couch before you could notice that he was crying. Rose could've done a little more to help Jack in his opinion (they both could have fit on the wood), he'd have never just let you go like that. But there was something in the way all they really had in the world was each other, in how calm the old couple was as the water creeped into their room; because they were together, and to Coryo, death after a very very long and happy life is an experience that's meant to be shared (no matter the circumstances).

His body has been moving on autopilot during his usual mid-sex spiral monologue. There's ringing in his ears as he tunes back into your hiccup-y whines and high-pitched moans (he loved when you stopped being so fucking shy). His thrusts had gradually sped up until they were at the speed they were now, your bodies now making wet smacking sounds as his dick pulverizes your pussy. He had been so lost in thought that he nearly dropped his phone, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that it was still recording.

He removes his death grip on your ass cheek to slap your swaying tits one after the other. He can never resist showing love to the chub of your tummy either, so he hits that too.

"Yeah, you like that, bunny?" He sneers, tonguing your ear and gnawing at the lobe as the excess saliva trickles down the valley of your breasts.

It's a rhetorical question, of course you do.

But you answer, using your words like he often "urges" you to.

"Like it so much, Coryo.... fuck!"

His thrusts become even faster, and he gathers as much of your hair in his hand as possible. Your moans cut off into a gasp as he wrenches your head up off the pillow by your hair, bringing the phone around to put your tear-stained face into frame.

You're helpless to do anything but take every inch he slams inside your puffy cunt, which will no doubt be sore and red by the time Coryo's done with his latest fit. He bends down to whisper in your ear about braindead you look, sobbing with your eyes glazed over and your mouth gaping.

"Shh, that's it, keep going baby. It's all about you, these'll just be fun memories so I can have little parts of you forever, so you could never really leave me."

You never look away from the camera though, and he's suddenly overcome with so much gratitude that he uses his grip on your hair to bring you into a sloppy open-mouthed kiss; your tongues making it so wet you'd think he'd been eating your pussy nonstop with how soaked the lower half of his face gets.

He doesn't let you pull away, the impulsive french kissing only ends so he can lean his head against yours and get into the shot with you. He's smiling so warmly like you're taking a selfie on one of your numerous vacations, but his hips never stop their rough assault on your already thoroughly debauched pussy. Coryo tightens his hold on your hair and pecks your round cheek when you whimper due to the sting.

"Smile, petal."

The videos are kept in a locked folder on his phone titled “💍💒", and while he threatens to show his friends (in actuality he’d only show sejanus in some version of this au where he’s trying to force him into a throuple), he’ll apologize with his tongue swirling around your sensitive nipples once he feels like you’ve learned your lesson. If you’re really upset, he’ll offer to make up to you on his father’s yacht in Greece. (he has your bags packed already)

faetreides 2024. request rules. please consider tipping/reblogging if you enjoyed!

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fcthots · 9 months

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thinking about fake dating jason and falling in love.

it happens slowly and quietly, so slow you don’t even notice it.

and then you turn around and you’re head over heels for him, no idea how it happened.

-🍓

Anon, if i ever gain the ability to write full fics, this is the first thing i'm writing.

might turn this into an au and let y'all request scenes (tattooartist!jason style)

It started off simple. He needed a date to the gala. the press was brutal and he was a Wayne. He didn't want to put anyone in that sort of spotlight. He had a dark past and didn't want anyone to get dragged into it. You were bored, needed a date to a wedding, and you cared about your friend. Also, it helped that he was willing to pay you because he felt bad about the whole press thing. It was nothing more than an arrangement between friends, a way for you to help him out. He's always been there for you, no matter what. You didn't think twice about returning the favor.

He was sweet in public. Held your hand, kissed your cheek, always asked if you were up for a kiss when he thought it was necessary. His hand was always warm and comforting on your waist. It grounded. you, kept you in the moment with him. You loved hanging out with him. The arrangement had let allowed you to hand out with him all the time, anywhere and everywhere. There were some comments made about you in the press, but the negative ones didn't bother you (how could they think you were the bad influence, secret identity or not, he was the one with murders under his belt!) and there were some nice things. You ha your past delved into, which wasn't exactly fun, but Jason had warned you it would happen and oracle made sure everything traceable wasn't bad. Overall, it was fun. You got to hang out with your best friend 24/7 and you got some new instagram followers and fun edits made of you along the way.

When it did inevitably get a little rough, Jason was there for you, like always. He took care of all the truly nasty things the press had to say about you. He always respected your boundaries, and he took you on vacation when it all got too much, even if he had to leave early for a Gotham emergency.

Things had to be believable, of course, so there needed to be couple's pictures on your social media. He needed to lay down with you. He needed to press his body up against yours. he needed to wrap his arms around you. He needed to draw you so close to him that there wasn't any given one inch of space in between you. He needed to press his face to your chest and close his eyes.

Right?

He just needed the picture to look believable. That was all.

So why did he stay cuddled into you? Why did he fall asleep there like he was made to fit? Like it was the only place he's ever wanted to be?

And why did it make you want.

After that, you spent all of your time wanting. Wanting more. The arrangement was perfect. It gave you everything it was supposed to. So why did you want more? Why did you wish Jason would stop apologizing when he said he had to kiss you? Why did your heart sink when his hands left yours after you were away from prying eyes? When did the edits people made of you go from fun to painful, a reminder of the way you wished he really looked at you? Why did you wish he wasn't faking it.

And, fuck that hurt, because he was just faking it all, right? He only looked at you like you were his world when someone else was looking. He didn't want you.

Not like you wanted him.

"Why do you look like that?" His voice shakes you out of your thoughts. Your eyes drift to him where he's sitting on the couch, his phone long forgotten timing out and turning off in his hand.

"What?" Your eyebrows had just lightly drawn together, your voice duller than usual.

"You look sad. What's on your mind?" His face looks a little worried. His eyes searched yours. You hope he can't see the truth lying beneath them.

What were you supposed to tell him? That this wasn't just a game to you anymore? That you can't stomach him holding your hand not because he means it? That you're taking advantage of him? That when he kisses you, you pretend it's real?

You don't meet his eyes. "I can't do this anymore."

#fake dating au #fakeboyfriend!jason #fake boyfriend!jason #saph’s love letters #jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood x reader #saph’s thots #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #red hood imagine #red hood x you #jason todd angst #jason todd x reader angst #red hood x reader angst #red hood angst #angst #🍓 anon

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justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms · 4 months

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hello!!! I saw that your requests were open and that you did Sahsr!! Could I request some headcanons with Caelus, Dan Heng, Welt, Jing Yuan, Blade and Adventurine, hearing the player singing for the first time?

They're singing Loser Baby from Hazbin Hotel to cheer up their friend or singing Addict from the Hazbin Hotel Pilot (including the sad verse) when feeling blue.

Thank youu!

Hi Anon! Thank you for your request! Sorry it took so long. I hope you like the headcanons!

Fandom: Honkai Star Rail

Characters: Caelus, Dan Heng, Welt Yang, Jing Yuan, Blade, Aventurine x gn! Reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In a self-aware au, what do the characters think of you singing while you play? Also, bonus headcanons on which Hazbin Hotel song each of the characters like best.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Caelus was surprised when he first heard you sing but after a moment to appreciate it, he’s not going to be able to resist humming along, immediately blowing his cover.

He’s definitely going to join in when you’re singing songs he knows and likes, whether he’s a good singer or not. If he can make you smile or laugh by doing that, he’s achieved his mission.

But at the same time, he loves hearing your voice alone. He’s especially fond of quiet days where he can relax with you, listening to you sing whatever song comes to mind.

I think Caelus’ favourite Hazbin Hotel song would be “Respectless”. He’s certainly been that a few times on his travels and he loves the sass you put into your voice whenever you sing it.

Out of everyone, I think Dan Heng would be the only one not surprised to hear you sing. He’s got a lot of knowledge about a lot of things so I think he would be able to tell you’d have a nice singing voice from the way you talk.

However, that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to enjoy listening to you. Whether you notice him or not, he’ll encourage you to keep singing while he works.

