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kaizynofsickness · 16 hours

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❝Pussy ban❞

Wolf Sukuna and bunny reader

Synopsis: Trying to give Sukuna a sex ban like he'll listen to a small rabbit he could eat whole? Time to fuck some sense in you, 'cuz you are dumber than you look.

Warning: Degrading words (slutty rabbit, horny rut, sex toy), praising too (good baby, cuties, pretty girl), non-con (kind of??), tail/ear pulling (the norm, lol), one pussy slap, dacryphilla, some comfort and loving, keeping that height difference :), soft-ish sex, oral (fem r!) cumming in his mouth, dirty talking. Sukuna confesses he feels for you... With actions<3.

A/N: I was writing this at my mom's house like shit was sweet (that's why its short. Plus I wanna do Choso and Yuji) this is not proofread... Tell me in the comments if I made a mistake plz.

It's been so long since you first met Sukuna.

Maybe about a month or two. You learned to deal with being his sex bag and get fucked constantly. Went from being a innocent little bunny picking out flowers to his personal cum-dump that he is insanely protective of—the marks down your neck and breast surely convey that message.

Today, he told you to doll up for him in that cute baby blue linger with the sheer panties and cute ruffled cuffs and lacy thigh highs, he even set it on his bed, where you currently were. You fussed with the dumb package, huffing out how unprepared you were for his cocks.

"again? It's like I still feel him inside of me."

"s'mean to me... ugh."

"I don't wanna take his cocks again, t'big and I'm stretched out..."

Last night was rough. He had you in a painful mating press, bullying your two holes full of cum for the fourth time that night, threatening that if you couldn't take it in two holes, he'll shove them both in your cunt.

Do you look like you can handle that?

You end up giving up on the package and the whole dolling up thing in one, crossing your arms with a cute pout, sitting in the corner of his bed, sulking.

Your little bunny friends (after that little incident) said they wished to be you. You get such good dick daily, and with they way he calls you to him every day, he must love you! They don't know shit, you tell yourself. You attempt again with the box, your bunny ears backing down in frustration as your foot thumps against the bed, your frustration and impatience showing.

"hmph!" You groan, the idea tossed out.

You can only guess how mad or disappointed Sukuna will be when he comes back from doing God knows what, looking at you, trying to figure out where the fuck the lingerie is.

You can only figure that out once he comes home—and you can hear the front door busting open like he was already pissed off. Heavy footsteps echo outside of the doorway, you can practically feel his aura. You should be used to it by now; you're under him every night.

"rabbit." Is all he says while opening his bedroom door.

Only to see you.

Just you...

The box with tiny marks all over it thrown across his bedroom and you just sitting in his bed, gazing innocently at him, batting your lashes. He forms a frown on his lips, slowly removing his tight shirt and tossing it. "Y'er still dressed." He coldly spat.

"i couldn't open the box, 'kuna..." you truthfully explain to him. Even if Sukuna knew that was most likely true—you're a weak bunny to him, what should he expect?—he was still upset. He told you specifically and multiple times over the phone, times you crossed path, that he wanted to see how cute you'd look in that as his little bunny. He could've showered you in praise and love—

"y' can't listen, huh?" He leans on his bed, his form towering over you, making your ears fold back. His hands snakes to your thighs and sends a shiver up your body, going to your barely covered pussy. "That's fine, I'll still—"

"w-wait!"

Sukuna's little seductive smile falls off his face at your outburst and cutting him off. He keeps his hand on your upper thighs, squeezing the both of them with one hand. "What, bunny?"

You hesitate to say what you were going to say. You've been waiting to tell him this ever since he decided to command you to wear what he wanted you to. What would be the consequences? I mean, all you're doing is asserting your boundaries, right?

"i don't want you to... touch me." You murmur weakly, looking away from him. That second you feel his grip get tighter, eyes narrowing at your in question. "Excuse me?" He scoffs, "y' don't want what?"

For once, his wild ears start to move, raising up and his tail is spiking... Is that a sign of—

You let out a pathetic whimper, instantly regretting your decision. But you can't go back now. "I don't wanna have sex today." You match his energy as best as you can, trying to keep your bunny ears up to hide all this fear, even if he could smell it. A small growl leave his mouth, his throat bobbing. "And why?" He seems to show some patience for you.

You shift uncomfortably, being put on the spot. "Im sore... you hurt me, 'kuna."

He takes in the silence after hearing what you said. He sighs loudly, ruffling his pink licks in frustration. Why did he have to choose the bunny who didn't want to even fuck because of some pain? Boo-hoo.

"come here." He demands with his arms crossed, backing away from the bed to leave some room for you to come closer to him, all four eyes piercing into your soul. Does he need to do all that fear shit...? You hesitated again—he honestly didn't look that happy. You can only picture the amount of things that would happen if you actually listen to him, but you could picture even more of what would happen if you didn't listen.

He was a man that sometimes massages you and wipes you down after breaking you inside and out, physically and emotionally, all around.

You shift in the sheets before standing near him, craning your head just to look at his chest. Your sweet does eyes meet his, and in the moment he smiles at you, fangs showing dangerously. He wraps his arms around your waist before lifting you up off the ground to peel your panties off. You squeak out, "hey, stop it 'kuna!"

"don't worry. I'll be nice to your weak ass, just relax before my nails cut you." He warns darkly while shredding your new shirt (you liked that pair). Your ears twitch at the sound of the fabric being torn, cotton tail thumping side to side, almost like begging to be tugged at. And Sukuna does just that, grabbing your little tail to rub it around and pinch it.

You give in as he sets you on the bed, now nude.

You've been in this situation before; your pussy exposed, thighs clenching around themselves, nipples to attention with that beast over your petite form. You blink up at him, waiting for him to remove his pants and just dick you down.

But he moves his big hands to your thighs and parts them, eyeing your glistening pussy and sopping cunt. "Sukuna?" You mewl in confusion, your bunny ears rising again like a switch. His action made your body stiffen.

"it's 'kuna." He mocks with a smirk, bringing his head between your head—he had to spread your legs wide and push them back to be able to fit his head between.

You pout and huff, "didn't you say last time it was Sukuna?" You genuinely question.

He gives your little pussy a spank, your juices getting on his hand and making you jump. "Don't sass me or I won't make you cum, slutty rabbit." He lets out a shallow growl as a warning.

You protest nor whine no more. Sukuna's takes this opportunity to run a long lick on your slit, pressing his tongue flat on your cunnie and flicking your clit. The contact makes you shudder, arching your back and squirming.

The way you move around so much annoys him. He grips your hips roughly, grinding your ass flush against the bed to keep you still. He growls against your wet folds, the vibrations going straight to your clit and senses, "Keep still, you fucking horny rut." He spat on your pussy.

Once.

Twice.

You looked so glossy and messy as he rubbed his fingers between your folds, literally playing with your pussy. You watch as he fucks with you with blurry eyes, feeling like he was teasing you. You knew better than to beg for it, because you would get more than you asked for from him.

He stops teasing you, removing his hands and wraps his lips around your clit, spreading your folds.

You let out a long moan from the pleasure as he suckles and kisses your clit, trying to keep your hands to yourself. He sucks slowly and makes them last, his tongue poking out to flick over the bud. He even goes as far as to push the hood of your clit back to make it better, causing you to cry out.

"like that, pretty girl?" He murmur into your pussy, looking up at you. "Gonna gush f'me soon or..?" He leaves a taunting tone to linger around, tongue doing magic tricks for you. For you.

Sukuna has only went down on a hybrid once, he always wanted to get his dick wet before he even thought of making them cum personally. Now he is here, in between a small bunny's legs, ravishing her pussy with so much purpose. That purpose is to make you moan and cream, cry out, beg for more, beg for no more...

He snaps from his thoughts, realizing he might just be getting pussy drunk. He scoffs, annoyed with the effect you have on him before he starts to be rougher out of spite.

The slow and teasing flicks become hard licks, pressing down on your exposed clit, his growls evident.

You realize the sudden change, eyes widening in shock. Your hands go to grip the sheets, feeling that buzz of hot white pleasure, making your bunny ears spike up to attention. "'kuna! t'much—"

"shut it."

He moves his third arm up and starts to pump his two thick digits inside your sticky core, making sure to curl his fingers repeatedly against your g-spot with so much force. Your eyes roll back, biting your lips to muffle your moans and screams. You turn you head against the base, trying to fight off the overwhelming pleasure he's giving you.

He moves his fingers in and out, making your thighs quiver. It felt so good like it was his dick pounding into you.

He scissors inside you, making your walls all wide for him as if preparing you for his cock. The sound coming from your pussy are so unholy and disgusting—so how he likes it. Those wet swishing sounds inside your cunt, telling him just how wet you are, that sticky arousal on his palm... You're a mess.

Lewd slurping sounds echo as his tongue makes sloppy patterns on your clit, finger fucking you so fast it's dripping down his elbows—it's so fucking filthy and messy, you feel like a damn sex toy.

Well... No one would start giving head to a sex toy, now would they?

"please, t-too much! I-its s'fucking—hmmph!" You babbled out, giving in to the pleasure and gripping onto his hair this time, tugging at his pointy wolf ears on accident, causing him to groan into your folds. He doesn't listen—he'll never listen to you unless you're on all fours asking to be double dicked down. He removes his fingers from your cunt and makes a nasty switch, rubbing your clit with no real pattern as and puts his tongue as deep as he can inside your cunt.

You whine his name, "'kunnnaa-", so much, gripping his hair. You even begin to buck your hips into his mouth, searching for more pleasure as if he isn't giving you enough. "m' gonna cum!" You eagerly announce, hearing you cotton tail thumping against the bed sheet.

He takes this as a signal to go faster and rougher to you, making sure to leave you spent only to give you more.

You cream on his tongue and he laps it up like a true dog, letting out a soft and deep groan in satisfaction. Who knew he could get off so much watching you struggled to maintain yourself? This whole time his cock restraining against his pants, feeling like a horny bitch in heat from the amount of precum that was making his boxer so sticky it was uncomfortable.

