#you made me tear up with this ask so well done

[purple-obsidian]

Would you write for AK Jason? I like him mean. Like him and you are arguing and he gets all pissed off and makes you cry but it ends in angry sex.

say it back (18+, ak jason todd x fem reader) wc 5.5k

⭓ this post contains sexually explicit content and dark themes. it is not suitable for minors. please consider the tags and consume at your own discretion. not an example of a healthy relationship. jason might be kinda ooc here, but hey. it's fanfiction.

"You need to drop your fucking attitude." Jason hisses at you.

"Me? My attitude? I'm just trying to have a conversation, Jason, you're the one acting like-"

"Like what? Hm?" He stalks closer to you, and you take a step back reflexively.

"You're angry." You state simply, staring up at him with sadness in your eyes. "You're angry with me. Still. Aren't you?"

Jason's eyes pierce into your own, searching them for something as he takes a deep breath to calm himself. It takes several tense moments before he finally mutters, "Maybe I am."

"What more do you want from me, Jason? I'm sorry, I'm so sorry that I didn't come looking for you. I didn't know. Bruce told me you were-" Jason growls, and corners you against the wall until your back is pressed up against it.

"Don't fucking talk about him! Don't say his name, I'm sick of thinking about him!"

"Then what do you want me to do? I mourned you, Jason, I grieved for you. I didn't just forget about you. I could never." Tears begin to well up in your eyes. The guilt you feel for what your boyfriend went through is crushing. It haunts you every day. Every time you look at him and see that 'J' carved into his cheek, your self-hatred grows even deeper.

"There's nothing you can do now. What's done is done." His warm breath fans over your face. His eyes are narrowed, staring you down like you're the one who locked him up and tortured him.

"Why am I here, huh? Why do you keep me around if you refuse to forgive me?" You ask him, your voice quivering from grief and exasperation.

"Would you shut the fuck up?" He groans and slams his fist against the brick wall, just inches from your head. Your eyes widen when he does, a jolt of fear running through you, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Jason's never hit you, but ever since he came back, you don't know what to expect from his behavior. He's erratic. Hurting. But at the same time, even more focused and calculating than ever. Its a terrifying combination, honestly.

He looks so much different now. Even though you're both still young, his features are harsher, his face hardened and scarred. You still see traces of the boy you fell in love with. It isn't always obvious, but you catch brief glimpses of the old him here and there. Its enough to keep you around, to remind yourself of how much you love him. Seeing him hurt like this and isolating himself is devastating.

"I don't know if I'm capable of forgiving you." He says between labored breaths. His eyes are dark, filled with a pain he refuses to share. "You left me in there to rot. The things he did to me, the things he made me do-"

"Jay." Your voice breaks, warm tears trailing down your cheeks. "Please, baby, I'm sorry. I failed you. I know I did." You reach out tentatively to caress his cheek, avoiding the scar. "I want to be here for you. I want to help you. But I feel like me being here is making things worse.”

Maybe you’re imagining it, but you catch a flicker of something in his expression. A crack in the hard mask he’s been wearing. “What are you saying?”

“If you hate me so much, maybe I should leave.” You struggle to get the words out. You hate yourself for even suggesting it. But the past few weeks with Jason have been tumultuous at best, and you’re not sure that your presence is actually helping him. If anything, you feel like you trigger him just by existing.

“Leave?” He asks, his face contorting in pain and anger. “You’re going to leave me? Really?”

“Only if that’s- I mean, I don’t know, Jason! I don’t know!” Unable to hold it in anymore, a heavy sob shakes your body, and you look away in shame. He’s still got you pinned against the wall, his arms caging you in and keeping you from turning away. “I just want you to be happy. I don’t think I’m capable of giving you happiness anymore. You won’t talk to me. All you do is yell. I want to be here for you, more than anything. But you won’t let me in. Maybe you’ll be better off without me.” Your voice is hushed and thick with emotion. You don’t want to leave him, now that he’s finally back. You were over the moon when you realized who was behind the Arkham knights mask.

Your best friend. Your lover, back from the dead.

But he hasn’t been the same. And you can’t blame him. He doesn’t go into detail about what happened, but you can see the evidence of his torture on his body. Not that he’s let you get too close.

He referred to you as ‘his girl’ in front of his militia. And now, after Gotham has recovered from the events surrounding his return, his hired men know that you’re to be protected at all costs. But other than a brief kiss upon your initial reunion, Jason hasn’t touched you. Yet he’s kept you close, physically, insisting you stay with him in his hideout. You quit your job, moved out of your apartment, left behind your old life as a law-abiding citizen to devote yourself to him and his cause. But your loyalty has been rewarded with him being emotionally closed-off and bitter towards you. It has you questioning where the two of you stand, and if he even wants you here.

“You’re wrong.” His voice is still harsh as he lowers his head to try and meet your eyes. He's close enough that you're able to smell his scent, a mix between his body wash and his natural musk. It draws you in, but you don't dare lean into him, in fear of fueling his annoyance towards you.

"Then why are you so mean to me?" You hate how weak you sound. You wish you were stronger, but being Jason's emotional punching bag has taken it's toll on you.

"I..." Some of his anger seems to fade, but his eyes are still swimming with turmoil. "I can be nicer."

"That isn't an answer."

Jason swallows hard, and removes his forearms from the wall so he's no longer caging you in. His jaw is clenched as he keeps staring at you and thinking about how to respond.

"I don't know." He finally says. "All I know is that I don't want you to go."

You slip to the side so you're no longer sandwiched between him and the wall, and take a step backwards to distance yourself. "I can't handle much more of this, Jason. It's too much. I can't stand fighting like this. It hurts me."

The look on your face has Jason's pulse quickening. "I'll be nicer." He says again.

"Jas-"

"I mean it." He reaches for your hand, and you need to consciously keep yourself from flinching away. "Just please, don't go."

Your heart aches at his plea. You don't want to leave, of course you'd rather be here. But you're not quite naïve enough to believe him when he say's he'll be nicer. You look down at where your hands are entwined, eyeing the thin silvery scars that litter his hand and wrist. Your mind briefly wanders, wondering what nightmare gave him those. Too thin to be from rope burn. Maybe zip ties. A few more tears pool in your eyes and blur your vision at the mental image of him being restrained in such an inhuman way.

"If you really want me, I'll stay." You whisper,

His eyes light up, but the relief doesn't touch the frown that's seemingly permanently etched onto his strong features. "Come here."

You don't fight the gentle tug on your hand. You let Jason hug you close to him, his heart still beating fast in his chest. You feel the steady rhythm against your cheek when he pulls you close and holds you against him. He's still angry, you can sense it radiating off of him in waves. But he's making a pointed effort to stay calm, which is an improvement.

"I don’t hate you. I love you. You know that, right?" He asks. You get a odd, fluttery feeling in your stomach. Not the same as the feeling you got the first time he told you he loved you. It’s a weird, perverted ghost of the feeling, one that makes the ache in your chest even worse.

You don't want to answer him. What would you even say? That you love him too? He already knows that, surely. And he laughed at you last time you told him. In front of several of his men. It was humiliating, and you've avoided saying it ever since.

"Hm? You know that, right?" He tightens his hold on you, his strong arms encouraging you to answer.

"Yeah. I know." You mumble back.

Jason looks down at you, and pulls away far enough to look you in the eyes again. What you would give to know what's going on in his head. It’s like a whirlwind of emotions are playing across his face.

You don't expect him to lean in and capture your lips in a sudden kiss. You freeze for a beat before you kiss him back, not quite relaxing against him, but letting yourself move with him. Still, it feels off. Almost like you're kissing a stranger. He isn't familiar anymore, which only encourages the tears to keep falling hot and slow down your cheeks.

As your tongues dance together, Jason begins to explore your body, warm hands running up and down your back. You wouldn't describe his touch as gentle, but he moves slowly and deliberately, finally resting on your ass and kneading your fat with his strong hands.

Is this his idea of 'being nicer'? You wonder to yourself. But you don't stop him. He's the only man you've ever loved, and when you thought he was dead, you missed his touch more than anything. Craved it. And you still do, even though you're more wary of him now. If you were thinking clearly, you'd probably stop his hand from sneaking down the front of your pants, and tell him that you should both take a breather and calm down. But he's left you so desperate for any speck of affection that you can't bring yourself to turn him away.

His hands are warm against your skin, but goosebumps still prickle your skin from the contact. He slips his hand in your underwear, not bothering to take his time. The sudden feeling of his rough fingers against your labia has you whimpering into his mouth. Jason rubs firm circles over your neglected clit as he breaks the kiss. "Yeah, you know?" He says back in a mocking tone. "Your body knows. She missed me, didn't she?"

The way he calls your cunt 'she' leaves a weird taste in your mouth. You pretend not to notice. "Of course I missed you." You say back to him. You grip his forearm gently and caress his skin with your thumb, feeling his muscles move and flex as he pleasures you, while your other arm grips his shoulder to steady your body. It's hard to relax with all the pent up tension you have inside. But you focus on his fingers, and how good it feels to be touched by your boyfriend again after so long.

"How quick did you move on. Hm?" His deep voice almost sounds like it's rumbling as asks. "How many people have you fucked since I disappeared?"

His question feels like a daggar to your heart. Maybe he really doesn't know, doesn't understand how hard his 'death' hit you. You haven't spoken about it much to him, since he obviously suffered much worse than you did while you were apart. It would feel insensitive to open up about the deep depression you fell into, one that your friends and even Dick tried and failed to help you out of. It was all you could do to even finish high school and get a job. You didn't see anyone else. You barely hung out with anyone. All you did was work and sleep. It was like the joy was sucked from your life the day you lost him.

But Jason doesn't know this. He mistakes your silence for shame, and he uses his other hand to cup your chin and force you to look at him as his fingers slowly warm you up. "What's wrong? Lost count?" The bitterness and mistrust are second nature to him now, after enduring Jokers sick mind games.

"No one... I promise." You lip trembles as the pleasurable sensations build between your legs. You grow wetter under his touch, even though your heart is heavy with grief.

"S'that right?" Jason lets out a dark chuckle and removes his hands from you abruptly. "Take your clothes off."

You can feel your heartbeat in your ears. You hesitate, looking from him to his bed along the opposite wall. Jason brings his fingers to his mouth, and to your horror, he sucks them clean, tasting your arousal without breaking eye contact.

"Do you want this?" He asks, growing annoyed at how you're freezing up.

"Do I want, what?" You say back a little too quickly.

Jason's nostrils flare as he lets out an irritated sigh. "Me. Do you want me to fuck you?"

Your mouth hangs open for a beat before you stammer out a hurried "Yes."

“You sure about that? Doll?” He cocks his head at you and studies your face carefully. The old nickname brings back memories, memories you’re sure are far too sweet in comparison to what’s about to happen.

But it doesn’t stop you from nodding at him all the same. You want him, there’s no denying that. Even if he isn’t the same boy you fell in love with, he’s still Jason. Your Jason.

Breathing heavily, Jason leans down to you so you're face to face once again. "Then take. Your fucking. Clothes. Off. Before I rip them off of you."

You glare at him through teary eyes, not appreciating the threat. But you’re not going to pass up the opportunity for intimacy. Hardening your gaze to match his, you hurridly remove your clothing piece by piece, folding the garments and setting them down neatly on the table beside you.

Jason surprisingly keeps his eyes on yours. Even as you reveal more of your body to him, his focus is on your face, not faltering.

When you step out of your underwear and set them on top of the pile, you finally say “You next.”

A dark chuckle departs Jason’s scarred lips before he replies, “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Confused, you give him a quizzical look as he stomps over to his bed and kicks off his boots. They land beside him with a thud, making you jump a little.

“Get the fuck over here.”

Jason’s voice echoes across the studio apartment ominously. It’s pissing you off, how he’s still being so brash after just promising to be nicer to you. You shiver and run your hand up and down your arm while you walk over to join him, the cool air against your bare skin making you feel even more vulnerable. It’s clear to you that he’s enjoying this. Sitting on the edge of his bed, still almost fully clothed, finally letting himself drink in the sight of your naked body as you approach him.

“You’ve changed.” He comments after a few moments of tense silence. And he isn’t wrong. You’ve matured in the time he was gone, you’re a bit taller, your hair is longer, looking less like a teenager and more like a woman. But the changes in your body are subtle compared to his. Jason is at least 6 inches taller than what you remember. He’s put on a lot of muscle, and his features are sharper. Harsher, even. His face is different. Even ignoring the scars, there’s a new depth to him that’s hard to pinpoint.

You wonder how much of his transformation is due to just growing up, like you, and how much of it is from the trauma he experienced. Surely, being malnourished and tortured as a teenager would stunt a persons growth. But the man in front of you is anything but stunted. He’s massive. Again, your mind wonders about the details of his absence, about how long he took to recover from his torture before returning as the Arkham Knight.

“You just gunna stand there and gawk at me, or are you going to help me out?”

“Sorry.” You mutter hastily, embarrassed to be caught zoning out. You focus on him again, and realize he has his pants unzipped and his cock in his hand, stroking it with lust-clouded eyes. It takes a good deal of effort to hide the shock on your face from the sight as heat rushes between your legs. Your cheeks turn red, and you place your hand on his knee to steady yourself before you kneel in front of him. “You’ve changed too.”

Jasons pupils dilate when you place your hand over his own, taking over for him and stroking him lightly. He is already hard as a rock, his veins bulging under your touch.

“Way to state the obvious.” He leans back casually and uses his hands to prop himself up against the bed. Using both of your hands now, you jerk him off carefully, hoping he doesn’t notice the trembling in your fingers. “That’s it… shiiit, spit on it, baby, can you do that for me?”

With nervous excitement you obey his request, gathering some saliva with your tongue and letting it drip from your mouth down onto his shaft. His cock is feverish to the touch. The groan that rumbles in his chest as you spread your spit over him triggers emotions you haven't felt in a long time.

“Fuck yes, nice and sloppy for me, shit.”

You want to tug his pants down his legs to give yourself better access, but your instincts are telling you it’s a bad idea. Even as you became more aroused from his reactions, you still maintain a strong sense of unease, like he could snap at you without a moments notice.

When you peer up at his face, his eyes are closed, and some of the anger and tension he was holding onto is less apparent now. It gives you a spark of excitement, pride, even, that you’re finally able to provide him some peace.

His expression gives you enough confidence to lean your head down and take him in your mouth. You start with a soft kiss against his tip, then you swirl your tongue around it slowly, trying to gauge his reaction.

“M’not in the mood for teasing, doll.” Jason groans. “Better take a deep breath.”

That is all the warning he gives you before his hand grips the back of your head and pushes your mouth down onto him. You gag a little at the sudden intrusion before you remember to relax your throat to allow him fully in.

Another deep moan fills your ears when Jason feels you gag around him. Your eyes water as your nose brushes against the dark hair at the base of his cock. He’s definitely bigger than the last time you two did this. Or perhaps you’re just out of practice. Whatever the reason, you struggle to suck him off properly. After a few seconds of deep-throating him, pull your mouth away to cough and catch your breath.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.” He growls. "That felt good."

“You’re being a jerk.” You sputter out between coughs. “You said you’d be nicer to me.”

“This is me being nice.” He argues, bringing his hand to his cock to stroke himself again now that you've abandoned your effort. “You don’t want to suck me off? Fine. Get on the bed.”

“It’s not that I-“

“Get on the fucking bed.”

He stands up, and you’re momentarily scared he’s going to drag you. But his grip on your arm isn’t harsh, just a firm guide as he helps you onto the cheap mattress. You lay on your back and settle against the bedding, but Jason promptly flips you over, helping you onto your hands and knees.

You the mattress creek as he positions himself behind you. A quick look over your shoulder results in him gripping your hair and pushing your face into his pillows. "Stay just like that." He warns.

"Seriously? What, y-you're not going to let me look at you? Or kiss you?"

"Do you want me to fuck you or not?" The irritation returning to his gravely voice.

You close your eyes and try to stop your tears. You exhale a deep, steadying breath before you reply, "Yes, Jay, of course I do."

"Then quit complaining." The mattress shifts again as Jason moves behind you, his still clothed legs pressed against your rear. His left hand rests firmly on your waist, and a second later you feel him rub the tip of his cock against your clit. He drags himself up to the entrance of your cunt slowly, them back down again. He languidly repeats this back and fourth several times while he mutters under his breath "Shit... look at you, doll, touched your pussy for 5 seconds and you're already soaked for me." Jason smacks his shaft against your cunt a few times, your body visibly tensing when you feel the tip press against your asshole. "Relax," Jason scoffs, "I know you don't like that shit. You couldn't handle me in there before, there's no way you could take me there now."

Jason's weight shifts forward, pressing his hips into you. It only takes a moment for him to find the give and sheath the tip of his engorged length inside of your cunt. Green eyes stare in awe as he watches himself slowly disappear inside of you, pausing halfway, savoring how warm and wet you feel. He curses when your inner muscles clench and relax in little spasms as you try and accommodate him. "So fucking tight, goddammit, doll, shit, shiiit... feels so good when you do that."