Occasionally, he may hum along to a song, but he generally prefers hearing your voice without any other auditory distractions.

This may seem like a strange match at first, but I think Dan Heng would like “Ready for This”. He likes the music, sure, but he also really enjoys hearing how different characters change throughout the song.

This music lover has found his soulmate. He’s sure of it. Someone who can sing as well as you can is the perfect match for someone who likes listening to singing as much as he does.

If you’re singing to yourself, Welt will do his best to quiet so he doesn’t interrupt you. He wants to keep listening for as long as possible.

He really wants to request songs from time to time but for the most part, he’s happy with whatever you pick.

I can see his favourite Hazbin Hotel song being “More Than Anything” just for the slow loving vibes. He might not be much of a singer, but he would like to duet this song with you.

Oh, Jing Yuan’s going to be insufferable as soon as he finds out how well you can sing. He’ll always be humming, hinting at you to sing something.

Has fallen asleep listening to you more than once. Thankfully he wasn’t doing anything important at the time…

Jing Yuan definitely has a nice singing voice, so he’d enjoy joining you in your songs sometimes, especially if it’s a duet.

This man loves “Loser, Baby”. That’s all that needs to be said here. He likes how fun it is while still conveying a good message.

I feel like Blade might be initially indifferent to your singing abilities. They’re not useful in combat so what’s the point of them?

At the same time, he’s likely to sulk around until you feel like singing yourself. As soon as that happens, he’s back on his A-game.

Because even though he claims not to care, Blade loves listening to you sing. There have been few sleeps as good as the ones he’s had after falling asleep to your voice.

Blade’s favourite Hazbin Hotel song is “Hell is Forever”. He originally thought it was going to be edgy and instead ended up really liking it for what it is.

I haven’t really had a lot of experience with Aventurine either as a character or writing for him so hopefully this isn’t too out of character, but I think he’d love your singing if only because it’s better than the music that plays in game.

Whenever he walks into a building that normally has music playing, he’ll turn it off (somehow) so your voice takes over.

I can’t see him singing along but he might hum a few notes if you’ve been quiet for a while and he wants to hear you sing. He can’t blow his cover, so he’s got s drop subtle hints that he wants you to sing for him.

I think his favourite Hazbin Hotel song would be "Stayed Gone". It seems to match the vibe he’s got going on and I definitely see some similarities between Aventurine and Vox.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey, did you enjoy this? If you like my writing, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi page! This will allow me to make some money off my writing, something I enjoy doing.

ko-fi.com/justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms

Important Note: Please only donate if you are financially able to. If you are currently in a position where you can't donate, a like, comment or reblog will mean just as much.

#writing #fanfic #headcanons #headcanon request #request #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #caelus #caelus x reader #dan heng #dan heng x reader #welt yang #welt yang x reader #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #blade #blade x reader #aventurine #aventurine x reader

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byhuenii · 1 month

Text

WHEN YOU KNOW YOU KNOW

synopsis! when you knew logan was the one for you and when logan knew you were the one for him (WC: idk..) pairing! logan ‘wolverine’ howlett x fem!reader warnings! usage of name instead of yn. stubborn logan. black reader in mind. probably ooc. soulmate au kinda. 🧏‍♀️ a/n! this was just some random thought i had and it turned into a mini fic of sorts, it’s alright but too BE HONEST this was so cute to write..

Hugh Jackman wolverine so that = him being tall as hell.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

To you. The idea of love at first sight was stupid, it wasn’t real and neither was soulmates. who would want to be bound with someone for their life—there was very few who you believed were soulmates and that was mainly jean and scott, they’d practically been inseparable

you could say it’s jealousy, and it’s not because you’re in love with one of them but rather because you wanted what they had. no matter what they were always mature about their relationship and always talked to each other; you had met logan after he was brought from the crash his personality was brash and off putting but his love for rogue is what made you want to get to know him more, it made your heart feel fuzzy..but in the best way possible

love at first sight was something you didn’t believe in but watching logan fight and risk his life to save this little girl he had just met turned something in you

and suddenly you believed in the thought of love and first sight moreover you believed in soulmates, he had slowly taken over your mind. he took over your daily life, it was embarrassing. you had never been this bad with anyone you had talked to

the sound of your heart beating roughly against your ribcage; the sight of him made your heart go a little insane. the small conversations you had, the littlest touches those were the ones that lingered those were the ones that stuck with you. you hated him you hated how he made you feel like you were going to explode like you wanted to scream into a pillow at night. you were in desperate need of advice, you had stormed yourself right to the lab.

“jean!!” your voice had boomed throughout the lab, jean had been in your mind lately she just hadn’t expected you to catch onto those feelings so quick. you were pretty stubborn, “when did you realize you were in love with scott..?” the loud call of her name to the normal tone yet desperate question made her have some whiplash

“when? i couldn’t tell you that” jean thought back to her first time meeting scott and their bond they had. “if this is about you and logan—”

yours brows furrowed “had you been reading my mind.” “[name] even without reading your mind your stares at him were enough to tell me everything”

jeans heels clicked against the floor as she put her hand on your shoulder, “i can’t tell you when or how i found out i liked scott but when you know you know” her eyes were soft. the question you had been trying to look for so long was right in front of you. you had always known you knew.

the minute you saw logan hold rogue so dear to him sacrificing his healing abilities so she would be able to stay alive was when you knew. “oh my god.”

But to logan, that was so much harder and took so much longer to simply admit he had fallen for you, he was 200 years old he was too old for you.

logan also had a gruff to him he always held people at a distance, he didn’t want to hold someone too close. he didn’t want to lose another person who he sought was important to him so he held you from a distance, it didn’t take much for you to work your way into his life

the xmen had treated him much like an outcast maybe much to his fault for being such a prick. you never let that get to you, a ray of sunshine that was just too nice—you actually cared about rogue, you wanted to help him you wanted to save rogue. maybe that’s when he started to grow somewhat fond of you

that was up to question he never took that as the sign, he’d saw you as a friend from that someone who was just nice to everyone. rogue had grown so fond of you she had always mentioned you in their conversations, it warmed his heart. to see rogue go from someone who held herself at a distance to being so comfortable in her own way especially with the help of you

logan had a smile on his face, one that could be missed. he had started to think about you a lot, your smell filled his nose. it was almost comfortable in such a way it’s as if your presence was able to comfort him, he knew you were there he knew you were safe; he’d catch himself staring at you more, lingering his touches a little more, he had this urge to hold you near him

“the way you look at [name] it’s different logan” rogue came from behind giving him quiet a scare, “jesus kid..” he grumbled. he couldn’t even notice that rogue was behind him at all,

rogue let out a small laugh putting her hand on his shoulder “you’re so in love with her, it’s sickening” she teased. logan refused to admit to no such thing “am not, you’re thinking nonsense kid”

“refusing to admit anything classic logan. when you have your ‘when you know you know’ moment do thank me”

his brow furrowed, a gruff smile as rogue had been right “don’t you have a class to be heading too?”

rogue rolled her eyes leaving him alone to head to class. logan had felt like his mind was going to explode, he needed a drink although it was school hours he opted for a dr pepper. “logan..!” your voice cause his head to turn behind in a rapid speed. “shit you scared me” he didn’t know why he lied he was just too excited to see you

a laugh escaped your lips, “did ya need something bub?” he put the dr pepper up to his lips sipping the carbonated beverage—“oh no no, i was just coming this way and i saw you” the damn smile you always wore, he could feel his shoulders relax his whole body relax

your scent filling up the room, honey, vanilla, and the smell of coffee you had always had with you. it was a comforting smell; the sun beamed through the windows casting this angelic look onto you, you were some kind of angel that saw the good in him and never judged him too harshly. his heart felt like it was beating harshly against his chest, he didn’t know how long he had been staring at you but it felt like hours. you were just so beautiful, it was a beauty in all his 200 years of living that was different

“logan” you waved your hand in front of his face, he seemed zoned out, “you still there..?” your face wore with concern. he laughed “yeah i’m still here bub”

“i was going to make some cookies since the kids really seemed to like them..” he watched your movement, the way you spoke so highly of the kids the way you held yourself to a standard never faulting to that. it made him feel weak, if he had been completely honest he hadn’t been listening to a single thing you said. he was just in a different world

a different world admiring you, he wore a small smile “so this is what she meant by when you know you know..”