He kisses all over you pussy and even your thighs, seeing a bunch on red hand prints the lower he goes, your ass red from all his previous spankings.

He leans up with a smirk, his lips glossy from your juices. He makes intense eyes contact while bringing his used fingers to his lips, sucking and licking all your sweet arousal off, trying to embarrass you.

And it works.

You look away, earning a loud snort from him.

"That felt nice?" He mocks, just his face showed some care. He has to be nice to his favorite toys before they break too soon... you meekly nod your head, eyes stuck to the sheets that you cummed on for the umpteenth time being over to his house.

He pats your cheek with one of his clean hands, making your eyes lock on his four. "Up and to the bathroom." He commands you, "hurry. Turn the water on, I'll be there."

You were a little annoyed just to be told about how to go along with this after sex, unfolding your body in half. You almost limp over to the bathroom, which he notices.

You look so pathetic, he couldn't help but feel a little sympathy for you. He yanks you over to him by your bunny ears, making you squeak out, a bit flummoxed by the sudden tug. He wraps one of his pair of arms around your body, making you wrap your legs around his torso, nude pussy rubbing his abs. "You're such a pathetic little thing," he scoffs while carrying you to the bathroom and turning the water on himself, you still in his arms in the process.

You look at his facial expression; he doesn't look so upset... maybe because he was so drunk off the feeling of finally being between your legs. That was a little thought of his, because if your pussy was so amazing on his dicks, why wouldn't it be even better inside his mouth?

He notices you gawking at him, giving him a small smirk. "Admiring me?" He says with so much arrogance and a cocky glare while setting you in the tub, warm water wrapping around your legs. It makes your stomach twist with sickness. Just how cocky can this man be? You sit down in the water, feeling comfortable.

"I was j—" you were going to say you were 'just thinking', but then you would have to tell him what you were thinking about, and then he would have to tell you that you're not worth all of that. You could basically map out everything already. "Yeah..."

"hmph. Better be... I didn't make you cum and take a break from my cock for nothing. Just feel better soon enough. My dick needs to be wet, woman." He steps in with you, his fluffy tail going flat as he towers before you, eyes on you. He always has his eyes on you...

You were able to take a peaceful bath after all of that overstimulation, whining every time the cold air or rag came in contact with your used clit.

"rabbit." He breaks the silence of the water raining down, "after this... stay with me. You'll be wearing that lingerie."

Yeah... whatever that means.

@cafekitsune from dividers and @bunnysrph

˚꩜⋆.°⭑Do not copy, translate, or steal in any way, reblogs are appreciated and allowed.

This one isn't as good as the others... sorry.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #hybrid #wolf boy #i want him so bad #smut writing #jjk smut #ryoumen sukuna #sukuna #ryomen smut #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna smut

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vivwritesfics · 2 days

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Period

Bob looks after Bun on her period

Bob and Bun

Bun had been awake for hours. It sucked. She held her stomach, legs pulled up to her chest as she tossed and turned in their bed.

If Bob hadn't been so tired, he would have been awake. Would have been up, getting her a glass of water and some pain killers. But no, he was dead to the world.

But then he woke up in the early hours of the morning to her grabbing his hand and placing it over her stomach.

The warmth of his hand eased her cramps. Bob leg out a groan and pulled her closer, gently kissing the back of her neck. "You okay?" He asked, morning voice deep and gravelly.

For a moment she didn't answer, just pressed his hand more against her. She would be. As soon as the heat of his skin against her own became soothing, she would be.

Bob knew this routine all too well by now. Knew what having his hand pressed against her stomach meant. "Oh, Bun," he mumbled, shutting his eyes as he pulled her even closer. "Do you need painkillers or anything?"

She shook her head. "Just stay here for now."

Bob stayed with her until he had to get up for work. And, when he did, A whine left her lips. At first she pouted at him, but then she glared. The glare didn't last long though, as he cramps started up again.

"Do you have to leave? Can't you stay just for today?"

He sat on the bed beside her and kissed her forehead. "I stay every month, bunny. I can't," he mumbled. "But I can bring you back some chocolate and snacks."

And, suddenly, she had a hold of his hand. "Stay."

"Bun-"

"Stay!"

With a sigh, Bob fished his phone from his pocket. "I'm gonna get you some painkillers," he mumbled as he walked out of the bedroom.

As he readied her some painkillers and something to drink, Bob held his phone up to his ear. "Bobster, baby bob, what can I do for you?" Said Bradley. It wasn't Bradley he'd been trying to call, Bradley had just been the one to pick up.

"I can't come in today."

Bradley let out a hum. "You had a day off this time last month. And the month before. And the month before that." He paused for a moment. "Is... is it your girl?"

"Can I stay or not?" Bob was never snappy like this. But, when it came to Bun?

"Yeah," said Bradley. "But keep your phone to hand, just in case."

Bob didn't quite expect this. Getting to stay home with Bun, to look after her. Anybody else would have had to come into work. But not Bob, not when it came to Bun.

Shoving the phone back into his pocket, Bob took the water and the painkillers to her. "Here you go, Bun," he said as he gave it to her.

She didn't swallow it down right away. Instead, she placed the water and painkillers onto the bedside table and crawled into Bob's lap. "You can't leave if I don't get up," she mumbled, shoving her face against his neck.

"Bun, I'm not going anywhere," he mumbled and kissed the top of her head. "Have your painkillers and I'll go out to buy you chocolate."

Her eyes watered as she looked at him. "You'd do that for me?"

Now, Bun wasn't normally this... emotional over something so small. Blame fucking period hormones. But Bob kissed away her tears. He was gonna look after her.

#robert floyd #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd fluff #robert floyd x you #bob floyd #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd x you #top gun #top gun imagine #top gun maverick #tgm #robert bob floyd #bob floyd fic #bob and bun #top gun fanfiction #bob top gun

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azucarmorena97 · 3 days

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Money Ties (Jungkook Love Story || Pt.12

Pt.11 ||

Your parents have worked hard to get to the top and have made sure to teach you everything you need to know to be successful in this business: from tough but lucrative financial decisions, down to the right ball gown for any given banquet. A promising and extravagant future awaits you- that is, if you agree to one teensy detail...

Son of Mr.Jeon Sr. and heir to June Company, Jeon Jungkook is an immature playboy with nothing to offer a woman but good looks and a crap ton of money, and he stands to inherit much MUCH more, so long as you both enter into the arranged marriage contract that was drawn up before the pair of you were even born.

You're more than willing to try, but you're not sure you'll be able to stand each other long enough to inherit a single penny...

Chapter Warning: SMUT! Dom Jungkook <3

Recap: You stand in silence for a bit, basking in each other's presence; the first time you've been alone as husband and wife. It feels the same...and yet different. Jungkook's called you his wife twice tonight. Both times, it made your heart stir in your chest. You're his wife..."You're my husband now," You say shyly, putting your hands behind your back and looking down, your smile practically cramping up your cheeks, "I am," He chuckles, staring at you.

When you look at the time on your phone, you're surprised to see it's already 2 in the morning. Time spent with him is fleeting and never enough...will it always feel this wonderful to love?

To love...? Is that what this is?

"I should probably get you back to the hotel now," Jungkook says, a soft smile on his face, "We have to be on a plane in...like 10 hours. You should sleep."

You sigh, "I should...but I'm not even tired yet." "Me either," He replies, stroking his chin as he drives in the direction of his hotel, lost in thought.

"Do you...want to just watch a movie and order some room service?" He asks; his tone is hesitant, and you know exactly why. You both know the implications of a wedding night. "You definitely don't have to say yes. I know that just because we're...married now, doesn't mean there should be any pressure to- to-" He's digging himself a hole and all you can do is laugh. "A movie sounds perfect," You assure him, patting his knee.

He seems to relax, a sheepish laugh escaping him, "Okay, great."

When you get to the hotel, you immediately beeline it for the elevator, not wanting to be bombarded by anyone who might recognize either of you, especially not after having seen all those paparazzi earlier.

"Ugh, this dress is so heavy," You groan, picking up the skirt. "I have some clothes put away that you can put on when we get up there, if you want." "Oh, that would be great."

He takes you to the same suite you'd...spent time together in last time. Once you get in, he goes to the bedroom for a moment and then comes back out with the clothes. "It's a tee-shirt and sweats. I also have some socks in the night stand," He says, handing it all to you.

"Thanks," You say, grabbing it and rushing past him into the bedroom to change, closing the double doors behind you. You take a moment to look in the big mirror, just analyzing yourself. While the dress wasn't what you originally wanted, it's still a beautiful gown and fits you so well. Of course, the bottom is already a bit dirty as you've had an eventful night. You don't even know what's going on with your hair- all out of place and deflated and nothing like during the ceremony. You decide to start there, taking the millions of bobby pins out and placing them all on the dresser, sighing in relief at the instant release of tension in your head.

"Now, this beast," You say, referring to the dress. You reach to the top of the dress, expecting to feel the zipper, but then you remember that it's all buttons along the back. "Dammit, how am I gonna do this?" You try and try to contort your body, but it's useless.

I'm gonna have to ask him to help me...

You give your reflection a glance and notice yourself blushing at the thought of asking him.

"It's fine, Y/n. He's literally your husband now. It's not like you're throwing yourself at him. It's just buttons," You whisper to yourself.

You position yourself in front of the double doors, taking a deep breath and trying to relax your face. Once you do, you "calmly" open the doors and walk out.

"Everything okay?" He asks when he realizes you're not dressed. "Yeah, uhm- I'm actually gonna need a little help with the buttons."

"Oh-" He looks like a deer caught in the headlights, though he instantly tries to hide it, "Of course. No problem."

"Thanks," You say, avoiding his eyes. He walks over and you turn around.

He sweeps your hair off of your neck and over your shoulder, his gentle touch sending goosebumps across your skin. Your eyes widen slightly, not having expected such a sensation. "Sorry, did it tickle?" He asks. "A-A little...it's okay."

