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chaethewriter · 1 year

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You're dead to me [4]

dad!Jake Sully x human!daughter!reader

In which Jake Sully leaves his life on earth to settle down with the Omatikaya people as Toruk Makto. Having a family that consists of four kids with Neytiri, everything seems to work out just fine, but what if the past comes back for him? And his babygirl is right there in front of him?

warning: english isn't my first language, angsty, vulnerable Jake, PTSD, night terrors

Word count: 3k

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Jake Sully felt like gripping his dreadlocks out of his head. He barely showed it when he felt conflicted and unfocused, usually able to hide it well. But right now he couldn't keep the facade up the entire time, acting like everything was fine and it seemed like Neytiri caught on to his behavior as well. He was pacing around the pod as he thought of you, the young warrior that was giving him the silent treatment and he wanted to know why. "Ma Jake," a hand is placed on his shoulder and he stopped his frantic pacing, turning his head to the side to come face to face with his mate, "what is up with you lately? You have been so tense these days." Ever since he met you a few days ago, you didn't leave his mind, wondering what it was with you that made him want to treat you as his own. Was it your name? The fact you were so young? Could it be possible that you really were his daughter? Then why didn't you say anything? Is he officially turning delusional right now? Neytiri wrapped her arm around him as she helped him sit on the woven carpets, her cheek leaning against his shoulder, "talk to me, speak to me." It felt nice to know he could rely on someone, but this wasn't an ordinary problem he could talk about. He never really spoke about his life back on planet earth to anyone, because it was his past life. His present self is on Pandora, so he focused on learning the Omatikaya ways and his focus was on his future. But he always wondered how you were and what you were up to. If you were well and living your life to the fullest. He wished he could have been there to watch you grow up. But now that this warrior was here, he had to know. Was it you? His sweet babygirl? The one who would ask for cuddles everytime you saw him? The one that sat on his lap on his wheelchair as they went outside? His sweet child? Answers is what he needed, but he didn't want to be a bother or seem delusional. What if he made all of this up, because he missed you? "I don't know how to say this, yawne, I'm so conflicted. So guilty." He expected her to reply, but she stayed quiet. She wanted him to explain at his own pace without interfering. His hand dug down to take his hunter's knife in his grip, as he hold it upside down. Neytiri watched his grip on the knife as she squints her eyes. She noticed how something is dangling from the end. She saw it a few times around the pod, knowing it was Jake's. Yet she didn't want to pry him into telling her what it was. He would tell her himself eventually and the time to tell was now. A bond is formed around trust and she trusts him. The locket tiny is in comparison to their size. She watched how he untied the small chain from the thumb hole at the end of the handle. He struggled a bit, because of how tiny the knot was. Pulling at the chain with his fingernails, once he pulled the chain away from the hunter's knife he sheathed the sharp object back to his hip. He pulled Neytiri closer to him as he sucked a ton of air into his lungs, preparing himself for the one big thing he hid from his family this entire time. He had a lot of explaining to do.

Neytiri awaited what he was about to show and tell her. He clicked the photo locket open with his fingernail, revealing a picture of an adorable little girl that are you. Your head was tilted to the side as you flashed a bright cute smile, your chubby cheeks making you ten times more adorable. "This is my daughter, from back on earth." His index finger traced your face as he started feeling even more guilty for never telling his mate. What would she feel at the moment? Betrayal? He watched as Neytiri's expression retorted into an upset one. His hand grabbed a hold of hers, shaking his head as if he could know what she was thinking, "there was no one special back on earth. Only you, ma yawne. I adopted her after her parents passed. I raised her since she was a baby like she was biologically mine." The way Jake spoke about his daughter with pride made a smile creep onto her face, "she's adorable for a human." Jake rolled his eyes in response, of course, she would say something like that. "But why did you stay?" The question came out of nowhere, one he definitely wasn't expecting and one he definitely couldn't answer clearly, "what?" Jake didn't really ask her that question to his mate, he was surprised. "Why did you stay here on Pandora, instead of returning to earth?" The question was overwhelming him, as his lips were pursed and his hand went to his face, burying his nose into his palms. He thought back to his life as a human: he felt miserable, lost, and an alcoholic as he mourned. He was paralyzed, full of PTSD and night terrors as an ex-military. Yet he had one thing that made his life a good one: you.

His head was pounding as his vision was blurred, his ears ringing in pain. When he opened his eyes to look around, all he saw was blood. His dead comrades are covered in blood, bombs, and explosions going off around him. His head feels fuzzy as he turns to his right, coming face to face with your biological father, lying dead on the ground. Even though his eyes were wide open, they were dull and lifeless. Jake lets out a scream, but he couldn't look away. Then your biological dad's body opened his mouth, "you should have jumped in front of the bullet for me. You don't deserve to live, you had nothing. I had everything, a family, a daughter yet to be born. You stole her for me, you don't deserve this life! You don't deserve her!" The words felt like a knife stabbed him in the heart, someone holding onto the handle to twist it around some more to intensify the pain.

Daddy..

The words were faint.

Daddy..!

Who was that?

Why did it feel so familiar?

"Daddy!!" He was shaken to the core as your hands frantically shook his shoulders. He opened his eyes as he was met with your teary eyes. You were seated on his chest in your cute Disney pajamas, the ones he bought you, as you shook his body, "daddy was crying, me woke up and scared." You babbled as you leaned in to wrap your arms around Jake. "Daddy hurt?" Jake immediately wrapped his arms around you as tight as he could, squeezing you in his arms as he shook his head, "I'm not baby," he reassured you, but those words kept ringing in his head. He didn't deserve you.

The next night he drank, drank all he could to distract himself from the pain. He doesn't deserve you. It's his fault. He doesn't deserve to be your dad. He was drunk when he wheeled himself home in his wheelchair, feeling all dizzy as he unlocked the front door. He put you to sleep before he left, so surely you would still be sleeping right? Wrong. When he opened the door, he was met with your teary eyes yet again. He felt a pang in his chest. He kept hurting you, yesterday and now today as well. "Daddy is back? Couldn't sleep without daddy." You babbled as you walked towards him with a plushie in your arms. It was old and about to fall apart. He always told you how you should throw it away since you were gifted a lot of other plushies that you got from people you knew. You always told him no, because it's the plushie you got from him. He drank a lot yes, but seeing you it felt like he already sobered up. He picked you up from under your armpits and put you on his lap, "Yes babygirl I'm back, worry no more." You smiled at him as you pressed your lips against his, "I love you daddy!!" He was scared to say it back, he didn't deserve you to love him. Instead he just held you close, one arm on your head as the other was wrapped around your back.

I love you too my baby, I really do. I'm sorry I can't do better.

Jake finally opened up to Neytiri. About his night terrors, the guilt that ate him up from the inside how he watched you grew up and not your biological parents. How your biological dad, his comrade, died during the war they fought in. How he should have taken the bullet and died to give you your real dad. How your mom died during your birth and that's how you got into his arms. Then he talked about you. That he fell in love with you the moment you were in his arms. He told her what you were like and how you were the light of his life during his dark human times. How you always wanted to bake with him, but it ended up in a flour fight because none of you could cook. So in the end he would order pizza and sit on the couch with you on his lap, eating as you watched a Disney movie with him. She didn't know what flour was, or pizza and Disney, but eagerly listened to his words with a smile. Her mate was smiling as he was talking about you and it made her love you. "And she never wanted me to go shopping without her, to protect me from bad people. She would climb to stand on my lap to get something from the top shelf as I held her short legs." You truly were his angel and Neytiri could see how much you meant to him, but one thing was bugging her.

"But why is your sky daughter distracting you now out of all days, after so long of not seeing her? what is the entire story, ma Jake?" Neytiri really did know him the best, better than he knew himself. He couldn't lie to her, so he told her the truth, the thoughts that have been eating him alive from the inside. What the Tsahik, her mother, told him. The conflicts he had the day he met you, how you gave him the cold shoulder. The dots connected in his head, this wasn't coincidental, Eywa doesn't do coincidences like these. And Neytiri seemed to agree with the look she gave him, "why don't you talk to that demon child?" She hissed as she spoke, the girl she called cute moments ago not looking so cute anymore once she connected that little face to the young warrior that disrespected her mate. If you really were his daughter, she still wouldn't think twice to teach her a lesson. Are sky people all born with that disrespect, ignorance and selfishness? She remembered when she met Jake, he was ignorant like a baby and making noise for no reason. Jake rubbed his temple, the situation getting even more complicated than he thought it would get. His mate who hates sky people together in a room with the sky girl that could be his daughter. Oh Eywa, how was he supposed to handle this? "Ma yawne please don't call her that. And yes, I tried, many times. But every time I try to look for her, she always manages to just slip past my fingers." A huff left his lips as the entire situation frustrated him to the core. He didn't want to jump to conclusions, or get his hopes up. So he needed to get her to talk. He was deep in thought, but then he got an idea as if a light bulb lit up above his head. "I-I need to go somewhere!" He frantically got up from his sitting position, feeling utterly stupid that he didn't think of this before. Ask Norm. Neytiri shook her head with her lips pursing, a small smile forming, hoping everything will turn out well for him. Because even though she hated sky people, she wanted the best for him.

"You can't run away forever," Norm says as a matter of fact as he watched you sharpening your katana on one of the lab tables with his arms crossed, the map of files under his armpit. A groan leaves your lips as you sent him a frown. Norm only smiles, ", you know you have to face him eventually." He took a seat next to you, and he put the map down on the same table you were working on. Norm read your file the same day you had your checkup, the fighting without a mask. Stupid idea by the way. Being a close friend to Jake Sully, he couldn't help but be curious as he spoke to you about it. That's when you told him the whole story. He felt for you but nagged you to eventually talk to him to make up for all the lost time. And to this day he is still nagging you. You let out a groan as you slammed your forehead against the metal table, "Norm, please! Why is everyone forcing me to talk to him?!" "Because he's your dad?", he says as a matter of fact and you frown at his smug face, "whatever mister know it better, I'm going to get some fruits from the forest." You got up from your seat and sheathed your katana into the safety strap on your hip. You walk towards the door as you took your mask off it, putting it against your face. "Think about it while you're gathering those fruits! Maybe Eywa will knock some sense into you when you walk through mother nature." With an annoyed hiss, you took off.

At the same time, Jake Sully made his way toward the lab. The two of you just missed each other as you went the other way. He slammed the first door open, the door disinfecting him as he took the oxygen mask off the wall. He then opened the second door and immediately took a whizz of the Pandorean air through the mask, attaching it at his hip, "NORM!" His voice boomed through the room, but there was no response in the common area. He stepped further inside the room in an awkward position. He couldn't fit inside the room, so he had to bend his back, yet his head still hit the roof. One of his hands was placed on the roof to keep his balance. "Norm!" He screamed yet again, huffing in annoyance as no one seemed to answer him. No scientist was in sight. Was everyone busy? He decided to walk around the room, well it wasn't really walking in his instance as one step was already almost across the room. His head cocked to the side as his eyes met the map on the table. It was the map from a few days ago, the one Norm gave him and was ripped from his hands by you. He knew he shouldn't do it, but curiosity took over. The same curiosity when he first got into the forests of Pandora. His knees hit the cold floor as he sat down. He took the map in his hands, it being the same size as his palm as he flipped the page with his finger. It was all in Na'vi, as the resistance didn't mind integrating into their culture. The first page was the checkup, with notes all around the text, about Seb, Raja and you. He continued flipping, a page about Seb. He didn't care about him, so he continued flipping and flipping. He grew frustrated as he couldn't find your information. Then he reached one of the last pages.

(Y/N) (L/N) SULLY.