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

a/n — im still getting the just of writing again please bare with me </3

#w.riting ‹𝟹 ‎scripts #— prim’s ☆ wildest dreams!#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine #when you know you knowwww #this was a random thought i had and it turned into a mini fic if you’d call it #i feel like he would be the first to fall but refused to admit

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whalesforhands · 3 months

Text

what’s yours is mine (6/?)

previous masterlist next

pairing: geto suguru x reader x gojo satoru

You don’t know a lot of things, and you readily admit that. What you do know, is that the friends you’ve made aren’t something you will ever regret. Until your physical body weakens and becomes nothing, you’re more than happy to give your all until you wither away.

What’s yours can be theirs, too. They’re your friends, after-all. (Omegaverse AU)

You always thought that there was something off about your dearest friend. Something that you just can never be sure of no matter how much you watch him, no matter how much you scrutinize and prod at his cheek with a deductive finger and a furrow of your brows.

It’s like finding the secret twist like in that one detective show. You gotta look hard, look deep into someone; something to really find what you’re truly looking for.

Because it could be right in front of your very eyes.

“Mhfm?” Geto Suguru is tilting his head at you through a spoonful of ice cream, letting you examine him carefully to the fullest of your ability just as you pinch one of his cheeks in between surveying fingers.

Pinch. Pull. Pinch. Stretch it out lightly. Let go.

He swallows as you grab his nose, squeezing lightly and feeling the cartilage sink under your touch.

Squishy.

“Is… There something on my face?” He blinks at you, squeezes his eyes closed when you start to squeeze a little harder with a cute frown that was teetering on a pout, with his voice amusingly nasally from your actions.

Yet, despite all that, you can’t seem to put a finger on it at all.

“Probably ugliness.” Gojo Satoru’s crude remark is heard from within an impish giggle, his lips smeared with cold ice cream as he licks the remnants away with a nimble tongue. “Ya looked in a mirror lately?”

“Nope,” Geto Suguru replies, irritation evident in his tone as his eyebrow starts to twitch, the smile still holding strong on his face as he feels you twirl a strand of his hair. “You’re around me so much that they all start breaking by themselves.”

And the air tenses, silence permeating before it breaks into yelled insults.

“Ya offended me, so you have to gimme all your ice cream!”

“Haaah?! That doesn’t make any sense at all, you greedy scammer! Y’er gonna lose the rest of your teeth!”

“Kimi-chan said it was just my baby teeth falling out!”

(It’s true. There’s a hole in your mouth right now from where you had spat out your tooth after a pretty bad fall yesterday.)

Such is the relationship between your friends. You guess that it isn’t so bad even when they practically start glaring at each other as Gojo purposely lunges for a jaw-dropping, comically large bite of ice cream that wasn’t his.

Narrowly would he have tackled you had it not been for Suguru pushing you away, the force toppling you over and making you now lay down uselessly upon your back, staring up at the ceiling of your own room and watching the sway of your ceiling lamp as you hear the both of them gasp, a spoon clattering onto the tatami of your floor just as little feet rush over to you.

“(n-name)?!” Worried and panicked as a bandaid covered hand smooths over your face.

“Oi, look what ya did!” Rough and jittery.

“I did it cause you’re dumb and blind!” Irritated and fretful.

These ones are easy to tell, easy to see exactly what they feel. So… You think they’re getting along exceptionally well these days. Especially when your eyes begin to stare up at their worried faces and prodding questions.

It makes you think harder than you did just moments before. Maybe it was a good thing that the back of your head was hit so hard.

“Everyone has their own secrets,” She began, pulling at its sleeves and smoothening out the wrinkles upon the damp shirt as it flutters out, the water having been wrung out thoroughly. “It’s only a matter if you find out or not.”

If you find out, huh? Mama says it’s rude to ask someone outright. Yet, it’s not enough of an answer to deter you.

“But what if I really, really wanna know something, Mama?”

“I suppose…” She glances down at you briefly as another pillowcase is pinned onto the clothing rack, the brand new, softer fabric starting to billow in the soft wind. “They’ll have to decide for themselves on whether or not they want to tell you.”

That’s annoying. Your shoulders slump and you pout, your foot continuously giving light kicks to the basket of clothing pegs as you squeeze the elastane plastic currently in your hand.

“But I’m sure that if you both were close enough,” She begins again just as your hand plops another pin onto her open palm. “They’d tell you outright.”

That gives you hope, you suppose. Only a little.

“Do you have any secrets, Mama?” It’s your curious eyes and small grin of mischief that catch her eye first as you hear her give you an inconclusive hum in reply.

The last of the laundry flutters with the wind, your knees bending and your hand reaching for the final clothespin to hand off to her as she stares off into the sky for a little bit, a certain look in her eye that you can’t exactly put your finger on but swear that you’re just upon the tip of discerning—

Before you feel a hand on your hand ruffling your hair as you blink, breaking you out of your train of investigative thought.

“Not at all.”

(“But I know you snuck a bite of the cream puffs I bought before dinner.” You feel a tap to your nose when she squats down to be eye level with you, a gasp of shock and your hands immediately slapping over your mouth a little too late.

How did she know?! How did she find out?! You even learned how to close that flimsy, silly little cardboard back correctly and as neatly as possible! Is your Mama a mind reader—

“You had cream on your nose all this time, dear.”)

You don’t know how to go about it, so you ask the next person you trust the most in this whole wide world.

Maybe that was your first mistake.

“Hah?” Gojo Satoru is staring up at you through those long eyelashes as he makes you pat his head, your hand smoothening out those rough strands of cloud white as you sit on your legs to better accommodate to his, admittedly, hard to discern whims.

(Mama did say he was ‘clingy’ after all.)

Maybe your pillows are just too cheap for someone so rich like him, too low quality to even be considered acceptable for his standards… Which is why he always has to make do with your lap despite how your legs start to get really tired after being stuck like this right after waking up.

(But if it’s for your friends, you’d do a lot of things for them. Even if you think your legs are gonna go numb and fall off…)

“I don’t know anythin’ about that uggo!” He’s quiet for once, finally learning to keep his voice small in these early mornings when the sky is still trapped in a dim blue and the sun had only started to peek over the horizon to say good morning to the world, his shiny eyes watching you lazily blink your bleary sleepiness away.

It’s one of those early weekend mornings where it would be just the both of you, the whirl of your fan beside your futon, those partially drawn curtains and breakfast that Kimiko-san had brought over sitting upon your kitchen counter downstairs.

(Mama is very grateful for Kimiko-san. You’ve seen her bow so profusely to her as she pushes the nicely packaged bag of tea she bought just yesterday with you into the maidservant’s hands before she left for work the other day.)

“Are you both still fighting?” You hear him whine just that little bit more when you rub against that spot near his ears, palms moulding into his scalp and your fingers scratching against the parts he usually gives in at— The parts that make him much more susceptible to talk even if he was being stubborn and puffing his cheeks at you.

“Hmph…!”

You’re actually… Kind of relieved Suguru isn’t here to retort back. It’s too early in the morning, and you’d feel really bad if he woke up too soon.

He needs to sleep well to keep his prettiness. That much you’re sure of, when you compare him to your cute friend who wakes up too early in the morning to come hang out with you, anyway.

“You shouldn’t be angry, Satoru.” Your thumb pokes at the crease between his brows to make him relax them before your arms shift to be hugging around his head, the soft scent of his expensive shampoo in your nose as you close your eyes and gently relax.

“You’ll make me sad.”

And that has him going limp in your hold, tension leaving his body as he watches your face from the corner of his eye.

You’re stupid. And dumb. And stupid stupid stupid stupid—!