He begins to undo the top button, then the next, then the next, swallowing hard once he reaches the band of your bra, "Uh- do you want me to do the rest? Or you got it?"

"I can't reach..." You say, not even making an attempt to do it yourself. Without another word, he undoes the buttons down the rest of your back, hesitating only slightly when he gets to the three left at the bottom. Your breathing is picking up, excitement building in you- though you don't dare show it.

One button. Your back dimples are on display for his hungry eyes. Two buttons. The waistband of your lacy underwear peeks out at him. Three buttons. He's able to see the way your ample backside swallows up the delicate lace thong.

You can feel his eyes on you and it's enough to dampen the little piece of fabric between your thighs. You want more.

"There..." He whispers, letting go of the fabric of your dress. You know what he's doing. If you want it, you'll have to ask for it.

You turn around to face him, eyes foxlike and full of lust as you drop your dress, fully exposing yourself, "Thanks."

His eyes are equally dark, the corners of his mouth turned upward. Truthfully, he's been wanting you since you left- but he's been thinking about this moment from the second he walked in on you crying earlier today. Something about the way your makeup ran down your face, lipstick ruined, doe eyes looking up at him as he towered over you-

It aroused something completely primal within him that made him so incredibly hard.

He walks backward and sits down on the couch- the one you both sat in last time for your first kiss. He leans backward, legs spread, one arm resting on the top of the backrest, the other resting on his groin. He's waiting for you to start the show you seem so eager to put on for him- and show, you will.

He has only a moment to admire the way your breasts look, all pushed up and perfectly round due to that pretty, white bra with lace detail, before you're reaching behind yourself to unclasp it. Your cleavage relaxes a bit due to the lack of tension, "You want me to take it off?" You ask, your previous shyness having dissipated completely.

"Do you want to?" He raises an eyebrow, his coy tone turning you on even more.

You don't break eye contact with him, just let the bra slide off of your arms and into the pool of white cloth already at your feet. You step out of the pile of clothing, letting your bare feet carry you the few steps of the way to him.

Now, you're the one towering over him, glorious boobs unhindered by any barrier. He finds himself licking his licks in anticipation. He could absolutely devour you.

He adjusts himself even more so that there's less tension on the crotch of his pants, his dick already wanting desperately to be released from its restraints.

You reach down and grab his hand, bringing it up to cup your breast, to which he responds by taking your nipple in between his fingers, "You are so fucking gorgeous," He praises.

You don't respond, just drop his hand and then proceed to climb onto him, each leg on either side of his. You can feel how hard he is through the fabric of your panties.

"Mm..." He moans as you begin grinding down onto the mound- but you're not doing this for him. You're doing this for you. You've only ever had him once and have been longing for a second taste ever since.

"You wanna know a secret...?" You say softly, not stopping the motion of your hips against him. "Y-yeah." "All that time I was back home hating you..." You lean down and put your lips to his ear, "I was touching myself thinking about you."

His eyes widen, "You-" You don't wanna talk.

You crash your lips onto his, grinding down harder. He has his hands on your hips, guiding them forward and backward- but it's not enough. You need more.

"I wanna try something," You say, getting off of him. "O-okay," He nods breathlessly.

You take down your thong and toss it aside, now fully nude, and then carefully set yourself down on his thigh. "Fuck," You hiss, practically feeling your pupils dilate at the direct pressure. "How's that, beautiful?" He asks, studying the pleasure in your face.

Your mouth falls agape as you move forward, backward, forward, and backward. He can feel the spot on his thigh getting wetter and wetter, his cock wanting to spring forward.

He can't stand such a perfect sight, he leans forward and wraps one arm around your waste, the other reach down to help guide your pelvis, his mouth lowering to take your nipple between his teeth. "Ah....fuck," Your head falls back, your body anxiously striving for that orgasm, "Kook, fuck- I think I'm gonna cum soon," You hiss. "Cum on my leg, princess. Come on..." He coaxes, running his tongue on the circumference of your breast.

Your eyes roll back and soon, you're releasing yourself on his perfectly muscular thigh. "Ah!" You slump forward, your grinding slowing down significantly while you recover for a moment.

"I think you can give me more than that, can't you, Beautiful?" He whispers in your ear, the hairs on your neck standing on end as the next wave of arousal starts growing within you. "I can..." You pant, though you don't move. "Come on," He somehow manages to grab onto you and stand up, effortlessly picking you up as well, his strong legs carrying the both of you to the bedroom where he tosses you on the bed.

You land on your back, hair sprawled out against the crisp, white sheet, your legs bent together to cover your freshly wet pussy.

He puts his hands on your knees and pries them open, his eyes devouring the site of you before lowering himself down lick every drop of your cum up.

"You taste so fucking good," He moans into your heat, sending butterflies darting in all directions in your stomach.

He stands up again and proceeds to unbutton his pants and the hole in his boxers, grabbing his dick and pulling it out.

You're excited at the sight; there's something so exhileratingly vulnerable about the only one completely naked.

"What do you want me to do?" He asks.

"Fuck me," You don't even hesitate. You want it. You want it again and again and again.

"Say it again," He hisses, taking his dick in his hands and tapping it against your delicate mound.

"Fuck me, please," You beg.

He seems satisfied enough, firmly pinching the lips of your perfectly puffy pussy and slowly guiding himself into you.

He goes slack jawed for a moment, just letting the overwhelming warmth consume him. The grooves inside you stroking his cock with every thrust- If it wasn't because he so desperately wants to savor this moment, he'd pump wildly into you until he's spilling every drop of seed inside of you.

"You're so fucking big," You whimper, still adjusting to his size- it's only your second time, afterall.

"No, you're just so fucking tight," He breathes out, delighting in the sound of his pelvis slapping against yours.

You try to reach down and rub your clit but he throws your hand off, "Allow me," He positions his hand so it's flat against your pussy, applying an unexpected- yet so welcomed- amount of pressure as he quickly rubs back and forth.

"That's so good, that's so good," You moan over and over, barely able to believe how quickly you're coming to your next climax. "Come on, baby. Give me another one. You can do it, come on princess," The gentleness in his voice juxtaposed with how fucking hard he's rubbing you- it's the perfect recipe to send you over the edge once more, "Oh God!" Your hips jut upwards, legs contorting involuntarily, your breathing so rapid that you think you might pass out.

Euphoria.

"J-Jungkook," You breathe, "Fuck, that was so good."

He leans forward to kiss you deeply, then pulls away only inches from your face, "You think you can give me just one more...?" He says, his voice dark and low.

You nod, a smile creeping up on your face at the idea of fucked to absolute shreds. Without another word, he quickly grabs hold of your waist and manages to flip you around so that you're on your stomach, "Get on your knees," He commands,

You muster up the strength to get on your hands and knees on the bed, though you still feel your arms wobble a bit. He runs one hand half way down your back and then pushes you down so that your torso is flat on the bed and your ass up in the air, "Just like that," He mutters.

You crane your neck too see behind you; the glorious view as he yanks the bow tie off of himself and undoes the first button on his dress shirt, it motivates you to stick that ass out just a little bit more.

He puts his hands on either sides of your hips, gripping on you firmly, "Ready, princess?" "Y-" You don't even finish your sentence before he's thrusting into you again, causing you to gasp.

Your eyes close as you relish the feeling of his cock engulfed in your walls. Your pussy's getting used to him finally, but the harsh sensation is still enough to make you grip the sheets.

"Mm," He moans, ramming into your backside, the red spot on your ass growing more and more angry- He loves the view.

He grabs one of your arms and holds it behind you, the tension just enough to restrict you without hurting you. The first time you made love, it was tender and sweet- this time, you're both ravaging one another like hungry wolves- "Fuck," You whine.

"Touch yourself, princess. Come on, give me one more."

You don't hesitate to obey, reaching your free arm down between your legs; you're still so sensitive from your last round, you're not sure if you can finish this time. "Here, let me," He says, noticing your struggle.

There's something about Jungkook's touch; in a matter of seconds, between fucking you and rubbing your swollen clit, he's found the perfect rhythm. "Come on, baby," He says through his teeth, sounding just as close as you are.

This last orgasm- goodness, it's different. It's stronger- like a mix of cumming and simultaneously needing to pee; "Jungkook, I- I think I'm gonna pee," You warn, though you really don't want him to stop.

Without acknowledging what you're saying, he rubs harder and faster, followed by rapid thrusts, "Fuuuuuuck," You whimper, finally feeling it all flow out- clear fluid bursts out of your pussy and Jungkook pulls out of you to watch it all, stroking his cock to the sight until he is also bursting with cum, a few drops landing on your ass and some on the floor, his head falls back as his stroking slows, though he quickly recovers and gets on his knees to lap up all the wetness from your pussy, dragging his tongue along your freshly fucked hole.

Jungkook is a fucking freak.

You collapse onto the bed, heaving with exhaustion and a surge of dopamine/endorphins/ketamine/heroin- whatever the fuck your body releases after a good lay.

He stays on his knees, though he slumps backward a bit, a big smile on his face as he pants heavily, "That was the best sex I've ever had."

"Oh shut up," You roll your eyes, turning over so you're on your back. "I'm serious," He says, struggling slightly to get up, though when he does, he walks over to the bathroom and then comes back with two towels in hand.

He walks over to the end of the bed, tosses one of the towels next to you on the bed, and then opens your legs just as he did earlier, but this time he's gentle again. He dabs at your pretty pussy, cleaning every visible inch. He then takes another part of the towel to clean off his dick before tossing it to the side on the floor somewhere out of view. "Scoot up a little bit," He says, gently patting your outer thigh. You scoot up and he carefully lays the other towel flat on the bed, "There." He comes around to the side of the bed so he can jump in with you, not bothering to cover up with a sheet or anything, as you're both still sweaty and hot as hell.

"You're really sweet..." You smile. "Aren't I?" He says smugly, reaching over and moving a piece of your hair to the side. "And so humble," You add sarcastically, making him laugh. His smile fades a bit and he just looks at you for a moment before saying, "I won't wake up to an empty bed tomorrow morning, right?"