His eyes widened, his heart cracking and beating in his throat all at the same time. Your birth date was the same, your birthplace was the same, and the names of your biological parents. As well as his name right under it. He felt dizzy all of a sudden. His breath hitched in his throat. It really was you. "Norm, I'm back." You walked into the room once you put your mask away, a lot of fruits in your arms that humans could digest. "I was so kind to bring fruits for everyone, you better tha-," when you got into the room, you weren't met with Norm, Max, or any other of the scientists that stayed on Pandora. No, you were met with Jake Sully. Your father. You dropped the fruits you were holding on the floor and at the same time the map fell out of his hands. Jake Sully got up from the floor, proceeding to hit his head against the ceiling at the way he suddenly got up. But he didn't feel the pain, he couldn't feel anything except his heart beating so fast with his eyes focused on his daughter, "my babygirl.." the way he spoke your nickname in his English accent made your heart beat in your throat. He took a step towards you, but you backed away, "don't, don't touch me." Your lips pursed as the tears welled up in your eyes. "My baby-" "I SAID DON'T!!" your scream filled the room, "Don't say anything, Jake Sully." Your voice was harsh as you spoke his name, your expression furious yet so upset.

And he felt his heart break.

A/N: thank you sm for reading. I appreciate the comments you all leave me. Thank you for all the support! I also thought of writing a Neteyam x reader after this, so let me know if you would like to read that. <3

Taglist in the comments cause it doesn't fit here [legit felt like I was tagging like 200 people, so annoying I can only tag 5 per comment]

Y'all have some interesting usernames

#Jake sully #jake sully x human!reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x reader #dad!jake sully #dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad! jake sully #sully family x reader #sully family #neteyam x reader #neteyam #neteyam x sister!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader

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simphornies · 2 months

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A/N: The Alastor x Reader x Lucifer fic nobody asked for <3 I hope you all enjoy

Word count: 3.3k (3,360) Warnings: THIS IS LITERALLY SMUT AND SMUT AND SMUT. MINORS DNI.

Our Darling Angel - [ Alastor x F!Reader x Lucifer ]

You spent the day driving your boyfriends insane. There was no absolute reason for it besides one thing: the consequences for it.

Charlie had thrown a party, inviting everyone she could to from the seven rings to the hotel in hopes of recruiting new sinners. With Lucifer’s help, plenty of them came. Moreso for the alcohol but the sight of so many demons in the hotel filled Charlie with enough joy that she settled for it, enjoying the party to the fullest.

You donned a beautiful gown that hugged your curves perfectly and showed enough skin to rile up your partners. Alastor wasn’t allowed to kill anybody during the party but he definitely took note of who tried to push their advances on you. His eyes twitched from rage, his smile wide and almost menacingly tight. He kept watch from a distance, watching over you from the balcony on the second floor.

Lucifer, on the other hand, was the one on the floor with you to whisk you away from audacious demons that would try to dance with you. You noticed how they were both on the edge and a little idea popped into your head. You gave Lucifer a kiss on the cheek after telling him to go relax and have fun, wind down and grab some drinks from the bar.

“Hey, Y/N! Did you want anythin—” He turned to face where you were to see that you were gone. He looked around frantically and glanced up at where Alastor was, hoping you were beside him. All he saw was the irritation evident on his face. His ears pinned flat against his head. Alastor looked at Lucifer and tilted his head over to the direction you were in. When Lucifer got to look, you were on the dance floor, dancing away with some lowly sinner.

Lucifer, seething with jealousy at the sight of someone else’s hands on you, started to walk towards you but stopped in his tracks at the sight of your smile.

You loved to dance, often doing so with Alastor and Lucifer. He decided not to stop you and sighed in defeat. He grabbed two drinks before heading up to where Alastor was.

You felt their gazes on you the entire time, often sneaking a glance at them as you were spun around and passed onto another dance partner. They were jealous. Painfully and obviously jealous.

The music changed and both of your beloveds’ ears perked up. Alastor’s hair fluffed up in rage and Lucifer was doing his absolute best to maintain his composure. It was undoubtedly requested by Asmodeus. The music was sensual, usually intended for couples. You were in the middle of it all, thriving off of the spotlight.

They watched you intently, desperately wanting to whisk you away and take the place of whoever was your partner. Their claws were practically digging into whatever surface they were on, leaving behind scratch marks.

Everyone was in sync, so they somewhat understood that this is how the dance is supposed to go. But the way your hips were touched, the way you swayed them, the way you were spun and the way you bent backward onto the hand on your back, they couldn’t take it any longer.

Lucifer was the first to go, excusing himself to go to your shared bedroom. Alastor followed not too long after.

You had the time of your life, drinking and dancing the night away. You bid everyone farewell, giving the guests the little pamphlets Charlie made to advertise the hotel. Your feet were sore from moving in the heels and after wishing everyone a good night, you head up into your room.

“I’m here!” You announced as you walked into the room. Lucifer was on the bed, impatiently waiting for you. He practically ran over to you and hugged you like you almost died. “Luci—”

“I just…missed you.” He says as he looks up at you with the most heartwarming puppy dog eyes.

You smile sweetly, running your fingers through his golden locks. “I live with you.” You giggled.

“I can miss you even if you’re next to me all the time!” He huffed.

You laughed and pushed him away gently. “I have to go shower. Keep my side warm for me!” You ran to the bathroom to wash off the sweat and soothe your muscles. As soon as you got out and dried yourself off, you put on a silk robe that Alastor gifted you. You left the bathroom stretching your sore arms out. Lucifer glanced at you from the bed with a look in his eyes, you couldn’t quite catch it since he turned around too fast. “Where’s Ala—”

You felt hands grab you from behind, causing you to instinctively tense up. “Did you enjoy yourself, my dear?” Alastor asked, rubbing your shoulders gently.

“Alastor!” You grinned, “Yes I did. Did you see me killing it on the dance floor? If it was a competition, I think I would’ve won if I do say so myself.” You said, beaming with pride completely unaware of the lust filled looks you received from both of them as Alastor walked you to the bed.

“Oh we sure did see you, darling!” Alastor responds, jealousy evident in his voice. He leaned closer to your ear, whispering in his low and radio laced voice, “We sure watched you.”

His voice sent shivers down your spine. The moment you were on the bed, Lucifer gently turned your head with a soft hand. “You looked like you had fun, babe. Putting on a beautiful show like that.” He was dangerously close to your face, causing you to let out a gasp.

“I-I’m glad you enjoyed it—”

Before you could continue, Alastor grabs your face with his hand, turning it so you face him, “Enjoyed? What is there to enjoy after seeing filthy sinners touch you like that? So…provocatively.”

Your face warmed up and you were unsure if it was from the heat that radiated from them being so close or if it was from the instant arousal at the subtle growl in their voices.

“Don’t tell me you two are jealous?” You teased, pushing your luck. “If you two wanted to dance with me, you should’ve said so!”

In an instant, you were on your back with your head in Alastor’s lap as he held your wrists together with his shadows. Your hips held in place by Lucifer. It didn’t take long for you to see and feel the tightness in their pants.

“Darling. You are ours and ours alone, or have you forgotten?” Alastor questioned, his eyes darkened and his smile was menacing.

“I think she needs a reminder that she doesn’t need any other hands on her, Al.” Lucifer smirks at you.

You gulped and started to nervously laugh, “I-I know! I'll never forget that!”

“The way you allowed such filth to touch you in such a way, dance or not, tells us you’ve forgotten. I believe you need a reminder of who you truly belong to.”

You squeezed your thighs tightly together only for them to be pried open by Lucifer with ease. Lucifer unties your robe, exposing your whole self to them both. He chuckled as he saw how you dripped with delight.

“Did we excite you, sweetheart?” Lucifer asked, teasing your entrance with soft grazes. You gasped at the feeling of his cold fingers running up and down, passing by your clit without touching it.

“And no underwear, dear? My, you must have been expecting this!” Alastor exclaimed. “You’re not allowed to cum unless we say so, understood?”

You nodded and thrusted your hips to beg for more of Lucifer’s attention. “Ah ah, baby~” He tuts, “You don’t get to have a say on how tonight goes. Not after that display you put on.” He slides a finger inside of you slow enough for you to whine about it. He held your hips down, not allowing you to buck your hips for more.

“You can take this, can’t you darling?” Alastor teased, his hand caressing your cheek softly, “After all, this is your own doing.”

Lucifer pumped his finger in and out of you, curling it as soon as he’s fully inside to rub the spot he knew you loved the most. You let out a sinful moan as he does, wriggling underneath them both. Alastor’s hand travels from your cheek to your breasts, massaging them. His grins widen at the sounds you made underneath him.

Lucifer pulled his finger out of you, admiring the arousal that coated it. You let out a desperate whine at him, “Pl-please.” You whimpered, looking at him with lust filled eyes. “More please, Luci.”

Without a second’s notice he moved his head down to your entrance.He held your thighs open and ravaged your insides with his tongue. You shake underneath them, eyes looking up at Alastor. His eyes and ears were blessed with your audible pleasure. Lucifer didn’t stop at just using his tongue. His finger played with your clit, giving it undivided attention as he licked you up. The knot in your stomach tightened itself. You squirm, “Ah~ L-Luci!” You felt your climax inching closer and closer as well as Lucifer did. He felt your walls tighten around his busy tongue but that only sped him up.

He undressed himself, his cock springing out from his tight pants oozing with pre-cum.

“What are you begging for, Y/N?” Lucifer teased as Alastor traced your chin with his finger. “Speak up, my love.”

“Now now, you’re far too kind to her after that tantalizing show she put on for us.” Alastor hums, his hands wrapping your throat loosely, “Beg.”

“Please please fuck me Lucifer! Please!” You whined, prying your eyes from Alastor’s deep gaze. He hums at your pleading, eyeing you with a smirk on his face. He lined himself up but remained still at your entrance.

He leaned closer to the side of your head, whispering into your ear. “And why should I?” His voice was deeper than usual, a slight growl coated his words and his grip on your hips tightened.

“You seemed awfully comfortable with other hands on you, my dear!” Alastor’s grip on your throat tightened ever so slightly, “My…they might believe that anyone can touch what’s ours.”

“No! No. Never again. I won’t let it happen ag—” You gasped as Lucifer shoved himself into you. You threw your head back on Alastor’s lap and felt the tent in his lap. He let out a low growl when he felt your cheek graze it.

Lucifer thrusted into you no mercy, not giving you an opportunity to think. Alastor moved you off of him to undress. Your mind melted every time Lucifer moved in and out of you, his cock never missing your sweet spot. “Your body was made perfectly for this, baby.” His voice was shaky, losing himself in his own pleasure.

For a moment, you felt him pull out. Before you could whine from the emptiness you were flipped onto your knees, now on all fours. He slammed himself back inside of you, his cock hitting your cervix. Your walls tightened around him, screaming his name over and over

Alastor was on his knees in front of you, his own cock twitching for attention. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking it ever so slightly to make you look up at him. “Eyes on me, darling.” His eyes were dark, filled with lust as he gazed into yours. “I believe you know what to do.”

You nod and take him into your mouth practically drooling for it. Every thrust Lucifer did pushed you to take more of him in, hitting the back of your throat. Alastor grinned and stroked your hair, “Good girl.” Your focus was nonexistent but you tightened at his praise.

“Y-You’re going to milk me, baby. Fuck you’re so tight.” Lucifer growls into your ear, voice low and deep. Your muffled begging made him smirk, “You’re going to take it all in right? Every. Last. Drop?” He thrusted at every word. He slammed himself into you, burying himself to the hilt as you felt him shoot strings of warmth inside. You couldn’t hold yourself in any longer and came around him, moaning as Alastor’s cock was deep in your throat as your body shook in pleasure. The vibrations of your moan made him let out a low growl of pleasure. They both tutted in disapproval upon realizing what you had done.

“Oh my darling little doe…” Alastor caressed your cheek, his claw grazing it slightly. “You weren’t allowed to do that.” Without a warning he thrusted into you, fucking your mouth without mercy. His movements pushed you back and forth on Lucifer’s cock, still hard and raring to go like when he first started.