“W-well I’ll forgive him if you don’t invite him over today!” He’s stuttering through his cute cherry cheeks, alight with a red so sweet you think he might actually turn into a cherry himself. “Ya h-have to hang out with only m-me today!”

That does sound a little unfair on Suguru’s end. So you compromise.

“Then can we go to his house later then? Geto-mama said her husband got some souvenirs from Hakone.” And a lot, too.

He stops complaining— Starkly silent as you continue to hug your cute friend. He feels so nice to hug.

You’re using his biggest weaknesses against him and it isn’t fair! So he has to actively contemplate, weighing the pros and cons as your cheek rubs so softly against him…

“How to get your friend to listen to you?” Your Mama blinks at you as she turns away from the TV that was still playing, head inquisitively tilted to the side as you blink back at her.

You think she has an inkling of what— And more specifically, who you’re talking about. She lets out a chuckle when she notices you’re staring at her too intensely, hyper focused on her answer as you waited with bated breath.

You really need to listen to her advice.

“You don’t actually have to try much, sweetie.” She shifts a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, smoothening it down and combing through it slightly. “Just be yourself.”

“F-Fine!” He huffs and puffs and pats your hand, a signal for you to let go, thoroughly embarrassed now that his entire face was ablaze with a hot blush.

You didn’t glean anything about Suguru from him after all, but at least you know he likes your shared pretty friend more than he lets on.

(He wouldn’t have agreed so readily otherwise, even with the promise of snacks.)

So you confide in someone else who would definitely know more than you. Someone who you trust more than you do yourself… Even if he ranked like— 7th on the list after Sailor Moon and Pikachu.

(You tried talking to them through the TV screen. They don’t really seem to be replying… They’re too busy being heroes like you, after all.)

“How to get your friend to tell you somethin’?” He’s raising a brow at you as his legs spread far too wide and take up way too much space, a yawn escaping his too big mouth and making the scar on his lips even more prominent than it already was… All whilst you were the one with his beaten up book bag settled on your lap that you had picked up after he unceremoniously tossed it aside.

“How the hell would I know?”

You’ve resorted to asking him for help as you let the leather of his bag settle upon you, your thighs jutting it up every few moments or so as you play with it. It’s surprisingly light, as if it didn’t have much— Or anything inside of it.

“You look smart.” You blink up at those dull green eyes of his, fingers playing with the metal buckles and watching as he tussled with his own hair when he practically rolled his eyes at your reply. “So I wanna ask you.”

“Well kid, do I look like a fucking—“ He clicks his tongue in realization at his wording, taking a breath in through clenched teeth and glaring down at your curious blinking eyes before averting his gaze, fingers moving to be pinching the skin between his brows as he lets out a deep sigh.

Exasperatedly. As if he gave up.

“Shi— Fine.” A roll of his eyes as they drift off to the side, as if he was thinking for a little bit as you sit beside him with your legs hanging off the ledge of the wooden bench you were both seated on.

You win. He’ll hand down all his secret knowledge to you now to let you gain experience points.

He‘s mostly quiet even when he’s not all that deep in contemplation, only a few grunts here and there when he finds himself staring into the setting orange of the sky.

(Adults must really like doing that. You’re glad you already have one thing in common with them. Can you be an adult now too?)

“Just beat their asses. People are easy and will tell ya anything when they’re on the ground tryin’ not to piss their pants.” He ends with a bit of a deranged chuckle as you watch how his curled up fists began to twitch.

He’s… Definitely scary-ish. If you cared to put enough thought into how frightfully intimidating this almost adult is, anyway.

(For some reason, you aren’t scared of him at all…)

A blink. And another as you try to process his words clearly. You don’t really get it. Violence won’t solve much in the long term, and you’re not exactly open to roughing it up with anyone…

“But what if I don’t wanna beat up my friend?” Now you’re the one frowning, lips turned downwards and brows furrowed together as you clutch his bag closer against your chest.

Oh, how it scares you to even think about messing up Suguru’s pretty face… How would you ever admire it anymore?!

“Oi, I gave ya a solution. Quit whining.” There’s a rumble in his throat, dismissive disdain and annoyance in his tone as he pulls out his cellphone, lifting the cover up to reveal a cracked screen as he mashes on buttons that you don’t really know how to use well.

“If you’re gonna complain, just pry it out of him yourself, you brat.”

Pry… It out yourself? And… If he likes you enough he’ll tell you… He’ll tell you if you tried. Try. Oh. Ohhh. Ohhhh!

And you’ve jumped up onto your feet, carefully making sure his dusty bag didn’t fall to the dustier ground as you hold it above your head in celebration, a wide grin on your face and your eyes sparkling in victory, showing off the bag as if it were a grand prize you had obtained through arduous competition.

“Mister, I always knew you were smarter than you looked!”

(“The fuc— Hell is that s’pposed to mean?”)

——

“Oh hello! How have you been, dear?” Geto-mama is the one that’s greeting you this time around, patting her hands dry on her apron, already squatting down the moment she had spotted you and opening her arms up with that cooing look on her face.

You indulge her, despite that mischievous twinkle in her eye.

“My! You’re always such a sweetheart to me!” You can feel her heartbeat pick up just as she squeezes you to her chest, your cheek resting against the soft fabric of her shirt as you blink. “Gotta thank your Mama for raising you so cutely! I don’t need to make a daughter if I already have someone as adorable as you are, dearie!”

There she goes talking again, with your face pressed inbetween her soft chest no less. It feels really nice though.

Her boobies are so big…

“Gosh, it’s only been a few years but you already look so grown up! I wonder just how many years I have left before I won’t be able to pick you up like this anymore!” You feel her practically swing you around when your feet leave the ground. “Goodness me, you are so cute!”

You tune her out, patting her back lightly as she squeezes you ever impossibly closer. Geto-mama is so strong. You hope to grow up as healthily as her when you get older.

“Are you here alone today? Suguru’s off with his Papa to the market for a bit.” And she has an arm supporting your bottom, cooing at you with a blissed out look on her face as she carries you to the living room.

“Mhm. Satoru can’t come t’day.” He’s busy with extra lessons, learning… Um, you think it was an instrument. You tug at the strings with a stick and put your chin on the tiny guitar.

“Oho~? Then how about having a chat with an old lady while waiting?”

Sounds like a plan. You don’t have anything else to do today anyway. And you can’t exactly play Suguru’s board games by yourself, that’s no fun.

“Okay. And you’re not old, Geto-mama. You look like you could be my older sister.”

(Mama told you any lady would be flattered if you said that.)

“Oh my goodness me! I could faint just by listening to you compliment me!” A hand to her forehead for the added dramatics. “I’ve got some banana teacakes and some senbei! Which would you prefer, darling?”

If Suguru is the only one coming later, then…

“Senbei, please.”

(“Oh, you’re so darling and polite! I simply cannot stop swooning over you!”

Mama did say Geto-mama had her heels over her head for you once. You don’t know what that means, but you assume it must be pretty good if she fusses over you so much. Like one of those kind, but slightly overbearing grandmas in the shows you watch.)

You’re blowing away the steam from the piping cup of warm milk in your hands, a slight mustache from the remnants of the drink upon your upper lip as you poke your tongue out to lick it away.

“And then Suguru helped Kanade-san get up even when he could’ve ran past him.” You pause momentarily to recount the time a little more. “Kanade-san is a super fast runner, and everyone thought Suguru was gonna lose, but then he actually won.”

You take another sip as you let out another relaxed sigh.

“Suguru’s really cool.” And that is a given fact. He’s the coolest. Only Satoru could only come in a close second to be cool-lier. You’re really happy that you can call yourself his— Their friend.

“That… I’m assuming Suguru has been treating everyone well, then?” She’s smiling as she watches you snack on the rice crackers, her elbows on the table as she hums.

As well as he could be anyway, you think.

“Mhm. Suguru’s really polite. But I also told him that he needed to look out for people that will want to wish ill on him due to conflicting interests.” Your legs kick as you miss the way Geto-mama’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head from your nonchalant little advice spiel, taking another hearty sip of your milk before continuing.