You shake your head, "Never again."

His smile returns and he leans in to give you one more kiss before settling in next to you and, Before you know it, you're both drifting off to sleep.

Sorry this one took me a while to upload! Lemme know what you think about the spice >:)

Tag List <3: @ttanniett

#bts #jungkook #jin #bts imagine #namjoon #suga #jimin #bangtan sonyeondan #angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #bangtan boys #jk x reader

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graciereadshannigram · 3 days

Note

I love long fics but I don't have much time in my current routine, so could you link some of the best NSFW short hannigram fics in your opinion? ❤️

excellent question, i've got you! (i'm defining short as around or under 10k... please let me know if that's terribly far off LOL) Tender – 6k, as the name promises, very tender omegaverse AU!

Nothing For It... – 11.3k, found this perusing the accidental sex tag and thoroughly enjoyed it.

Leave Your Message after the Tone – 7.7k, Will leaves messages for Hannibal after Hannibal turns himself in. Hannibal finally checks his messages.

pick up your phone – 1.4k, basically Alana calling Hannibal at a bad time.

I Need You Like a Broken Leg – 5.8k, Will and Hannibal are hooking up in secret during this AU of s2, and Will realises his love for Hannibal goes far deeper than his hatred.

The Blood on My Lips Is Yours – 7.6k, they get into a fight and end up fucking after.

Fake Date (Hannigram AU) – 4.2k, Will's possible promotion is relying on his superiors thinking better of him. One way to do that is to take his omega to the upcoming cocktail party. Only problem is, he doesn't have one, having to rely on one sent by an agency. He wasn't quite expecting Doctor Hannibal Lecter.

Bound To You – 8.7k, Hannibal flirts with someone who isn't Will. right up your alley if you enjoy 1. fake marriage trope, and 2. a jealous and possessive Will.

Instinct – 1k, Will and Hannibal have a conversation about murder and instinct during one of their therapy sessions.

I Only Have Eyes For You – 3.8k, Hannibal has a dinner party and Will decides to rile him up.

Lessons in Submission – 5.1k, Hannibal was stubborn, independent, and Will had always loved that about him, but there were times, times like these, in the midst of heat, in the midst of such a thorough breeding, when lessons in submission were necessary.

Ligare – 8.2k, basically Will gets insecure about his ability to give oral so he ties up Hannibal to make it easier. this is part of a series and they are all equally good!!

A Good Milking – 8.2k, you like the omegaverse and enjoy a well-executed inappropriate medical situation? say less.

Depraved – 5.8k, this had no business being as good as it was. pretty much just Hannibal helping Will get over some hang ups related to his sexuality.

okay i'm gonna cut myself off here, but hopefully something here is what you were looking for!!

#hannigram #hannigram fics #hannigram recs #hannibal #will graham #hannibal lecter #gracie reads hannigram

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fallinginvictus · 18 hours

Note

I may be a day or two early for wip wednesday but I absolutely need to know what happens next in ur time loop fic of Andrew

WIP Wednesday

part two my "aaron dies and now andrew is stuck in a time loop" fic (part one)

on ao3 I would tag this as "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings" so if you need to know more because you think there might be something that could trigger you, let me know and I'll let you know

This would be chapter 2 out of four of my Andrew time loop fic

Again, this is a wip, a first draft. So keep that in mind.

Formatting is a bit weird because I copy pastes from docs

He feels frantic as he drives on now familiar roads, his thoughts swirling in his brain and bouncing inside his skulls, unable to tell where one begins and the other ends, unable to make sense of the nightmare that he has found himself trapped in. Cars race past him as his thoughts race in his brain, images of Aaron's cold and pale body flashing behind his eyelids every time he blinks, the coldness of his brother's hand and the stillness of his chest something that will never stop haunting him for as long as he lives.

“What? Is something wrong?” Aaron asks as soon as he picks up the phone, worry clear in his tired voice.

Andrew's breaths get lost in his lungs, unable to find their way out.

Aaron is alive.

Aaron is alive again.

“Andrew?”

“I'm going to stay with you for a while,” is everything that he manages to say, his voice quieter than he intends it to be, his hands squeezing the steering wheel until they turn white.

“What? Why? Did something happen?” Aaron asks and Andrew wants to scream at him.

“No,” he says. “I'm already on my way.”

“Andrew,” Aaron sighs. “For how long? Don't you have games and practice?”

“I hurt my wrist so I can't play for two weeks.”

“You can't stay with me. I have plans.”

“What plans?” he asks, wondering how many times Aaron has lied to them before, how many other times has he pretended to be busy while his only plan was that of getting high.

“With my friends.”

“You don't have friends. I'll be there in a few hours. Bye.”

He doesn't give Aaron any time to reply, any time to protest, before hanging up, Aaron's voice making his head spin, his blood boil.

He wants to hug his brother, he wants to feel his chest move, his heart beat, his blood flowing through his veins. He wants to touch Aaron's skin and feel nothing but warmth. He wants to look him in the eyes and see them shine.

He wants his brother to never be dead again.

♤♤

He sits outside of Aaron's locked door, the clock inside of his head ticking and ticking, each second that passes feeling like a lifetime spent in hell, wondering if the call is going to come anyways, wondering if Aaron is already dead. More than once he wants to drive back to the hospital where Aaron died, where Aaron will die. More than once he takes his phone out of his pocket and dials Aaron's number without ever calling him.

It's ten minutes past three in the afternoon when Andrew's phone rings where it's sitting on the floor by his side. Andrew's breath gets caught in his throat, his whole body tensing at the sound until his every muscle aches and screams, begging to be released, his heart pounding against his ribcage.

But when his eyes finally find the courage to look down at the bright screen by his side, it is Aaron's name that meets his eyes and not the hospital's number (a number that had now been printed inside of Andrew's brain and that he would never be able to forget.)

“What,” he says flatly as soon as he picks up the phone, his muscles still tense, his heart still racing.

“Are you really waiting for me?” Aaron asks in a tentative tone that Andrew can't decipher. Finally Andrew starts to relax, Aaron's quiet voice like sweet honey washing over him.

He hums in reply.

“I'm- I'm almost there. Wait for me,” Aaron says as the words rush out of his mouth and stumble all over each other.

“I've been waiting for almost two hours so you better be quick,” Andrew replies, unable to deny to himself just how much he longs to finally see his brother alive.

Andrew had long since learnt to keep his emotions trapped inside of his ribcage. Some would oftentimes run away from him, slip through the cracks, escape from their perfectly built prison: in the morning with Neil's peaceful face resting by his side, the brighg sun shining on him, his hair messy, his face puffy, a soft smile on his lips; in the night with Neil's flushed body under his, his warm hands gently placed on his shoulders, his soft moans filling the quiet room.

But it had been a long time since his emotions had come crashing against his chest, threatening to split his ribcage open, uncovering his most safely guarded secrets. He had forgotten how much it hurt, how raw and vulnerable it made him feel.

“Hey,” Aaron says breathlessly, breaking the silence and coming to stand in front of a motionless Andrew.

Andrew just stares at him blankly, taking notice of every single thing that is Aaron, of every aspect of him, every detail. Aaron looks tired, Andrew notices, his skin is pale, ink spilled under his bloodshot eyes but his pupils are normal, he looks rail-thin, his collar bones heavily pronounced.

Andrew says nothing as his brain reminds him of the list of “Common Physical Signs of Drug Usage” that he had read once on the library's computer when he was fifteen.

“You ambush me like this and you are not even going to say hi?” Aaron asks as he opens the door, but there is no strength in his voice, no malice in his words.

“Hi,” he says as he walks inside the now familiar house, his eyes falling back on the family picture displayed in the living room.

“Give me a second,” Aaron says before running inside his room and closing the door behind himself, probably trying to tidy up the mess that Andrew had already seen.

He sits on the couch, unable to come up with a plan of action, with a strategy. He had already asked Aaron before if he had relapsed and Aaron had denied it. Would he ever tell Andrew the truth if he asked?

“So,” Aaron says as he walks out of his room with a black trash bag. Andrew just looks at him. “Are you going to tell me why you decided to crash at my house for who knows how long?”

“Am I not allowed to want to spend some time with my dearest brother?” he asks with a sweet and ostensibly fake smile on his lips, trying not to think just how much truth was actually hidden in those words.

Aaron scoffs at him, “Sure, because you totally just wanted to spend some time with me,” he says and something in his voice makes Andrew pause. He just stares at him, his brows furrowed, trying to figure out something that he knows is standing right in front of him and yet he cannot seem to be able grasp.

There's a tense silence for a few seconds as Andrew just stares at his brother, at the way air fills his lungs, as the way his chest moves.

“Fine,” Aaron breaks first. He shakes his head and rolls his eyes, as if he's dealing with a troublesome kid. “Fine. You don't have to tell me now. Just- Are you okay? It's nothing bad, right?”

Andrew is taken aback by the concern in his voice before anger fills his vision. No nothing too bad, he wants to say. My own fucking brother died. No biggie.

“No, nothing too bad,” he says between clenched teeth.

♤♤

They spend the rest of the afternoon playing on Aaron's old PS2, the same one that he has owned longer than Andrew has known him. It was quiet and comfortable and Andrew could tell there was something else going on inside of his brother's mind, something that was clouding his brain, making his moves sloppy, his attention fragmented.

“Do you feel like you are going to relapse?” Andrew asks. “Don't lie to me.”

“Where does that even coming from? Fuck-” Aarons scoffs as he misses a jumps and falls down a cliff.

“Do you?”

“No? Not more than usual,” he says distractedly, his whole attention on the game in front of him.

You used today and you died, Andrew almost says. Stop fucking lying.

“If you feel like using again, just tell me,” is all that comes out of his mouth, his eyes landing on Aaron's focused face. “Promise.”

“Sure,” Aaron says, his eyes never leaving the TV screen.

“Promise,” he repeats loudly.

“I- I promise,” Aaron says, his eyes finally meeting Andrew's.