You were lost in the pleasure, no longer aware of anything they’re saying. Your eyes rolled back, surrendering your body to both demons with no regard for your physical state tomorrow. You felt Alastor twitch on your tongue and you immediately took it upon yourself to regain whatever strength you had to suck him as he went. He made sure your eyes stayed on him the whole time, admiring your submissiveness and the way you took him in. “So beautiful taking me in like that.” He wiped the tears that streamed down your cheek, “So gorgeous. I bet you’re hungry, starving even. I bet you’d love to take it all in your throat, wouldn’t you?” His horns got bigger as he got closer to his climax, he was fucking your mouth faster now. “Be a dear and swallow it all. It’d be a shame if you missed a drop.” His ears twitched with delight as he finally thrusted his entire length as deep as it can go. You felt him shoot into you and you held onto his legs, drinking it all up like you would die if you didn’t.

“What a good girl for us. Taking us all in.” Lucifer purred. They both slowly pulled out of you, Lucifer’s cum flowing out of your cunt. “What a sight.” He smirked. You pant in a desperate attempt to catch your breath. Your legs felt like jelly, your hips definitely bruised from the way Lucifer grabbed onto them. You couldn’t focus your vision but you could see them shift around on the bed, Alastor now behind you with Lucifer in front. His fingers run through your hair as he hums softly to you.

“Angel,” He says softly. You let out a weak sound to respond to him, looking up into his red eyes. His soft expression faded into a lust filled one. “You aren’t done quite yet.” He smirks.

Before your brain could process it, you feel yourself getting flipped on your back with Alastor now gripping your hips. His sudden thrust into you almost made you cum right there. You screamed out his name in Alastor, your attempts to muffle yourself into the sheets were futile. Lucifer placed your head on his thigh, “Let us hear your beautiful voice.”

Alastor’s smile twitched, “You’re being too nice, Lucifer.” He speaks, thrusting into you at a fast and steady pace, “If this little doll can’t hold herself back from cumming…” His grin grew wider, “Then she’s going to have to cum over and over until we’re done.”

You were a moaning, drooling mess. You were drunk off of the pleasure and praise you got from them. The more you moaned, the more you got praised and the wilder Alastor moved in and out of you. It wasn’t long until that familiar warmth in your stomach returned quicker than before.

“A-Alastor.” You gasped, “I c-can’t. Can I—Fuck—Can I please cum?” You begged, repeating yourself over and over. Lucifer caresses your cheek with such softness that it countered the roughness Alastor gave you.

“Sweet girl askin’ so nicely.” Lucifer purrs as he hovers over you with delight, “Look him in the eyes and ask properly, princess.” He moves your head, making you stare directly into Alastor’s hungry stare.

“Please, Alastor. Please. Please.” You pleaded, “Please let me cum, Alastor, please.” Tears were threatening to spill from your eyes once more from the unrelenting, nonstop pleasure Alastor blessed upon you.

He grinned widely, “Such a good girl.” He thrusts with reckless abandon. You shake underneath him, your release on the brink of exploding. “Wait.”

Waiting was torture. He didn’t allow you a moment to breathe or catch your thoughts. Your walls tightened around him, warning him of what’s to come which made him slow down to delay your release. You continued to beg between breaths while Lucifer smiled ever so sweetly at the sight of you getting fucked silly. In an attempt to distract yourself, you took him into your mouth making him gasp in surprise.

“Oh! Princess hasn’t had enough?” He teased, repositioning himself for you to suck him better. “Would you like another one, angel? Another load down that lovely throat of yours.”

You hummed in agreement, licking his shaft with the same hunger you gave Alastor earlier. He showered you with praise, gently thrusting himself in your mouth. He was the gentle half that balanced Alastor’s roughness. Though they both showered you with praise, his was sweeter.

Alastor tuts once he loses your attention. “Don’t hog her mind with your words, Lucifer.”

“Oh, but look how good she’s being.” He hums, “You’re the one hogging her mind. Look at the mess she’s become.”

He huffed and pounded into you wildly, making you scream against Lucifer’s cock. Your legs shook at the pleasure, your begging returned once more. “Be a good girl for me, baby.” Alastor purrs, leaning down to your ear. “Cum.” He whispers. Without hesitation, you came wildly around Alastor.

“Ah~” Lucifer moaned, “Your voice—Scream louder for us angel, make Hell remember our names once more.” His thrusts got wilder as he got closer to your own release. You worked hard to please him, using whatever strength you could muster to pump the base of his dick as you bobbed your head up and down to meet his thrusting.

“Thank you. Thank you!” You screamed, “Alastor! Lucifer! Thank you so much!”

Without warning, the two of them released deep into you, Alastor in your cunt and Lucifer in your throat. They pulled out of you once their spurts had stopped, panting from their release. No words needed to be shared for them to immediately care for you. Lucifer wiped you clean with a warm wet towel and Alastor did the same for your face. He cleaned up your face, working from your eyes to your mouth. As soon as the three of you weren’t as sticky as before, Lucifer crawled under the covers on your left, Alastor on your right after he gave you some water to soothe your throat from all the hard work.

You were gently squished in between them, your head on Alastor’s chest and Lucifer’s head on yours. You nuzzled into Alastor while Lucifer did the same to your soft tits. “You did so good, angel.” He spoke softly.

“Our good little girl.” Alastor hums, stroking your hair. You felt the sleep creep up on you, as it did to them. “Now, you’ll stay by our side during events, right?” He says as he plants a kiss on the top of your head.

“Mhhm.” You said softly, “Thank you.”

The three of you drifted off into sleep, cuddled up on each other. You had a feeling you’d mess with them a lot more if it led to nights like this.

“Charlie. We need to soundproof that fucking room.” Vaggie groaned, finally taking her hands off her ears. “I’m going to throw up.”

“I don’t know, it was pretty hot hearing fancy talk creepy voice and hell’s big dick going at it.” Angel winked, “Makes me feel all hot~” He says, leaning into a flustered Husk.

“Meet me in my room.” Husk grumbles, flying away with an excited Angel Dust trailing not too far behind him.

“I’m…Going out.” Charlie left, traumatized with Vaggie following after her.

#this is the best thing ive ever written #it took 3 days bc i kept giggling and kicking my feet #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor x reader x lucifer #smut #alastor x reader smut #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader smut #hazbin hotel

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monocaelia · 9 months

Text

atlas.

- he could only hold the world for so long, it was about time his body caved in ; aka, the two times you're reminded of his humanity. feat. gojo satoru & gn!reader genre : hurt/comfort , happy ending w.c. : 1.8k

warnings: spoilers for jjk s2 ep5 note : i hate goe joe satoru.

gojo satoru.

you didn't even need to see him to know who he is; he is the revered member of the gojo clan blessed enough to be born with both the six eyes and the infinity cursed technique and is a one in a lifetime miracle.

from the beginning of his life, gojo had been the strongest sorcerer in existence. with both blessed techniques at his will, he was near unstoppable and was worthy of shouldering the problems of jujustu society from a young age, as decided by the gojo clan.

and, for someone as blessed and impenetrable as he is, gojo had never felt the emotional strife of losing someone dear to him.

there are two times that you recall ever witnessing gojo satoru lose his composure, where you have seen the blessed one who holds the power of the gods in the palm of his hands and is always one step ahead of everyone else fall to his knees as the weight of the world finally takes its toll on his poor soul.

the first time was when getou suguru had betrayed jujutsu tech. you weren't sure of the details; you were in the middle of a mission and had returned to the news of your classmate and friend becoming a wanted criminal.

honestly, hearing it firsthand did not feel real to you. getou suguru was someone you had always admired. he was someone who not only had a powerful cursed technique, but was also a skilled fighter and knew how to use his technique to the fullest despite coming from a normal family rather than one of the prestigious families that were well-known in jujustu society.

you had shared smiles with him, stories of the crazy memories made while exorcising curses and the near-death experiences shared while on missions together.

and you knew gojo and getou were near inseparable during their time at jujutsu tech; you couldn't imagine the pain gojo was going through with the news of his one and only becoming a murderer wanted in all of jujutsu society.

you find gojo satoru alone in getou's old dorm room. it's empty; the once neat, but lived in dorm now completely void of any evidence of being lived in with the exception of a framed picture of your class left on the nightstand.

getou and gojo tower over you and ieri, but it's all smiles from the four of you. because of the small frame and the number of people in the photo, you're all squished together. though, it's not like any of you minded.

a perfect picture of youth; the most beautiful moment in life.

the frame is held in gojo's hand as he sits on getou's dorm bed. you can see his fingers clench the frame as frustration settles into his bones, before he relaxes once more.

"it's not your fault, you know," you say gently, breaking the silence and hopefully through the roaring storm that you know is brewing within gojo's head. you step into the room and join gojo on the bed; he doesn't move and he doesn't face you.

"no one saw it coming." you try to reassure him, but you know any attempts at this point are futile. gojo does not respond, a flood of memories flying by crystalline eyes as he tries to figure out when it went so wrong.

the silence is permeable as reality settles into gojo. his lips part, a shaky breath, and he's speaking again.

"i should've seen it coming," he whispers. there's a clear anger in his voice, though you know full well exactly who it's directed at. "i was his friend and i didn't even realize he was hurting alone." His voice cracks.

"i didn't even do anything to save him."

it is then that you begin to see gojo as who he is. he isn't an untouchable god who feared nothing, who had enemies that couldn't even lift a finger to hurt him if they even dared. this gojo beside you isn't an omnipotent god, he's just a kid like you; he's human. he's vulnerable, even if the elders believe otherwise, for his friends are his one and only achilles' heel and the key to his humanity.

not quite knowing the words to comfort him, you reach over to hold his hand. it isn't much, but you know firsthand that just having someone beside you to help support your pain is better than shouldering everything alone.

the tight squeeze of your hand and the quite sniffles beside you are all you need as a reminder that gojo satoru is not a god; he is only gojo satoru.

the second time gojo felt genuine fear was when he nearly lost you.

as a result of a curse that was underestimated for second-class sorcerors to take, you had become collateral for a simple mistake from the higher ups. of course, mistakes could just be that, but everyone knows better.

this was set up so they could easily dispose of you and rule your death as a mere 'accident.' the higher ups needed you gone as the deemed your existence a hinderance to gojo's full potential, a dam in the middle of the river.

lucky for you, you made quick work of the curse before collapsing with the only words you heard being a shout of your name.

the bright lights of the jujutsu high infirmary are the first thing you see when your eyes slowly flutter open. your vision is blurry and the world is still spinning as you regain consciousness. with hesitance, you slowly sit up despite your body aching and telling you to lay back down.

it is only when a firm hand presses against your chest and pushes you down do you actually do so.

crystalline blue meets your gaze. they're playful and full of youth, a pair of blue eyes that you're most familiar with. but theres a shadow of solemnity behind those bright irises and you know exactly why.

"about time you woke up," gojo speaks up, ruffling your hair with his hand. they're roughened from years of training and fighting, but there are no other blemishes that stain the purity of his hands. "i thought you finally had enough of me and decided to kick the bucket, dear." there's a light, jesting tone to his voice as he speaks. he's laughing, though you can see the redness underneath his eyes as he brushes off your near death experience as a joke.

"and leave you alone to torment the students? as if," you jab back with a smile of your own. "i wouldn't ever want to wish that on your students. fushiguro would drag me back from the dead if i left him alone with you."

gojo's bottom lip juts out and his brows furrow in a pout as you say this and you can't help but laugh a little on your own.

"but i know you'll miss me, so i won't die just yet," you reassure your white haired companion. your hand reaches over to hold his own and gives it a gentle squeeze, a reminder that you're alive and still breathing beside him as your pulse and your warmth bleed onto his own.

his hand squeezes yours tightly, as he did years ago, and his bottom lip is caught between his teeth as he bites down onto the plush skin. his eyes aren't focused on you anymore and instead focus on anywhere but you as the reality of the situation settles into his bones.