“That’s what the zodiac sign lady on TV said about Aquariuses-es.”

A sigh of— Relief? From her.

“Ahaha, more from that astrology column you love so much, huh? You’re quite the attentive one, sweetie.” She smiles as her eyes close, a little chuckle leaving her. “I should be less worried, but I just can’t help it even if you’ve been such a good influence on him, dear.”

And she has every right to be, you’re pretty sure.

Geto Suguru did not get off scot-free after that little incident with your classmate. Disciplinary action was taken, parents were called in, and Suguru couldn’t come to school for a good 3 days.

But you don’t know the details other than that. Only heard those flying rumours that you didn’t pay much attention to as you walked past your chatty tables of your classmates.

“He broke Tachibana-kun’s hand…”

“He’s so violent!”

“My cousin from another town over said there was a really violent boy who looked really similar to him when I showed her my class photo—“

“Ehhh? No way, that couldn’t be Geto-san! When I talked to him he was so nice and polite!”

“Yeah, but! My cousin showed me a kindergarten photo and it looked just like him!”

“My mother did say that you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover…”

You don’t care. You don’t care because ‘Listening to dreadful words that had no substance would lead you down a path that will not converge with what you wanted’. According to your zodiac sign that day, anyway.

But you believe it regardless.

“Geto-mama,” Your eyes watch her carefully, watch how her shoulders slumped and how her eyes shone with that characteristic confidence and how the way she carried that sure air always surrounding her.

“How has living here been?”

And she only smiles at you.

“Oho? Not going to ask why we moved here in the first place?” It has been a good 3 years since they moved in. There’s no use dwelling on the past if it’s all the way back then. “You didn’t ask even when we first moved in here, you know?”

She’s curious why you don’t pry.

You won’t care about such things. The past is the past, and Mama doesn’t like bringing up the past. The past is a secret you have to unlock with time, with careful prying and precision if you truly wanna know.

So you nod, blinking up at her with your eyes that spoke your truth, your now empty plastic cup tapping against the coaster as you settle it down and reach for another rice cracker from the bowl.

(Geto-mama prepared an even number of snacks. She’s so thoughtful.)

“Everybody’s got secrets. It depends on ‘em if they wanna tell or not.”

(Hehe. You sound like your Mama. You’re really proud of yourself for that.)

“Is that so?” She laughs again, an amused glimmer in her eye and a hand over her mouth as she hears the crunch of the senbei you were chewing on.

“Then I hope Suguru lets you know his secrets soon enough.”

The door clacks open, the telltale ring of the bell signalling that it had been unlocked as you hear the shift of those sturdy reusable bags Mama often uses to avoid the ¥10 extra charge on plastic bags, with a couple sets of shoes tappin against the stone genkan floors of the Geto house.

“Mama! We’re back!” His voice calls out with so much familiarity as you hear slippers clacking against hard ground. “Papa bought too many tomatoes cause they were on sale!”

“Already outing me to your mama, huh?”

“Ehehe.” His eyes cast downwards to better kick off the slipper that had accidentally clung to his foot— Ah, it’s getting so annoying to take them… Off?

Strappy sandals. Well-worn, straps undone with fraying ends and certainly, a very familiar set of sandals.

You. Were you already here? When did you come? Did you eat yet? How long have you been alone with his mother?

Regardless of all his thoughts, all his questions. One thing is for certain as he finally gets the stubborn shoe off running past his poor Papa trying to gather the bags as he runs down the hall and into the living room.

He’s excited to see you.

“Mama! Is (name) here?!”

And he spots you, so cheerily chewing on one of the hard rice crackers as his mother watches with a hearty smile that looked a little too smug.

“Oh my? Not going to help me and your Papa with the groceries?” And she’s already pushing back her chair as Suguru pouts at her.

“I can do it— Later.”

“Oh~ And if I don’t have any groceries for you to pack later?”

Hmph…

“I can help.” You’re speaking through the dry senbei you had just swallowed as your eyes lift up and off the table to meet his already staring purple that practically shone so bright. “Then Suguru and I can play together sooner, right?”

You’re so kind. So sweet. So nice to him.

“Ahaha, it’s alright you two. Have fun.” And she leaves. Geto-mama finally leaves as his feet practically start moving by themselves towards you. To be closer to you, to be near you.

“Hi.” He smiles at you, so softly and so sweetly with his eyes upturned into gentle crescents and his cheeks rosy red. “Did my mama talk ya ear off?”

He sounds almost out of breath. Shy.

It’s not the same boy the rumours in your class float around about at all. You’re super sure it isn’t as you let him take your hand to help you off the chair.

He doesn’t let go.

“I like your mama, though.”

And while you were always the one being asked to give hugs to Satoru— You just can’t seem to stop yourself from asking hugs from your Suguru as you squeeze his palm and stare at the sway of his bangs.

Hmph… He didn’t hug you yet.

“Suguru.” You tug at his hand when he’s humming, climbing onto his couch and signalling for you to follow suit as you start to pout.

“Suguru…”

“Hm?” He’s too busy staring down at your intertwined hands, a bit of a dopey smile on his face as he swings it back and forth.

He looks so happy.

So you don’t wanna interrupt him.

“What do you wanna do now?” Even if you’re pouting and sad that you didn’t get a greeting hug. You’ll settle for the handholding, you guess. Sigh.

“Well… Satoru might wanna watch Digimon right now.”

Uh— Huh? He’s not wrong, but… Satoru isn’t here right now. It’s a habit you’ve noticed… A lot actually.

“Satoru won’t like that.”

“You’re going to make me— No, Satoru mad if you talk to that boy.”

“Do you and Satoru like this a lot?”

As much as you’re happy that he likes your clingy friend a lot— It doesn’t help you learn enough about the your pretty neighbour; Geto Suguru.

Geto Suguru who likes to keep his hair long, Geto Suguru who has pretty purple eyes, Geto Suguru who likes to pet the neighbourhood cats, Geto Suguru who likes to eat cold soba…

There could be so much more that you don’t know about him.

Ah. You found it. That’s what’s been poking and prodding at your brain so often about Suguru. The way he tried so hard to please you.

“No.” You’re shaking your head as your eyes look from the cupboard amassing his various board games, to his television and to the unfinished plate of rice crackers and back to those confused; unsure amethyst eyes.

“What do you wanna do?”

“But—“ He sounds uncertain— Unsure and choked and slightly… Afraid?

“Your Papa’s a Beta but your Mama’s an Alpha?” The sandpit felt a little too crowded today after his presentation on his family. A little too many people for his liking as they bombard him with questions.

“My daddy says that your Papa’s so lucky to be able to marry and train an Alpha!”

He doesn’t see what’s wrong with how his family loves and cares for each other. Who cares? They like each other, and that’s enough.

“Ehh? An Alpha who plays mommy to take care of the house? What kind of Alpha is that? My mother says that Alphas are better in the adult job world!”

Who cares? His mama is happy with her life. And that’s enough.

“Right?! Maybe Geto-kun’s mama is defectiv—“

“Shut up!” A blinding fistful of sand, a tackle and two bodies crashing into the dusty sand box as punches fly and tears drop.

“You can’t say that about my mama!”

Geto Suguru who hates others because they just don’t think like he does. They don’t get things the way he does, don’t see things the way he can.

There shouldn’t be a world for those snickering, sneering faces that don’t even deserve to be able to breathe. He knows, learned from such a tender, young age that people are cruel. That you could chase, and chase after their adoration as much as you liked; only to have it crash down within the next moment.

Geto Suguru saw no point in making friends when his parents started packing their bags when the rumours about their violent child started spreading throughout the neighbourhood. Geto Suguru who got in the car and sat so eerily quiet for hours on end.

Geto Suguru who finally started speaking to others again the moment he saw you hiding behind the curtains.

“I wanna listen to what you wanna do. Satoru’s not here so we can play whatever.” Your free hand taps against your still conjoined hands as you shift closer to him.