Your eyes roll back at how badly you've missed the feeling him inside of you. This part, this feels familiar. This doesn't feel like a stranger. Your heart fills with relief, a sense of comfort washing over you and helping you to relax.

Jason pushes even further inside when your inner walls lax around his girth. A soft hiss escapes your teeth when his crown kisses your cervix. It's too bad that you miss the grin on his face as he takes in your reaction.

"You really haven't been with anyone else, have you? Tssk." Jason slaps your ass and watches the slight recoil in awe. "I can tell. You held out. You know what that tells me?" His large hands plant themselves on either side of you against the bed. Jason leans down, shifting his weight onto you and forcing you down into the mattress, prone-bone, fully bottoming out inside your tight cunt.

A whimper falls from your throat at the sting of how he stretches you. It creates an ache deep inside of you, deep enough that only he could reach.

"Tells me you knew I was still around. You're a liar."

"W-what?" That sense of ease and comfort is gone just as quick as it came.

Jason says your name in disapproval, "We both know you're loyal to a fault. That's why you're here. That's why you put up with my shit." His clothed chest presses against the soft skin of your back as his hips begin a slow rolling motion, thrusting into you while he brings his lips to your ear, brushing against your earring. "Me dying is the only way you could ever move on from me. But I did die. And you didn't move on. Which means you knew. You knew I was alive. Which is why you didn't betray me, even when Dick was practically throwing himself at you."

His pace increases as he speaks. His words are tainted with an bitter smugness, which makes your stomach churn.

"Jason, Jay, baby, that doesn't make any sense. I really t-thought you were gone-hmmpht!" Jason gives a sharper thrust which interrupts your explanation.

"Then why didn't you move on?" He's asks in a tense whisper.

"I couldn't!" You cry out in exasperation.

"Exactly".

His hips are rolling faster against you now, only pulling out an inch or so before thrusting back in, too greedy to pull out any further. He stays deep and buries himself as far as possible inside your neglected cunt. The friction feels divine, even if the rough cotton of his t-shirt is rubbing against your back instead of his bare chest. You long for skin to skin. The closeness is something you crave, but Jason, for whatever reason, decides to deprive you of it, even though he's balls deep in your guts.

"Fuck off!" You spit out between your shallow pants and moans. "You're being a jerk!"

"Yeah?" His voice strains as his pace picks up even more. The mattress is squeaking softly and bumping up against the wall with each rut of his hips. "I'm a jerk? You think I'm a jerk?"

You moan in frustration and pound your fist against the mattress. It's difficult for you to find the right words to say when his cock is hitting all the right spots inside you. You've dreamt of this, being forced to live with the longing inside of you for a partner you thought you'd never see again. It's everything you've been craving, to be one with him again. But he's souring the intimacy with his smartass mouth.

"I don't wanna fight, Jay." You mutter in response to him. Jason's hand cradles the back of your head and pushes it further into the pillows. You're almost ashamed at how it turns you on, being crushed and handled roughly by him like this.

"Ha, don't believe that for a second." A warm hand snakes down the side of your body and slips around your hips so he has access to your clit. He's still pistoning deep into you, now nipping and biting at your neck as his fingers work your sensitive nub, sandwiched between your body and the mattress. The added stimulation makes you squeeze your thighs together. "C'mon, too late to be shy, doll. Open up f’me." His voice is a gruff rumble in you ear. It sends a chill down you spine and makes your toes curl, clenching around him to alleviate the pool of tension building in your core.

You should have better self control. You should rise above, be better than his antics. But your mind is reeling and trying to reconcile how good he’s making you feel with how irritated you are. So without much thought, you quip back, “Says the man who won't even take his shirt off when he fucks."

“The fuck did you just say?” Jason pinches your clit between his fingers, earning a sharp yelp from you that’s muffled against his pillows. His pace doesn’t falter, but his body tenses as the anger finds him again.

The sting lingers, and you push your thighs together even more, effectively squeezing him out of you somewhat unintentionally.

“No, none of that now, you’re going to let me in.”

A deep inhale blesses your lungs when Jason pushes himself up off of you, leaning back and grabbing your hips to force you on your hands and knees once more. You grip the sheets and steady yourself, unprepared for the harsh smack that stings your ass cheek.

“Ouch!” You whimper, taking a chance to look back at him again. Your lips part to voice your protest, but Jason chooses this moment to impale your body back onto him and fill up your dripping cunt in a single jolt. You swallow the cry that threatens to leave your lips. You feel so full, your eyes flutter when he starts his pace up again, the sound of wet skin smacking against wet skin filling the apartment. He’s going faster now, his fingers almost painful on your hips as the uses your body for release.

“Look at how wet you are, doll, shit.” Jason’s eyes are heavy with desire as the line between lust and anger starts to dissolve. “You know what I think?” He asks through gritted teeth.

You’re hardly in a state to answer him. The friction of his arousal pounding in and out of you, the weight of his heavy balls slapping against your clit, the sound of him straining and losing control, its making it difficult to focus on much else. As your arousal builds, your brain slows down, unable to comprehend anything other than your boyfriends cock filling you to the brim.

“I think you like when I’m mean. Look at how soaked you are right now, dripping onto my bed like a greedy slut.”

A low, depraved moan vibrates in your throat, only further proving his point.

“Ha, that’s right. Fucking… fucking knew it, god- fuck, taking me so good, so fucking good.” Jason moans your name, repeating it as he senses his release getting closer. His fingers dig deeper into the flesh of your hips, hard enough that you’re sure you’ll have bruises tomorrow.

“Fucking love this, I… I… dammit, I love you, doll. I love you so much.” Jason's filter is gone. He’s lost in the feeling of your soft pussy squeezing him, the wet sounds of your sex bringing him to the brink.

Each hard thrust of his hips has your body recoiling. Your chest falls down to the bed, hands gripping the pillow for dear life as the vigilante relentlessly pounds into you.

“I said... I love you, bitch.” His voice actually wavers slightly at the repeated admission, his emotions peaking and threatening to spill out.

You try to respond to him, you really do. But Jason fucks the air right out of your lungs, moving at a bruising pace, ramming himself so deep in your body that your vision is blurry and nothing even close to a real word has a chance at leaving your lips. You're breathless and cock drunk as he abuses that soft spot inside of you, building up your pleasure to an unbearable level. You're close. And so is he. You tremble and pant as your orgasm hits you hard, a warm fuzzy sensation radiating between your legs where your bodies meet, more of your slick splattering Jason's thighs in droplets from how hard he's fucking you. The sensation of your pussy convulsing around his hard length is the final push he needs.

You attempt to muffle the fragmented scream that falls from your mouth at his last few brutal thrusts. Jason curses, his breath catching as his balls tighten and release his load into you, mixing with your own fluids to create a sticky mess that oozes out around his cock. His hips finally slow, giving a few more gentle pumps as he rides his high. His labored breathing is accompanied by more curses and soft groans. You stay still, reeling from your own release, your mind still fuzzy and not thinking clearly.

Jason leans forward, putting his weight one hand while the other reaches for your flushed face, reaching around to grip your chin firmly. Following his lead, you let him turn your head to finally look back at him. The anger is still there. You're not sure if it will ever go away. But there is a vulnerability in his eyes that wasn't there before. He's still inside of you, hunched over your body, flushed face only inches from yours.

"Say it back."

Your eyes widen at how broken he sounds. It takes a few seconds before you can get your mouth to move, but as soon as you've gathered yourself you respond, you say "I love you, Jason" with as much tenderness as you can muster.

He nods, eyes narrowing, before finally sitting up and removing himself from you. "Good." He mumbles, moving until he's sitting on the edge of the bed and sighing. "Remember that next time you threaten to leave."

"It... it wasn't a threat." You explain, but you're so breathless and fucked-out that you're not sure if he hears you. Relaxing onto the bed, you lay on your side to look at him with worry. The emotions inside of you are tumultuous, confusing you even further as you try and decide if this was progress or not.

"I keep you around because you belong here. With me." Jason stands up, avoiding your anxious gaze and keeping his back to you. "Don't fucking forget it." His feat thud against the floor as he walks over to the bathroom, disappearing and closing the door behind him with a slam.

��� masterlist ⭓

please don’t steal my work. don't upload it to another site, use it to train ai, or claim it as your own.

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Mother of America (Soldier Boy/Homelander)

Description: Soldier Boy and Y/N have a son that they weren’t aware of.

Word Count: 1,922k

Request:

homelander... meeting his genetic mother 🛐🛐🛐

she's in the same situation of Soldier Boy on her part her reproductive eggs got harvested and used to create him without her knowing when she got taken by Vought

+ for ryan to meet her

Author’s note: I changed it up a bit and added some stuff. This is a little different than in the show.

Soldier Boy was a hot Supe that saved America from time to time. He had every lady and some men wanting him and his dick. He wanted a lot of young hot ladies for himself. But there was one that stood out to him. One that was right in front of him this whole time. Mother of America or as he called her Y/N. She was just as hot as him and even a lot of guys or girls wanted her as well.

She had her eyes on one man and one man only. Soldier Boy or as she called him Ben. The two were in love as far as love could go. They fought crime together and then after had the hottest sex together. They were a perfect pair. After a year of officially dating Ben asked her to marry him and she said yes. The wedding was simple, nothing too crazy and not a lot of people. It wasn’t a secret by any means but they were different from most people. They were Supes and they were famous. Y/N couldn’t get pregnant. It was damn near impossible for a Supe to get pregnant.

So Vought took her eggs with the hopes of having a natural born Supe one day. When Ben almost got killed Y/N was heartbroken and even more when she saw the helicopter take him away. That was the last time she saw him. She still wore the ring and acted as if she was still married. Technically she was. Along with Ben she aged like fine wine and looked perfect. She hit out from Vought and managed to hide for years, that was until Soldier Boy was back and went looking for her. She couldn’t believe her eyes when she got the knock on her door and there stood her husband. He gave her a smile, the smile that she missed so much. Without thinking she hugged him so tight not caring about the other people at her door with him. He hugged her back and chuckled, “I missed you baby.” He said.

Oh his voice, it still sounded the same and sounded so sexy. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?” She asked in tears. “I looked all over for ya baby. You hid really well.” He told her and pulled back to wipe her tears. “I have some news. I just wish that we could have reconnected before the news broke.” He tells her and he pulls away. She looked at him confused as to what the news could be and why he sounded sad. “This here is Billy. Billy Butcher.” “Oi luv.” She nodded and gave him a small smile. “Billy here has one mission and that is to kill Homelander.” She knew that name, he was the face of Vought. “He’s a cunt.” Billy said, almost making Y/N laugh.

“What has he done to you?” She asked. “That’s a story for another time.” Billy tells her. “We need your help babe.” Ben tells her, “With what?” “We need to kill him.” “Homelander?” She asked. Both men nodded. “He needs to be put down like a dog.” Ben said. Y/N looked at both men and sighed. “That’s the news?” She asked. By the look on her husband’s face she knew it wasn’t. “Homelander is…well he’s our son.” Y/N felt her heart stop at his words. She looks towards Billy for confirmation and he nods. “What?” “I know it’s crazy.” “No Ben, it's not possible.” She said. “Remember the eggs they froze for you and the sperm they took from me?” She did remember that but it couldn’t be… “They made him with our…” “Yes.” Ben said. She looked at the other man who had something against Homelander and for what she wasn’t sure. “He has a son himself. Ryan, whose mother was my wife.” Billy told her.

“Your wife cheated on you with Homelander?” She asked, “Not exactly.” She covered her mouth with her hand as she realized what he meant. She looked towards her husband. “Well babe I guess we gotta kill our offspring.” 

The two sat in Y/N’s hot tub naked with a glass of wine. “So our only child is a monster.” she said and took a big sip of her wine. Ben nodded and pulled her closer, “Yeah.” The yeah was filled with disappointment. “He’s a pussy too. No real man cries and acts like he does.” Y/N rolled her eyes not missing that side of her husband. “Ben seriously?” She asked. He chuckled and nodded, “Yeah and he thinks he’s the new me.” She chuckles and cups his face, “Nobody is ever going to be you.” She whispers and kisses him. He sets down his wine glass and kisses her back.

The kiss felt like it did years ago. Great. “You know I haven’t had sex with anyone since you were taken from me.” She says against his lips. He smiles and moves so he is in between her legs. “Are you saying that I should fuck you right here in this hot tub?” He asked and she laughed. She shrugged and bit his lip, “I mean if that’s what you want.” “Oh hunny I plan on fucking you in every spot I can in this house.” He tells her, making her laugh. 

Her and Ben walked into the house of the twins that hosted what they created all those years ago. Herogasm. Y/N smiled at the memories as she saw all types of Supes fucking. “You stay here, I got business to take care of you.” Ben told her as he walked away. She didn’t question it knowing it was for a good cause. She walked around the house amazed by what was happening. She saw her husband and the TNT twins begging for their lives. “TNT Detonate!” They said and the place exploded.

Y/N flew up watching it all happen. She watched the place burn into flames and many dead. She flew back down and saw Ben walking with Billy. She flew down towards him, “Babe?” Both men looked up as she flew down beside them. “What the hell is going on?” She asked. “A lot of people are liars, but right now we gotta deal with Homelander.” He told her. She hoped he would explain everything to her because she was very confused. “William Butcher, Soldier Boy and Mother of America.” Y/N’s jaw dropped as she saw her son. For the first time she sees him she can’t stop thinking about how that’s her son. “We had a deal. That we would fight to the death.” “Deal’s off.” Billy said to him as they all came face to face.

“You were my hero growing up. I watched all your movies hundreds of times. You were the only one that was nearly as strong as me.” Y/N snorted at the last part making Homelander look over at her. “Buddy, you think you look strong? You’re wearing a cape. You’re just a cheap fucking knock off.” He tells him. “Oh no no no. I’m the upgrade.” He said with a smirk. “Upgrade? Bitch you wish.” Y/N laughed at him. He turns to her but before he could say or do anything Ben attacks him. Y/N and Billy watch for a second but Y/N realized that Homelander was a lot stronger than she thought. She watched in horror as Ben was being choked out by him.

She went to tackle him but Billy lasered beem him. Homelander looked over at the man in shock, “What have you done?” “Scorched Earth.” Billy said. Y/N tackled Homelander to the ground and they all began to fight. Some naked guy who Y/N later learned was named Hughie started helping out. She could tell Ben wanted to kill their son and she couldn’t blame him. Homelander ended up blasting away as they all held him down. “We should have ended him right there.” She said to them. 

“I can tell you're hesitant on killing him.” Ben said to her as they got in bed. She chuckled, “I mean the only child we got is a monster but yet I feel like it’s our fault.” “Babe he’s a test subject for vault not really our child.” She looked at him, “But he is our child. My egg and your sperm.” She said. “We have to do what's best no matter how hard it may be.” He tells her. He was right. But a part of her couldn’t bear to be the one to do it. 

“Where’s Black Noir?” Y/N asked, knowing that he was in the seven. “I killed him.” She felt her heart break. “Why?” Ben asked. Homelander looked at the two of them, “Because he didn’t tell me about you two.” Y/N and Ben looked at each other. “Homelander this isn’t right.” She tells him. He holds up his hands, “I’m alone. I just want to talk. I know what it’s like to have your team betray you. But with the three of us together we could be unstoppable. Nobody would stand a chance.” “Unless we kill each other first.” Ben said. “That’s true but why? Because he says so. He’s a human. He’s nothing.” “Don’t listen to that twat he’s not your kid.”

“Yes I am. I am your guy’s blood. That’s all that matters.” A kid maybe 10 years old, he brings out. “This is your grandson Ryan. Ryan, this is your grandparents.” “Hi Grandpa. Hi Grandma.” Y/N felt tears well up in her eyes at the sight of him. She had a son and a grandson. But then she remembered what Billy told her. The kid was a product of rape. “Maybe if we raised you, we could have made you better, not some weak pussy that’s starved for attention.” “But there’s no fixing that now.” Y/N said with tears in her eyes. “Weak? I’m you. I’m the product of the two of you. Soldier Boy and Mother of America.” “Homelander it pains me to say this but you’re a disappointment.” She said to him.

Homelander looked sad by her words. His own mother thought that of him. Ryan ended up leasering Ben and started a war. “Ben, you don’t need to kill the kid, just Homelander.” She tried. “Y/N, that kid is a product of rape.” He growled at her. “Not the kid.” Billy said. “You wanna save the brat? What’s wrong with you guys?” He asked. “I made a promise.” Billy said. “Everything you wanted.. He’s right here and now you blink?” “He needs to die Billy. Homelander needs to die.” She tells the man. “You’re on his side?” Billy asked.