"promise?" gojo asks, his voice a mere whisper.

he already lost one of his closest friends years ago and you witnessed that heartbreak with your own eyes as you had comforted gojo when he needed it most. you couldn't imagine how his fragile heart would break again if he had lost you just now.

despite being the strongest, you know that not being able to fully protect the ones he held close was one of gojo's biggest weaknesses as much as he tried to hide it.

but you know that you couldn't give him any empty promises knowing the work you're doing. it would only give him false hope and the both of you know that better than anyone else.

you don't answer him and instead pull his hand to your lips, pressing a soft kiss onto his skin. with a gentle tug, the hand held by gojo is pulled into his chest as he cradles your palm. his fingers intertwine with yours and your heart swells at the small action.

it is then that you meet crystalline blue once more, though this time they are unwavering as they firmly stand their ground against the hands of fate that, at any moment, could cruelly tear the two of you apart.

"don't leave me," gojo begs. "you can't leave me until the world has turned for the better, for us and for the youth of jujutsu society. i'll make it happen so..."

the once invincible sorcerer brings your hand up to his lips and he presses a kiss along your knuckles, reciprocating the act you did before.

"please, don't leave me."

gojo leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead. it's soft and hesitant, but you know at this point his fear of your life nearly slipping through his fingers has caught up to him. he pulls away, only to lean down again to kiss you.

your heart flutters feeling his lips kiss yours and you can tell from the way his lips barely ghost of yours that gojo is scared you'll disappear from him if he moves the wrong way. like a warm wave easing the worries that burrow into his entire being, your hand that's free from the one held in gojo's reaches up to cup his face. your thumb caresses his cheek and bring him closer to you, reassuring him that you won't slip away from him should he kiss you too hard.

gojo pulls away from the kiss with cheeks warm and his eyes, now a calming blue that held the stars you love so much, glint with satisfaction and relief.

though, the sweet and tender moment shared between lovers is ruined the moment gojo opens his mouth again.

"don't break my promise, okay? i don't care if you die, i'll die with you and haunt you forever as punishment for dying first, okay?" your white haired boyfriend urges as he leans his forehead against you, blue now an annoyance to you as he forces you to make eye contact with him.

your hand pushes his face away with a snort, ignoring his whining complaints as you do so.

though, it's not like you would ever willingly die first. you couldn't leave gojo satoru alone, your soul couldn't bear the burden of knowing you would shatter the glass that makes gojo's heart.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader #didi writes #this got more serious than intended but wtv LOL #this is how i cope with hs gojo arc being animated #i hate stsg so much.#makes my stsg plushies kiss and make up #yes ik there's another time where gojo loses his resolve #but that's for manga readers to know only

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blindmagdalena · 8 months

Text

The Athenaeum Portrait

18+ 4.7k homelander x f!reader. established relationship, first time having sex, reader has a complicated relationship with sex, abuse of superpowers for cunnilingus, overstimulation, penetrative sex, lite sublander, praise kink, slight coercion, unhealthy dynamics, implied codependency, implied verbal abuse. just covering my bases here.

For every moment of love that is warm bliss on a summer afternoon, it is also an exercise in stumbling wildly in the dark. Never has this been more true in the case of Homelander, a man whose broken edges and unfinished seams have hardened into hazards that threaten to ensnare and maim anyone who steps too close.

You wouldn't have him any other way.

AO3 link. inspired by this anonymous prompt. thank you! 🖤

Homelander did not enter your life so much as he bull-rushed into it, a living whirlwind that uprooted you and hurled you into a familiar yet strange new world as unceremoniously as the tornado that took Dorothy to Oz.

Vought Tower sparkles just as vibrant as the Emerald City, and provides no less surreal of a backdrop to your new life. Homelander's penthouse is a bizarre caricature of personhood, loaded with hundreds of years of American history. It would ring false, just another aspect of his brand, if not for the fact he can—and often does—regale you with a laundry list of historical facts on any piece in the collection.

This is how you find out that Gilbert Stuart is one of his favorite painters. When you ask Homelander why that is, he shrugs. "He painted over a thousand portraits, and he's most famous for the one he didn't finish. Ironic, huh?"

The Athenaeum Portrait, it's called. An unfinished portrait of George Washington that was replicated and sold by Stuart over a hundred times before his death.

The original was never completed.

The more time you spend in proximity to him, the more you start to understand why the piece resonates with him. You see replicas of him sold throughout the world on a daily basis, his face synonymous with Vought’s branding. There is a completeness to the commercial image of Homelander, America’s wholesome hero, but behind closed doors, you see his frayed and unfinished edges.

You feel his desperation for someone who will complete him in the way he touches you. He takes hold of your hands and brings them to the places where he is sketched at best, a ready and yielding canvas for your fingers. He likes when you stroke his hair, and sometimes touching his face turns his eyes glassy. There is a woundedness to the way he seeks your love, like he’s never entirely sure whether to expect the carrot or the stick.

You’ve never raised the stick to him, but it’s clear that those who came before you certainly did. It’s difficult to imagine that a man as powerful as him has been hurt like this, but he is a painfully obvious man at times, wearing his emotions like the scars his impervious body will never show.

When you lie down to read on the couch, he’s drawn to you like a magnet. He has no problem making space for himself within your bubble, sprawling on top of you, snaking his arms around your middle, his head settled on your sternum. You smile to yourself and rest your book on the top of his head as you read.

He gives a small grunt of complaint, but you’re fairly certain he’s smiling, too.

For every night of domestic bliss, so too are there sudden perils. Unexplained nights of absence, wild mood swings, fits of paranoia. He fights as many battles in his own mind as he does on the city streets and on foreign soil, a living weapon used to the fullest extent by Vought and the American government.

It feels like you lose him temporarily, like he becomes someone else. He paces around you like a caged tiger with his teeth bared, daring you to give him a reason to bite. You never do, and he never does, but sometimes you worry just how close of a call it was.

Occasionally he comes to you spattered in muck and bloody viscera. On these nights, he can’t seem to comprehend your presence, your gentleness, your love. It’s as if these concepts ring false in the wake of everything he has been made to endure. It’s suspicious to him that you would love something so repulsive, so opposite of everything Vought has polished his image into being.

He screams at you for this, takes you by the shoulders and demands you explain what he cannot understand, but you can’t. You can’t explain something that you don’t always understand.

Your relationship with Homelander is a delicious, precarious thing. Like a perfectly ripe peach, its closeness to something bruised and rotten makes it all the sweeter.

When things are good, they’re very good. He’s sweet, a romantic who learned everything he knows about romance from jewelry ads and Valentine’s Day specials. He brings you roses on random days of the week and adores showering you in gifts, especially the kind you wear. He tends to gravitate towards soft, velvety fabrics for your clothes because he likes the feel of them. He buys you perfumes that smell like vanilla and pink pepper. He likes fresh, warm scents. Nothing too floral or artificial.

Most importantly, he likes you. There’s rarely a day that the two of you don’t make each other laugh. His sense of humor is strange, but in the same way that yours is. Sometimes it feels like you’re two aliens creating a brand new language that only the two of you will ever know. The more time you spend together, the less the people outside of your relationship seem to understand you.

Not that it matters much. You spend the majority of your time with him these days, consumed by the excitement of this thrilling new thing the two of you share. Homelander is profoundly tactile, always needing to feel or touch you in some way. He loves to kiss you, content to make out languidly with you until your lips start to chap.

You’ve learned to keep lip balm on hand at all times.

Inevitably though, his hunger for intimacy outgrows quaint touches and kisses. You’re cuddled up together on his couch, only half paying attention to the movie playing. Homelander is nuzzling at your neck, pressing warm, wet kisses to it while his gloved hand slips beneath your shirt, fondling your breast through your bra. There’s something endearingly innocent about it, like a fumbling teenager piloting the body of a man in his forties.

Sex is nice enough. You have nothing against the act, but you’ve never felt as though you get as much out of it as the partners you’ve had in the past. Homelander’s touch feels good to you because it’s his, and because you know he wants to make you feel good in his enjoyment of you. You reciprocate by pushing your fingers into his hair, nails scraping along his scalp, eliciting a sweet, rumbling moan from him against your neck.

“Want you,” he mumbles fervently against your skin, his need so palpable it gives you goosebumps. “Can I have you?”

You knew this was coming. It’s not that you don’t want to fuck him, it’s that he’s not the only one whose portrait feels incomplete. You’re a fully grown adult, and never in your life have you managed to pleasure yourself to completion. In your youth, you’d just faked it for partners once you’d had your fill. With Homelander, you’re not even sure that would work. You’re not sure you would want it to.

He’s got a thing about lies, even little white ones.

You swallow and softly say, “Yes.” Ultimately, you do want him to have you. You just hope that what he gets doesn’t disappoint him.

He smiles into the crook of your neck, withdrawing his hand from beneath your shirt. He kisses you as he gathers you effortlessly up into his arms, carrying you to his bedroom. His strength is another aspect of why sex has made you nervous: the internet is full of horror stories of accidental sexual mutilation occurring between humans and supes.

However, Homelander seems hyper aware of your fragility versus his power. He’s never harmed you. It seems to come naturally to him after years and years of navigating a world not made to withstand him. In the same way you’re capable of handling an egg without shattering it, he has learned how to hold you.

He lays you down on the bed, and then begins the ritual of shedding his signature suit, starting with his belt. You recline, content to watch him, but your gaze seems to make him uncharacteristically self conscious. You’ve never seen him without his suit before, another little quirk that you’ve largely just accepted to this point.

“Aren’t you gonna…” He gestures vaguely to you, expecting you to undress as well.

“Just enjoying the show,” you say coyly, attempting to lighten up a bit of the tension in his expression.

It doesn’t work. The furrow of his brows deepens slightly. “Ah, well. Y’know, the suit, they uh, pad it up some, so don’t–it’s different,” he says, fumbling over his words.

Your expression softens. “I know. It’s okay. I’m excited to see you,” you say, sitting up. In solidarity, you pull your shirt off first, and then wiggle out of your pants, kicking them off the bed. Homelander smiles at this, and works his pants off the rest of the way, kicking off his boots as well, leaving behind just a pair of dark red briefs. You sit up on your knees to help him with the fastenings of his suit top, which he seems to be the most apprehensive about.

To distract him from it, you kiss him. He melts eagerly into the press of your lips, slipping his tongue between yours with that same hunger to taste, to feel, to have. He’s bolder now that you’re no longer playing the part of spectator, shrugging his top from his shoulders and letting it fall with a surprisingly heavy thud to the floor. His ungloved hands skim up your sides, warm and positively thrumming with excitement.

You explore him as well, mapping out the slopes of his body that have previously been hidden from you. He’s leaner, more manageable than the ridiculous bulk of the suit. Part of you had always assumed there was a level of exaggeration in the chiseled, over the top musculature of the suit, but his build is still more slender than you expected. Regardless, it does nothing to detract from his raw strength as he catches you by the backs of your thighs and flips you onto your back, startling out a giddy bark of laughter from you.

He grins down at you, descending to catch you in another slow, consuming kiss, making space for himself between your legs. His lips trail from yours to the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your neck. He turns his head to messily suck two fingers into his mouth, and then slips his hand down the front of your underwear. He finds your clit with surprising precision–someone definitely taught him that–and begins to rub slow figure-eights over it, as gentle as he is deft. It does feel good, so you close your eyes and try to simply enjoy it for what it is, for the touch and warmth and intimacy of it all.

It doesn’t matter if you don’t come. This is still nice. You can feel his desire for you in the heat of his body, in the hot huffs of his breath wafting across your skin between kisses. He eventually slips a single finger inside you, patiently working you open. You drag your nails up his back and into his hair, breathing deeply, willing your mind to pause and let you experience this pleasantry in the same way you would a hot bath or a nice massage.

However, no matter how you try, the looming matter of expectation weighs heavily on your mind. You’ve never been comfortable with the attention being solely on your pleasure: it feels like dangling a treat in front of someone on a treadmill. They’re running for something they’ll never reach.

“Hey,” Homelander calls quietly, yanking you from your mental downward spiral. You see him above you, no longer tucked against you, working your skin with his lips and teeth. His brows are slightly furrowed. “You’re quiet. Am I doing something wrong?”