Andrew knows it won't be enough. Aaron had lied before and he would have no qualms in lying again, in breaking a promise. But he found it difficult to worry when Aaron was sitting right by his side, their shoulders brushing against each other, Aaron's warmth washing over him.

It's 7 pm when Andrew silently gets up from the couch and heads towards the kitchen with the intention of preparing them dinner.

“What the fuck Aaron.”

“What?” Aaron says from the living room, the sound of the game almost drowning his quiet voice.

“Why the fuck is you fridge completely empty?”

“Oh,” Aaron says, turning off the game.

Andrew waits for a second, then two, expecting to receive an actual reply from his brother but getting only silence in return.

“We can go grocery shopping tomorrow,” Andrew says, sitting back down on the couch, his hand grazing Aaron's shoulder. “Let's just order take out for today.”

Aaron nods as Andrew takes his phone out of his pocket to order take-out but notices a couple of unread messages from Neil.

To: 0 Neil:

I'm going to stay with Aaron for a while

From: 0 Neil:

is everything okay?

To: 0 Neil:

I'm here to figure it out

Dinner is quiet, just like the rest of the afternoon had been quiet. Aaron's gaze never leaves his food, his eyes unfocused, his mind full of thoughts that Andrew isn't able to read.

If only he could jump inside of Aaron's head and search through his brain, Andrew thinks, maybe then he would find the answers he's looking for, maybe then he would find the right questions.

He used to think of Aaron as someone easy to read, his goals and ambitions prosaic. He always thought he knew what Aaron wanted, what he longed for. Every action Aaron took and every comment he made used to be something Andrew could decipher and understand. And yet, now that he's standing in front of him, he wonders if he ever really knew Aaron at all, if this whole time he had been reading Aaron's signals all wrong.

“Why don't you have any friends?” he asks, his eyes scanning Aaron's face for a reaction, for a sign.

Aaron's pauses for a second, his eyes focused on his food, “Of course I have friends,” he says, his eyes meeting Andrew's. “Why would you think that I don't have any friends?”

Aaron's face doesn't betray him, his eyes seem truthful and his voice doesn't shake. If Andrew hadn't known better, he would've believed him, he would've fallen for his lie. How many times, he wonders, has Aaron lied straight to his face? How many times has he tricked Andrew before?

I can tell when you're lying to me, he used to tell Aaron. Now he wonders if he ever really could.

“Don't lie to me,” Andrew says, his voice cold, his gaze unforgiving.

“I'm not-”

“Don't lie to me,” he says again, his gaze just a little softer.

“How would you even know,” Aaron muebles as he puts more food in his mouth with his brows furrowed and an uncharacteristic pout on his lips.

In the past, Andrew would've pushed. In the past, Aaron would've been colder.

“What's going on with you,” the words leave Andrew's mouth without his permission.

“I just-” Aaron says before shaking his head, something that Andrew can't read flashing in his eyes. “I'm tired. I'm going to bed now.”

Andrew can't do anything but watch as Aaron retreats back to his room and closes the door behind himself with a soft click. He sighs as he drops his head on the couch and stares at the white ceiling feeling lost and confused. He doesn't know what he's supposed to do.

He doesn't know how to save Aaron from himself.

♧♧

The first week passes quickly, Aaron spending most of his days at the hospital and his evenings locked in his room studying while Andrew is left alone with his own thoughts and fears, images of his dead brother spinning like a carousel inside of his brain.

Every night he wakes up from nightmares, his body numb and damp with sweat, Aaron's cold body flashing behind his eyes.

Every night, he sofly opens Aaron's bedroom door and stares at his brother as he sleeps, at the way his chest rises and falls, at his pink skin and slightly flushed cheeks.

He's alive, he tells himself, over and over again. And yet he can still remember when Aaron hadn't been alive.

♧♧

“We should do things together,” Andrew tells Aaron one morning while he's still lying on the couch after having spent a whole night googling “How to make sure your brother doesn't relapse again”.

“What?”

“Make a list of things that you want to do and we'll do them.”

“Why?” Aaron asks, walking out of the kitchen.

“You don't want to?” Andrew replies, tilting his head.

“You always have a reason for things.”

“If you don't want to-”

“I do,” Aaron interrupts him, his eyes wide.

“Then make the list and give it to me when you get home this evening.”

“I just don’t- Fine,” Aaron says with a sigh as he heads for the door. He stops there for a second, his hand on the handle and his bag over his shoulder.

“What,” Andrew says as he takes his phone from the coffee table.

Aaron just furrows his brows and shakes his head, “Bye,” is all that comes out of his mouth before leaving the apartment.

Androw looks at the closed door, his heart racing like it does every time Aaron leaves his sight. He can feel little ants crawling under his skin and he knows that's where they'll stay until he'll see Aaron, alive and breathing, again.

♤♤

That evening Aaron comes back later than usual. Fourteen minutes later, to be exact.

Andrew is pacing the length of the living room when he hears the jingle of Aaron's keys as he pushes them in the lock. A few seconds later, Aaron walks inside the house and throws his coat on the hanger as if nothing is wrong.

“You're late,” Andrew says between gritted teeth as he stalks towards Aaron.

“What?” Aaron asks in confusion and bends down to untie his shoes.

“If you come home late you have to text and let me know.”

“I'm not even that late, just a few minutes and-”

“Fourteen.”

“What?”

“Not a few minutes. Fourteen minutes.”

Aaron sighs as he stands back up, confusion written all over his face.

Fourteen minutes of Andrew picturing Aaron's cold body in a back alley, on a white hospital bed, in a closet, in the middle of an empty street.

Fourteen minutes of Andrew picturing Aaron's vacant eyes staring at the sky, his pale skin tinted blue with death, his chest unmoving, his heart still.

Fourteen minutes of Andrew recalling Aaron's cold fingers in his hand, his icy forehead under his lips.

Fourteen minutes of waiting for his phone to ring, for the Doctor’s voice to inform him that his brother had died.

“I'm sorry,” Aaron says but it comes out as a question.

“Whatever,” Andrew replies before leaving a confused Aaron at the door and locking himself in the bathroom.

“Tell me something,” he says on the phone, his arms tightly wrapped around his legs as he sits in the corner between the sink and the wall.

He doesn't listen as Neil talks about his day, about practice, about anything and everything that comes to his mind. He lets Neil's calm and soothing voice wash over him, until it seeps into his brain, into his bones. Until breathing doesn't hurt anymore and the ants have left his body.

“Why won't you tell me what's wrong?” Neil asks on the other line, his voice full of worry.

“Aaron,” he says, his brother's name burning his lips as it leaves his mouth.

“Is he sick?”

“I just need to make sure he doesn't do something stupid and accidentally kills himself in the process.”

“You think he's going to?”

“I know he is.”

“Alright,” Neil says with a sigh. “But you have to promise me something.”

Andrew humms.

“Don't hurt yourself while trying to help him.”

Andrew stays silent for a second. There is nothing that he wouldn't be willing to do if it means saving Aaron from his fate, “I can't promise that.”

“Andrew-”

“He's my brother, Neil.”

“Does he even want to be? He just left you and Nicky and never looked back. Why would you put your mental well being at risk after all of your hard work for someone who wouldn't do the same for you?”

“That's not how it works.”

“What?” Neil asks.

“This is not a deal or a transaction. I'm helping him because I don't want him to be dead, not because I want him to do the same for me, not because I want him to give me something back,” he takes a deep breath and shakes his head even if Neil can't see him. “I just don't want him to be dead.”

“Fine just- just be careful and call me when you need to.”

“I will.”

A knock on the door interrupts Neil in the middle of a sentence, “I made dinner,” Aaron's soft voice comes from the other side when Ansrew doesn't reply.

“I have to go,” he says.

“Call me,” Neil replies before hanging up.

They eat dinner quietly on the couch, the sound of Aaron chewing something crunchy loud in the silent room.

"If you still want I have the list” Aaron says with downcast eyes.

“Then get it,” he replies after another long silence.

Andrew watches as Aaron rushes towards his bedroom, his bowl hastily placed on the coffee table.

Why are you so different, he wants to ask but doesn't.

“Here,” Aaron says a few seconds later as he hands him a wrinkled piece of lined paper, Aaron's elegant handwriting filling the page.

Andrew just nods at the paper and places it on the sofa by his side.

“You're not going to look at it?”

“I'm eating,” Andrew replies.

Aaron nods, his lower lip trapped between his teeth, a dot of blood staining his skin.

“Stop that and eat,” Andrew says, tapping Aaron's chin with his finger.

For a second it looks like Aaron is going to say something but before anything can come spilling out of his mouth, Aaron shakes his head and goes back to his dinner.

♧♧

“We're going for a picnic,” he tells Aaron on Wednesday, a week and a day after Aaron's death.

“What?” Aaron asks as he looks away from the open book on his lap.

“It's in your list, isn't it?”

“I mean, yeah but-”

“You have an hour to get ready. Chop chop.”

The sun is high in the sky by the time they reach the park. It's still a little cold outside, the air a little chilly, the sun a little weak.

“This is so nice,” Aaron says as he fiddles with the hem of the table cloth that Andrew had placed on the ground. There is a smile that Aaron is trying to hide on lips and it makes the ants under Andrew's skin disappear for a second.

“I always saw families having picnics when I was in primary school,” he tells Andrew as he bites the tuna, mayo and lettuce sandwich they had bought at the café near that park. “It would be better if Nicky were here too.”

Andrew just hums in reply.

“What's your favourite sandwich?” Aaron asks, trying to fill the silence.

“Probably-”

“Wait,” Aaron interrupts him. “I'll try to guess.”

Andrew looks at him a little puzzled as Aaron furrows his brows, a look of deep concentration painted on his face.

“I've got it,” he says after a few seconds, a crumb of white bread falling from the corner of his mouth. “Pulled pork with BBQ sauce.”

Andrew just nods.

“Now you,” Aaron says as he takes another bite from his sandwich.

“Me what?”

“Guess my favourite,” Aaron says, sounding a little too excited, his smile too bright.

“It's not that hard to guess. It's the same as mine. It's what we always got from highschool to college.”