“I’m sorry Billy but Homelander needs to die. I’ll try to save your kid.” She said. It was hard when Ben wanted one thing and she the other. Homelander was the one that needed to die not his kid but she knew that Ben was impossible and that wouldn’t work so when his chest and they didn’t get what they wanted she knew that it would take an awful lot to kill her son. But it needed to be done. 

“I don’t hate ya.” she turned to see Billy. “But your husband. He’s an ass.” Billy said, making her laugh. “Yeah I know. But I want him dead. I don’t care that he’s my son so if you ever need me Billy. You call me and I’ll be right there.” She tells him before walking back into her house where Ben was waiting.

[avtrbee]

turn back time, to the good old days

✢summary: a curse hits megumi and gojo reacts accordingly

✢tags: fushiguro megumi and gojo satoru, nobara pov

✢tw: child abandonment issues?

✢a/n: lets all take a break from whatever the fuck gege akutami has been recently writing. i hope I did dad gojo justice.

Nobara knows she’s fucked as soon as she sees Fushiguro disappear. Her eyes watch in mild horror as her classmate shrinks so quickly until all that is left of him is his uniform.

Itadori was the first to react, shouting a panicked “Fushiguro!” before running towards the pile of clothes.

The door to Shoko-san’s infirmary burst open, revealing an irritated Nobara, followed by Itadori who still had baby Fushiguro in his arms. The child had stopped crying after they passed school gates- maybe he recognized jujutsu tech?- and had settled for wet sniffles instead. Nobara has never seen Fushiguro so pathetic.

Shoko-san was, unsurprisingly, seated behind her desk with papers. She looked at them at the sound of her doors opening, but before she could even talk, Gojo-sensei appeared out of nowhere with his signature annoying grin. 

“Yoho~ how did the mission go? I’m sure it went well. I taught you everything you know!”

Nobara could feel her face morphing into an automatic frown. Things were hectic enough as it is, and she didn’t want this moron to ruin baby Fushiguro’s mood any further. They had just endured an hour-and-a-half car ride with a panicked Fushiguro, who insisted on being unconsolable and crying the entire ride back. She just came from a grueling mission. She was sure some of baby Fushiguro’s saliva, and snot landed in her somehow, and if this grandpa-looking sensei of hers made things even worse, she might explode.

“Eh? Megumi?” Gojo sensei asked in confusion after finally noticing the significantly smaller boy. Gojo Satoru’s gaze looks blankly at Itadori’s arms where a smaller Fushiguro is being carried.

As if on cue, Fushiguro breaks out in a full-on wail and cries louder than he ever did in the car.

Nobara already had her trusty hammer in hand, ready to smack the living hell out of her sensei, until she noticed Fushiguro desperately wiggling out of Itadori’s grasp. Both Nobara and Itadori share a confused look before her classmate puts baby Fushiguro down. 

As soon as his bare feet touched the cold, sterile floor of the infirmary, Nobara watched in awe as Fushiguro dashed away from them as quickly as he could. It was almost comical how fast he managed to get his tiny feet to run quickly. If this was a cartoon, a cloud of smoke would have been left in his trail. 

With his hands out open and eyes wet with a flood of tears, baby Fushiguro rushed to Gojo-sensei, who, to Nobara and Itadori’s surprise, was already squatting down for the boy with arms spread out. Gojo caught Fushiguro easily, one big hand immediately going behind Fushiguro’s head and the other on his back. 

“Why did you leave me?” The boy wails, crying on their sensei’s shoulder. “I woke up, and I d-didn’t know where I w-was! You promised never to do that! You promised!” 

Fushiguro’s voice cracks at the end of his accusation, and Gojo’s face crumples in a rare show of vulnerability. He shifts, both hands going under Fushiguro’s armpits as Gojo stands. Small, chubby fingers tug his blindfold down, and Gojo-sensei’s blue eyes stare almost lovingly at the crying child with concern. Fushiguro clings to him as if his life depended on it, his tiny fists clenching their sensei’s uniform. 

“You’re right, you’re right,” Gojo-sensei coos, swaying slightly from side to side. Gojo makes sure Fushiguro is looking at him before making a show of slapping his hand on his forehead. “Stupid Gojo-san, he forgot his most precious ‘Gumi! What am I going to do?”

Nobara’s eyes narrow in suspicion. Gojo-sensei seemed to have done everything with ease as their baby-fied classmate was now calming down in his arms. 

“I’m not precious to you at all, so stop calling me that!” Fushiguro seethes and pulls the angriest scowl he can muster. But then, with another quieter and sadder voice, he reminds Gojo of his previous accusation. “You left.”

“I didn’t leave you,” Gojo corrects him in a softer tone of voice. His hand reaches up to Fushiguro and smoothes out his spiky hair as the child looks at him with slight distrust. The small boy has stopped wailing. Nobara has never seen her sensei so tender. “Haven’t left you ever since I got you.”

Nobara blinks. Since he got- what is going on? She opens her mouth to speak but stops as a quiet voice asks Gojo a question.

“But you will?” Fushiguro asks with his pitch high, threatening another onslaught of tears.

Gojo shakes his head without hesitation. “No,” he insists.

Fushiguro looks at their sensei in distrust, internally debating if he should believe him. His blue eyes shine as he peeks through his lashes to look at Gojo’s unwavering gaze. He asks with a quiet and unsure voice, “Even when I’m bad?”

“Even then,” Gojo answers easily. Fushiguro’s shoulders visibly relax, and he lets himself melt on Gojo’s chest. The older sorcerer puts back a cheery tone as soon as he notices Fushiguro calms down. “Fellow sorcerers brought you back to me, right? And look!” He shifts Megumi towards Shoko-san’s direction. “Aunt Ieiri is here!”

A small smile appears on Shoko-san’s face as baby Fushiguro waves shyly embarrassed that she has seen him throw a tantrum. Nobara thinks it’s her first time seeing her smile. But then Shoko-san glances back at them, and the smile disappears.

Somehow, Nobara feels a little guilty. She knows she probably intruded in a scene meant for Gojo and Fushiguro…whatever they are. But it’s not like she had a choice! 

Shoko sighs. “Alright, you two,” she ushers them away with a few flicks of her wrist. “We’ll take it from here.”

Gojo-sensei’s head snaps in their direction, so engrossed with Fushiguro that he almost forgot Nobara and Itadori were still in the room. His blue eyes feel like a spotlight, piercing through them threateningly.

The air feels heavy and almost suffocating, and Nobara feels her shackles rise as her hand twitches for her hammer. It took her a while to realize that the pressure was Gojo-sensei’s cursed energy. Nobara’s instincts whisper at her to run. 

Behind her, Itadori reads the situation first and bows in a hurry. He is as likely ready to change out of his snot-filled uniform as she is as eager to escape their deranged sensei. “See you later, Gojo-sensei! Bye-bye Fushiguro!”

Itadori snatches Nobara’s hand just as she finishes her clumsy bow. As she lightly runs to her dorms, the thought of a fresh shower chases away any lingering thoughts of what happened.

-

Gojo feels as though he has traveled back in time. He is frozen in both shock and awe as Megumi, once a tall, lanky, and cranky teenager, has been reduced to a barely four-foot-tall child, his eyes streaming with tears at the sight of him.

As if on instinct, Gojo dropped down to his height- a very helpful tip he read from one of those parenting books he read in a panic after he realized he was the textbook definition of a teen dad- and opened his arms. 

He sees Megumi sprint, and Gojo has been in this situation a few times before to know that Megumi was about to launch him a rare hug. Not even a moment later, Megumi was all over him. His hands immediately wrap around the boy.

Gojo knows that he is acting on pure selfishness. He knows something is wrong. For one, Megumi is tiny, and second, his Six Eyes sense a lingering feel of foreign cursed energy. He knows he should be more concerned, checking if his students are alright, but Megumi is sobbing in his arms like he used to a decade ago. In his accumulated knowledge of him, Gojo knows that Megumi is a shy boy, and it takes a lot for him to openly demand his affection and comfort. Gojo is more than happy to deliver. 

He caresses Megumi’s hair, and Gojo ignores the way his heart sings. He hasn’t seen this Megumi in a long time, and the boy has long refused his affection. 

Before Gojo could ask him what was wrong, Megumi’s watery voice echoes throughout Ieiri’s infirmary. “Why did you leave me?” He cries, “I woke up, and I d-didn’t know where I w-was! You promised never to do that! You promised!”

Ah, Gojo thinks as he feels his heart ache. He knows what this is. Megumi has spent most of his early life witnessing too many people come and leave. If he was correct, which he always ways, Megumi has regressed back in age and memory. Gojo couldn’t help but wonder how he must have felt when he awoke with many unfamiliar people. He knows Megumi assumed he had left him then, just like everyone else. 

Gojo lifts Megumi with him as he stands, a hand going under his thighs to support the small boy. Megumi tugs down his blindfold, and Gojo lets him. He does not even realize he’s already swaying Megumi from side to side. His body still remembers how to soothe him.

“You’re right, you’re right,” Gojo says in an admonishing tone before dramatically slapping his forehead. “Stupid Gojo-san, he forgot his most precious ‘Gumi! What am I going to do?”

He does not mind playing the fool for Megumi’s state of mind. When he assumed guardianship over Megumi and his sister, Gojo thought of his role as a simple one. He is their benefactor, one that comes over on a rare weekend to leave money for the Fushiguros to sustain themselves. But one weekend turned into two, and Gojo found himself craving the noise and warmth of the Fushiguro household. 

“I’m not precious to you at all, so stop calling me that!”

Oh, how could he even comprehend what he meant to him? Has he forgotten how Gojo learned how to cook to make onigiri-shaped divine dogs for his daily bento? Has he forgotten the movie nights spent on the couch sandwiched between him and Tsumiki? Did he not remember those nights Megumi knocked on his door at night, scared to sleep in his room because his Tsumiki-nee-san was in camp? The animal band-aids? The glow-in-the-dark stickers stuck in his room ceiling?

Gojo watches as Megumi sniffs, eyes darting away from his gaze. His grip on Gojo’s uniform falters. “You left me.”

“I would never leave you,” he says. A memory intrudes his mind with a Megumi similar to this one in front of him. He was angry, his face red with rage, as he hit little fists, landing soft punches on Gojo’s stomach. Gojo didn’t mean to come home late. “Haven’t left you ever since I got you.”

Instead of being relieved, he could have felt Megumi’s heartbreak. He breathes shakily and asks in a tone that tries to conceal his panic and anger- “But you will?”

Gojo shakes his head without hesitation. “No,” he insists.

Fushiguro looks at him in distrust, internally debating whether to believe him. His blue eyes shine as he peeks through his lashes to look at Gojo’s unwavering gaze. He asks with a quiet and unsure voice, “Even when I’m bad?”

Gojo thinks of his almost weekly meetings with Megumi’s high school as he beats other students in a pulp. He thinks of Megumi stretching his arms out, curling his hands to fists, ready to resign himself to a certain death.

“Even then,” he whispers to the boy like it was their little secret. He makes his voice loud and cheery as Gojo exclaims his next words. “Fellow sorcerers brought you back to me, right? And look!” He shifts Megumi towards Shoko-san’s direction. “Aunt Ieiri is here!”

Megumi avoids her gaze and stares at her pristine white coat instead. He offers her a small wave, and Gojo watches as Ieiri gives a him gentle smile. 

A wave of appreciation rolls over him as he realizes that Megumi has as many memories of her as he does with him. Gojo feels so stupid when he thinks about the moments when he thought he was lonely. He had two people in this room who loved him as much as he did them. Then, for a brief moment, his brain scolds him for not remembering his precious little girl who loves him infinitely even when asleep. He hopes she’ll wake soon.

“Alright, you two. We’ll take it from here.”

Immediately, Gojo freezes in panic. His instinct sets his Infinity to engulf Megumu and Ieiri. His next thought was- how did they sneak up on me? Gojo panics as he realizes they have seen him cradling Megumi, consoling him with all the gentleness he could muster. They have witnessed his weakness. They have already taken one from him, and Gojo would be damned if anyone takes another child.

His Six Eyes snap at the two intruders, and it takes him—oh, it’s his students. And they are already half-running towards the door. 

As soon as the infirmary doors shut to a close, Gojo feels the heated gaze of his friend. 

“You didn’t have to scare them like that,” she scolds. “Now they’ll have more questions after Fushiguro’s back to normal.”

Gojo does feel a vague sense of guilt. He didn’t mean to have his students feel threatened by him. He was just caught unaware for the first time in a long time. It didn’t help that Megumi suddenly became smaller and more affectionate, reminding him of precious memories. His brain had thought there was a Fushiguro Toji-level threat like it does every time someone close comes to him without noticing.

“It’ll fade away in a few hours or days, by the way,” Shoko murmurs, her hands going for a cigarette. “He’ll be back to normal in a few. But you already knew that.”

Gojo slaps her hand before she even reaches a cigarette. Shoko takes one look at Megumi and sighs. She takes in the sight before her.

“Feeling sentimental?” She asks.

Gojo hugs Megumi a little tighter. He closes his eyes and lets himself hold the child. Gojo breathes in his scent and relishes the feeling of his child in his arms. He feels Megumi’s spiky hair softly poking his neck, his warmth; he faintly smells Megumi’s childhood shampoo. He feels Megumi squeeze back. “Let me have this.”

Teenage Megumi would never let him hug him with this much vulnerability, which was fine. Gojo loves teenage Megumi as much as he loves this child version of him, but he rarely asks for him anymore. It makes Gojo feel silly to reminisce like he’s past 50 years old when he’s just 27, but in his humble and correct opinion- he was a teenage dad. 

“Never do that again,” Megumi scolds him, voice a little muffled.  “I’ll hate you if you do. I’ll hate you. I will.” Each word spoken was more determined after the next, bringing another smile to Gojo’s face. They both know Megumi does not mean it. They both know Gojo would never leave him. Not willingly. 

lmk what you think! i'd love to hear comments, your thoughts and whatever this fic made you feel. i'd also appreciate constructive criticism <33

[padfootagain]

Only an Almost (XVIII)

Chapter 18: Work Song

Hi! Here comes a new chapter!

We’re starting to escape the angst here!

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

*************************************

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Word Count : 3806

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Andrew was getting a little better every day.

He was getting up without too much difficulty these days. His sleep schedule was a mess, but he was getting some work done. He went to see his parents three times a week, saw his brother often too. He went for a swim every morning and a long walk every afternoon. Sometimes he watched a good movie, spent some time reading. He made sure to avoid being in the same room as you, and had declined some friendly gatherings because of it, but he couldn’t claim to regret this decision.

He was getting better. You were still the first thing in his thoughts when he woke up, the last image printed on his eyelids when he fell asleep, but it was a torturing routine he had grown accustomed to by now.

It was like living with your ghost. The memories of you spending time with him in all his most familiar spaces. His house, his favourite spot to swim, his favourite walks, the pub you and your friends always went to… All familiar, but with an empty space constantly by his side.

Today, Andrew was hurrying out of his house. It was still early in the morning, too early for him if he were to be honest, but his best friend could not be waiting for him on his wedding day.

Despite the sadness that usually tainted his days since that night, Andrew was excited today. Happy and excited. He secured his guitar case at the back of his car, and drove to Sam’s house. He wasn’t surprised to find your car already parked there, but it was alright. Of course, you would be there, it was planned, and known. Andrew had sent you a text the previous night, the first form of communication since your ‘talk’ at your house, asking for both of you to keep the interaction to a minimum so that the wedding would go smoothly. Sam and Daphne were the most important today, and you and Andrew could go your separate ways for good after today.

It took you an hour to answer with a short and polite message agreeing with him and promising to remain ‘professional’, as you had put it.

Andrew was both relieved and pained by that answer…

He knocked, and Sam opened the door in the span of mere seconds.

“Jesus fucking Christ, thank God! You’re here!”

Before Andrew could say a thing, Sam was grabbing him by the shoulders.

“Rings?”

“In my pocket.”

“Spare shirts?”

“In the trunk.”

“Your suit?”

“In the car. And yours too.”

“Guitar.”

“Yep, that too!”

“Your weird drinks for your throat? I swear to God, I will skin you alive if you lose your voice before singing for our first dance.”

Andrew rested his hands on his friend’s shoulders as well.

“Sam, I have everything. Don’t worry.”

“You double-checked?”

“Triple-checked. I have everything. It’s going to be just fine.”

Sam started to giggle, tears shining in his eyes.

“I’m getting married today.”

“Today,” Andrew nodded.

“Fuck’s sake…”

“You’d better let me in so I can help you get ready and you aren’t late to church.”

“Right, you’re right.”

They hugged before Andrew would come in, tight and emotional and full of happiness and excitement.

He was moving towards Sam’s bedroom when you appeared. You were walking out of the room, a bag in your hand. You were still wearing casual clothes, planning to change before the ceremony. You froze, but quickly recovered, offering him a polite smile.

“Hi, Andy!”