“No,” you exhale, the question immediately putting a wash of guilt through you. “No, not at all, feels good. I’m just really in my head right now,” you admit, cupping either side of his face. “You’re doing great, I’m ready. I want you inside me,” you tell him in a breathless flurry, pulling him down into a kiss.

He does relax at that, sinking in against you for a moment before lifting himself back up. He shucks his underwear down and then pulls yours off as well, lifting both of your legs over his shoulder as he slips the panties completely off of you. While he does that, you unclasp and toss your bra aside. He turns his head to kiss the side of your leg before he lowers them both back down around his waist, lowering himself back down atop you.

The thick head of his cock presses wetly to your cunt, sliding up and down, spreading his slick and yours. You can already feel his excitement in the tension of his body, his shoulders drawn tight beneath your hands. You knead them, rolling your palms against steel-woven muscle. “That’s it,” you encourage, working to relax the both of you. “Nice and slow, mmm… Fuck, you’re big,” you say, biting your lip as he spreads you around the girth of his cock.

“You’re tight,” he moans in response, already sounding frayed. He moves his hips in slow, slightly jerky motions–clearly holding back for your comfort–until he finally bottoms out, keening so sweetly in your ear you can’t help but stroke his hair, hushing him.

“Good, good, feel so good in me,” you coo, the words a familiar script. He shudders for the praise, kissing down your chest, mouthing hungrily at your breast, the same he’d been fondling earlier. His mouth is hot and wet, perfectly pleasant as he sucks at your nipple, moaning into your skin. You cradle his head in both hands, adjusting to the onslaught of sensation.

It’s been awhile since anyone fucked you. The feel of it is just as alien as you remember, but you’re distracted by the persistent swirl of his tongue alternating with the pull of his lips as he lavishes attention on one breast, and then the other. With his bare skin against yours, you’re more aware than ever of the superhuman frequency of his body, how he seems to literally vibrate with restraint and eagerness in equal measure. It’s like there is a line of semi trucks driving by you, the bed itself buzzing with it.

“You’re amazing,” you marvel quietly, tightening your legs on either side of him to feel that preternatural hum against even more of your skin, tingling your inner thighs. “You feel amazing.”

He grunts out a needy, strained noise at that, followed by a jagged thrust deep into you. To your surprise, you realize then that he’s coming apart, dull nails biting crescent marks into your skin, clutching you as tightly as he dare allow himself. You thought that maybe his powers would give him superhuman stamina as well, that he might fuck you raw before he came, but if the shaky cadence of his thrusts are any indication, he’s already holding himself back.

“I can feel how bad you wanna come,” you murmur, carding your fingers through his hair. “Mm? You can, you can come in me,” you say, feeling his whole body shiver from your words. You clench, tightening up around his cock so suddenly that it makes him gasp.

“Fffuck, fuck, oh god, y’can’t–fucking Christ, you–mmm, fuck!” He rasps, choking on his own breath as he comes, burying his face between your breasts at the same time he slams in deep, fading into tight, erotic little whimpers as he loses himself to the rhythmic clench of your cunt. You do it purposefully, milking him of his orgasm, enamored with how thoroughly you’ve reduced a demigod to these simpering noises. The flood of come is hot inside you, already dripping out where your bodies are connected.

All that, and he still never lost control. You doubt his fingerprints will even bruise, though you find a part of yourself wishing they would.

Homelander comes down gradually from his high, limp against you, breathing shallowly against your skin. He looks dazed, eyes only half open. It’s cute, which isn’t a word you necessarily would have ever thought to associate with The Homelander before you started dating him. When he looks up at you, you smile, already more satisfied than you’ve been with sex in your life.

“That was playing dirty,” he tells you, voice a touch fried.

“I just wanted to make you feel good,” you respond simply, watching as he nuzzles into your hand.

He rumbles out a low hum, kissing your palm. “Which means it’s my turn to make you feel good,” he says, moving to slide out of your hands. You stop him, taking hold of his arm.

“You don’t need to,” you assure him, tugging gently to lure him back up. “Really. That felt incredible.”

He frowns, looking every bit like a confused puppy. “But you didn’t come.”

“I know,” you say, that ball of tightness coiling back up in your gut. “It’s okay.”

He exhales an incredulous little scoff. “What kind of boyfriend d’you take me for? I’m gonna make you come,” he says, shrugging off your hand as he moves down your body, sliding out of you.

“Homelander,” you implore, reaching out for him. “Really, it’s okay, you don’t need to–”

“What, you don’t think I can?” He asks. You can see the challenge in his eyes, but you also recognize the potential of a stinging wound to his ego in those words.

You sigh, folding your arm over your eyes as you lay your head back. “It’s not that I don’t think you specifically can, I’m… Eugh.” You take a deep breath. “It’s not something that I do. I can’t. I’ve never been able to,” you say to the darkness of your arm, fingers rolling apprehensively. “And I don’t want you to take this as some kind of challenge, and then be upset when it doesn’t happen,” you say, speaking from very specific experience.

The space between you is silent for long enough that your curiosity beats out your apprehension, and you lower your arm. Homelander stares at you from between your legs, expression pinched, eyes flickering slightly, as if he’s solving the world’s most complicated puzzle in his brain. His eyes narrow softly, his bewilderment showing.

“Like… You haven’t come… Ever?”

“Ever,” you confirm. “It’s not that I haven’t tried, there’s just something broken.”

He processes that a moment longer. “But all of this still felt good, at least… Yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course it did, I liked it. You really do feel amazing,” you assure him, lest he think you were lying with what you said earlier. “It just never finishes for me. That’s all.”

“Alright,” he says, the gears in his brain clearly turning. “So. Sure, no crossing the finish line, but I can still, y’know. Take you for a cruise? A little joyride?” He asks, making you laugh softly.

He really is cute. Sweeter than one might expect, too.

“A joyride?” You echo with a quirk of your brow, smiling.

He smiles, too. “Yeah. No destination, just a little drive.”

“I can do a little drive,” you say, feeling that knot of tension in your gut begin to untangle itself.

“Good,” he purrs, shouldering down between your legs. “Gimme that pillow,” he says, which you promptly do. He slides it under your ass, adjusting your hips until the angle is just right. He smooths his hands up and down the outsides of your thighs, glancing up at you. “Now, you just sit back and relax. Close your eyes, and imagine some smooth jazz.”

“I hate jazz,” you laugh.

He laughs as well, breath rolling over your wet pussy in hot waves. “Well, fuck, imagine something you do like.”

Relaxing back against the bed, you exhale a deep breath, closing your eyes. The first wet, hot slide of his tongue makes you jump a little. He responds by gripping your thighs and pinning you still, which does admittedly run a little thrill up your spine. You test his grip by pushing against it, and when that fails, pulling away, but neither grant you any leeway.

“Squirming already?” He asks between drags of his tongue.

“I like feeling your strength,” you say through a pleased little smile.

He gives an intrigued hum at that and spreads your legs wider, forcing them down against the bed. To even your surprise, that pushes a small, thin noise out of you. Encouraged, he presses his tongue inside, lapping up the mess he made inside you. It feels fine enough, but after a bit of his tongue pushing in and out of you, you give his hair a little tug. “Clit,” you say simply, a command he happily obliges, drawing back up to suck your clit between his lips.

Without the looming pressure to achieve some kind of euphoric release at the end, you find yourself more capable of simply enjoying this for what it is. Homelander is good at this, but it’s really his persistence that elevates the experience. At no point do you feel him begin to waver or slow, or shift and breathe in impatience. He’s relentlessly consistent, swirling his tongue and lapping at you like he’s starved for the taste.

You sigh, idly scratching his scalp as you toy with his hair. “Mmm, that feels good,” you say, more aware of the effect your praises have on him. He makes an appreciative noise, nuzzling into your cunt. One odd thing is that your clit is starting to ache in a way you’re unfamiliar with. You shift back a touch, but Homelander pulls you right back in.

“Greedy,” you accuse, which draws a low laugh from him, the rumble of it making you shiver a little. You must be growing oversensitized. You’ve lost track of how long he’s been at this.

He pulls back, and the cool air almost stings for the loss of his hot mouth, but that ache was beginning to grow uncomfortable anyways. You’re just about to thank him for his service when a whole new sensation steals the words right off your tongue. You don’t even know how to describe it: hot, pressure, but weightless. Your whole body jerks, but Homelander keeps you still, forces you to endure whatever the fuck it is he’s doing now.

“Wh-what the fuck is that?” Watching him, comprehension dawns; he’s blowing on your clit, lips pursed, forcing out a concentrated stream of warm, almost hot air that has your thighs quivering in his grasp. “Oh fuck,” you gasp, equal parts bewildered and overwhelmed. You try to close your knees, but once again, his hold is completely unrelenting, keeping them spread wide. Immediately that same ache is skyrocketing back up, spreading tightness low in your belly.

“Hold on,” you groan, gripping his hair tighter. You expect it to end before too long, for him to at least need to inhale, but beyond all logic and reason, he just keeps going. The heat of it is surreal, the weightless pressure of it constant. Your toes curl, heels digging into the bed while every muscle in your body starts to lock up.

Homelander’s gaze flickers up to meet yours, nothing pure wicked delight in his eyes. Just as suddenly, he descends upon you, tongue feeling hotter and wetter than ever as he dotes on your clit with it, focusing it with alarming precision. The abrupt change in sensation makes you thrash, stumbling over a stream of nonsense as you pull at his hair, that aching tightness now so prominent that you can hardly take in a breath.

“That’s enough, that’s–fuck, Homelander, it’s too much, it’s too much, s-stop, s–” your pleas erupt into a gasp because he’s focusing that stream of air right back on you again, the feel of it so surreal, so indescribable that your brain can hardly function around it. Your eyes roll back, you writhe, but he’s so much stronger than you’d ever really wrapped your mind around. He’s entirely unyielding in a way he’s never felt in your arms, against your body on the couch. He’s more inhuman than he’s ever been, and it’s driving you wild.

Tears gather in your eyes. This assault of sensation walks the knife’s edge of pain, but never quite falls over it. Your whole body is throbbing, and you feel like you’re going to fucking explode. He twists that knife by taking you again with his tongue, swirling and slick in contrast to the dry pressure of his breath.

“H-Homelander, Homelander, please, I’m–I’m–fuck!”

The world turns white, and suddenly you can’t breathe. You hear yourself make a strained noise you’ve never heard before, but it might as well not even be you. You’re somewhere outside of your own body, floating in a torrent of indescribable sensory input that is so alien to you, you don’t even feel real anymore. Homelander isn’t holding you still anymore, but you can still feel him slowly lapping at your throbbing clit, watching you through foggy eyes as he licks you through your first orgasm, no doubt tasting and smelling the endorphins that flood your body.

Every single taut muscle in your body snaps like the strings of a marionette, leaving you to collapse limply on the bed, panting through it as your soul gradually descends back down into your body. Blissfully, Homelander ceases his torment and joins you, laying sideways with his head propped up in his palm while his other hand rests on your hip, thumb rubbing soothing circles.

“Oh my God,” you whisper eventually.

“Please, you can still call me Homelander,” he says, sounding just as smug as one would expect him to be after such an accomplishment. If you had any power whatsoever left in your lifeless arm, you’d smack him. However, he quickly makes up for it by drawing you gently into his arms, kissing your forehead.

“I can’t believe you did that,” you say, more malleable than ever as he adjusts you both beneath the blankets. “I thought I was going to die.” It’s only a slight hyperbole.

Homelander laughs softly, beaming at you with pink cheeks and a sly, delighted little smile. “See? Nothing’s broken,” he murmurs at your ear, catching you off guard. That had been such an offhand remark, you didn’t expect to hear it come back around.

“What if I hadn’t? What if all that, and nothing happened?” You ask, adjusting slightly while he entangles his limbs with yours, bodies slotting together like jigsaw pieces. You’re both jagged in all the right ways, fitting nicely together.

He gives a small shrug, stroking his knuckles up and down your spine. “Still would’a been a hell of a ride. Not everything has to be finished to be good.”