“Mine is meatballs,” Aaron says quietly as he takes another bite of his sandwich.

“Since when?” Andrew asks. It had been years since the two of them had last eaten a sandwich together. Andrew can't help but to wonder what more he missed in Aaron's life.

“Since I was seven and a guy from school gave me a piece of his because I didn't have anything to eat,” Aaron says calmly without looking at Andrew. “I hate BBQ sauce.”

“But we always for pulled pork and BBQ,” Andrew says. It was their favourite, they would always eat it together for dinner after school.

Aaron just shrugs, “It was your favourite,” he says.

“But you-” Andrew begins but is interrupted by a ball landing on his leg.

“I'm so sorry,” a kid shouts as he runs towards them with his brother behind him. “We are so sorry. It was an accident.”

“It's fine, no one got hurt,” Aaron says, picking up the red ball and giving it back to the kid. “Just be more careful next time.”

“Oh my god it's clones,” the smaller child says while hiding behind his brother. “Like in star wars.”

“It's twins you idiot,” the older brother reprimands him as they run away.

♧♧

When Aaron gets back home on Thursday's evening at 9:45, he looks tired and upset. His shoulders are hunched, his movements slow, his eyes never once lift from the floor.

“What's wrong?” Andrew asks from where he's sitting on the couch.

“Just a bad day at work,” Aaron replies, his voice so low Andrew has to strain to hear him.

“Come,” he says, patting the couch.

“I just want to-”

“Come,” Andrew says again.

Aaron trudges towards the couch and Andrew can see a little tremor in his hands. He looks for signs of drug use but comes up empty.

“Speak,” he says as soon as Aaron is sitting on the couch by his side, his chin resting on his knees as he hugs his legs to his chest, his dirty shoes on the couch.

Aaron opens his mouth but no words leave his lips, just a shaky breath.

“It's okay,” he says as he watches the tremble in Aaron's lips. “Take a deep breath.”

Aaron shakes his head, his eyes wet, “I told his brother it was going to be fine but I-” a dry sob breaks Aaron’s sentence right in the middle. “It was just a little kid and it wasn't even- it really wasn't-”

“It's okay, Aaron,” he says even if he knows it's not.

“And his brother was just there alone and I told him- Andrew I told him that it would- that it would be fine,” there are tears running down his reddened cheeks.

“Can I touch you?” Andrew asks and waits for Aaron to nod his permission before taking Aaron's hand into his own. “You did what you could.”

Aaron closes his eyes for a second, “Can you-” he shakes his head.

“Can I what?”

“Nothing. It was silly.”

“Tell me,” Andrew says. “I'll decide if it's silly.”

A pause and then, “Can you sleep in my bed tonight?”

There is a longer pause, silence fills the room as Andrew thinks it over.

“I told you it was silly,” Aaron says, his eyes now open. “Forget about it.”

Andrew stays quiet for another second, “We can,” he says.

He waits for Aaron's breathing to go back to normal, for the tears to stop flowing down his cheeks, for the tremor in his hands to subside, and then he helps his brother back on his feet and towards his room. Aaron's legs are still shaky, his hold on Andrew's hand tight.

“I'll go wash up,” Aaron says, taking his pyjamas from where he had thrown it that morning and heading for the bathroom.

Andrew sits on the side of Aaron's bed as he waits, scanning the room. He finds it to be more tidy than it had been when Aaron had died, but still disorganised and messy.

“Why is it so messy?” he asks when Aaron walks back into the room. “You always used to keep everything tidy and in perfect order.”

“I just-” Aaron shakes his head and lets the sentence die. Andrew looks at him.

“Come on then,” he pulls down the covers and lies under them. He had missed sleeping in a real bed.

“You don't have to,” Aaron says standing in front of the bed.

“I know,” Ansrew replies. “It's my choice. Just don't touch me.”

“I won't,” his brother reassures him before climbing on the bed.

They lie in silence for a while, Andrew on his back, Aaron on his side, his eyes trained on Andrew.

“You're staring at me,” he says as he looks at Aaron from the corner of his eye.

“When I was a kid,” Aaron whispers as if he were sharing a secret. “I always wanted a brother to share everything with.”

Andrew hums in reply.

“I wanted to build a fort with covers and cushions that only me and my brother could enter. Our secret place where we would always be safe and never lonely.”

Andrew turns on his side and looks at his brother in the quiet dark.

“Goodnight Aaron,” he says, placing his hand on top of Aaron's.

“Goodnight Andrew.”

♧♧

“We are going to the market,” he tells Aaron Friday morning as soon as Aaron leaves his room

“I need to be at the hospital at 1 pm,” Aaron replies.

Andrew nods, “We're leaving in an hour.”

Andrew had never been to a farmers market before nor had he ever wanted to go to a farmers market.

“This is so fun,” Aaron is saying as Andrew tries to dodge the crowd of people that is flowing around him. “Look.”

Andrew isn't sure what Aaron is pointing at, nor does he care that much. The crowd is overwhelming, people constantly bumping into him and touching his body.

They walk around for a while, Aaron pointing to flowers and plants, fruits and vegetables as if he were in a museum instead of a street market.

“Did you know that to make just one pound of honey it takes 2 million flowers?” Aaron asks as they walk past a stand of honey. “Do you like honey?”

“What?” Andrew asks, distracted by a woman who bumped into him.

“You like sweets, so I was wondering if you like honey.”

“I don't know. Never tried.”

“Oh then I should totally buy you some. Come on,” Aaron says walking towards the honey vendor.

“Do you like honey?” Andrew asks as they wait for their turn.

“It's not really something you can eat spoonfuls of or you'll get sick, but I like it.”

They sit on a bench away from the crowd as soon as they buy the honey.

“Here, taste,” Aaron says, scooping some honey on the wooden spoon the vendor had given them.

Honey is sticky and sweet and it makes Andrew's throat burn a little because of the overwhelming sweetness.

“You don't like it?” Aaron asks with a little frown on his face.

Andrew shakes his head.

“Sorry,” Aaron mutters while closing the honey lid.

“What are you apologising for?”

“I thought you would have liked it,” Aaron shrugs.

Andrew just stares at him confused, his face blank.

“It's whatever,” Aaron says as he gets back up on his feet. “We should go home.”

Andrew watches as Aaron throws the jar of honey in the first street bin they find while they head towards Andrew's car.

♧♧

“Neil's playing today,” Aaron says on Sunday as Andrew is cooking dinner.

“Yeah,” Andrew replies because he noticed Aaron hates not receiving a reply.

“Do you want to watch the game?” he asks but then immediately turns on the TV without waiting for Andrew's reply.

When he goes into the living room with their dinner (Aaron's favourite italian pasta), the game has already started and Aaron is comfortably sitting on the couch with his legs crossed, a fluffy blue blanket around his shoulders.

“Thank you,” Aaron says with a smile, taking one of the plates from Andrew's outstretched hand and placing it on his legs. “It just started so you didn't miss much.”

It surprises Andrew how much Aaron talks during the game, how much he notices about the players and their plays, how much he knows about Andrew's team.

“Yeah, he's been doing that the whole season. He really needs to work on that.”

“You've been keeping up with the championship?” Andrew asks.

“Not really, I just watch the games where you, Kevin or Matt play.”

Andrew purses his lips as a mix of emotions explode in his chest. He wants to dig deeper, to ask why. Aaron never showed up for the foxes reunions at Wymack’s place, he cut all contact with everyone, he never once showed any interest in anyone, any will to be their friend.

Andrew wonders when had Aaron stopped making sense. He wonders if Aaron had ever made sense in the first place at all or if Andrew had made up a version of his brother in his head that had never once been real.

They spend the rest of the evening watching the game, a little smile on Aaron's lips as his hands flail around when he tries to explain sometimes to Andrew.

Could it have always been this easy? He wonders. Did Aaron have to die twice for them to finally spend time together like normal people?

Maybe, Andrew thinks, maybe everything can be fixed.

♧♧

“We are going to the zoo,” he tells Aaron on Monday morning while Aaron is still lying in his bed.

“What?” he asks, his voice low and full of sleep.

“Get ready, we're leaving in an hour.”

Andrew hates the zoo. It's boring and uninteresting. He doesn't care about where any of the animals came from nor from what they had been saved. It's cold and cloudy and the tips of his fingers are frozen. But the zoo was on Aaron's list and it seems to be working perfectly as a distraction: Aaron keeps speed-walking from one enclosure to the next, reading out facts that he seems to find interesting and cool.

“And this one was saved after hunters shot him down and he lost his ability to fly,” Aaron says after three long and excruciating hours of walking around the zoo surrounded by screaming children and annoying adults. “Isn't that so heartwarming?”

“Heartwarming?” he asks, focusing on the sad little bird sitting in the middle of a huge green field.

“Someone found him when he was just about to die and decided that he was worthy of being saved. They took care of him and gave him a new home.”

“He's a bird who can't fly. Alone in a huge field. It would've been more merciful to just let him die. What kind of life is this?”

He can feel Aaron's gaze on him as he looks at the bird but when he turns towards him, Aaron's eyes are back on the bird. He doesn't look excited anymore, his gaze soft and sad, something that Andrew can't decipher in his expression.

“It's almost lunch time,” Aaron says, looking away from the bird. “We should go home.”

♧♧

“Next time you are the one who has to visit,” Andrew says on Tuesday morning as he packs his bag. “We should also invite Nicky,” he adds.

“Sure,” Aaron says but there is something strange behind his eyes.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, just- I'm just very very tired,” Aaron says, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“You are not feeling like you're going to relapse, right?” Andrew asks, staring right into Aaron's eyes.

“What? No. No I don't,” Aaron replies, his eyebrows knitted together.

“Promise.”

“I promise,” Aaron says lightly.

“This is very serious Aaron. Promise me you won't touch any type of drug for any reason.”

“Andrew. I promise I won't touch any type of drug. Unless I'm administering it to a patient. Good?”

“Good.”

“Can I- Nothing,” Aaron says with a shake of his head.