“Hi,” he answered with the same neutral smile.

“I’m getting out of both your and Sam’s way! I was picking up a few things for Daphne.”

“Of course. Is she alright?”

“Excited. Terrified. In pure bliss.”

“Same as Sam, then?” Andrew chuckled, and you nodded.

“I’m afraid so.”

You nodded in silence, and Andrew bit his tongue before he could ask you how you were, or tell you how beautiful you looked today…

“See you at church, then,” he smiled and you nodded, taking it as your cue to leave.

He stared as you disappeared through the door.

But then Sam was reappearing, babbling about some stressful detail that was insignificant. Andrew smiled, and patted his shoulder.

“Come on, let’s get you ready. Or she’ll never say yes to such an ugly mug.”

Sam and Daphne were married.

It was official. They had both cried, had said yes (Sam was too excited and answered I do before the priest was done with the question), had exchanged rings (that Andrew did carry all morning and for which he checked approximately 2982 times if they were indeed in his pocket), had kissed, had walked out of the church, and finally it was time for the big party.

The eating and the partying were planned outside, under tents that were set in the parc of a large property the couple had rented for the occasion. It was spring, and unusually warm. A clear blue sky with only a few cotton clouds drifting by, and the weather remained that way through the beginning of the evening, as the sun was setting and the moon was slowly appearing in its crescent rise.

The speeches were spoken by a very nervous Andrew and then by you; and you both managed to perfectly balance emotion with humour and embarrassing anecdotes.

The dreaded caterers did an amazing job, that was complimented by the two mothers, and Sam threw a thumbs up at Andrew before starting to eat.

Andrew was sitting next to Sam, and you were next to Daphne, as best man and maid of honour. And Andrew was grateful for it. He wasn’t sitting next to you, and he managed to splendidly avoid talking to you during the day. Still, he could hear your laughter above the loud cacophony of the guests. He couldn’t help but steal glances in your direction every once in a while too, you looked too beautiful in your emerald dress for that.

Andrew pushed the thought away, focusing on the happy conversation that was unfolding around him, forcing a smile.

He hated himself for still wanting you this way…

But Sam and Daphne were happier than ever, and it was all that mattered, truly. They were ecstatic, laughing and smiling constantly, and stealing kisses whenever they could. And it was almost bearable then, the knowledge that you were sitting right over there, and that if he stood up and took but a step, he could hold you close once again.

Pathetic…

When Sam got up to invite everyone to gather outside for a dance, it was Andrew’s and Alex’s cue to get ready. There was a little wooden stage outside the tent as well as a wooden dancefloor, with lights hanging above the space, lightbulbs turning the atmosphere into something magical, cliché and terribly romantic. White flowers were decorating the stage, and hanging from the poles supporting the lights too. With the sky full of stars and the crescent moon above the trees, it was a sight worthy of a magical wedding.

Andrew was soon ready, all plugged in, guitar in hand, with the mic high enough to reach his lips. Alex was right by his side, sitting at the tiny electric piano. He gave Andrew a nod when he was ready, who cleared his throat to announce the first dance of the married couple.

“Daphne and Sam have done me the absolute honour to ask me to sing for their first dance. Erm… thank you again, to both of you, this is genuinely the most important event I’ve ever had to perform for, so… get ready while I try to get rid of most of the stage fright.”

Chuckles shook the crowd that had gathered in circle, right at the edge of the wooden dancefloor. Andrew tried to slow down his heart, take a couple of deep breaths, focusing on the moment, on the task at hand.

“Erm… if you guys are ready, erm… this is Work Song.”

He looked over at Sam, who offered him a nod in return. He had tears in his eyes, and Andrew had to look away, feeling his throat tighten with emotions. And he couldn’t have that now, not when he needed to sing. The first claps were played while Sam and Daphne were moving to the centre of the dancefloor, and they were both a sight to see, under the quiet lights.

Andrew was getting emotional again right before singing, and he looked for a distraction in the crowd as he started the first verse.

He noticed that many were mouthing the words, but not daring to sing. There were too many fond smiles for that, while Sam and Daphne twirled and swayed together, sometimes a little clumsily but with grins making their cheeks ache in the best way.

Andrew allowed himself to look at his friends again for the first chorus, and he kept his gaze on them despite the tears he had to blink away, and the depth that settled in his voice. By his side, Alex was being perfect, as per usual, they didn’t need to look at each other to be in rhythm. They had played this song too many times for that. Muscle memories perfectly combined.

He had to look away again, though, we he caught Sam whispering an ‘I love you’ in Daphne’s ear…

The second chorus was soon gone, and Andrew was trying to calm his nerves, to stay focused on the present, when he caught a silhouette dressed in emerald…

He almost missed a word when his gaze touched yours. And then it was impossible to look away. He blinked, but couldn’t do a thing about it.

You were so beautiful under those lights, under the moon, in this dress that suited you perfectly, for that song of love and devotion that spoke of feelings you sparked within him. He meant the words as he sang them to you. Despite how much you had made him suffer, despite all that you had done… he meant the worship he put in his words when he aimed them at you.

When I was kissing on my baby

And she put her love down soft and sweet

In the low lamplight I was free

Heaven and hell were words to me

He saw your lips quiver, the way you blinked and how your eyes shone a little brighter. He wondered if you were struggling against tears too, the way he was.

And he meant it. And it was fucking killing him, and he wasn’t sure you deserved it after breaking his heart, and he wasn’t sure he deserved you at all… but he meant it. He meant it and he was ready to cry at how much he still loved you. Over a month of trying to get better at functioning on his own, and you were shattering his whole world in just a glance…

That didn’t sound fair at all…

When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth

No grave can hold my body down

I'll crawl home to her

He saw the tear rolling down your cheeks, he struggled to hold back his own. Still, he sang the same words again, like a promise, like a prayer, like he was begging for you to see that he meant it, that if you gave him another chance, he would probably take it.

Would he? Anyway, you wouldn’t offer it to him. You had been clear. That’s what the voice in his head kept on repeating, and yet there you were… standing and crying and staring at him with pain in your eyes, a feeling he wished he could have banished forever from your life.

Christ, he loved you still… and he would have done anything, even conquer death, for you…

When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth

No grave can hold my body down

I'll crawl home to her

The song died out, Andrew’s fingers knew when to stop playing. He was shaken back to earth by the loud cheering of the crowd, and by your form disappearing as you walked back to the tent in a hurry.

He turned to Sam and Daphne, who were kissing and beaming and glowing while the dancefloor was being flooded with their loved ones. Alex and Andrew gave a small bow, before leaving the stage, the guests cheering for them.

Andrew needed to see you. He needed to find you…

There you were… you were walking out of the tent again, aiming for the grass that stretched beyond the tent and towards some trees, further down the small park. You had something in your hand, he didn’t know what it was.

He wanted to follow, but he was almost tackled over by Sam instead, as he hugged his friend too tightly.

“Thanks Andy! That was perfect! Thank you!”

Andrew couldn’t refrain a chuckle, while Daphne was hugging Alex too.

“No need to thank us for that. It was an honour, truly,” Andrew smiled.

“Come on, let’s dance!”

“No, no, no…”

“Andrew, it’s my fucking wedding! I want everyone dancing!”

“I hate dancing. I don’t do dancing.”

“Tonight, you do. Come on.”

Andrew looked in your direction, but you were gone.

He heaved a sigh.

“One dance. I do one dance, and that’s it.”

“Yes, yes! Perfect, come on!”

Andrew played along, dancing with Daphne for a song. His friend tried to hold him back when he moved away, but then Alex popped out of nowhere.

“As any of you seen Y/N? I wanted to borrow her charger for my phone, she said she’d give it to me after the first dance but… can’t find her anywhere.”

Andrew’s face fell, worry making him frown.

“Have you called her?”

“Tried to, but her phone is in the tent, and she isn’t.”

“I’ll go look for her.”

“Maybe she’s inside…”

“No, I saw her hurry towards the thicket over there,” Andrew shook his head, pointing at the bundle of small trees and bushes, barely visible in the distance.

There was no light in that area. Without your phone as a torchlight, you might have fallen, hurt yourself, fell right into the arms of a complete psychopath… and you had no way to call for help. Not with the loud music that was being played.

“I’ll go look for her. Alex, can you check inside the house?”

“Andrew, she’s been gone for five minutes…”

But when she looked up at the worry on his face, Daphne fell silent.

“Alright, you go, both of you.”

“Text me if you find her,” Andrew told his friend, who merely nodded and hurried towards the mansion.

Andrew bolted in the opposite direction, his long legs devouring distance in the blink of an eye. He jogged across the grass, passed the trees, turned on the light on his phone.

He looked around but couldn’t see you.

Panic was starting to rise in his chest, get a grip on his heart and make his lungs ache for air.

“Y/N!” he called.

No response, he called again, louder this time.

“Andrew?”

He spun around, and there you were…

On the other side of some hawthorn tree. He heaved a relieved sigh.

“For fuck’s sake! Y/N, what are you doing here?!”

“I… what are you doing here?”

He texted Alex quickly, before approaching you. His tone sounded angry, even though he was simply scared.

“I was looking for you, obviously! What the fuck were you thinking, huh? Going off like that, on your own, in the dark, without your phone! Anything could have happened to you!”

“Andrew, I’m right next to the party, at my best friends’ wedding. I’m safe, it’s alright.”

He groaned in annoyance, or perhaps it was simply relief.

“You can go back to the party, I’m alright.”

“You can’t stay here on your own…”

“Why not? I’m alright.”

But Andrew stubbornly sat next to you.

“I can’t let you stay here on your own.”

“Andrew…”

You heaved a tired sigh, while he was setting his phone so that both of you were enlightened by its light.

“You’re alright? What’s going on?”

He finally noticed the way the light was getting caught in the glass of a bottle of champagne.

“Y/N?”

“I want to be alone…”

“Then come back to the tent.”

You looked up at the sky to hold some tears back.

“Hey… why are you crying? What’s wrong?”

You merely shrugged, but you were properly crying by now.

“Hey… hey, stop crying… please, Y/N…”

He didn’t think. When Andrew wrapped his arms around your shaking frame, when he cradled the back of your head in his large hand to pull you close to his chest, when he shushed you softly… he didn’t think. You were crying, you looked so upset… he had never seen you so upset before. You spent several minutes sobbing in his arms, shaking, despite the way he soothingly stroked your back.

“It’s alright. It’s alright, calm down… Christ, Y/N, calm down…”

Slowly, the tears subsided. You were holding onto his vest like your life depended on it.

“My head is spinning,” you blurted out.

Andrew took a look at the bottle. It was half-empty, and he had no doubt it wasn’t your first drink of the night.

“Champagne will do that to you.”

He kept you close even if you were calmer now. You sniffed, buried your face deeper into his chest. He merely tightened his hold on you.

“You’re okay? Feeling better?”

You slowly nodded.

“You want to tell me what happened? Why you’re so upset?”

He was surprised as you laughed.

“Not really, no.”

“Alright… We should get back there.”

But despite his own words, he didn’t move a muscle. Instead, he closed his eyes, tried to precisely carve in his memory how it felt to hold you: the sound of your breathing, the softness of your hair, the silk of your dress, the warmth of your body against his, how your frame fitted so perfectly into his embrace…

“I’m sorry you were worried. I just wanted to be on my own,” you apologized in a quiet voice, it still sounded a little hoarser than usual because of your sorrow.

“I panicked a little bit. I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I’m sorry.”

“I think… I might throw up…”

“Right… let’s get you inside, then. Come on…”

“No… no, stay. Please, stay…”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No! No… please, Andy. Just another minute…”

“If you throw up on me, I will get my revenge.”

“Turning me into a vampire?”

“I’ll haunt you after I’m turned into a ghost.”

“Stalk me, you mean.”

“Haven’t you noticed how much of a creep I am already?”

You sniffed once more, and he tried to look at your face to see if you were crying again, but you were hidden in his chest.

“I’m so sorry, Andy… I’m so sorry about everything,” you whispered against his heart, but he caught your words loud and clear, despite the music coming from the party.

“Let’s not talk about this now,” he whispered back, bending to press his lips to the side of your head. “We should go back. Your plus-one must be looking for you.”

“A plus-one? You have a plus-one?”

“Me? No… no, I came alone. I’m talking about you.”

“You didn’t see that I was alone?”

Your words were slurred with alcohol, but they sounded genuine, vulnerable too.

“Erm… no… I… I like… tried to avoid you all day, in case you haven’t noticed. That includes not looking in your direction.”

You let got of his vest completely. He expected you to move away, but you didn’t. It felt like you had gone limp in his arms.

“You can’t even look at me anymore…”

You started crying again, and Andrew cursed at his clumsy words.

“No, I mean… you… We’ve agreed to stay out of each other’s way, and that’s what I’ve tried to do.”

“I didn’t come with anyone.”

“Okay.”

“I fucked up… I fucked up, Andy, I’m so sorry…”

“Hey, look… let’s just…”

He looked up at the night sky, in an attempt to hold back his tears. His throat had tightened, he let out a long exhale, trying to focus on the shape of the incomplete moon, the stars that shone brightly, the happy song that was being played, he couldn’t remember the name of it. Anything to try and not crumble in your arms there and then. He had to keep it together.

“Let’s… let’s not talk about this now, okay?” his voice was soft, mainly because emotions were making it hard for him to speak. “We’ve already spoken about what happened. We just… like… We just need to move on now, yeah?”

But you shook your head.

“I fucked up. I fucked up because I was terrified. I was so fucking scared of letting myself have feelings for you… I was so scared of being too lonely when you’re away, of not being able to cope with your absence, with how much I fucking miss you every time you leave. And I was scared you could meet someone better, someone who could follow your lifestyle in a way I couldn’t and then you would have dumped me and…”

You heaved an exhausted sigh, while Andrew was remaining motionless, trying to process what you were saying.

“I should have never thought about this arrangement. I should have never accepted that stupid date. I should have never pushed you away.”

You spoke again after a short silence. Your next phrase knocked out all the air from his lungs.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you… God, I’m so sorry, Andy…”

He couldn’t answer to that. He couldn’t react to it either. He couldn’t process what your words meant…

Besides you were drunk… very drunk… this… this was a mistake…

“Let’s get you inside, Y/N, okay? Come on, now.”

At long last, you let him help you to your feet, and with his help you were able to walk back to the tent. Some members of Sam’s and Daphne’s families were staying at the mansion for the night, and there were still a few empty rooms available. Andrew got a key, and safely helped you to a bed. He took off your shoes, made you lie down, tucked you in. The time it took him to come back with a glass of water to put on your bedside table, you were fast asleep.

He took a moment to watch you like this, hair a mess of locks stranded on the pillow, looking peaceful, even if your crying was still visible. He gently brushed your cheek, dropped a gentle kiss to your forehead, and then he was gone.

[moonteaa]

your dad teba stuff has me frothing at the mouth like a squirrel that needs to be put down. You got any head cannons to share?

AGH!! Thank you!! Hehe 🤍🏹

AND OH BOY DO I EVER!! Let’s see..

1. Teba literally sees every single member as his own, but definitely imprinted immediately when it came to Zelda and Riju. Teba now has 2 teenage daughters and he loves them. They banter and tease each other and Teba sometimes has to deal with typical teenage girl angst and it’s both hilarious and endearing 😭

2. If someone made Zelda cry, well Teba is gonna take that PERSONALLY. You’ll be dead where you stand if a single tear falls from Zelda’s eyes.

3. Teba is FULL of puns and terrible dad jokes. And he’s very nonchalant about it too 😭 the others will absolutely eat it up LMFAO but Zelda will literally look at him like “WHY” (he loves to annoy her like that.)

4. Teba has this paternal instinct to wrap his wings or place his wings over the others when there’s danger. It does not matter if they can handle themselves, he’ll just shield them instinctively.

5. That goes for weathers too, if it’s raining or the sun is too hot, he’ll place his wing over any of the others as means to shield them.

6. If Kass is performing a song and each member is joining in on a dance, Zelda will constantly want him to join in. Though he refuses at first, Sidon will push him towards the others and practically force him to join with a wide smile on his face, much to Teba’s dismay HAHA but he’ll have fun and if it makes Zelda happy then he’ll accept.

7. When they’re all done traveling and camping out, Teba will either (not sleep at all) or wake up in the middle of the night to do a run down and check on everyone as they sleep just to make sure they’re doing okay and not in danger or having any nightmares.

8. If one of them has nightmares, Teba is immediately there for them and stays up with them until they fall back asleep.

9. He’s protective. Like FEROCIOUSLY PROTECTIVE. You touch a single hair on their head? You’re dead.

10. If someone even dares to try to be mean to Zelda, or blame her for the events of the calamity or Hylia forbid, CALL HER A FAILURE? Oooof..you will be taken care of before those words can even leave your MOUTH.