Slowly, you smile. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

Loving Homelander isn’t always easy or good. There are times when he makes it hard, and there are times when you make it hard, but if there’s one thing you’ve learned in this lifetime, nothing worth doing is ever easy. Love may start as an incidental thing, a passion that ignites as readily as tinder, but the upkeep of it is more like pottery. It’s messy, and even once you get the shape of it right, you don’t always know how it will react to the heat necessary to give it solid form. It can be broken, it can be fixed, it can even be remade, but never is one the same as the last.

Still, even when it hurts, when it’s frustrating, when it doesn’t turn out the way you wanted it to, the euphoria of creating something so beautiful keeps you coming back to it. When the same love that burns you can also warm you against the cold, coat your throat like honey, and fill your night sky with stars to guide your way in darkness, it becomes impossible to let go of.

To love something is to heal it. Everything that is loved is beautiful, even things that are unsightly, unfinished, unappealing. Even things that are broken.

Finally, you think you understand why Stuart never finished his original painting.

He loved it precisely as it was.

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander fanfiction #homelander #my writing #smut #this fic. idk what happened here this is NOT what i expected to write lol #fun fact: the reason that the athenaeum portrait was never finished was because martha washington wanted it for herself when it was done #and stuart loved it so much he didn't want to part with it #this has been homelander's history corner

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maeby-cursed · 4 months

Text

vampire!satoru who’s not used to being in the shadows.

he gets turned very young and lives through every stage he could possibly live through; denial, starvation, a deep self loathing and a bitter feeling of acceptance. he was never too concerned about harming others but he was also not used to having his liberties curtailed.

vampire!satoru who begins to hunt others.

he needs the blood, quite literally, to survive. he’s also gotten even more vain in this new skin, this odd state of life between what was and death. he hasn’t found any others like him yet so he has no guidance, he hunts men and women alike and tries to figure out what he likes. he can’t help but admire himself though; this new glow of his skin, his elongated canines… he enjoys the blood dripping down his face, the only drop of color against the white of his hair, skin and eyes.

vampire!satoru who gives up on morals entirely.

he finds new victims easily and feeds on them, enjoying himself like narcissus in the lake. he buys a mansion by stealing money from every prey and works out a system to enjoy his life to the fullest even if he cannot see the sun ever again. he tricks and manipulates women and lies and slaughters men by the thousands. he feels numb with every drop of blood.

he never once kills a child.

vampire!satoru who meets you.

it’s a cold january night and a blizzard has struck the town he resides in at the moment. he could very well go out if he felt inclined to but he’s not forgotten his lazy ways, he doesn’t feel like chasing some poor victim in the middle of a snow storm just to get a drop of cold blood. he’s not that desperate.

he spends his night reading, studying, turning the tv on and off and contemplating himself on every surface he can see himself reflected upon.

he’s in the middle of admiring his eyes on a silver spoon when someone knocks on his door. he’s so startled he drops the utensil, and now he’s annoyed. no one startles the satoru gojo.

vampire!satoru who opens the door and sees your face for the first time.

you’re wrapped in a thick coat, hair floating around your visage due to the wind. he’s struck for a moment with a memory he can’t recall; a warm smile and a mane of black hair.

“who the hell are you?” he asks.

vampire!satoru who for an unknown reason decides to listen to you.

you explain how you were about to catch a flight when the storm hit, how you don’t know the town very well and cannot find your way to a hotel. a shy smile makes your cheeks soft when you timidly ask if you could stay for a night.

vampire!satoru who is a predator, vampire!satoru who is an animal, vampire!satoru who is not human, not your friend, not kind, not good.

vampire!satoru who for a second feels greedy.

you trust him. you trust this creature in front of you who is very obviously not like you, who has the coldest eyes you’ve ever met and the longest canines you’ve ever seen. your instincts know – they must.

and yet… he can see it in your eyes, the kindness hidden behind the pupils that tell him you always expect people to be good, even when you shouldn’t.

vampire!satoru who feels thirsty for something that isn’t blood for the first time in a hundred years.

vampire!satoru who can’t remember who he was all those years ago.

he can’t remember the faces of those he used to love, can’t remember how he looked like or what he thought of the world. who was a human in a world of humans and now feels like a child who’s been told he has to hurt others to survive.

he can’t remember what he’s done since he was turned, can’t remember the number of victims or what they looked like. who was reborn alone and has lived alone and will exist forever alone.

vampire!satoru who really truly doesn’t want this to be his existence.

vampire!satoru who answers your question with an “okay” and lets you in.

#˙⋆ 𓂃 ࣪ch. thoughts !#wrote this in 15 min instead of revising for my finals #can you tell i was a twilight girlie ?#jjk imagines #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo imagines #gojo fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo fluff #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you

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wineauntie · 23 days

Note

"Always You" is masterful, it unlocked something in my brain and my heart. May I please request some fluff with Jack? I will leave the specifics up to you, but can it please be a dynamic where she is more like the moon (quiet, out of the spotlight)?

THESE QUIET MOMENTS — Jack Hughes x reader

summary: Jack Hughes thinks you’re like the moon, yet when you find yourself lost in the dark, you find him to be your shining light.

note: I adore this request so much, that it is 3am and I wrote this in under thirty minutes 🙏

warnings: use of y/n, fem!reader, angsty thoughts soothed with fluff, Jack Hughes in love, nicknames like pretty girl, reader is an introvert.

word count: 1.6K

please excuse any grammatical errors, it is once again 3am and I’m too tired to edit!

When people thought of Jack Hughes, hockey was obviously the first thing to come to mind. That along with the thought that he was the life of any party, that he was outgoing, vibrant and a lover of all things fun. He was under the spotlight and loved it there too.

What people often failed to mention about Jack Hughes was that he was also a lover of quiet moments, moments where the world faded into silence leaving him and you in your own little bubble of serenity.

You and Jack had been dating for almost a year and a half. When you'd begun to date, those around you questioned the dynamic because whilst Jack was outrageously out there in the way he acted, and you were the exact opposite.

You were introverted to say the least, preferring a night in instead of clubbing and enjoying your solace over any form of chaos. You were more shy compared to others, finding it hard to put yourself out there, but Jack had stumbled into your life, destined to help you creep out of your shell.

He taught you to enjoy moments of chaos and find the peace in it all (despite how contradictory that sounded) and in turn you taught him that the quiet moments were not boring but instead a necessity for sanity.

Jack adored you. He worshipped you in a way someone might worship a higher being. He was attentive and caring, always going above and beyond for you no matter the time needed or cost.

To him, you were an essential part of life.

The moon, perhaps?

Quite like the moon, your warm glow soothed every tendril of hatred inside of his body. Your effervescent and mesmerising way of orbiting his world was done in a way so natural, that he couldn’t comprehend how fitting it all was.

Soft, welcoming and hopeful.

Yes, you were the moon.

Your smile's shine acting like a light in the dark depths of the night, never fading from the moment the sun set to the moment the sun entered the picture once more.

Jack could live with the assurance that even on the brightest of days and fullest of moments, you would be there soon, blessing him with even more light to chase the dark away.

And when the night fell and engulfed the world and Jack into an endless darkness, he knew you would appear like the moon and act like a guiding light.

"Y/n? I'm home!"

Your head jerked up from your book that lay half-read on your lap as the sound of the door to the apartment resounded. You heard shuffling from the hallway as the two boys filtered into the living room, watching them appear, you stood to your feet, moving your blanket and book aside.

"Hey," you smiled, as Jack's eyes met yours, his softening instantaneously as he shifted one of his hands and wrapped it around you, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. "Well done on the game." Your eyes flitted to Luke, who ran a hand through his curls.

"Thanks, pretty girl," Jack grinned, his grip still tight around you, as he looked down at your face-which was slowly

"Thanks, y/n," Luke chimed, before disappearing into his bedroom. You weren't offended by his lack of conversation, knowing damn well when Luke got home from a game he was wrecked and needed a nap.

"So..." Jack drawled, drawing your attention back to him. "What did you do for the evening?"

You curled your arms around his neck, as you tilted your head in thought. "Well, I watched the game, and I read," you spoke slowly, "I really didn't do much, honestly."

"You read?" Jack hummed teasingly, "What a surprise!" As you rolled your eyes, Jack lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively whilst you laughed.

Jack held you close before he plopped down on the couch, pulling you into his lap as he did so. You, now straddling him, allowed your fingers to lightly brush over his cheekbones. Jack watched you with so much care, your heart melted.

"I missed you," Jack sighed, his eyes on yours as your fingers slowly traipsed up into his hair. "Don't like leaving you here by yourself."

You ducked your head, feeling rather embarrassed. You knew that despite not voicing it, a part Jack wanted you to attend his games. You attended as many of them as possible, but the crowds mixed with everyone suddenly knowing who you were, sent your heart palpitating towards the edge of panic.

Jack understood this and never pushed for you to go. He cared more about your safety and mental health, feeling far better that you were tucked up safely at home, wearing his clothes as you watched the game on the television.

But there were times where your hidden guilt hit you like a backwards moving truck, the thoughts of disappointing him ramming through you to the point where you're entire brain couldn't focus on anything else.

"Uh uh," Jack tutted, his hand moving from around your waist, to gently hold your cheek, lifting your head from its lowered position. "What's wrong, pretty girl, where are your thoughts at?"

You bit your lip and nuzzled into his touch, your eyes closing as you relished the warmth of his touch. Jack allowed you to sink him, giving you all the time in the world to answer.

You took a small breath in before you began to speak, becoming killed by Jack's thumb stroking your jaw line.

"Does a little part of you hate me for not being more "out there"?" You asked, your voice an octave above a whisper. You felt embarrassed to ask but the wiggling thought couldn't be settled until you'd gotten an answer.

Jack tensed beneath you, his thumb halting its soothing trail as you kept your eyes closed tight.

"Never mind," you quickly continued, unlatching your arms from him and pushing yourself off of his lap. "It was a silly question, don't–"

Jack grabbed your wrist and dragged you back down onto his lap, your legs now strewn over him as he held you. His eyes had crackled with the faintest embers of frustration as you curled up into him but his sadness washed over the fire, dowsing it entirely.

"It was a silly question," Jack agreed, his arms pulling you impossibly closer to his chest. "How could you ever think I hate you?" His voice cracked at the end of his sentence, the hurt seeping through his words.

"I don't know..I just," you huffed, pressing your face into his collarbone, trying to hide from his eyes. "You are the epitome of outgoing, Jack, I feel like I'm holding you back from, I don't know, going out and living."

Jack felt his heart shatter at your small voice, his face scrunched up in upset.

"Being here, with you, is living," Jack spoke clearly, "the moments I spend with you are my favourites and push me to live. Whether it be the moments where we laugh or cry or even the silent and quiet moments, I love them all." He paused, as you raised your face.

"I sometimes think I was made to love you, that before I was just floating around aimlessly. And you? You pulled me back and everything just feels right." Jack continued. Each word he spoke was deliberate as he kept his gaze locked on yours. "I don't care that you aren't "out there", because in all honesty, I'd rather you be happy and safe, than miserable and out of your comfort zone."

"But...what about games?" Your voice trembled, "I don't go to them a lot and I know a bunch of your teammates have people there to watch."

"Pretty girl, you are always with me at games," Jack reminded you, pulling out his thin and silver chain, with a small, rectangular locket attached. The sight caused a small smile to spread across your face. You knew that if you were to open the concealed locket, you'd find his favourite picture of you inside of it.

It was the cheesiest thing you'd ever seen, but Jack wore it proudly, as a king would wear his crown.

"You are with me at every moment and yeah, maybe not physically, but I know that as soon as I walk in the door, you'll be waiting for me, wearing my clothes and sleeping in my bed." Jack's voice was lower now, "and to be honest, I prefer our quiet moments. I prefer staying in with you as you read a book and I watch a match."

"You mean it?" Your eyes shone with so much affection that Jack couldn't resist the urge to kiss you as he bent and pressed a long kiss to your pouted lips.