He describes you as weird, describes you as odd. There was no kid back at his original neighbourhood that would hide from him the moment he laid his ‘gentle’ eyes on them. No kid who would go out of their way to try to be as accommodating as possible whilst being oddly— Awfully silent with pursed lips and an awkward look in their eye.

“…even if you don’t like what I’ll say?” It’s safer to just stick to what he already knows you like. You like Satoru, you like staying at your house, you like your Mama… Don’t dislike him. Don’t hate him.

Your head tilts to the side in confusion. “I like you.” That’s a good response you think, your nose picking up on a change in the air and catching a glimpse of a sheen of wetness in his eyes. “So I’ll definitely like what you wanna say.”

There was no kid out there who was so unabashedly like you. He just can’t help it— Seeing you struggle makes him soft and icky and gooey inside. He thought hanging out with you once would cure that ache to want to talk with you, would rid him of this odd intrigue about you.

But now— All he hopes is that you won’t hate him.

“And what if…” You think his voice is growing smaller and smaller. “You don’t like me anymore because of something I said?”

Hmm…? That’s never happened before though. You think for a little bit as you stare off to the side and let your head loll and rest on his as you feel him shudder.

But you know he’s not recoiling from you. The air feels sour, shaky. It doesn’t feel comforting as usual as you hold his hand tighter and think harder.

“Then I’ll just make friends with you again?” It will be tough on your end, and you’re not sure if he will take you back, but it’s sure worth a shot if it comes to him.

A stifled giggle— And sudden choked laughs.

You think you finally managed to make him smile again.

“Hahah…! What is that even supposed to mean, you dummy? Ahahah!” He’s still holding onto your hand as his head turns away from you, tips of his ears burning red and a quiet sniffle that you almost missed.

“You’re so stupidly kind, (name).”

And you learned that Geto Suguru can be crass, can let loose and say absolutely anything behind that facade of his. That, despite being so soft, can grow so tough and spiky that it was hard to get him to change his mind.

Maybe that’s why your two friends can get along so well.

Because they’re just so alike.

previous masterlist next

#jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #satosugu x reader

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love-toxin · 4 months

Text

Cattle -> Harley Kunuk

plot: a world in which the realm of monsters & yanderes has merged--that's the au you find yourself in as a low-producing cow hybrid. you've never impressed any master as working cattle, always cast aside in favour of prettier, more talented cows. that might change once you get dropped off at the wrong farmer's ranch.

(cws: fem!cow hybrid!reader, chubby+naive reader, yandere themes, explicit smut, lactation, fondling, dry-humping, chest worship, dirty talk/soft degradation, clothed sex/cumming in pants, kinda monsterfucking, power dynamics, reader refers to him as 'Mr. Harley')

a/n: welcome to the long-awaited 'harley x cow hybrid reader' saga LOL

wc: 4.7k (art by milove @the-zipper !! <3)

If not for the grace of the gods, you'd surely be thrown into the ditch or to the wolves by now.

The transition between seedy motels has never been easy, sure, but you've reached new lows since your last rancher kicked you to the curb. Besides, nor has having to deal with the treatment from your superiors been easy when most of them see you as nothing but what your brand reads out.

Cattle.

If farm hybrids have anything, it isn't rights–at least not for undesirables like you. There's probably places out there like Runerhéa where you could live in peace, but this new world is even tougher than the last. When the realms merged as one, everyone on the lower side like you thought it would turn out to be a blessing. Maybe you'd finally get a break and wouldn't have to live like a piece of meat. But so far, it's only been a curse.

Ever since you were passed into the hands of these “livestock traders” your life has been absolute hell. Your last master had at least left you be most of the time, preferring to pay attention to his other, better-producing and prettier cattle rather than get on your case for this or that. These guys that have been toting you around since then have been complete nightmares to deal with–they're callous and cruel and they never let you rest properly, they keep you up all hours of the night with their hollering and drinking and gambling on those awful card games.

Yet, even when you were told that your time with them would be coming to an end, you weren't excited about it. Not one bit. How could you be, when you've been surrounded by horrible people saying such horrible things about your abilities? They've called you “moon-face” and mocked your pitiful history as working cattle, to the point that they've joked about re-branding you and making you a sex toy or something instead, because that's probably all you're good for. You can't even moo right, much less make any milk that doesn't taste sour or curdle within minutes. You're totally useless, and whoever your new owner is, he's quickly going to come to that realization too. Your handlers have been quick to remind you of that, just in case you happen to pick up some worth in yourself on the way there.

That's all you've thought for the past three days since you've been here, too scared to come out from the back of your stall for fear that the big, scary farmer with the loud voice is going to yell at you for not turning out to be what he hoped. You heard him arguing with the traders when you were delivered: ”What the hell is this?! I bought a cow, not some girl! Is this a joke? Did Elias put you up to this?” and since then you've cowered in the corner, refusing even to touch the water and food he brought and left at the door for fear he might just poison you to save the trouble of bringing you back. You've never been kept with real farm animals before, yet even now there's not much interaction you have with them. The big guy put you in a stall far away from his other animals, probably because he thinks you might infect them or something. It's always something with you.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. You've been hearing those noises from outside for the last two days, the sounds of wood scraping and hammering pervading your fuzzy ears and filling your mind with all manner of horrors that might await you. Is he building some kind of horrible torture machine? A rack? A device to forcibly milk you? Oh, that thought sends a chill down your spine. Or is he simply building your coffin? It could be any one of those possibilities or many, many more horrible ones, and it leaves you to tug your floppy ears down and try to block out the noise as you cry softly. I don't wanna die. I don't wanna die, even if I'm bad at being a cow. I just wanna live another day.

You pull the scratchy woolen blanket he left in here closer around your shoulders, hoping and praying with your head bowed that this won't be the end. With the clunk of the barn's door sliding open, with every step you hear thudding closer and closer towards your stall, you tremble harder and hurriedly wipe your tears dry while you pray to the Deity to shelter you from an early grave.

Kh-chunk. The clasp on your stall comes undone from the other side, and with bated breath, you watch as the door rolls open and lets in the streams of light you'd forgotten existed in this endless darkness.

“...Oh.” The farmer utters his surprise softly, his brow easing up as he looks you over. He's perched at the entrance to your stall still, not quite ready to cross the threshold yet. Maybe he's still trying to prepare himself as he sizes you up for the slaughterhouse. “You look…cold.”

You shake your head meekly and throw off the blanket. Straws of hay flutter about your knees as you do so, some of it already stuck in your hair and your meager clothes that don't cover enough for him not to blush and avert his gaze. “Uh…c'mon. We need to move you somewhere else.” He meekly produces a harness from his overalls, but it sits lightly in his hand like he's not really keen on using it. “It'll be safe. C'mon.”

If you weren't a lowly, domestic cow hybrid, one of the very lowest of the monster hybrid species, you'd be tempted to ask if he's always this awkward. He can't even look at you, he barely even breathes once you finally stand and skirt past him out of the stall. And he doesn't dare to touch you as he leads you out of the barn even though you're his property–it's like he doesn't even see you as cattle, but as…you don't even know what.

At the very least, despite the uncertainty around your new home, the first deep breath of fresh air as you step outside reminds you of the home you knew in childhood. Rolling grass in a sea of green, woods out across the field that are far from predators, safe fences and even a big, old farmhouse on the lawn that gives you a sense of homey nostalgia. As big and scary as he looks, maybe he's not so bad after all…maybe, as long as you do everything to appeal to him, he might treat you like nice cattle and not the nuisance you've long been defined as.

As you step out onto the grounds, the farmer introduces himself as Harley. He waits while you sniff around the fresh, clean air a bit before leading you around the side of the barn–that's where a small, shed-like attachment has been built on to the side of the structure, which opens into a surprisingly comfy and spacious area that he must have put together in a hurry. The floorboards have a nice rug over them and there's a soft, downy mattress in the corner on a little frame, and it's all built in and warm like it's an actual room. But when you turn to Harley with a quizzical look on your face and he tells you it's yours, you don't even know how to respond. So you just look at him blankly.