11. Teba nicknames Zelda Sparrow/Linnet. The first time he did, it made Zelda cry because it reminded her of Urbosa and her mom (little bird) ☹️ Teba didn’t even realize he had nicknamed her something so close to Zelda’s moms. He felt so bad about it and thought he had done something bad by calling her that, but Zelda reassures him that it just means a lot to her. 🥹😭 🤍

12. The reason Teba calls Zelda sparrow is because she small and it literally translates to “little bird” and as to why he calls her linnet, is because Zelda has a pretty singing voice like a linnet bird. (I headcanon that Zelda has a hidden talent for singing 🤍)

13. If Riju asks Teba to look after one of her sand seal plushies, yeah he’s guarding that plush with his LIFE.

14. Teba taught Zelda archery

15. Teba and Zelda often go on little trips together and when Zelda begins to happily chat and geek out about ancient history and sheikah tech or what not, Teba happily listens and indulges with her. He even actually enjoys learning about it and discovering things with her.

16. If Teba finds some ancient looking artifact he’ll immediately tell Zelda or give it to her because he knows how much she loves to study it.

17. He constantly makes sure they’re all appropriately dressed for the colder weathers

18. Can and WILL intervene on a creep that’s trying to hit on Zelda or Riju. He will go feral and probably shoot any creeps with a bundle of bomb arrows. LOL

19. Absolutely helps Link try to get with Zelda (but he still also feels a little protective? Like?? Duh, it’s link. Ofc they’re gonna be together but he’s a dad, he can’t help feeling a little protective of Zelda at times even if it’s Link HAHA)

20. Each of them have all accidentally called him dad and he just accepts it at this point.

21. Teba wants to throw hands (wings?) with King Rhoam.

23. despite how close they are, in the beginning Zelda actually had a hard time trying to get comfortable with Teba for a short time. Because her experience with her dad wasn’t BEST, it was absolutely bewildering to see Teba be such a supportive and good father figure to everyone, she’s not used to that. She would watch them all interacting and analyze it, trying to understand but couldn’t. Teba however, was always very good to her and they quickly got really close and bonded.

24. Teba shows parental affection by placing his forehead against the others

25. Tulin now has 5 older siblings 🤍

(I HAVE SO MANY MORE ID BE HAPPY TO SHARE MORE IF THATS WHAT YOU ALL WOULD LIKE LOL)

[ncis-nerd]

Don't you worry darling

theatre actor r! x stage manager!natasha romanov

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, sensory issues, panic attacks, crying.

Marvel Masterlist

a/n: not based off true events .. juliet if you see this... no u don't 😭

"Dude!! You're clothes are getting wet!!" Your castmate, Kate exclaimed. "Huh?" You looked at her confused. Your clothes were sitting perfectly on top of your bag, on the chair..Were they not?

Your eyes glanced towards the chair where your stuff resided at, and there were gone. SHIT- You rushed to pick it up from the tray of water but it was too late, the damage was done.

You were in an off Broadway play, sharing a dressing room with 13 of your cast mates, plus the guys from the other play. They kept the room so disgusting and you got the smaller room out of the two. But at least yours had a window and now had air conditioning. A downside to the air conditioning is that it would leak, so they had to get a tray to let the water fall into.

You knew it was risky putting your stuff so close to it but you just wanted to stay out of people's way. It was hard being squeezed into a tight, sweaty dressing room with 13 other people.

So of course, you didn't know how to react when you picked up your shirt, hoodie and pants, all drenched in the freezing water bin. Stupidly, you left it on top of your bag and rushed out. Keep it together, keep it together. Don't cry. You locked yourself in the bathroom, tossing cold water onto your very red face. Tears streamed down your face.

What were you suppose to do? Your clothes to change back into were wet, you can't wear your costume home and you'll get sick wearing wet clothes on a 2 hour train ride back home. Not to mention uncomfortable, due to the texture.

After a minute of attempting to calm yourself down, you exit the bathroom. As you open the door to the dressing room, you noticed members form the other cast have migrated in there as well, like Tony, Steve, Bucky, etc. "Y/N! Come join us in cards!!" Maria exclaimed. "No.. it's okay" you mumbled, as they shut the door.

It was way too crowded in there and you did not want to go in there. Instead, you looked for your director Natasha or the stage member Wanda or literally anyone that could help. But no one was there, so you stood there pacing. Don't start crying again, don't start crying. Your hand rose, taking its place on your scalp. Your fingers ran down your hair, a nervous tick of yours.

Finally, after fighting back years, you start to feel drops run down your face. "Yeah and she said- hold on I'll be right back!" You heard 2 of your cast mates, Kate and Yelena speak. You saw them when you came out of the bathroom but they went down the hall to gossip. Kate went into the bathroom and Yelena made her way back down the hall, towards you.

Dammit- she's gonna see me crying.. As Yelena starts to walk down the hall, she finds you crying in the corner. "Y/n- are you okay??" She spoke, her expressed worried. "I-i" You saw your assistant manager enter backstage.

Her eyes trailed onto yours, the brunette obviously concerned about you. "Someone knocked my clothes into the water and now it's all wet" you sniffles, fidgeting with your fingers nervously. A hitch in your breath and you could feel snot running down your face.

"Hey. Hey. It's gonna be all right, okay? We've got extra clothes, okay? Are wet clothes a texture thing for you?" Wanda, your assistant manager asked.

"No but it's gonna be uncomfortable wearing wet clothes for a 2 hour commute home" you said, wiping the tears from your face.

"I see you're an overthinker but try not to worry. We have dryers. I could put your clothes to dry?" The brunette asked.

"It's on the blue bag, close to the water tray. It's a hoodie, shirt and pants." You stuttered, trying to get your words out. "Okay, thank you, Y/n, I'll go grab it right now. Don't worry" she spoke softly.

You nodded as she entered the room, you saw her come back out with your clothes in her hand. "Luckily it's not too wet but I'll still go ahead and dry that for you." She smiled.

As the brunette left, you sat by the door. Not wanting to go back in the crowded room. You heard a loud "YEAH!!" or stomp or overall odd sound, come from the room. "That can't be good.." Wanda sighed, not bothering to go check it out.

Yelena and Kate, and a few other people from the other play whom you didn't know were chilling outside the room, so you just sat there with them. Not paying much attention to their conversations, just on your phone.

"I WIN!!" A voice screams from the room. "That sounds..." Kate trailed off. "Welcome to my world!" Wanda hummed, making her way back on stage.

--

FUCK, how could you be so stupid! You finally mastered your cues but managed to fuck up the one line you had. Everyone else did so good! "And I don't!" Mj exclaimed. Shocking everyone with how much she had improved in practing her monolouge. Your castmates went over to praise her. "You did so good!" "MJ THAT WAS AMAZING!!" you join them for a moment but then you dig your fingers into your palm. Don't you start crying. Not here, in front of them.

You made your way back to the dressing room, with the other girls. Yesterday you saw Maria sit under the dresser counter, it looked comfortable and most of all- isolated. You sat down, bumping your head in the procress. "Ouchh" you groan softly.

Your head took it place on your knees, you covered your face and began to sob quietly, you literally have the easiest job. Only 2 lines, and a few cues. It's not that hard. How could you screw that up?

"Time for notes!" Your stage manager Natasha exclaimed, entering the room. You didn't budge but no one seemed to notice you and you were greatful for that.

"Maria you really surprised us all back there, that was incredible!" Natasha smiled, praising the girl. "Yeah that was epic!" Another voice said. You recognized it, it was May, another one of the managers. You thought it was only Natasha there, is Wanda also there?

"And y/n?" Natasha paused. "Y/N? Are they asleep? Are they okay?" You heard her speak. A bunch of mumbles filled your ears, they were overly sensitive like that. Natasha took the hint to move on after no movement or words from you.

After the managers had left, they said you and your cast could change out of costumes and were dismissed. You rushed out, making a run for the bathroom before it got crowded. You had snot dripping down your shirt and needed to wash your face.

When you were done, you looked around. For someone, Natasha or Wanda. To explain what had happened and that you weren't just slacking off. But you saw no one. Kate left the dressing room, "Hey have you seen Wanda?" You mumbled, trying not to cry. You felt a big gulp in your throat. "Yeah I think she might be on stage." Kate smiled softly. "Could you get her for me, please?" You mumbled, once again fidgeting with your fingers. Kate nodded and you stood backstage, waiting. As she left, Natasha entered. "Hey! Y/N? What happened?" Natasha spoke softly, with an ounce of concern in her voice. Her face filled with sympathy. "Do you want to talk?" You nodded and thats when Wanda entered the room. They led you out of the theater and somewhere more private to speak.

You were nervous about being in there because the company that owns the theater had told you guys that you weren't allowed to hang out or be in there. But you ignored it, as they were trying to be accommodating to the best they could.

You took a seat next to Natasha, Wanda standing. "I forgot my lines, I froze and I forgot my lines but everyone else did so good." You sniffled. "Hey, it's okay. You messed up but you know that you did, you know you made a mistake so that's progress! Is there anything you need?" Natasha spoke softly, her eyes focused on your teary ones. "...Water" you mumbled, Natasha and Wanda left the room. Natasha was the first to return with a cup of water. "Wanda went to check on your clothes." Natasha said, when you noticed that Wanda was gone.

You nodded and tried to break the silence. "Do you have any notes for me?" You asked. "Are you sure you want to hear that right now?" Natasha shot you a hesitant look. You nodded, "Yeah, please?" "Alright, if that's what you want. Could you be louder in the songs? We couldn't quite hear you from the back. And then there's the note about how you froze but you know so that's pretty much it." Natasha spoke softly.

Wanda entered the room, with your clothes and a shirt. "So your clothes are mostly dried, your shirts still a little wet. We can leave that here to dry, I gave you my shirt." Wanda smiled, putting a hand on your shoulder for support, before she left. "I-im gonna go change, if that's okay?" You spoke. Natasha nodded.

..

this baby has been sitting in my drafts for months bruh. pls don't flop i know there's barely any intimacy but i wanted to try to keep it as real as possible

[sequinsmile-x]

Glissade

(glis·​sade) Noun. A gliding step in ballet

She was grateful that her mother showed up for the kids, but she couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt. That she didn’t feel jealous that Elizabeth could do for her grandchildren what she’d never been able to do for her. It made her ache. Made her feel like the little girl she’d once been, standing in a room a little too similar to this one, waiting for her mother to arrive. 

-x-

Hi friends,

This was literally inspired by a tiktok I saw of a little girl smiling when she saw her mum in the crowd at a recital. Of course, it couldn't just be straight up fluff...so the mommy issues got involved.

I feel like everyone should know that @cloudlessly-light massively encouraged this as she sat on my couch this weekend haha

As always, please let me know what you think!

-x-

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: None

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

April 1976

She peeks through the curtain separating the stage from the audience. She presses her lips together as she desperately looks for a familiar face in the sea of parents sitting and chatting as they wait for the dance recital to start. The sick feeling deep in her stomach she’d been feeling all afternoon gets worse as she doesn’t see her mom - an empty seat where she should be standing out in the crowd. 

“Emily, sweetie,” Mrs Stockton says, her hand on Emily’s back as she crouches next to her. Emily turns to look at her, her eyebrows furrowing as her tummy ache worsens, “We need to get started.”

Emily swallows thickly, her eyes burning as her vision goes blurry, tears she knew her mom would be mad at her for gathering at her lashline, “But my Mommy isn’t here yet.” 

She said she’d come. Emily had asked her every day for the last week if she would be here and she’d said yes, she’d promised that she’d come. 

“Your Mommy called,” Mrs Stockton says, her smile kind as she tucks some of Emily’s hair behind her ear, a stray strand having escaped the tight bun she’d put it in for her when she arrived, “She got caught up with work. She said Mr Wright, your driver, will pick you up when we’re done.” 

It takes a second for her teacher's words to sink in, and her chest feels tight, the rolling in her stomach all morning rushing upwards and for a moment she thinks she’s going to be sick. She swallows it back down, not wanting to throw up in front of her classmates, their whispers to each other as they watch Mrs Stockton talk to her loud despite how she tries to ignore them. 

“But…she promised.” 

Mrs Stockton sighs sympathetically, “I know she did sweetie,” she says, “I’m sorry.” 

Emily nods and wipes a tear from her cheek as it falls, knowing what her mom would say if she was here. She’d tell her she shouldn’t cry, that Prentiss’s were strong - whatever that meant. She’d only ever seen her mom cry once, although she was sure she hadn’t seen her. It was just after Emily had seen her dad for the last time a few months ago. She’d had a nightmare and tried to find her mom and eventually sought her out in her office. She’d stopped when she was in the doorway, her fist still lifted to knock, because she always had to knock, when she heard crying. 

She’d walked back to her room, her favourite stuffed animal still hanging from her hand, and decided to look after herself. Something that she thinks she’ll have to start doing a lot more of. 

“Okay,” Emily says, forcing a smile, one she’d always been told looked exactly like her mother’s, “I’m ready.” 

___

“We’re late.” 

Aaron has to stop himself from sighing, well aware that his wife was on edge and that anything was liable to push her over it. Ever since they’d woken up that morning she’d been anxious, a tension in her shoulders visible from the second she’d climbed out of bed. It was something only their children could bring out in her, a constant fear that she was letting them down forever lingering under her skin. She would practically vibrate with it, doubt in her abilities as a mother never far away. He hated that she doubted herself, that she couldn’t see what he could. That she was the centre of their children’s worlds. That Jack, Violet and Benjamin all sought her out at any given opportunity, never tiring of the unrelenting love she has for them.

He briefly looks at her hands, at the way she twists her rings around her finger - a nervous habit that had long since replaced picking at her cuticles, and he feels his heart ache for her. He swallows the sigh, covering it by clearing his throat, and he reaches over the centre console to squeeze Emily’s thigh, smiling when she immediately places her hand over his, linking their fingers together as she tries to draw comfort from him. 

“We’re not late, sweetheart,” he assures her, raising their joint hands to kiss her knuckles before he lets go of her hand to place it back on the steering wheel, “We’ll be there before it starts.” 

She hums absentmindedly and looks over her shoulder to the back of the car, her anxiety slipping away for a moment as she watches Benjamin in his car seat. His tiny hands and one of his feet visible from where he’s facing the back of the car - the 10-month-old’s love of taking his shoes off at any given opportunity well known. She reaches back and touches his hand, smiling when he starts to babble and wraps his fist around one of her fingers. 

“You excited to watch your sister dance, sweet boy?” She asks, her smile getting wider when his babbling gets louder, “Me too,” she says before she turns back to face the front of the car, her hand back in her lap. She feels her stomach twist when she checks her watch again, the minutes slipping by far too quickly for her liking, “She has to know we’re there, Aaron. It’s her first dance recital.” 

Violet had been excited about it for weeks. She’d talked non-stop about the recital, practising at any given opportunity, her brows furrowed together as she tried to remember the routine her dance teacher had taught her. She’d reminded them that morning before they left for work and they’d promised they’d be there, that she’d be able to see them in the crowd, and she’d smiled so widely just the memory of it made Emily ache. 

“We’re almost there, Em,” he says, briefly looking at her before he’s focusing on the road again, “Just another couple of minutes.” 

She huffs out a breath and rests her head back against the headrest, closing her eyes for a second as she tries to centre herself, “I know you probably think I’m being ridiculous-”

“Never,” he replies sincerely, forcing a smile to pass across her face as she shakes her head at him, looking at him through the side of her eyes before she carries on.

“But my mom never came to this kind of thing. And…I just want to do better,” she smiles sadly at him, avoiding his eye contact by looking in the back of the car again, her eyes fixed on Benjamin as he works to take off his other shoe, “I never want them to know how it feels to not have us in the room with them, you know?” 

Not for the first time, and he knows not for the last, irritation aimed at his mother-in-law licks through him, his grip on the steering wheel tightening ever so slightly. He knew most, if not all, of Emily’s insecurity about being a mother, came from what her relationship with Elizabeth looked like. She’d told him once, shortly after they found out Violet was a girl, that she was worried she wouldn’t be any good at raising a daughter. She’d stared at her lap, tears burning in her eyes as she quietly admitted to him she was convinced that something was missing in her, that her own mother’s lack of a maternal nature was genetic. A cycle she was sure she’d never be able to escape. 

He wished he could have shown her then where she was now, how she was their 4-year-old’s favourite person in the entire world. How Violet would beam the second she’d see Emily, her smile wide as she’d run over to her and fling herself into her arms. 

“I know,” he replies reaching for her hand and squeezing it again, “We are doing better,” he assures her, “Did your mom ever confirm if she was coming today?” 

Emily laughs humourlessly and shakes her head, relief washing over her as they finally pull into the school’s parking lot, “No. I didn’t tell Vi that I invited her, that way she can’t be disappointed if she doesn’t show up,” she says, barely waiting for him to turn off the car’s engine before she’s out of it, rounding the car to get Benjamin. She smiles widely at him as she opens the door and unbuckles him, “There’s my sweet barefoot boy.” 