"Every single word of it," Jack confirmed against your lips as you parted. "I love you...I love everything about you. Don't allow your thoughts to twist and let you think otherwise."

You nodded as Jack pressed kisses all up your face before he grabbed your book from where you'd placed it down and the remote from beside the couch.

"Now, we're going to watch a match and read, because I'm not allowing our quiet moment to go uncompleted,"

You plucked the book from his hands with a nod and rush of warmth flowing through your heart, as he began to flick through channels to find a game.

The two of you settled into the couch for the evening, completely intertwined as the night wore on. Jack would glance down at you every few moments, admiring your scrunched brows and concentration.

Yup, you were his moon. It was one hundred percent decided.

Like an astronomer, he was captivated by you, but whilst he was willing to share the actual, real-life moon with billions of people, he'd be damned if he'd ever let anyone else tamper with his girl.

You were his, just as much as he was yours.

And you really wouldn't have it any other way.

a/n: I am a slut for comparing people to things icl so this ask was literally begging to be written.

#wineauntie #jack hughes one shot #jack hughes fanfic #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fluff #Jack Hughes #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x you #nhl x reader

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after-witch · 1 year

Text

Behind the Curtain [Ren Hana x Reader]

Title: Behind the Curtain [Ren Hana x Reader]

Synopsis: No more shows, yes, that’s what he says. He does not tell you “no more pain,” because there will be pain. Some musings from Ren Hana after the The Show Must Go On DLC (survival ending).

Word Count: 1600ish

notes: kidnapped reader, medical including eye prosthetics discussion, descriptions of past violent abuse and injuries including eye injuries

You poor, pretty thing, lying there in a hospital bed, tubes in your arms and an incessantly beeping machine monitoring your vitals at your side.

You look a mess.

You look lovely.

The wounds from your lively (and, he must admit, very well received--well, until the end) triple show debut are vibrant and gorgeously ugly.

Vivid stitches covered in ghastly looking iodine on your stomach, where you’d sliced your belly right open; antibiotic creams slathered over your puncture wounds; an etching of various cuts and bite marks… yours and his. Not to mention your eye.

You’ll live, you dear thing. Scarred and bruised, inside and out--but you’ll live.

He’s not an amateur. You’ll have good medical care here. He can afford it, although it’s not often used for more than employee check-ups and keeping merchandise alive long enough to be sold or entertain his streams before the big finale. Or for the occasional creative request via a high-paying donor on a stream.

But for you? He’ll make sure to use every resource to get you back into shape. Back to where you were--or more accurately, he supposes, back to where you’re going to be from now on.

You wake up every now and then. Not to the fullest degree. You are pumped full of drugs, though, and he’s not terribly surprised at your lack of coherency. It’s cute, in a way, though he’s looking forward to enjoying you when you’re more alert. More alive.

How alive did you feel, in those last moments before he stopped the stream? How aware were you that he meant to kill you? That you were going to die in that dark room while people paid to watch and stroked their cocks and salivated over watching the last bit of light leave your eyes?

He couldn’t do it. No, no, that’s not right. He could have done it. He’s done it before, to others more and less worthy than yourself.

But he didn’t want to do it and therefore, he didn’t have to do it. You reminded him of that. Chat had power, sure, everyone with enough money had power. But he was in control. It was his stream. His life’s work. And you were his property, not theirs.

Did you know that one question would change everything?

Fuck the people watching the stream. They could have someone else, and they would eventually--logistically, he needed to make it up to them soon, a token apology made in some other poor pretty thing’s blood.

But not you.

Never you.

He smiles, just a little. It’s easier now to think about the future, in the sterile clinic room, away from the rush of the showroom with its screens, the stampede of feet when he pushed the call button, the tangy smell of your blood and the sight of you mangled and delirious beneath him.

The rush of the moment has passed, leaving behind a slow, thoughtful ebb in its wake.

You’re not the first merchandise he’s kept for himself. You’re not even the first person he’s taken a liking to and taken home with the intent to keep forever. And oh, that first one… he hasn’t thought about them in a while, the one that he kept for as long as he could, until they were gone.

You remind him of them, in some ways. Maybe in the way your voice softened when you asked him who gave him his scars; maybe in the pitiful way you begged him, sweet and sniffling, to cut out your eye because you knew it was best.

Maybe in the way you clenched around him, desperate, eager, hating the pain but embracing it because there was nothing else you could do.

But, ah… he’s being nostalgic again. He lets one claw idly trace your forearm, following the line of the IV. That person is gone. Dead. Tragic and all that, and some part of him will always miss them. But there’s no point in dwelling on it, just as he’s long since moved on from Strade and his amateur basement of horrors.

Years ago, he might have thought: what would Strade think of me now? But now he knows the truth: it doesn’t matter one single bit what Strade would think of him now, or what Strade might have thought of him then. Strade was nothing.

He had created his own world, far surpassing anything Strade could have dreamed of; Strade had some talent (he has scars to prove it) but what was talent without ambition? Without creativity, allure?

Anyone could get people to pay money to watch you kill some helpless fuck you snatched off the street.

But it took talent to do what he did, something far beyond basement videos with basic tools and a fabric mask.

It was a talent he had in spades, carefully crafted through trial and error. Lots of errors. But what business, what world, existed without them?

But you do make him reminisce, don’t you?

And then your hand is on his arm. Weak, fingers trembling as you try to grip him, and gain his notice.

This time, your eye isn’t quite as muddled, and you direct your gaze at him rather than flitting about the room in hazy confusion.

He watches as your throat works, swallowing, and he can practically hear the inside of your dry mouth sticking as you force open your lips.

“Is it… is it time for another show?”

He blinks down at you, his lips set in a frown.

Your dry lips tremble when he doesn’t answer. The heart rate monitor speeds up, and he glances at it--faster and faster, like a little rabbit--before resting his hand on your forehead. The beeping slows down just a little, and your eye looks up at him, darting across his face, desperate and terrified.

“No,” he says, with a somber finality, and the words are for himself as much as they are for you. “No more shows.”

Your smile is twitchy and slow, and your eye blinks low and lidded. The drugs want to put you to sleep. You want to stay awake. You’ll lose this battle, but he likes to see that you still have the will to live in you. It will come in handy.

A clawed finger traces your cheek, edging around the white medical patch covering your missing eye. He can see your head try to flinch, but you’re either too drugged to fully do it or you’re stopping yourself out of worry that he won’t like it.

Either option pleases him.

Your eye isn’t as bad as it was, but it will need more healing before you can wear a prosthetic, or so the physician said.

He’d never looked much into them before--prosthetic eyes, that is--but as he discovered during a late night bout of phone shopping, there’s a wide array of options nowadays. Exotic styles--cats and snakes and everything in between--and fun colors and pretty add-ons, like glitter or shimmer or rainbow holographics.

The thought of your false eye staring up at him in some impossibly beautiful hue, accenting a lovely outfit he’s dressed you in, makes him a little giddy, and he hopes you’ll be excited about them, too. Maybe in time you’ll be gazing at a selection of eyes laid out on a vanity, choosing between them like you might have done before all this with lipsticks and eyeshadows.

Will you hold up the eye you chose for his approval, a trembling smile on your face? It would be nice to see.

Though he’s not stupid--not as naive as he might have been, if he’d met you twenty or so years ago. You’re not going to immediately jump for joy that the man who orchestrated your kidnapping, tortured you, jacked off into your eye, pulled out said eye, and almost had you yank out your own guts got you a pretty prosthetic.

No, no… not immediately, anyway. That will take time and work and training. Thankfully, he has plenty of experience with that.

He smiles, just a little, watching as your remaining eye fights so hard to stay open; battling against the drugs keeping you sleepy and compliant for the first step in your healing.

You’re mumbling something, and he’s not really listening to the words, until he sees tears in your eye and you repeat yourself. The words come slowly. He’ll remind the nurse to wet your mouth soon.

“You pr…promise?”

He leans forward, cupping your chin, encouraging you to keep going.

Your voice is a whimper and it’s just so damned cute. Your remaining eye is wide and those pretty tears stick to the lashes like dew. He could kiss them off, he truly could, if he wasn’t sure getting anywhere near your remaining eye right now might send you into a panic.

“You promise no… no more shows?”

“No more shows,” he says again, gentler this time, stroking your hair. The tension in your muscles gradually relaxes from his touch, or perhaps the IV drip has given you a fresh dose of painkillers on schedule. It doesn’t matter. The effect is the same.

No more shows, yes, that’s what he tells you.

He does not tell you “no more pain,” because there will be pain. Life does not exist without it. His business does not exist without it. He does not exist without it.

There is always give and take, push and pull, pain and pleasure. None can exist without the other.

It’s a truth you’ll come to learn, as he did. And he can’t wait to bring you to that truth himself.

#the price of flesh #ren hana #tpof spoilers #the price of flesh spoilers #afterwitch writes #I wanna write smut with him but first!! the introspection

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wolfvmin · 1 year

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House of Cards

pairing: chishiya shuntarou x fem!reader genre: angst (i love angst i'm sawry), unrequited love (but is it really), pining wc: 6.1k warnings: niragi, spontaneously written at 2am and under the influence, chishiya is emotionally constipated, is chishiya ooc here idk summary: in which you've known chishiya before borderlands and he isn't so fond of seeing you at the beach ao3 link > PART 2

The first person you saw after the first game at the Beach was Usagi. You ran to her as soon as you saw her by the pool.

“Have you seen Arisu?” She asks you as soon as you let go. You shake your head in worry, your head immediately looking around and searching the crowd for the familiar shaggy mop of hair.

“There!” She exclaims and you both push through the crowd to get to him. He sees both of you approaching and screams your names in delight.

“Arisu!” You grin as you approach him. You immediately wrap your arms around him. He pats your back.

“You’re both alive.” He lets out a sigh of relief. You nod and let him go.

He and Usagi stare at each other with shy smiles, making you roll your eyes. You stood in between them awkwardly.

“Please just hug it out. I’m practically begging at this point. I wish the game just killed me if I knew I will have to see this shit.” You cross your arms and walk away from both of them while both of them follow you, no doubt still shyly smiling at each other while talking.

You sat on one of the pool chairs and Usagi sat on the edge of your seat. Arisu sat on the other chair beside yours.

“Ann was trying to test me,” Arisu says as he sat down on the edge of the beach chair, talking about the game he was in.

“When in Rome, do as the Romans do,” Usagi replies while you nod in agreement.

A girl in a blue patterned two-piece swimsuit enters your space and sits beside Arisu. She was tall, pale, and pretty and with some kind of stick in her mouth. The three of you follow her with your gazes.

“Your girlfriend?” She asks and nods at Usagi. She was talking to Arisu.

“What?” Arisu reacts, clearly caught off-guard.

You roll your eyes again but watch the exchange with a grin.

“You’re wrong,” Usagi denies.

“You clearly like each other. Why not date?” Kuina shrugs and then continues. “You’re never gonna know when you’re going to die.”

Whatever Arisu, Usagi, and the new girl were talking about, you tune it all out with your thoughts.

It was harsh but true. People always say, if the world was ending, they’d live to the fullest. In Borderlands, every day is your last day. You think back to Chishiya. If he was here, how would he treat you? Pain struck your chest at the thought.

Will he ever look at you the way Arisu looks at Usagi? All this time, you’ve been hanging on to your life hoping you’ll return to him. But is it worth it? Will he even like it when you come back?

“What about you?”

The girl looks at you with expectant eyes.

“What was that? Sorry, I zoned out.”

“You got someone to go back to the original world? I’m Kuina, by the way.” She gives you a sweet smile.

You nod, thinking of the nonchalant platinum blonde. “Yeah. I think so.”

She was about to ask more when a loud voice halts the entire celebration.

“Hey, stop playing that tacky music!”

Armed men enter the area. You recognize some of them as the men who tied you up when the three of you were caught spying on The Beach. Everyone stops partying upon their arrival, you even see some holding their breath.