“Tell me.”

“It's silly. Forget about it.”

“I'll decide if it's silly,” Andrew says.

“Can I hug you goodbye?”

Andrew is silent for a second. He can't remember ever hugging Aaron in his life. Not once.

“Yes,” he says.

Aaron moves slowly towards him, as if walking towards an easily spooked animal, afraid that I'll run away. When he's finally standing in front of Andrew, he carefully lifts his arms and places them around Andrew's neck, his cheek resting on his brother's shoulder. Andrew can feel Aaron’s warm breaths on his neck, his brother's heartbeat pounding on his body where their chests are touching.

Aaron is alive. His brother is still alive.

He tightens his hold around Aaron's waist. He had never hugged his brother before, he thinks again. In two other lives Aaron had died without ever getting to hug his brother.

Andrew could've gone his whole life without ever getting to share something as trivial and mundane as a hug between brothers.

♧♧

It's Tuesday, the twenty-second of May at six in the afternoon when Andrew's phone rings, the soft voice of a doctor on the other side, the words coming out of her mouth venomous and wrong, lies that Andrew can't comprehend, can't accept.

“That's impossible,” he says getting up from his couch. “Aaron promised he wouldn't touch any drugs. He promised me.”

Aaron promised. He had promised.

“Drugs?” the Doctor asks. “I'm really sorry for the misunderstanding Mr. Minyard but Doctor Minyard's cause of death isn't drug related.”

“What? He didn't overdose?”

“No, Sir. Your brother he- he I'm so sorry. He jumped off a bridge. I'm so sorry.”

Aaron had always claimed that he didn't feel like he was going to relapse. Why hadn't Andrew believed him.

He had been asking the wrong question the whole time. He had tried to solve the wrong problem.

Can I hug you goodbye? Aaron had asked a few hours ago.

Yes, Andrew had replied.

#aaron minyard #aftg #aftg fanfic #andrew minyard #twinyards #all for the game fanfic #fanfiction

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modernghostfare · 2 days

Text

uhhmm drabble about ghost and mace after soap's death. ao3 link 857 words. here it is on Tumblr tho

Ghost is notorious for changing phone numbers. This wasn't the case originally, when his mother was still alive and needed a way to contact her son easily. That was years ago. Now, Mace keeps the same number, and about once a month he receives a text from Unknown asking if he's too busy to talk. He’s always honest, either ignoring if he is busy or sitting with his phone in hand teasing Ghost for a second before calling.

Today, he gets the text in the middle of the day while he's eating lunch. Mace texts back once, “I'm eating.” Ghost doesn't wait for a back and forth before calling him.

“Oi,” he says as a greeting. He sounds gruff, but he always sounds gruff.

“Hey.”

Mace listens as he inhales and exhales what he can only assume is cigarette smoke. “What're you eating?”

“Rice and lamb.” Mace continues before Ghost can give more than a soft grunt in reply, teeming with need to pick at Ghost for a moment. “You're not too busy with that new guy to talk?”

"He died.” Ghost says. Blunt, even, said like he's eager to get this discussion over with already.

"Oh.”

"Mh.”

"I'm, um,” Mace struggles a bit. He looks at the phone out of the corner of his eyes, keenly aware this conversation could spark an argument quickly. “I'm sorry"

"S'okay, it's not your fault. It's Price's." Ghost sighs, almost immediately. Mace can hear a light clunk as the phone is set beside him. It's silent for a bit before there's a softer sound, and Ghost sounds further away when he speaks again. "I don't mean that."

"Yea," Mace agrees. He knows.

"I was there, too. It's just as much my fault."

Mace can hear it now, the haggard edge to his voice. He's been awake too long, probably, if Mace knows him right. He forgoes reassuring him, instead replies with his tone gentle, "what happened?”

"Just… It was quick. Price was grabbed, Soap was trying to help, he got shot. It did help, but," Ghost pauses. Mace can picture Simon, looking left and right at nothing, eyes unfocused.

"He didn't make it," Mace provides.

The phone is picked back up. Mace can hear as Ghost exhales against the microphone, his voice tense from the latest drag of his cigarette. "Right through his temple."

"Mh," Mace nods though Ghost can't see.

"Quick, at least."

"Did you go to the funeral? Has he had one yet?”

Ghost scoffs. "In my mask?"

"You could take it off,” Mace replies, tone still gentle, still trying to urge him out of this shell of his.

"Fuck. You." Mace can tell he'd brought the phone closer to his mouth. He pulls away again "Gaz and Price went. Gaz said it was nice. They took a bit of his ashes– well, his mom insisted they take some."

"Mh.”

"Had his urn."

"You saw it?"

"We spread them."

"So you did go to his funeral.”

There's a pause and Mace can see Ghost’s eyes rolling in his mind's eye. "Yeah, sure, our own funeral."

“That's nice. That's good,” Mace is genuine, glad Ghost is allowing himself closure this time.

“Sure.”

“It is,” Mace reiterates.

“I literally agreed with you,” he snaps back, already tired of this.

“Okay” Mace says, even and neutral. He stays quiet and Ghost follows suit, passively holding the phone in his hand while he smokes.

“M’still in Scotland.”

“I'm still in Urzikstan.”

“Shame,” Ghost replies.

“Yeah,” Mace agrees. “How long have you been there?”

“Just a night,” Ghost says as he rummages for something. It's all muted to Mace, Ghost’s cheap phone having a cheap microphone. Mace knows he'd say the same for his, so he keeps his phone to his ear, tucked between his head and his shoulder with no complaint.

Ghost stays quiet, huffing and messing with either wrappers or papers in his vicinity. Something plastic. Mace eats his food, only a little too cool now. Neither one of them hangs up, or wants to, despite the stretch of silence going on long enough for Mace to finish the plate, take it and the phone down to the kitchen sink, and go sit outside himself.

“Are you in a room?” he decides to ask, finally.

“Car,” Ghost sounds distant again. Mace can imagine he's set the phone on the dashboard.

“You spend the night there?”

“Yea.”

Bad for your back, Mace thinks fleetingly.

“Don't fuckin’ say anything,” Ghost says, seemingly hearing his thoughts.

“I didn't.”

“Good.”

“I didn't,” Mace laughs, soft and under his breath. “No need.”

Ghost snorts. He fidgets with the phone again before slamming a door and starting the car. Mace can hear the phone get set into a cupholder. “Wanna hang up?” he asks.

“Why? Are you goin’ somewhere?”

“Sounds like you are.”

“I’m just drivin’ back. I’ve got a fuckin’ stand to put my phone in; you’re not hangin’ up.”

“Oh,” Mace replies. Not a cupholder. “You want company while you drive?”

“If it won’t kill you.” Ghost huffs out air.

“Nah, baby,” Mace reassures him, deftly ignoring the bite in his voice. “I’ll be here.”

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #mwmp #simon ghost riley #mace cod #idr what my my fanfic tag is hol up

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ailelie · 2 days

Text

Exhausted Eddie Makes an Executive Decision

Buck is talking with Hen and he comments on how it would be nice to foster one day and how he still hopes to be a dad, but that seems even further away now that he's single again, and Eddie, who missed his morning coffee and has a headache building behind his right away, mutters a wish for patience.

Buck has Christopher and Eddie hopes Buck has somehow not realized this because the alternative is insulting. Before Eddie can think of anything to say, his phone beeps yet again. This damned conversation has been running since yesterday and Eddie is already exhausted with it. He had hoped that school parties and fundraisers would end at some point or, at the very least, become less communal. Surely 6th grade had to be the limit, but, no. Christopher is on the verge of high school (how?) and Eddie is still plagued by chat groups of parents parceling out tasks.

The current conversation is about the 8th grade dance which the school had been about the cancel for budget reasons before the parents stepped in and offered to host it instead. Since the school agreed yesterday, the conversation had not budged from an ongoing and increasingly ruthless argument over theme.

Eddie considers Buck's moaning about wanting to be a parent and makes an executive decision that a more caffeinated, less frustrated Eddie would have never made. He texts the group, "Hey, from now on Chris' other dad, Buck, is going to be handling school event planning. His number is XXX-XXX-XXXX. Please add him to the chat. I'm muting now. He'll let me know if I need to check in."

And he mutes the chat and turns his phone over. Across the room, Buck's phone chimes.

"You should get that," Eddie says, even though Buck is already reaching for his phone.

Buck opens the phone and his eyes round like quarters. His gaze flies to Eddie. "What?"

Eddie shrugs. "I already told you once, but since you don't seem to have understood: Congratulations. It's a boy. Don't promise us to do too much." Then, without further explanation, Eddie lowers his head to his arms, pressing his right eye against his wrist until he sees stars. He really needs to take some medication for this headache.

"Eddie," Buck says, his voice closer than before, "they're calling me Chris' dad."

"I know," Eddie says. "That's what I told them."

"What?" The high pitch of Buck's question drives an ice pick into Eddie's brain and he groans.

"Have you changed your mind?" Eddie hopes that isn't true. He doesn't know who else to put in his will.

"No, I mean, did I--" Buck continues to sputter questions. He seems confused, but not upset. The gist seems to be he wants to continue co-parenting Chris, but has somehow not realized that's what he's been doing.

Eddie looks up from his arms. "I'm not changing my will again."

"No, I don't want you to, but--" then Buck stops and his gaze sharpens. "Are you all right?"

"My head." Eddie lowers his head down again.

Buck reaches across the table and pats his shoulder. "I'll grab you some aspirin."

"And a coffee."

"And some water," Buck counter-offers.

Eddie groans, but doesn't argue. Hydration will probably help.

Buck returns quickly with the medicine and water. As Eddie is swallowing the pills, Buck says, "You don't think it will be confusing for Chris? What if someone calls me his dad around him?"

Eddie is so tired over pointless arguments. First the dance theme and now this. "That's what you are, Buck," he says, glaring--partially at Buck, partially because of his headache. "It is more confusing for him and me, honestly, when you deny it. What did you think the will was, Buck?"