She presses several kisses on his cheek as she lifts him into her arms, the giggle he releases one of her favourite sounds in the world. She kisses him one more time before she hands him over to Aaron, her smile impossibly wider at the sight of them together.

“Mom!” 

She turns just in time to see Jack running towards her, his arms out-stretched as he hugs her, “Hi honey,” she replies, smiling at Jessica as she walks towards them, “Have you been here long?” 

“We just got here,” Jessica says, “You guys made good time.”

Aaron chokes on a laugh, the sound breaking free from his chest before he can stop it, and Emily turns to look at him, her eyes narrowed as she points at him.

“Not a word.” 

Aaron smiles and nods, exchanging an amused look with Jessica before he nods towards the school, “We should go in. Find some seats.” 

Emily hums and wraps her arm around Jack’s shoulders, squeezing him closer as they walk in tandem. He’s telling her about his day, enthusiastically filling her in about what he’d learned at school and the fun he and his friends had at recess, when she spots a familiar face in the school hall, leaving her frozen in place. 

“Mother?” 

Elizabeth smiles and stands up from her seat in the front row, waving them over to the empty seats next to her, “Emily, Aaron - I saved you all some seats.” 

Emily falters a little bit, rooted to the spot until she feels the warmth of Aaron’s chest against her back and Benjamin’s tiny fingers tangling in her hair. She clears her throat and walks over to her mother, casting a glance over her shoulder at her husband, grateful for the assurance she felt whenever he was near.

“Mother, hi,” she says, leaning in to stamp a kiss against her mother’s cheek as she hugs her, “I didn’t realise you were coming.” 

She scoffs as she briefly hugs Emily before she pulls Jack into a hug, “I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” she says, as if it’s obvious, as if she doesn’t have a track record of missing this exact kind of thing, “I got here early so we could sit in the front row.” 

Emily nods, her lips pressed tightly together as she clears her throat, pushing the hurt and repressed anger she’d been hiding for years down into her gut, “Well, I know Vi will appreciate it.” 

“Will everyone please take their seats, we are about to begin.” 

The teacher’s voice cuts across any other conversation, and after a rushed greeting between Elizabeth, Jessica and Aaron they all take their seats. Emily sits with Jack on one side of her and Aaron on the other, Benjamin pressed between the two of them, his fingers tangled in her shirt even though he’s still in Aaron’s arms. She can feel her mother’s gaze burning into her side. The sensation was achingly familiar and she does her best to ignore it. 

She was grateful that her mother showed up for the kids, but she couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt. That she didn’t feel jealous that Elizabeth could do for her grandchildren what she’d never been able to do for her. It made her ache. Made her feel like the little girl she’d once been, standing in a room a little too similar to this one, waiting for her mother to arrive. 

Everyone applauds when the kids walk out on stage, all nervous and some of them slightly unsteady on their feet. Emily immediately spots Violet and she can see just how anxious her little girl is, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she looks at the crowd clearly seeking her out. It’s obvious the moment Violet spots her. Her face lights up, her shoulders loosen as she immediately relaxes, her smile wide as she waves at Emily. 

Emily waves back, pride and love overwhelming her as she blows out a shaky breath, tears she doesn’t entirely understand making her vision blur. She jumps slightly when Aaron places his hand on her leg and she looks up at him, her smile soft as their eyes meet and she sees the same proud tears shining right back at her.

___

“Okay, sweet girl,” Emily says, tucking Violet’s bedding around her, “It’s time to go to sleep.”

Violet smiles sleepily at her, her usual attempts at fighting bedtime nowhere to be found, “Today was fun.”

Emily hums and runs her fingers through Violet’s hair, “It was nice, huh?” She says, “You did so good baby.” 

“Thanks, Mommy.” 

She stands up and kisses Violet’s forehead, “You’re welcome,” she kisses her forehead again, “You get some sleep, okay? You know where Daddy and I are if you need us.” 

She nods and wraps her arms around her favourite toy, “Love you, Mama.”

“Love you too, Vi,” she replies, taking a moment to watch her from the doorway before she switches out the light and steps out into the hallway. She jumps when she almost immediately walks into Elizabeth, her hand over her heart as she gasps, “Jesus, Mother. What are you doing up here?” 

“Jack asked me to put him to bed,” she replies, her arms crossed over her chest, “I don’t get a chance to do it often so I said I would. Where’s Aaron?” 

“He’s on Benny duty tonight,” Emily says as she starts to walk towards the stairs, “He doesn’t like to fall asleep alone so Aaron will be there for a while,” she smiles when her mother laughs politely, “Thank you for coming today - and for staying for dinner. I know it meant a lot to Vi.” 

“Of course I came,” Elizabeth nods as they head into the kitchen and Emily goes to the fridge to get out some wine, “She’s my granddaughter.” 

Emily scoffs, unable to stop herself, her nerves shot after a long day. She was so happy for Violet that she had so many people in her life, that they’d filled half a row and been sat right there as she danced slightly out of beat with the music, but she was also jealous. Jealous that she’d never had anyone - not even one person sitting there to cheer her along. It felt wrong and made her feel like the worst mother in the world, but she couldn’t help it. It felt like a rock low and heavy in her belly, forcing her to say something she’d usually keep to herself.

“Well, I’m your daughter,” she says, shaking her head as she pours wine into two glasses, “And it never stopped you from missing my recitals.” 

Elizabeth gasps, a brief moment where her usual mask of never being affected by anything slips, “Emily.” 

She sighs, her eyes closed as she presses her palms against the kitchen counter, the cool marble of it resetting her brain, somehow making her feel worse. Her mother had never been what she’d needed, what she’d wanted, but she knew she loved her. That sometimes made it worse, made the indifference she occasionally felt from the person who should love her the most hurt even more, but she knew Elizabeth had done her best. Even though it had never been enough.

“Mom, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t-”

“No, Emily. I’m sorry,” Elizabeth says, her smile tight as she cuts over her. Emily frowns, her eyebrows knitting together as she stumbles over her words for a second, the apology from Elizabeth the last thing she’d expected. 

“Wh…what?” 

“I saw the look on Violet’s face when she spotted you in the crowd,” Elizabeth says, her arms crossed over her chest, “She lit up,” her smile turns sad, “We’ve never had that and I know thats my fault. I should have…” she clears her throat, “If I could go back I’d make some different choices. It’s why I’m doing my best to make different ones now.” 

Emily stares at her, her mouth hanging open ever so slightly as she tries to figure out how to respond. It didn’t fix or change anything. It didn’t undo the years of hurt and resentment, how they had led her to make so many choices she couldn’t unmake, but it was something. An acknowledgement she hadn’t realised she’d needed, and one she certainly never thought she’d get. 

“Thank you,” she says, not sure what else she could say, “That’s…thank you.” 

The moment ends as quickly as it began when Aaron walks into the room, “He finally fell asleep.” 

“Good,” Emily says, turning to look at him, “I’m glad.” 

“I’m going to go sit down,” Elizabeth says, smiling softly at Emily as she picks up her glass of wine, and if she didn’t know any better, if it wasn’t entirely out of character for her mother, Emily would be sure she was purposefully giving her a moment with her husband, “I’ll see you in a minute.”

Emily nods and watches her go, her throat tight as she stands frozen in place. She only moves when Aaron places a hand on her shoulder, his eyebrows pulled together in concern when she looks up at him.

“You okay, sweetheart?” 

She blows out a breath and shrugs, “I don’t know.” 

He wraps his arms around her and tugs her into a hug. She presses herself against him, her face against his neck as she settles into him, into the comfort he always provided. 

“Want to talk about it?”

She shakes her head, “Not yet.” 

“Okay,” he replies, kissing the top of her head and rubbing a comforting hand up and down her back. He changes the subject, well aware that whatever he’d walked in on was something she’d need to process herself before she spoke to him about it, “Vi did so good today.” 

She smiles so widely he can feel it against his neck and she nods, “Yeah,” she replies, leaning back to look up at him, “She’s amazing.” 

He stamps a kiss against her lips and cups the back of her head, holding her in place so he can rest his forehead against hers, “Just like her mom.” 

-x-

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[xesiarah]

“ ˚₊‧ OPEN WIDE ‧₊˚ ”

→ Yan!Demon oc x F!Reader

→ A Part Two No One Asked For [SEALED TIGHT]

→ NSFW :3 (Probably Lots Of Grammatical Errors, English Isn't My First Language :'p + Didn't Proofread) + this is my first time writing smut idk what I'm doing brah.

→ Made With @xiaosfiance

"I missed you."

He wraps both arms around your waist sensually — he breathes in your scent, making your hairs stand on end.

"So much."

You swallow, your nails have been unknowingly digging through your palms, making it sting, and snapping you back to reality. You realize you've been holding in your breath, as if his presence felt suffocating. The air felt thick and the way he looks at you somehow feels nostalgic.

"W-Who-?" You blinked, your voice faltering as the shock finally reeled in. "What- where did you come from, Azazel?"

He paused momentarily at your statement, then, as if he was relieved— his grip on your waist tightened. He pulled away slightly to look down at you, revealing his sharp teeth as he grinned devilishly. "So you do remember after all."

Your brows knit together in confusion, a thousand questions running through your mind and coming out your mouth all at once. "Huh? What the hell- what? What do you mean? Who the fuck are you-"

"Don't you already know the answer to that question?" He cocked his head to the side as his grin widened.

....

"You just said my name."

....

The confusion must have been etched on your face, because his expression shifted into one of amusement as he uttered the next words.

"Azazel." He drew out, and it made you realize that it was his name that just rolled off your tongue just now as if you've known him since forever.

—

—

"I-it's okay Mr. Sparrow, just hang in there." Your voice trembles, holding in tears as your tiny hands lift up a wounded sparrow you found under an oak tree. You place the sparrow down and, in an attempt to 'patch' him up with dried leaves. "Please wake up." You murmur to yourself.

"It's dead." A young boy about your age yells out, he's leaning on a tall tree. — startling you and making you turn your head around. "N-no! It's still breathing, see!!" You press it's body close to an ear, attempting to find it's heartbeat. Upon realizing that, Mr. Sparrow was infact dead, tears start welling up your eyes.

The boy sighs and comes closer, patting your left shoulder in an attempt to provide comfort. "I-i promised," you turn around to face him — "I'd save him.." You sniffle.. and, immediately burst into tears.

The boy's eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, he speaks. "Stop crying." You began crying even louder. He sighs, "Come closer." holding out his arms, and inviting you to an embrace — which you accepted almost immediately, "H-he had a good life..!" You cried out, leaning your head on his shoulder, and getting snot all over it.

Thirty minutes pass by, your eyes are all swollen as you both sit together under the oak tree. He raises an eyebrow. "Are you done crying now?" You pout, adjusting yourself. "Y-yeah.. thanks for comforting me." You scoot over next to him. "Uhm, what's your name by the way?"

.....

He makes eye contact, grinning smugly, "Azazel."

—

—

You snap back to the present, what was that..? You mutter his name. "Azazel," — as if trying to grasp onto the fact that he's real and now standing right Infront of you. how could you forget him..? "Azazel..!" You repeat. — He smiles, His gaze filled with longing. His palms cup both sides of your cheeks. "Yes, love?"

He pulls you into a warm embrace, yes, just like when you were kids — it's as comforting as ever, as if time has stopped and, all your worries had disappeared.

Although, you do pretend to not notice his fleeting fingers traveling down the hem of your shirt, and.. something hardening down there. He's aroused. — and so are you. You've grown damped, soaked even. The tension almost feels aphrodisiac. You want his hands all over you, cupping, gripping, rotating. You want him doing all of it. — The crotch of his pants outline a bulge at an angle. Your eyes widen at the sight. God, he's huge.

"Azazel.." you whisper, glancing back at him. He's breathing heavily, "Can I?" You pull him closer, kissing him softly, he kisses back, matching your pace for a moment, until his kiss slowly grows hungry, greedy and desperate for more. — he slips his tongue inside, stroking it against yours. It feels, so, so, good. The way his tongue feels inside you makes you feel alive, the sexual desires you've kept hidden finally being satiated. The kiss starts going deeper, his pace filled with urgency. You sling both legs around his hips as he presses your upper body against the wall. you're starting to feel delirious, his weight is pressed onto you, barely giving you any time to take a breather. — finally, you take hold of his hair, having to pull his head back to tear this rabid demon off of you.

You're panting heavily, He whimpers, almost looking like he'd drop down to his knees and start begging for a little more. — you gulp, your thighs are trembling. your now aroused womanhood drenching your underwear. — It's yearning for his touch.

"Take me to bed."

As soon as those words grace his ears, his large hands rip you off the wall, holding onto you tightly. He carries you to bed with ease as if you're light as a feather. — he lays you down, he's gentle with it unlike his hold on you awhile ago. He finally has you under him. — His eyes blaze over you, admiring you, taking every fiber of your existence in. The corner of his mouth ticks up into a toothy grin. "Hah.. I might cum right away." His grin widens, he runs a hand through his hair. — it's evident that he's barely holding in his composure.

He positions his hips in between your legs, planting an arm beside your head, leaning in for another kiss, just a bit more tender, as if preparing you for something more, much more intense. — whilst his mouth is engulfed with yours, a hand feels up every inch of your body, groping your breasts from beneath your shirt. — and soon, he grows impatient, his hands lifts up your shirt, getting it off of you completely. even so, you can barely concentrate on anything with this absolute Goddess of a man right Infront of you. — The moonlight is reflecting beautifully onto his blonde highlights, making it shimmer like Gold.

His red orbs bore onto you, flickering with lust. Savoring the now clearer view of your bare upper body. He licks his lips, dipping down to suck on your left nipple. he's sucking so intensely, in an overwhelmingly increasing pace. You visibly squirm under him, your cheeks flushed red. "You're doing good sweetheart." He coos, his other hand works on your right, pinching and twisting with his thumb and index finger.

His breathing grows erratic, his fingers race downward, down to the band of your pajama pants, shucking them down, he does the same to your underwear. At this point he almost salivates at the sight of your exposed sex. — he drops down to his stomach, spreading your folds wide and tracing the seam of your moist cunt with his thumb. You heave, you could feel him inhaling in your scent. his touch mentally indulging you to your very own succulent paradise, you don't think anyone else could ever replicate this high you're chasing.

He gives your fiery cunt a kiss, focusing on your clit for a moment, accelerating in long, harsh licks, Oh God.. you exclaim. "his long hot tongue looked almost inhumane as he stuck it out— showing it off, along with his sharp fangs in full display with strings of saliva connected to the roof of his mouth and dripping down. "W-what is this!?" You yelp. He quickly shuts you up as his wet tongue seeps in easily, reaching your cervix, you can feel your inner walls convulsing to this newfound pleasure. your arms are wrapped around his neck, fingernails digging in the flesh of his back,— he groans, he's feasting as if he's a man starved, like a cat with catnip. The way his tongue drags through your sex, such intensity drives you near the edge. "F-fuck..!" You whimper, pleasure bubbling up your chest, your back arches, toes curled, finger nails clawing in hard, drawing crimson streaks of blood.— and finally, you reach your limit, climaxing all over his face, you're trembling in ecstasy, experiencing sweet release for the first time.

He lifts his head, Your luscious juices streaming down his face beautifully, he closes an eye as he lets your fluid drip down to his lips. — your eyes wander to stare, watching his long tongue lick it all off.

He pulls his pants down to his ankles, taking his hard, hot, throbbing member out. You swallow in a shriek, hurriedly clasping your mouth shut and closing your thighs instinctively, or atleast you tried. His hips hold you in place, blocking any excess movement, or any attempt to rob him of sweet pussy. He positions himself Infront of your entrance. laughing out loud when he sets sights of your flustered expression. "Aww, Look who's scared." Sarcasm drips off his tone as he teases, flustering you further more. "T-that won't fit!" You exclaim, just making him laugh harder. (Goodness this man is so devilishly alluring.) — "T-t-then I'll make it fit!" He mocks your stutter as he laughs to himself once more. He holds out an arm, reaching in to wipe sweat off your forehead, as if this equals to him apologizing. "Do it for me, sweetheart." He smirks. The intensity of his stare enchants you, as if he casted a spell over you, you bite your lip, slowly giving yourself in his domination, welcoming it even. He smiles with his tongue, stroking his twitching member in a clenched fist. He leans in and captures your mouth in a wet, sloppy kiss, pressing his huge appendage onto you. You moan onto his mouth, inspiring him to go further, he slowly pushes forward, stretching in your entrance as he openly distracts you from the pain rippling off the vicinity of your womb. numbing the pain by his hungry, frantic kisses. — and it works. The pain subdues and pleasure rocks in.

[newtthetranswriter]

Hi, I saw your requests were open and was wondering if I could request Gojo with a gender neutral reader? But make it super angsty? Like maybe he cheated or the elders made him break up with them.