“It's…yours, y'know? It's, uh, like your…bedroom, I guess.” He looks around the space and rubs the back of his sweaty neck, seemingly sheepish about the simple construction even though you're standing there dumbfounded. “I didn't think you'd wanna live in the barn with the animals, but, uh, you wouldn't come in the house. So…yeah.” The silence between you is agony up until he just huffs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Listen, this isn't ideal for me. I don't deal well with people, and you're…sort of one, I guess. To be honest, I hate the idea of sharing my farm with some stranger.” He sighs and runs a hand through his dark hair, incidentally messing up his long ponytail that's just barely keeping all that thick hair tied up. With his hands set on his hips, he looks you dead in the eyes in a way that makes you cower at his sternness. “But you're here now, so whatever. Just behave yourself–and if some guy in a cowboy hat comes around, make yourself scarce. I don't want him messing with my-” He catches himself, but in your bovine wisdom you finish his sentence for him.

“Cattle?”

Harley swallows dryly and nods. “...Cattle. Yeah.” In any case despite the awkwardness and the tense air between you, he shows you how to work the little water pump he built the shed around so you can wash up and drink, your bed and blankets, and where to use the bathroom–which he insists you do inside the house, for no reason that he elaborates on other than the fact that you're able to, so you should. With that he leaves you be, letting you sit and ponder this newfound haven that he so casually dropped in your lap.

By the third day in your little mock cabin, six days since you've arrived here, you're pretty sure you've fallen in love with Mr. Harley. He won't tolerate you calling him ‘Master’ because it makes him all red in the face when you say it, so despite him insisting on no formalities at all you've settled on referring to him as ‘Mr.’ Harley.

It's been an easy process to say the least. Mr. Harley is gruff and speaks bluntly, but he never lays a hand on you and has never called you any mean names. He feeds you more often than he does his other animals, and despite getting annoyed and scolding you if you don't eat like you didn't the first three days, he's always gentle and doesn't yell or kick things over when he's mad. Plus, he treats his other farm animals real nice–you've heard him cooing and calling them by their names when he pets them, and most of them come running or perk their ears up when they hear his voice from far away. One of the chickens even tried to peck you when Mr. Harley was showing you around, and had his hand on your arm as he showed you how to feed them. They love him so much they even get jealous, and it's easy to see why. Mr. Harley is so caring and kind-hearted. He's got pretty brown eyes and such a low, deep voice, and big muscles, and soft hair, he's more handsome than any other master or trader you've come across in your whole life. It's no wonder you've fallen in love with Mr. Harley.

Where it's becoming an issue, however, is with your milk.

The first little while you were here, Mr. Harley didn't even make a mention about your production. There wasn't any bucket around for you to show him anyways, so you've been sitting around letting the milk build up and up and up until you're sore and swollen. The only reason you're sat in your shed with a bucket in your lap now is because Mr. Harley noticed your discomfort (because he's such a nice and caring farmer…) but, with you being too worried about your quality and Mr. Harley being too red-faced to stick around and watch, you're coming up on the end of the day without a drop to show for it. If you don't give him anything, he'll think you're a disobedient cow! But if you squeeze out your milk and it tastes sour, or makes him sick…oh, you couldn't bear to think of making Mr. Harley hate you with the taste of your milk. It's quite the dilemma that you have no easy way of getting out of, so you do what's likely the better option: you milk out just enough to make the swelling go down, but not so much that the taste will be too strong if it's bad.

But even with your clever thinking, your knees shake as you perch on your bed and listen to the big, thudding footsteps of Mr. Harley coming towards the shed. The moment the door slides open you spring into action, and pick up the bucket a quarter full of milk to hand to him, hoping beyond hope that he won't be upset over how little there is.

“..Huh.” After he jolts slightly at your sudden movement toward him, Harley glances down at the bucket and back up at you as he takes it gingerly, peering down at the milk as if it's some sort of magic that you've managed to fill it even as little as you did. He raises his hand and your instincts force you to flinch, your eyes squeezing shut as you anticipate a hit or something equally awful. But the moment passes because Mr. Harley pats your head instead, stroking your hair and your fuzzy ears gently before hiking up the bucket to grab and hold it by the handle. “Good girl.”

Good girl? Are those words for real? Was that…praise? And so easily given, at that?

You're practically on your knees by the time he steps out of the shed, they're so wobbly and weak, but before he can make it outside he halts and turns back to you. “So…” He lingers at the doorway, the bucket hanging from his closed fist. “...Where does your milk come from, exactly?”

Oh. That's…hard to explain. You had a sense that Mr. Harley already knew, but then again he owns farm animals, not hybrids. So you meekly point at your own chest in answer, and Harley's reaction takes you by complete surprise.

“...You're shitting me.” He breathes out in what comes off as disgust, but is really shamefaced embarrassment as he tries to avert his eyes but can't tear his gaze off of your…well, udders. It was obvious that they were impressive, but he clearly wasn't expecting such a blunt and simple answer. Harley clears his throat and tries to get something out, but sooner than he's able to he gives up and just wishes you a good sleep as he shuts the sliding door behind him.

The rest of that night is full of whimpers and soft cries throughout the shed as you weep out all your worries. Mr. Harley doesn't like me anymore! He thinks I'm gross! You sniffle into your tear-drenched pillow as the thoughts grow so loud in your head that they overwhelm you. In time, you cry yourself so dry that you can't help but drift off, your sleep peppered with bad memories and anxious nightmares of what Mr. Harley might do with you tomorrow, now that he's seen how worthless and disgusting you really are.

Though by now you're used to the rooster's screeching to wake you up, your morning is riddled with half-awake mumbles and drool caking your pillow as you try to remember what you were doing. It's not until you rub your eyes and look around that you notice the light filling the shed, and realize with a cold twist in your belly that it's almost midday and well past the time you should've been up and about. The sounds of Mr. Harley's boots in the barn next door rattle you out of your covers and up to your feet, your knees knocking and hands shaking as you try to figure out what to do.

Mr. Harley always comes by your shed to check on you after he's done with the animals, and by the whinnying of the horses as he sprays the hose you can tell he's just about finished up with filling their water trough. And if that's what he's up to now, that means you're next–and gods know what he's gonna do now that he doesn't think you're cute anymore! You're not sure now if he would kill you, or chop you up to sell your bits in some underground meat market, but he might give you back to the traders! You can't let that happen, you can't!

Little do you know that while you've bustled around your shed in a panic trying to figure out what to do, Harley has been pacing anxiously outside the barn doors before finally slamming them shut and heading towards you. Each step rings out like thunder. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump-

The door to your shed slides open, eliciting a startled shriek from your lips as you drop the bucket. It clatters to the ground and rolls to a stop just by Mr. Harley's boot. The two of you lock eyes and he utters a string of words that totally throw you for a loop.

“You had trouble getting your milk out yesterday, so I'm gonna help you.”

The air that hangs between you is heavy once he says that, pierced only by the gentle clinking of the bucket's thin wire handle as he reaches down and plucks it up off the hay-scattered ground. Harley rubs the back of his neck and clears his throat, his steps taken slow and quietly as he slides the door shut behind him and approaches your skittish self.

“You want me to help you?” His voice remains stoic and strong, but when you nod so meekly that your ears twitch his face burns a bright red all the way down to his collar. He coughs into his hand and asks you to move into a comfortable position while he stands awkwardly and prepares himself for what's about to come. You can barely make eyes with him in the meanwhile, every bit of you is trembling as you sink down to your knees.

Mr. Harley sets the bucket down beneath you. The soft, almost imperceptible thunk rings in your ears like a dinner bell. A thought flashes over your head and you wonder if you should get on your hands and knees–but the shame of such a position quickly overcomes whatever else would compel you to do so, and you sit quietly and patiently with your ears flicking nervously in rhythm with your tail. He gets down on one knee and mutters something in your ear to soothe you, but you can barely hear anything over your own breathing as you try to will your heart into slowing down from its fervent pace. When he asks you to pull down your top, however, you certainly hear that command loud and clear.