Eddie lowers his head back to his arms. He had thought about adoption even back then, but that would have required Buck to sign as well and would have been difficult without them being married.

"Married?" Buck squeaks and Eddie realizes he'd muttered all of that out loud.

"For adoption," Eddie clarifies in case Buck missed that part, though, honestly, the idea of marriage in general doesn't seem like a terrible idea. He already likes and trusts Buck in a way he hasn't any of the women he's dated recently. Eddie tilts his head on his arms and looks up at Buck through his left eye.

He's practically already married to Buck, isn't he? All they need to do is file some paperwork and move into together. Well, that, and one other thing. "Come here," Eddie says.

"What?" Buck asks, as he leans forward.

"Closer."

"Do you need to whisper in my ear or something?" Buck asks, leaning closer.

"Or something," Eddie agrees. When Buck is close enough, Eddie loops his left around Buck's neck and pushes up to kiss him, quick and sweet.

There are no fireworks or epiphanies. Kissing Buck feels as easy as talking to him. No rushing heart rate. No stressing over whether Eddie is doing it right. No feeling like he's on stage. Just normal.

Eddie presses in for a second quick kiss and lets Buck go. He folds his arm back under his head, eyes sliding shut. Sleep is tugging at him. "Not just for adoption then."

"What?" Buck says again like it's his new favorite word. Then his phone chimes a few times in quick succession.

"Please make them pick a damn theme already," Eddie says. The words unspool from him slowly as sleep stretches over him. "And we're not chaperoning. Or designing the decor. Anything else is okay. Trust you."

"Um, okay then," Buck replies, though his voice is soft and distant. "We're talking about this later."

Eddie hums and falls asleep.

Buck turns. Hen eyes are as wide as her frames. "Did he just--" she asks just as Buck asks, "Did you see--"

They both stop. Buck touches his lips as he crosses the room back to Hen. "He kissed me. Twice."

"I know. Was that the first time?"

Buck nods. "I think he said something about marriage?" Laughter is bubbling up his throat, which is better than tears, he guesses. "He called me Chris's dad and acted like I have been for ages."

His phone chimes again and Buck opens the parent chat. He holds it up for Hen to see. "He told basically every parent at Chris' school that I'm his other dad. He has a headache and was half asleep, what's going to happen when he realizes what he did?"

"In vino veritas, Buck."

"He isn't drunk."

Hen rolls her eyes. "No, but aren't you the one who explained at length the other day about how being tired is basically the same as being drunk? Will Eddie be embarrassed when he wakes up? Maybe. Will he take anything back? I doubt it."

Buck's phone chimes again.

"Instead of worrying about it," Hen says. "Why don't you take care of that?" She nods toward the phone.

"Right," Buck says, pushing the kiss, marriage talk, and being Chris' dad to the side until Eddie is awake. He takes a deep breath. "I can do that."

He reads through the messages he missed and types a quick introduction. "Hey, this is Buck. Thanks for pulling me in. Can someone catch me up? Eddie's busy at the moment."

The replies start rolling in. He can do this.

And, when Eddie wakes up, Buck is going to find out what the hell his partner has been thinking.

#buddie #buck/eddie #fic #9-1-1 fic

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absquatulatevelcro · 2 days

Text

Don't make promises you can't keep, Hawks.

《 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍 𝙭 𝙃𝘼𝙒𝙆𝙎/𝙆𝙀𝙄𝙂𝙊 𝙏𝘼𝙆𝘼𝙈𝙄 》

"I understand that. I really do. But I can't keep feeling like I'm second place. Like I don't matter as much as your job."

"You do matter. More than anything. And I promise—"

"Don't make promises you can't keep. "

Tumblr banner is currently being edited

The sun had just begun to set over Musutafu, casting a warm glow over the skylines. I glanced around as i nervously fiddled with my white uniform. Tonight was supposed to be special—one of the most important nights of my life. My graduation before I become a fully-fledged nurse and become someone that can help another person even without a quirk, to be called useful for once.

Everything I struggled for ages– the culmination of my years of hard work and dedication.. And Hawks, my boyfriend, who promised to be there.

The soft ping of my phone pulled me from my anxious thoughts. I quickly picked it up, my heart sinking as I saw Hawks' name flash across the screen.

"Sorry, babybird." My heart sanked as I blinked a couple of times, hoping it wouldn't be another case of his 'hero duty'— Yet..

"Got called away on urgent hero duty last second. I'll make it up to you tommorow."

I stared at the message, a mix of disappointment and frustration bubbling up inside me. I knew being a hero was important, that he was out there saving lives. But, that of course, wasn't the first time he'd had to break a promise because of his job.

The place was already bustling when I arrived. Friends, family, and strangers alike wandered the space, admiring everything and cheering for the sea of proud graduates, their crisp white nurse uniform adorning their frames as they celebrated with everyone.

I forced a smile, greeting those who congratulated me, but my heart wasn't in it. Every time the names were called, I looked behind me, hoping to see Hawks' familiar figure at the entrance, his wings tucked behind him, his smile that always made me feel like everything was going to be okay.

But he never came.

Hours passed, and as the evening drew to a close, the seays began to empty ss each graduates immediately ran to those who they seeked warmth. I stood by one of my friends as my mind began to wander.

Will he always do this?

Maybe he's already on his way..Would his work always come first? Even in my most... important events in my life?..

Lost in the bittersweet memoriesof our shared past, my reverie is abruptly shattered by the sound of my name being called. Instinctively, I turn towards the entrance, longing for his familiar presence. But once again, he's nowhere to be found.

The excitement of the night had long since faded, replaced by a hollow ache. With a heavy sigh, I stood up from my seat and made my way to the platform to receive my diploma. As I gaze at the crowd, my eyes searched for familiar faces before smiling upon seeing my circle fo friends along with my family.

My eyes felt hesitant as I slowly descended the platform, lost in contemplation before a soft voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Hey," I turned to see Aiko, one of my closest friends, standing beside me. "You did an amazing job tonight. You finally got your dream job, huh?"

"Thanks," I mumbled, eyes averting her as I stare at my diploma with a heavy heart. "But not really. I still need to find... a job. Im just a certified nurse now." I said, forcing another smile.

She nodded before frowned, looking at me with concern. "He didn't make it, did he?"

I shook my head, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Hero duty."

Aiko sighed, pulling me into a hug. "I'm sorry. I know how much you wanted him to be here."

We stood like that for a moment, her presence a small comfort in the midst of my disappointment. Eventually, she pulled back, giving me an encouraging smile.

"He's missing out, you know. You're amazing, and if he can't see that... well, then he’s the one who’s losing." She said softly.

I nodded, appreciating her words, but it didn't make the hurt go away. After saying our goodbyes, I gathered my things and left the stadium after a few hours of speeches, the night air cool against my skin. I walked slowly, letting the sounds of the city wash over me, trying to clear my mind.

When I finally reached my apartment, I found Hawks waiting outside, his wings drooping and a guilty look on his face.

"Hey," he said softly, stepping forward. "I'm so sorry I couldn't make it. Things got really intense out there, and—"

"It's always something, isn't it?" I cut him off, my voice sharper than I intended. "Every time you promise you'll be there, something comes up. I get that your job is important, but... I needed you tonight, Keigo. And you weren't there."

He looked down, his expression pained. "I know. And I hate that I keep letting you down. But being a hero... it's not something I can just walk away from."

I took a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. "I understand that. I really do. But I can't keep feeling like I'm second place. Like I don't matter as much as your job."

He reached out, gently taking my hands in his. "You do matter. More than anything. And I promise—"

"Don't," I interrupted, pulling my hands away. "Don't make promises you can't keep." Silence hung between us, heavy and suffocating.

Finally, he sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I don't know how to make this right. But I love you, and I want to find a way to make this work. Please, just give me a chance.. Y/N please.."

I looked at him, seeing the sincerity and regret in his eyes. Despite everything— I loved him too.. Too much, Infact.

But I also knew I couldn't keep living like this, constantly wondering if he'd be there when I needed him.

"Okay," I said softly. "But things have to change, Keigo. We need to find a balance, or this isn't going to work."

He nodded, a flicker of home glimmered in his eyes as he hugged me tightly.

"I pro—"

"Please. Just say your gonna change without the word 'promise'."

—

The weeks that followed were filled with tension and uncertainty. Hawks tried to make it up to me, showering me with gifts and affection, but it felt like a band-aid over a gaping wound.

No matter how hard we tried, we couldn't seem to find that balance we so desperately needed. His hero duties only seemed to intensify, each mission more dangerous than the last.

There were even nights when I would lie awake, listening to the sound of his wings as he took off into the darkness, wondering if he would always do this.

Yet, another incident came— I had agreed to give hawks another chance to redeem himself after missing out one of my most important days, hoping agasint hope that things would be different this time. But as my birthday approached, a familiar sense of dread settled in the pit of my stomach.

I tried to push aside the memories of his broken promises from the past and especially the night before my graduation, telling myself that this time would be different. He had assured me that he would be there, that he wouldn't let anything get in the way of celebrating with me.

But as the hours ticked by and the sun dipped below the horizon, I found myself standing alone in our apartment, the silence deafening.

My phone remained stubbornly silent, no messages or calls from Hawks to explain his absence. I paced the living room, my frustration growing with each passing minute.

How could he do this to me again? After everything we had been through—after all the talks we had about communication and trust, he had still managed to let me down...

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I sank onto the couch, the weight of disappointment crushing me. I had hoped this birthday would be different, that maybe, just maybe, Hawks would prove me wrong.

But once again, his hero work had taken precedence over our relationship, leaving me feeling abandoned and alone.

As the night wore on, I eventually drifted off to sleep, the ache in my heart weighing heavily on my dreams.

When I woke the next morning, Hawks was nowhere to be found. And deep down, I knew that he never would be.

Don't make promises your cant keep, Hawks.

MASTERLIST

#bnha hawks #boku no hero academia #mha hawks #my hero academia #mha #bnha #takami keigo #hawks #hawks x reader #mha keigo x reader #oneshot #angst #cross posted on ao3

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