Word Count: 1235

Paring: Satoru Gojo x gn! Reader

Warnings: Break ups, mentions of near death experienece, my inability to write breakups well, let me know if I missed any

A/n: Thank you so much for the request. I apologize that it took so long but I hope you enjoy it, and I made it angsty enough for you. I don’t have much else to say on this one so, as always enjoy and remember to hydrate or diedrate.

    I had met Satoru when he had saved me from a horrifying monster. He had explained to me that it was a cursed spirit and his job was to exercise them so they couldn’t hurt anyone. If I had not almost been killed by one I would have called him crazy, but first hand experience opened my eyes to a world I didn’t know existed.  

    After that fateful day I started running into the Tall sorcerer, as he called himself, everywhere. It felt like we were meant to be in each other’s lives. It seemed that he also noticed that our paths keep crossing, and after the third time he asked me out.

    That was about three years ago and our relationship was amazing. Satoru always made time for me, even with his busy schedule as the strongest sorcerer and teacher of the next generation. He had also made sure to keep me far away from the dangers of his world. Like I said before I only found out about curses when one almost killed me, and that near death experience was the only reason I could see them, so Satoru made it his mission to keep me safe.

    It felt as if we would be able to keep this balance and keep caring for each other for the rest of our lives. Sadly, like most things, all good things come to an end. And so fate led us to this moment, Satoru standing by the front door ripping my heart from my chest.

    “It’s over Y/n.” It was a simple three word sentence but it was enough to cause my world to crumble around me.

    I couldn’t help the tears that immediately ran down my face. “What are you saying, Satoru? I thought we were doing fine. I thought you loved me.” It hurt so bad, I just needed an explanation. I tried to search his expression for any sign he was lying. Unfortunately for me, he had just gotten back from a mission and had yet to remove his blindfold, making it impossible to accurately read his emotions.

   “It’s just over, can’t that be enough. If you care for my opinion you will accept that it’s over.” He stated, running his hand through his hair. 

   My mind was racing trying to figure out what had gone wrong. The heartbreak was morphing from sorrow to anger. “If I care for your opinion I’d accept that it’s over, really Satoru. You come home from whatever dangerous mission, and just tell me it’s over. No explanation just expecting me to roll over and throw out the last three years of my life.” I was close to yelling at this point. “If you really truly want me to just accept that it’s over, then man up, take off the stupid blindfold and look me in the eyes while you tear out my heart.” I exclaimed. If he wanted to break me he should have the courage to actually look me in the eyes when he does it.

   I watched as he sighed, and slowly pulled the cloth from his face. “It’s over Y/n. I’m done, I don’t love you anymore. I’ll send someone by tomorrow to get my things. Don’t try to contact me again after tonight.” There it was, he actually had the balls to look me in the eye with those mesmerizing orbs, and crush the last pieces of my heart. He didn’t wait for a response, and just turned and left my apartment.

   As I watched the door close I collapsed to the floor. He had done it; he crushed the last shreds of hope that it was just a cruel joke. Sitting on the floor, every memory we had flashed before my eyes. I sat on the floor for what felt like days but was in reality only a few hours. After it had all sunk in that Satoru wouldn’t be walking back in and saying it had just been a cruel joke, I stood to begin gathering all of the objects Satoru had left at my apartment over the years.

   Grabbing a box that was pushed to the back of a closet, I began filling it with  anything that had once belonged to Satoru. Spare sunglasses, clothes left for when he spent the night, I didn’t care if anything got damaged after all he didn’t care about how he left an irreparable hole in my heart. After clearing the space of any memory of the man I thought I would spend the rest of my life with, I sunk into the couch.

   It hit me again seeing how empty the place looked without the random pairs of glasses on the table, or empty candy wrappers on the counter. I was thrown back into the heartache, letting the tears flow freely as I curled up on the couch, eventually falling asleep there.

   The sound of a gentle knock at the door awoke me, around ten the next morning. Wiping the dried tears from my eyes, I took a moment to remind myself that it was probably just whatever sad soul was sent to pick up Satoru’s belongings. I was proven right when I opened the door to see Ijichi, standing there, looking as if he would rather not be there at that moment.

   “Hello Y/l/n, I’m here to pick up Gojo’s belongings.” Of course he was trying to keep it formal, he had been like that the very few times I had met him. Ijichi was the only person I had met from Satoru’s job, so it wasn’t a surprise to see him be the one sent to grab the belongings.

   I held up a hand signaling I’d be right back. Grabbing the box of items from the table, I had to fight to hold back even more tears. “Here’s everything.” I said handing over the box. “I’m sorry he roped you into his mess. Anyway stay safe and don’t let Gojo push you around too much. Goodbye Ijichi.” I bid the man fair well, as my heart broke even more. Knowing that I no longer had the privilege of calling him by his first name hurt but it was a crucial step in moving on.

   Before I could close the door, Ijichi cleared his throat, catching my attention. “It’s not my place to say this, but Gojo did this to keep you safe. I can’t explain in great detail, but things are getting more dangerous and he doesn’t want to see you get hurt because of him.” I was left speechless as he gave me a slight hope that everything would eventually turn out fine. “Anyways, I hope you have a good day all things considered.” And with that he left carrying the last pieces of my life with Gojo.

   I thought on Ijichi’s words for a moment as I closed the door and returned to my place on the couch. It made sense that Gojo would want to keep me safe, but surely if he was the strongest, as he claimed all the time, he could have protected me without shattering my heart. As much as I wanted to hold on to the hope that I would be able to be with Gojo again, I had to accept the truth. As of right now, he left me and there’s nothing I can do about it.

[sunflower-lilac42]

𝗳𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗶𝘇𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲 "𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗺𝘆" | 𝘤𝘣98 ♔

➪ summary: for the first time, y/n and connor play against each other and it doesn't go as well as she hoped it would

➪ warnings: idk, none i think

➪ word count: 2.9k

➪ file type: fic

➪ sunny's notes: this is actually so bad, why did i think this was good when i made it

nhl masterlist || taglist || navigation

Sitting on the bus, y/n looked at her phone, biting her fingernail. She was nervous, beyond nervous if you were to ask her. She wasn’t ready for anyone to find out, they had gone two years without anyone noticing and it could be revealed within seconds.

“You okay?” Luke sat down next to her, throwing his arm on the back of her seat. 

Y/n and Luke were the rookie two on the Devils, well, because they were both rookies. She was traded from the Canadiens not long after she was drafted, why? She would never know, but she couldn’t care now. 

“Nothing, why would something be wrong? Do I have a look on my face? Am I shaking?”

“No, but you’re talking fast and rambling.” Luke pointed out, his eyebrow-raising.

“Oh. I promise I’m fine.”

“Bull shit.” 

“Well, you know with Nico and Jack out, I’m just a little nervous about playing by myself.”

When y/n first started practicing with the team and even through her debut, she had always played with Jack or Nico. It wasn’t a conscious thing that Lindy had done but somehow she was always on the ice with one of them. Obviously, when Nico got injured, she had played with Jack but when he got hurt during the Blues game she was nervous. She hadn’t played without them since and the thought of that was terrifying.

What made it worse, is that she was playing her boyfriend, the 2023 first overall pick. What made that worse, was that no one knew they were dating. Everyone had been raving, the past two first-overall picks were all playing on the ice.

“You’ll be okay, promise.”

“Y/n/n! Luke!” 

The girl turned her head to see Dawson standing at the front of the bus and they realized they were all alone, “Time for practice you two.”

“Ugh, I don’t want to.” Luke dragged her off the bus, following behind Dawson. 

Her phone rang as she went into the bathroom and she answered it, “Hi?”

“Hey babe.”

“Oh, hi Con!”

“Are you here yet?” Y/n nodded her head, forgetting that her boyfriend couldn’t see her, “Hello?”

“Yes, sorry. Luke and I just got off the bus.”

“I heard something about us filming a video or something, I don’t really know.”

The girl groaned, “Of course. Why can’t we-”

“Y/n/n hurry up!” Both she and Connor stopped talking at the voice, “Give me a second!” 

Whoever was behind the door, she couldn’t tell, walked away and y/n sat her phone down on speaker as she got changed, the two catching up. When she was done, the two said goodbye and she walked out, startled to see Luke standing there, “Oh!”

“So, who was that?” 

“Who was what?”

“The guy on your phone, dumbass.”

“Hey! Unnecessary roughness.” That had become an inside joke with her and the team. Whenever they were at practice and one of the guys accidentally shoved her a little too hard, she would always stop and call it ‘unnecessary roughness’. This happened both on and off the ice. 

“I’ll take your clothes, you go find your way to the ice.” Luke grabbed y/n’s clothes that she had changed out of to the clubhouse.

‘Find your way to the ice’ was an easy task, she had been to the United Center plenty of times. However, she purposely got lost in hopes of running into Connor, which was successful. She walked down the hallways, running into staff and other Hawks players who kindly waved at her. When she took a brief look at her phone, going to text the group chat that she was lost she ran into a chest.

“Connor!”

Connor looked down at the girl and smiled, “Hi.” She gave him a tight hug, some tears slipping out.

He pulled away, his smile turning into a frown. He placed his hands on her cheeks, wiping the stray tears, “What’s wrong, baby?”

She shook her head, “Nothing. I’m just so happy to see you. I haven’t seen you in months.” Connor wrapped his arms around his girlfriend once more, practically squeezing the life out of her, “It’s okay, I promise.”

They continued to hug for a few moments and when they finally pulled apart, y/n’s tears were still on her face. She went to dry her face off when a loud voice echoed down the hallway, “Hey!”

The two turned to see Jesper and Timo standing there, faces plastered with anger as they looked at their teammate/little sister with tears falling down her face. The two walked towards them and separated them, “Guys? You okay?”

Both their faces softened at y/n’s voice and looked down at her, “Shouldn’t we be asking you two that?”

“What do you mean?” Connor spoke up, his arms crossing over his chest. Now, the Devils and Hawks were not rivalries. They had no affiliation with them and only played them twice a season, once at home and over in Chicago, so really the two shouldn’t have a reason to be mad at the two talking. If anything, they should be glad that their girl was making conversation with other NHL players besides themselves, especially one who was the same age as her, but Timo and Jesper’s faces tensed up at the 18-year-old’s voice, “I don’t know Bedard why don’t you tell us why our girl is crying? What did you say to her?”

Y/n went to defend her boyfriend but the two weren’t having it. Timo dragged the girl away from their teammate and Connor as she tried to get through to the two men. None of them listened once again and she couldn’t do much but give up. 

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

Throughout practice, y/n took her frustration out on her teammates and the puck. The boys exchanged looks with each other as practice went on, having no explanation for why she was acting like this. Lindy was confused as well and as soon as y/n ‘accidentally’ shoved Jesper into the boards, which also didn’t bode well with her since Jesper was 5’10” and weighed 175 pounds. As she ran into him, she tripped over both his and her skates, causing her to go flying to the boards as well. 

She let out a yelp in pain as she landed on her arm. It wasn’t anything serious but the initial action of her landing on it caused a big enough ache through her arm for her to verbally react to it. 

Connor had been watching from the stadium seats and winced when he saw it happen. He went to run down when he remembered Jesper’s words.

‘If I ever see you near her again, I wouldn’t mind getting a suspension.’

Sure it was a little harsh, but y/n was his teammate, his little sister, of course, he was going to be protective and so was everyone else on the team. 

The whole team crowded around y/n, the trainer pushing their way through the hoard of hockey players to assess the girl’s injury. As soon as they went to touch her arm, she shoved them off, “I’m fine.”

The trainer nodded their head, “I understand that but I still need to-”

Y/n got up and threw her gloves on the ground, “I said I’m fine!” She skated a little ways away and started moving her arm around, “See, I’m fine. I could punch someone if I fucking wanted to.” 

She continued her skate and got off the ice, heading for the locker room. She didn’t mean for her words to come out so harsh, nor did she mean to swear, but she was mad. Who were they to tell her who she could and couldn’t be around? They weren’t her keeper. 

Connor met her in front of the visiting clubhouse, “Are you okay?”

She nodded her head, having cooled off from her walk and it wasn’t him that she was mad at, “I’m gonna be so trash tomorrow.”

“Hey don’t say that, y/n/n. You’re going to be great!”

“But, Nico and Jack-”

“Nico and Jack have nothing to do with your performance. Sure they might enhance it, but you control how you play. Tomorrow you are going to kick ass, as much as I don’t want you to- not like that! I want you to do well it’s just that if you do well that means-”

Y/n cut him off with a kiss, “I know what you meant, Connie.”

Connor blushed and nodded his head. The two heard footsteps coming their way and immediately split up, heading back in their respective directions. 

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

Throwing on her suit, y/n got ready to head to the UC. She slicked her hair back into a ponytail and put her heels on. She headed down to the lobby of the hotel and waited in the corner, away from anyone else. She hadn’t talked to anyone since yesterday’s practice and she wasn’t planning on talking to anyone until she absolutely had to. 

She sat at the back of the bus instead of sitting next to Luke like she always did. She put her headphones in and listened to her holiday music, she didn’t care what anyone else said, holiday music made her happy. She could hear the quiet conversations around her through her headphones even though she tried to drown them out. 

Placing her headphones back into her pocket and stood up ready to get off the bus. She was stopped as soon as she was about to get off the bus by Vitek, who handed her a cup of coffee. Vitek was one of the players that she could never be mad at, he was adorable and no one could be mad at him. 

“Thanks, V.” She gave him a grateful smile and he returned one right back, letting her get off the bus. She ignored the cameras flashing as she walked to the clubhouse, following whoever had gotten off the bus in front of her. 

The team all went through their pregame rituals, getting ready for the game. No one attempted to talk to y/n, mostly because she was always nervous before games and any slight conversation made her even more nervous. 

During pregame, as they were practicing, everyone could tell something was off. The Devils knew something was off, Lindy knew something was off, the Hawks knew something was off, and even the fans knew something was off. They chalked it up to just the absence of Nico and the recent absence of Jack, they had lost their two-star players without much time apart.

Y/n stood between Dawson and Nathan during the National Anthem, making eye contact with Connor since he was ironically directly across from her. They slowly got through warmups and soon it was time for the game to start. 

Having faith, and assuming that she had a complete reset and she was back to normal, Lindy sent her out for the beginning face-off. She wanted to protest but she knew she couldn’t. She skated toward center ice and faced her boyfriend. The two sighed before bending down into position. Let’s just say, it was not a good start for the Devils. 

It was almost two minutes into the game and Taylor Hall had scored already. Y/n wasn’t on the ice when it happened, having changed lines just beforehand. She sighed amongst the others on the benches and leaned over and whispered into Toffoli's ear, “Can you get a penalty for checking your own teammate?”

Toffoli laughed, causing her to let one out as well. The bench looked at each with smiles on their faces, glad to see their girl smiling once again. 

Over halfway into the period and y/n had done jack-shit. No goals, no assists, no nothing. It was like she was invisible out there, well not really. She had gotten a few hits which was no big deal but normally, those wouldn’t have happened. She would have dodged them completely or softened the blow a little bit, but they just happened. 

When Dawson scored his first goal of the season she was on the ice with him. She skated fast and hugged him, so excited for him. That was the only other time she was happy during that period. Every other time she came off the ice she was so close to chucking her stick into a board or the bench itself, she was pissed off. She wanted to prove something to everyone and herself that she could do something without Nico or Jack, and right now, the only ones she was proving right were the ones who said she was trash from the start. 

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

During the first intermission, the Devils walked back somewhat happy, they were leading 2-1, Dawson had his first goal and so did Max Willman. Lindy spoke briefly about the first period and kept making little jabs towards y/n. None that were hurtful but ones that tried to ignite a spark in her for the second. 

That didn’t happen at all. The second period was worse than the last if that was even possible. Everyone could tell she was frustrated. Connor noticed it the most when she was on the ice with him. Her whole body was more tense, her shot was weak and floppy, and her passing was not on point. 

The second intermission was when Lindy stormed into the clubhouse, “What was that, y/l/n?!” 

The team snapped their heads up at their coach, they hadn’t heard him so mad at y/n before. 

“I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

“Damn right, it won’t happen again. You’re playing like shit.”

“Jeez, I know I suck, but you don’t have to frame it that way.” Y/n’s eyes watered up. 

Lindy knew she could play better, he was determined to make it that way, “You have to man up. You think Hischier gets off all high and dry when he plays like you are? You think Hughes is going to sit on his ass after a game when he did nothing all game? No.”

She looked at the team, looking for some support but she knew she didn’t deserve it, “You have got to put your personal issues aside, this team is what matters now. I don’t care who’s hanging out with who, who’s kissing who, who’s fighting who, I don’t care. You all get your heads in the game and get out there and play some hockey.”

The team was speechless, “Do you hear me?”

“Yes, coach/sir.”

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

Coming back for the third period, y/n was nervous, more nervous than before. Yet it seemed like Lindy’s speech worked. 