The moment the fabric swishes down your chest in one clean motion, Harley has a look of utter redness and embarrassment all over his face. He's a bit more composed than yesterday, but he can barely tear his eyes away from them; your udders. They're so soft and weigh so heavy on your torso, it's a surprise you can even lift them up yourself. That's what he thinks, anyways–you can't even comprehend his awe when you're so self-conscious over your nipples pebbling in the drafty air. Your fingernails scrape against each other in a nervous tic while you wait. He has to get prepared, and he warms his hands by rubbing them together; the very action of which sends heat straight to your nethers and a twitch to your soft, fuzzy ears.

“M-My milk doesn't taste good…” You whimper to distracted ears, but still, Mr. Harley holds his hands back from reaching out and he meets your eyes in contemplation. Your worries explode out of you before you can halt yourself. “B-But I'll–I'll try really hard to make it sweet, Mr. Harley!”

To your shock, he just shakes his head. He scoffs, but then–then it's a chuckle. It's laughter, low and gravelly, but it's laughter all the same.

“You taste good.” Mr. Harley murmurs, and his eyes don't look at all daunted. He doesn't correct himself, either. He leans closer, reaches out, and then the callused pads of his hardworking fingers are brushing under the tender skin of your breasts.

The moment is…saccharine. It's divine. It's godlike! You can't see, can't hear, can barely breathe, and you've never felt more exuberance bubbling up in the back of your throat–you want to scream and cry and beg but the emotions jumble themselves all together and leave you stunned silent. You can hardly let out the gentlest exhale of disbelieving breath as Mr. Harley's hands fold over your chest, and you feel a warmth you thought was only reserved for cows of a much better pedigree than you. The man that's bigger and stronger and sweeter than you shuffles in closer, he wants his lips right against your skin; he wants to taste you and touch you while he gives you a squeeze, and when his tongue flicks out to dab the sweat off your neck you could just cry, it feels so exhilarating.

“M-Mr. Harley-” You gulp, your tone betraying your enjoyment in how it trembles with desperate need. Harley's hands start pressing and pulling on each teat, and in no time at all he's coaxing the milk from you as easily as he would his own dairy cows. No mess, no fuss, and no tears–not ones devoid of joy, anyways. You can't help your own instincts in this moment of pure, primal hybrid heat. “I-I love you, Mr. Harley.”

His head raises and tilts down to look at you. He doesn't even have to look to make sure he's getting it all in the bucket, he's so experienced. Something seems to brew behind those dark, cocoa-coloured eyes…and his words stir up the heat within you like a potent, bubbling love potion.

“I'm so fuckin’ glad they got you mixed up.”

With that admission of very Harley-like affection, he buries his tongue in your mouth and presses your lips firmly together in a wet, forceful kiss.

A kiss! From Mr. Harley! Your tail flicks to and fro with happiness while you're melting into it, into the softness and the strength of his tongue and the sticky wetness of your spit mixing with his. You've never been kissed like this, and when he pulls back you just have to lean in for more. He can barely stifle his lustful chuckles when you keep pecking his lips like a touch-starved harpy, hoping for more tongue and spit and warmth. He squeezes your left teat especially firm and a thick jet of milk spurts out, leaving you to hunch forward suddenly as a wet spot starts forming in the seat of your poor panties. Harley's slanted nose is the only thing keeping you up; he nuzzles it under your chin when your body threatens to pitch forward into the hard ground.

“So close.” He murmurs into your mouth as he seals his lips over yours again. His hair is mussed and he's blushing…a lot. “Almost there. Such a good product today. Nearly filled the whole pail. Good girl.” He whispers against your cheek as you try not to feel the delicate rumbles of his voice in your cunt. With a swish of movement, Mr. Harley maneuvers around your trembling body to slot himself up behind you, and lets his hands reach around you just so his thick, muscly biceps will keep you upright through to the end.

“M-Mr. Harley…I think I'm…I-I dunno, I feel-ah! Ah, weird. G-Good weird..” What feels like a brick presses up against your rear in that moment–you have a feeling you know exactly what it is.

“Yeah?” He scoffs with a thrilled smirk against your neck. “Dirty fuckin’ dairy cow. That's what you are, huh?”

“Y-Yes-!” You squeal, but whether that's an answer to his question or simply the reaction he's caused by bucking against you with a groan, it remains to be seen. Either way Mr. Harley is enjoying himself, and it floods your bovine head with vindicated glee that your master enjoys you. You're doing a good job. You're a good cow.

“Good fuckin’ cow,” Harley growls, completely lost in the softness between your thighs and the sweet warmth of your tits weighing heavy and milk-swollen in his hands. Your legs shake against his thick thighs as he pulls you back to practically sit on his lap, held up by the monster straining at his pants, begging to be let out. You've already left a soiled, sticky spot there through your clothes but Harley won't take any apologies–not right now, at least, when your milk is flowing at its peak and he's just about to lose his self-control completely…if he even had any left from the moment he held your soft, chubby body in his hands. A splash of milk jets from your swollen tits and splatters against the side of the pail rather than inside it, and with that you don't need to see Mr. Harley's face to know that he's reaching his end; in fact, he's already there.

A string of “fuck, fuck, fuck!”s erupts from his mouth that he buries in the juncture of your neck and your shoulder, his teeth not only grazing now but biting down hard into your sweat-soaked skin. The spot you'd left on his jeans is nothing compared to the damp mess he makes as his thighs shake beneath yours, his hips ruthless and powerful as he slams them up into you with the desire of chasing that invaluable heat between your legs. You've barely held back from spasming in pleasure this whole time, but once Mr. Harley has his needs sated is when you finally allow yourself to give in to yours. Groans, panting, and soft mooing resonate within the homey little room that you've incidentally turned into a den of pleasure. Mr. Harley finally slumps back with his arms tucked tightly around your middle, and a wobbly, satisfied smile makes its way across your face as you look down and see a pail full of warm, creamy-looking milk. A few spots and tiny puddles litter the hay-covered ground around it from where you spilled, and some still soaks Harley's massive hands, but you still managed to fill it–a whole bucket!

“I did…a good job, Mr. Harley?” You ask in such a sweet, timid voice that he can only manage a breathless scoff in response.

“You think you did a good job?” He asks, but not understanding his tone, you start to fuss and squirm in fear that you've disappointed him. It's only once he manages to wrangle you against his chest and pick you up off your feet with him that he manages to calm you down.

“Relax, little one. You did a good job.” Careful not to let you lose balance, he sets you down on your feet and holds you there, steadying you against his effortlessly strong body. The moment you look up at him with those sweet, wet cow eyes, he can't resist his affections and lovingly strokes your ears. “Very good. You're a good cow. Look at all the milk you made,” He reaches past you to pick up the pail and hold it out for you to see. The glistening milk swishes with the heft of the bucket, so he steps away and ensures he sets it aside amongst the empty ones to keep it from spilling over.

“So…c-can I stay, Mr. Harley?”

It seems your voice does more than earn you an answer from him–Harley whips around to look at you with a dumbfounded expression on his face, and his reaction is more than you ever could have thought you deserved.

“Stay? What d'ya mean, ‘stay’? You're part of the farm. You're my family now. You're not going anywhere.” He reaches out for you and in that moment it takes for him to get to you, the tears are already flowing and you're blubbering pathetically into his chest with gratitude, which he seems much less awkward in accepting now.

“Hey–quit sayin’ such stupid shit. Stay…are you crazy?” He murmurs into your hair, his arms so tight around you you're reminded of the soreness of your hollow chest as your tits press up against his firm body. What he whispers to you then, in the silence peppered only by your weepy cries of adoration and love for your ‘Mr. Harley’, is the one thing that will stay with you for a long, long time–perhaps for the rest of your life.

“Not just cattle anymore, little one. You're…mine.”

#harley kunuk #harley x reader #harley kunuk x reader #spicy writing #hybrid reader #yandere ocs #yanverse #fem reader #male yandere #ellie writes #4k

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