4:35 into the third period, y/n scored. John assisted and the team was elated for the girl. They patted her head and hugged her before she skated off to high-five the bench. And from the other side of the ice, even though his opponent just scored, Connor held a smile on his face, he was proud of his girl. 

Although, that wasn’t enough for y/n. If she was going to prove herself, she was going to prove herself. The team briefly faltered when Donato got his goal but right before the game ended, y/n got herself another goal, unassisted this time. 

Everyone was proud of her, especially Nico who was watching from home and Jack would be too when he was able to watch it, not knowing where he was at this moment. After the game everyone got changed back into their suits, doing some post-game interviews beforehand.

They wanted to celebrate but they weren’t going to go without y/n. They were going to go out for dinner but she declined nicely, saying she had other plans. The team looked confused as they stood outside talking with one another, but when someone all of a sudden came behind their teammate and picked her up and spun her around, the realization grew on their faces, Jesper and Timo becoming embarrassed.

They let the two have their moment for a little bit before someone cleared his throat, Luke. 

“Yes, Lukas?”

“Ooo, full name bud.”

Luke glared at everyone, “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?”

“I think they’re more than friends.” Dawson snickered with Nathan as they stood behind everyone else.

“Right, guys this is Connor, Connor this is the team.”

“You watch yourself, Bedard.”

“Okay, we’re leaving, bye everyone!”

The two ran off before anyone could say anything else. They got into Connor’s car and drove to their new favorite restaurant, Culver’s.

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

•❅ 《 𝘉𝘖𝘕𝘜𝘚 𝘚𝘊𝘌𝘕𝘌 》 ❅•

“I don’t want to go.”

“I know, sweetheart, but think of it this way. The 22 I’m in Columbus, you’re in Detroit. I’ll drive there after the game and we can spend some of Thursday together before our games on Friday. And then about a month later we can visit for Christmas.”

“You’re gonna be so exhausted Connie.” 

“You’re worth it.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Connor gave y/n a kiss on the forehead, before kissing her cheek and her nose. She leaned in to kiss him on his lips yet was interrupted by a loud voice, “Y/n! You’re gonna miss our flight!”

She rolled her eyes, “How do they always manage to interrupt us?”

Connor shrugs and smiles, “Go on.”

“But would me missing the flight really be a bad thing?”

“Y/n!!”

“I’m coming, jeez!”

Connor kissed her and ushered her off, “Love you!”

“Love you too!”

[emry-stars-art]

Yk what would be absolutely destroy me in the Royal au???

Abram crying.

Just... full on crying in front of kevin, who just holds him maybe a bit too tightly for him not to be affected. Abram's fingers clutching his tunic because he isn't in the evermore, dammit.

He is here, with Kev, about as safe as he could be and no one's going to call him pretty or chain and whip him.

It's hard, but at least he's being held by his brother who is stroking his hair slowly, a brother who is as devastated as he is.

And Andrew's there, outside the door desperate to do smth but can't cuz 'Ram's still not comfortable around him.

Ps. Sorry for any errors in my language I just keep thinking of your au all the. Damn. Time. And it's absolutely 🤌

Good news, anon! It’s one of the first things Abram does when he gets back to Palmetto :,)

(There’s that link and more of Kevin/Andrew taking care of Abram in this post 💕)

Find the royal au masterpost here

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

.

[rox-of-iu]

got ghosted by sticker printing company 😔😔😔very sad

[yvmoveon]

.

[hoshigray]

This is my first time requesting something but HEAR ME OUT, "Slow Cuddle-fucking with og Sukuna while he is holding (and caressing) Reader (His wife) tightly and praising her (with him having size(difference) and breeding kink) oneshot please please please PLEASESSS😭

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: NAH CUZ I SEE THE VISION, HOLD ON–

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: true form! Sukuna x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - size difference - monster-fucking (he got 2 dicks, y'all) - double penetration; anal and vaginal - spooning dp position - breast fondling + nipple play - breeding kink - clitoral play (pinching and swiping) - dacryphilia - pet names ([little]dove, good girl, my wife, woman) - soft! kuna, but not too OOC - mention of drool/spit and tears.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.5k

“Stay still, woman…Mmnnn, good girl, nice and easy…”

It’s not a rarity for Sukuna to have his hands on you as you two slept through the night. After all, he is the King of Curses; asking permission to touch his is beneath him. You were made for him to hold – sculpted for his cursed hands to touch – everyone else was far behind or had no standing compared to your demonic husband. And with you both sharing a futon every night, who’s supposed to tell him to keep his hands to himself?

You, his little spouse, knew of this. Marrying the King of Curses was something you never imagined would happen — let alone falling in love with the giant man! You’ve always had dreams of becoming a sweet little partner to someone; for that to be fulfilled by the cursed man who could kill thousands in the blink of an eye is astounding. 

And, of course, being a wife entails all the duties accompanying the package. Especially now, as you two lie together on the floor, nude bodies nestled close on the futon above the tatami floor, and your naked figure trembling from the insertion of one of Sukuna’s paired cock. And your heart drops at the second one brushing up against the crevice of your ass when he pushes the one inside your throbbing, velvety channel. 

“Mmmph…! Sukuna, no,” you whined, your butt inching away from the second member. “I can’t handle both—“

“Don’t lie; you’ve done it before and did it well,” a hand brings your waist to him. “Or maybe I should just have one of the concubines take care of me, seeing as though my own wife is neglecting their duties.” 

He wouldn’t do that; Sukuna’s interest in his insignificant mistresses had long been diminished once he took you up as his bride, practically collecting dust as he hadn’t visited them since you shared a bed with him. Now, he uses them as tools to probe you. And he has to hold back the mischievous snicker when your eyes widen with anxiousness, wrapping your arms around his neck in desperation.

“N–No, please!” You pleaded; it was the only sufficient approach. “I’ll be good to you, I promise!”

The four-eyed curse scoffs. “Then do what you’re supposed to,” Each crimson orb takes in information about your bashful expression, “And attend to your husband like a wife should.”

Further complaints cease at his command, so you quiet down and arch your behind to him submissively. Sukuna takes your initiation with his hungry bottom hand on your ass, squeezing the flesh as you guide his other dick to your lubed asshole. With a hum, he pushes himself and forces you to take his cocks with your bottom, needing a few seconds to breathe when your holes reach the base of his members.

“Good girl,” he says to your ear to make you shudder, and he lifts your leg with the hand that finished groping your asscheek. “Obeying me so well like always…”

He begins to move without a signal, slowly pulling himself in and out of your warm wetness that coats his length with your slick. You can’t help but grip the girth limbs that massage your insides, involuntarily throbbing on them with shaky breaths.  

“Mmmaah, ohhhmyG—Mmm!” Speech isn’t easy, even with his upper left hand cupping your cheeks. And your brows furrow as the upper right sneaks to grope a breast. “Faaahh, Suk..una, I’m too full already…”

“Mmm? Is that so?” Sukuna asks with a patronizing tone, licking the helix of your ear to hear you gasp. “But we’ve barely started yet, my wife. Don’t bore me before I can enjoy you yet.” 

His hips go at a gradual cadence that has you keening a mess, the sensation of the veins of his cocks felt by the walls of your holes. You howl silently, not wanting to make too much noise.

But that doesn’t fly with your husband, speaking to your ear with that hoarse voice. Almost has you melting as he squishes with your cheeks, “Let it out, princess,” he commands. “I want to hear that voice; don’t you dare hide that from me.”

Fuck, the way you felt on his dicks was so fucking good, having the cursed behemoth burrow his face into the cubby of your neck. Slow kisses on your skin segway to sucks that should mark for later. He could never get enough of how small you were up against him. His giant palm swallowed your tit, your ass bouncing with every thrust, and how damn tight you were as you accommodated the two members making your entrances busy. 

Goddamn it, he bites his lip, dialing up the speed of his ruts a bit. Scratching your inner walls has you squeaking louder, unable to stop yourself when he grinds his hips after a sudden grim pound. So warm and snug for him as if you were meant for him. He knew you were meant for him — taking his huge, fat shafts with no objections, just arching your back further so the sensation could be more pleasurable like the loyal, little pet you are. “Hmngh…! Yeah, just like that, little dove; keep clenching around me like that…”

Restraint was gone long ago, letting your voice and shrieks fly out and fill the quiet bedroom. The sound of his skin shaking against your ass, the heat of your cheeks making it hard to think, and the shivers crawling your spine with every graze to your sweet spots. Everything feels like a haze, your brain too clouded to think outside this moment. 

And then you sense the hand on your breast let go, slithering down to your unattended clitoris, which has your eyes shoot wide as your demon husband presses down. “—Khhff! Nooo, ‘Kunaa, you mustn’t…!”  

He lifts a brow with a grin; you dare question him? “And why shouldn’t I?” He pinches the delicate bud, resulting in a scream sneaking past your lips. “Hmm? Plead for yourself.”

“Becau—Ahhh! Mmmm, I’ll cum. I’m gonna cumm…”

“Then don’t,” Sukuna doesn’t remove his digits playing with your clit, and the hand on your chin pulls your face to look at him. “Cum without my permission, and I’ll make sure to not be so kind next time...” His words carry a warning filling your bones with apprehension, yet his soft lips greet yours and he hums into your mouth. The kiss serves as a distraction from his thick digits gently swiping on the pearl.

The rhythm of his hips, however, increases in speed and prompts more moans to be taken by Sukuna. Drool trickles down your lips, same with tears that welled up earlier from the insertion of his girth inside your ass. Your eyes roll at the jab to your silky walls, breaking the sweet yet passionate kiss to cry out as your husband’s fat balls smack your ass. 

“—Ooooo, fuuuck, I can’t,” your eyelids shield your vision, using the rest of your senses to indulge in this euphoric pleasure. “‘Kuna, I’m so close, so—Ooohh!”

“Me too…Ghhh! Shit, me too…” Sukuna presses his hot face to yours when you throw it back, licking the tears off your sweaty skin. You looked so stunning like this, all disheveled and immodest because of him. “Gonna take my load, huh?” He licks the sweat off your shoulder and bites when you don’t respond. “Answer me, Y/n.”

“—Ahhh, yes!”

That’s not enough. “I said,” he pinches your clit again as he gives slow yet rough ruts to your holes. And he can tell by your twitching that you’re doing everything in our power not to come. “Answer me.”

Holy shit, this was borderline torture. “Mmmph! OhhhLord, ‘Kunaaa, I want you to fill me up. Pleasee, pleasepleaseee, I wanna be full; wanna be all ‘round and fat with your child…!”

“Keh, dumb pet; who said I wanted a brat, huh?” He scoffs, yet you can hear the groan as he licks and sucks on your neck while squishing your hot, tear-stricken cheeks. “Fine then; go on and cum with me. So damn needy for my seed…”

Sukuna brings your chin for another steamy kiss, his lower left hand holding yours as his pelvis goes at an irregular pace. Your muffled shrills are taken by feisty lips, teeth clashing with his fangs before sucking on his tongue, and the upper left hand releases your chin to caress your chest once more, tweezing the nipple along with swipes to your clit.

Release gradually creeps up your shaky frame, crying to his mouth when your chasm and anus pucker around the lengths that graze your walls with the tips. Sukuna is not too far behind you, pumping his load into you with a few harsh plunges, making your contracting cunt and rear full of his hot and thick semen. The lower right hand propping your leg up leaves soft kneads on your inner thigh, hoisting it up further so his shafts are deep enough until his pulsing balls meet your ass.

You withdrew from his lips to breathe, your figure quivering through the aftershocks, and your slit and asshole still flutter around his girths. And you mewl when he kisses your cheek and temple.

“Mmm, that’s my princess,” he purrs while placing your leg down to massage your waist. “Such a good dove…”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ✩ dividers by @/benkeibear.

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, dubcon, coercion, bullying

fem reader

Your bully says he’s always been curious about what it’s like to fuck a geeky good girl like you—and that he’ll leave you if you let him have a taste.

You knew he was probably mostly joking when he offered… but you were sick and tired and perhaps a little desperate for the chance of him finally leaving you alone—so you balled your fists within his shirt, dragged him inside an empty classroom, and told him he could do whatever he wanted.

You don’t know who was more surprised.

He never knew you to be so brazen—but it’s not like you’re some blushing virgin, either.

You have experience. However, most of that experience is with nicer guys… not someone like him…

It’s not like you expected him to go easy on you, but still…

You bruise against the desk he has you bent over on—dewy-faced and panting, lying cheek-down in your own drool as he fucks full-chested moans right out of you. He snickers when your thighs shake, whistling with a grin when feeling your tight cunt flutter around him—slick dripping to the floor in a little puddle.

“You’re so wet it’s embarrassing.” He laughs.

He’s got your arms tussled behind your back, using your shirt as bindings—having balled your skirt up around your waist in two tight fists, knuckles white while using it to keep you still as he pounds into you with a mean snap of his hips. 

Your heart drops when you hear a rip. A second time when, you feel his movements still, and a thick warmth starts to fill you.

“Ah—fuck—don’t squeeze so tight—I’m ‘bout to—” He grunts, but it’s already too late once he pulls out.

Panting heavily as his cock drips with the last drop—hunched over—his eyes fall to your glossy cunt, half-mast while staring at the way his cum slowly leaks out of the still-fluttering little hole. 

He feels a cute-aggressive urge to slap it but doesn’t want to get his hand all sticky.

He pulls his pants up instead, only bothering to button his shirt up halfway, tie hanging loosely around his neck. Anyone with eyes could guess what he’d been doing with his sweaty hair and that flushed look on his face.

And yet he starts leaving without a care or a word. 

Already halfway out the door before you get your wits back.

“No—wait!” You warble, unknotting your sleeves to wrap your shirt around you. “You can’t leave me like this—my skirt…” You hold the tattered piece up for him to see, showing him the tear he’d made, rendering it unwearable.

His hand is still on the doorknob, only bothering to acknowledge you with a jaded look over his shoulder. “How’s that my problem?”

Your brows cinch that pitiful way it always does. That cute way that has his gut bubble and fizz. “Please…” You plead, and it’s almost enough to make his cock perk up again. “Just bring me a skirt from lost and found… please?”

He sighs—the door at his back as he leans against it with arms folded upon his chest. “Tch—and what's in it for me?”

You nibble your lip in thought—but you already know the answer. 

“I’ll be better at it next time—just... please?”

“Hm…” He hums in thought, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips, tugged as if your words had pulled it with string. “Wait here, I’ll be back.”

The door closed with a click, and you were left in the classroom alone.

A few minutes passed. You doubted his return. 

You could always call a friend… but you didn’t want to get anyone into any trouble—calling them when they’re in class. Also, how would you even explain it to them? What type of person skips class to have sex in an empty classroom? Not to mention, they’d ask who you’d done it with—and there was just no way you could tell them. It’d be too embarrassing—you might just die—and if anyone else ever found out, he’d more likely kill you himself.

Well… suppose you could always make the run to Lost and Found yourself. The hallways should be mostly empty at this hour, but there’s really no guarantee. 

In the end, the thought of someone catching you in cum-soaked panties makes you hold onto all hope that your bully would return as he’d said.

And fifteen minutes later, he does. Black school skirt in one hand and strawberry milk in the other. Seemed he’d taken the time to stop at a vending machine.

But you don’t care. Breathing out a sigh of relief—gratitude on your lips as you leap over to him. “Thank you—” 

You eagerly accept the skirt—putting it on just as quickly.

He leans back against the door again, sipping his carton while watching you fall still with dismay. Humored at the pout that takes your lips as you look up at him with those pitiful doe-eyes.

“This is too short…”

He hides his smile with a tilt of his head. “Oh?” He grabs his jaw and pretends to assess your bottom half with focus. “Hmm… turn around, lemme see.”

You listen trustingly—as though you actually believe he cares. It almost makes him laugh out loud at how fucking gullible you are. But he keeps his act tight. Humming at the sight of the skirt only barely covering the crease of your cute ass.

“You’re right—something’s off.” He admits. 

You look back at him just in time to see his smirk before he grabs you. 

Keeping you still with an arm wrapped around your waist, he tips you over and grabs your panties—pulling them despite your body's protests as you wiggle in his hold. You cry as the fabric wedges up between your asscheeks, kicking your legs behind you until feeling it rip.

“There you go…” He coos while letting go of you, twirling the torn string in his hand. “Now it fits perfectly.”

He chuckles at the pretty tears clumped upon your lashes as you look at him with your lip tucked between your teeth until you finally get the grit to say what’s on the tip of your tongue.

“You’re an asshole.”

He sneers with a smile and bags your panties in his pocket—then turns around and opens the door. Leaving you worse off than before.

“Never said otherwise, buttercup.”

BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Shigaraki, Hawks, Shinso, Kirishima

JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Toji

DS – Akaza, Sanemi

HQ – Kuro, Miya twins