“It’s the militants,” Kuina explains to the three of us. “If you want to live a peaceful life at the Beach, avoid getting involved with them.”

She begins to explain who the militants are and what they do. The muscular man named Aguni is their leader. They’re who are in power on the Beach along with Hatter and his devotees. A conflict could happen between the two groups at any time. You don’t doubt it. Such two different powers will clash inevitably.

Aguni and his militants stop by the four of you. He was looking at Arisu who avoided his gaze.

“What happened to your friend?” The question was for Arisu again. You raise a brow. You’re beginning to notice a lot of people knowing Arisu. He must’ve been in a game with the man back when he was with his friends.

Arisu stayed silent, a glimpse of his defeated self, lying on the ground passing by you.

“I see. He died.” Aguni states the obvious. “What a shame only the small fish survived.”

You frown at the clear insult to your friend.

“Do you know each other?” Kuina whispered to Arisu.

Aguni then flits his dark gaze to Usagi and then to you. You suddenly felt naked in your black two-piece swimsuit. But it’s not like you to cower. So you look back at him with the same dark but angry gaze.

“You,” he points at the arrogant-looking man with the gun over his shoulder. “Bring those women over.”

The man quickly moves to his feet, about to grab Usagi first. Arisu stands up in a heartbeat, shouting his protest.

“Stop it. Don’t get involved!” Kuina holds his arm as he stands up.

Usagi stays planted in her seat and you stand up, fists in anger and on your sides.

“Our boss said he wants a taste of both of you.” He says with an ugly smirk on his face. With you being closer, you could see the multiple piercings on his face. You feel nothing but disgust for this man.

The man grabs Usagi’s arm again and both Arisu and you stop him.

“Stop it,” Arisu repeats, standing in front of you and Usagi.

“What? Had to have two chicks to yourself? Don’t you know sharing is caring?” He asks Arisu and then asks Aguni. “What should we do about this guy?”

“Break his legs so that he’ll die in the next game.”

Your eyes widen at the words of the militants’ leader. You quickly felt fear for your friends. God, is this really gonna happen to the three of you?

The pierced man orders the militants to bring the both of you to Aguni while he grabs Arisu.

The tattooed man with a sword approaches you and grabs you by the arm.

“Fucking let me go.” You struggle against his hold, tugging your arm from his digging grasp.

Arisu escapes the pierced man’s hold and is about to head back to the both of you when the militants block his way. He can’t do anything. You can’t do anything. You were outnumbered and no one will save you.

You stare down the bald tattooed man, not letting him see your fear.

You look around, desperate for an opening or an idea to save the three of you. The people only look at the situation closely.

There was only one name in your mind. Chishiya. You have to get out of here for Chishiya. You have to make it out alive somehow.

“Is this a fight?”

The crowd made a way and came in the Beach’s number one, Hatter.

“Back off Hatter, this doesn’t concern you,” Aguni spoke up.

“I can’t do that. As Number One, I’m obliged to maintain order at the Beach.” He says dramatically, looking afar. Then he looks at the militants once again. “Can you let off the newcomers in my account, Aguni?”

All of the residents of the Beach watch as the tension between the two leaders rises. It was Hatter who first breaks the stare down and looks at the pierced man.

“Niragi?” He directs the question to him. So his name is Niragi, you thought. It’s best to avoid him. He reeks of danger and you are seldom wrong about your intuition.

Niragi looks away. “I only take orders from my boss.”

Hatter clearly takes offense at the man’s answer and looks at Aguni again with dark eyes. “Then let me ask your boss.”

He stares down at Aguni again, faces inches away from each other. “Who’s your boss, Aguni?”

Aguni doesn’t look at Hatter, staring ahead in anger. Then he turns to face Hatter. Everyone waits for the tough-looking man’s answer.

“It’s you, right?”

Hatter seemed pleased with his answer and whispered something to him. Aguni then makes his way out of the scene. You successfully tug your arm out of the militant’s grasp, glaring at him and moving away.

“All executive members are to gather in the meeting room!” Hatter announces to everyone.

The militants rush out of the scene and Hatter watches as they walk away.

“Arisu, you’re coming too.” He orders without looking at him, still eyeing the gunned men who have their backs turned to him. “I heard your potential from Ann. Follow me.”

Arisu looks at Usagi and then at you. You nod at him, assuring silently that the two of you will be okay.

“I’ll be back,” Arisu promises to Usagi who was still sitting down.

Your male friend follows Hatter and Usagi trails behind him in worry but stops after a few steps. You follow her and place a hand on her shoulder, staring at the back of your friend who was to be in a meeting with the executives.

“Usagi. He’ll be fine.” You tell her in comfort, mostly telling it to yourself too.

You turn back at Kuina, about to ask her if she knows where they’re going.

But what you saw froze you in your place, dropping your hand from Usagi’s shoulder.

You felt your heart drop to your stomach. That white jacket. That platinum blonde. Those cat-like eyes. Your eyes must be deceiving you. It can’t be.

“Shuntarou.” You sang as you entered the Doctors’ lounge room.

He was alone and it was so quiet you can hear a pin drop so you don’t miss how he audibly sighs. You giggle, well aware of the fact that you annoy the shit out of him. You sit across from him. He was reading some patient information with three books stacked on the coffee table in front of him.

As usual, he doesn’t even express his negative welcome with words.

“I bought you something,” you wave the paper bag in front of his face in excitement.

It didn’t surprise him. You always do this. Whenever you were out shopping, you had to buy him one thing. It was an unspoken rule you set for yourself. And it could be anything—no price range, no rules. One time, you bought him a plant. It died in three weeks. So, you set another rule for yourself, only inanimate objects as gifts.

You set the paper bag down and take out the box inside it. You know he won’t bother opening it in front of you so you open it yourself.

As you take off the lid, you excitedly say, “Tada!”

His eyes flit to the content of the box for a second and then to you before going back to his patient’s papers. He never says thank you for any of your gifts but you don’t really mind. He didn’t ask for them anyway. But you know when he likes the gifts. It’s how you know more about him. He’ll never tell you what he likes or dislikes so it was up to you to figure it out.

“It’s nice, isn’t it? Can you wear this when we go on our date?” You press him as you take out the white jacket from the box.

It wasn’t a date. But he doesn’t deny it so that was enough for you.

Before he answers (but you doubt he would), the door of the lounge opens and walks in Nakamura Hina. She was your senior in med school and a great doctor. She’s also one of Chishiya’s co-workers.

She’s nice and she never showed you anything bad but you sense that she doesn’t like you. You didn’t mind. There was a pretty long line and you don’t plan on opening the doors to any of them.

“Y/N, you’re here,” she states the obvious and gives you a tight strained smile. Her eyes flit over to Chishiya.

“Chishiya, Mr. Yamamoto wants you in his office to talk about the patient.”

Without saying a word, he was already on his feet, not even sparing you a glance and following Nakamura out the door. You stand up too.

“I’ll head out too! Remember what I said, okay?”

He doesn’t even acknowledge you and kept on walking. Hina was looking at you with pity in her eyes. You’ve grown accustomed to it. That was your reputation anyway–the rich girl always hanging around Chishiya Shuntarou.

When they were out of the door, you slump back down your seat and groan.

Before leaving, you fixed your gift back in the paper bag and set it down next to his things.

You hope he’ll wear it, at least.

It’s Chishiya. Your Chishiya was beside Kuina.

He was staring ahead of you so you purposefully blocked his sight, forcing yourself to be in his sight. It was so you to force your way into his life.

If he looks at you, then it’s real. He’s real.

His gaze drops on your face but as soon as his eyes meet yours, Usagi speaks.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

This made you look at her. “It’s—,” you look back at him but find yourself gazing at a crowd with no Chishiya or Kuina in sight.

He’s here in Borderlands.

Scared to be alone in such a dangerous place, Usagi and you slept in her room. You lie on your backs and side by side on her bed. Inches away from each other, you could practically feel Usagi’s anxiety reeking off and unto you.

“Do you think Arisu’s fine right now?” Usagi finally thinks out loud.

You sigh. “He can handle himself.” You pause and think about the man you considered your friend. “He’s smart, isn’t he?”

You feel her genuinely smile beside you. “It’s definitely one of his strengths.”

“So you like smart guys too?” You tease her. “I get it,” you add, thinking about a certain genius doctor you know.

“Too? What does that mean? Your type is smart guys?” She gets excited and faces you on her side, leaning her chin on her palm and putting her upper weight on her elbow.

You purse your lips. “I’m not telling you.”

She shakes you and whines. “Come on. Tell me.”

You grin and lean on your elbow too, now facing each other like two teenage girls in a sleepover. Doing this felt like ages ago. You used to gush over Chishiya to your girlfriends who clearly felt annoyed and tired of it. But right now, Usagi was waiting and is so excited for you to tell her all about the guy you liked. It reminded you of how life used to be so simple. Now, romance was a luxury no one can afford in Borderlands.

“He’s a doctor.” You start. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. Our parents were coworkers and friends.”

“I was in med school too. We were both there together. It’s kind of an unspoken thing that we’re arranged to be married. I hated studying medicine. So I didn’t really pursue it after college.” You pause, thinking about much easier times. “Chishiya, though, he’s good at everything. He’s smart and he’s so cool. He isn’t like anyone I've ever met.”

“So it’s him? The person you’re going back to after Borderlands?” Usagi asks, sweetly and in awe.

You gave her a sad smile. “That was the plan.”

Her brow furrowed and formed into a frown. “What do you mean?”

You lie back down, looking up at the ceiling with tears in your eyes. It’s a good thing the lights were off. “I saw him tonight. He’s here.”

“He’s here?” She doesn’t hide the shock in her tone and you nod. “Why didn’t you go to him?”

“It’s weird.” You admit. “I’m kinda scared.”

It’s true. You were scared. At first, you were shocked but then you were scared. Chishiya were in the same deadly games you’ve been in. Needless to say, they were traumatic and insane. You don’t doubt that he won all those games but still, you were scared. One wrong move is all it takes sometimes. He could die any day here in Borderlands instead of him waiting for you in the real Tokyo. And would he care about you here? Without the threat of your parents knowing their daughter’s every move?

“You’re scared of your boyfriend?” She huffs, trying to lighten the mood.

“That’s the thing. He’s not my boyfriend,” you answer with a sad voice. “I was just this girl who chased him around. I didn’t mean a thing to him. I’m scared that he won’t care about me here.”

Usagi places a hand on top of mine.

“I’m sure he will. You’re hard not to care about, Y/N.”

You slept that night with a heavy heart. You’ve come a long way in the games. You sacrificed, killed, and bled just so you can come back to a life that was not even worth living for a man that was fighting for his life in the games as well.

It scares you a lot because as much as you do not care about what happens to you, you know that you’ll die for him. You realize that your feelings for him run that deep. You love him that much.

That very night, you realize that your goal in Borderland has changed.

It wasn’t to go back to Chishiya. It was to make sure that he gets out of here alive. Even if meant your damnation, you’ll gladly take it.

The next morning, Arisu, Usagi, and you went around the Beach to gather information. There wasn’t much. You learned that there weren't any games beyond Tokyo and it wasn’t accessible at all. Whoever leaves Tokyo or the country, a laser shoots them from the sky.

The three of you assume that the only real way to get out of here was to play the games.

“I’ll go to the annex basement,” Usagi says as the three of you walk outside the building. “I’ll go get some food supplies and any weapons that we can use.”

“I’ll go with you,” you tell her. She nods at me. “I’m going to look for someone I know.”

You spun and nodded at Arisu. “I’ll look for some more information if I can, in case we need it.”

The two of you separated from Arisu and did what you told him you will. You didn’t find Chishiya. You didn’t think it wise to ask the residents of the Beach about his whereabouts because it wouldn’t be wise for them to know about your association with him. None of these people can be trusted.

When the three of you met up once again, Usagi began to tell Arisu that the Beach had gathered quite a large number of firearms and it was guarded.

“As long as they have those firearms, Hatter is dangerous,” Usagi worried.

You nod. “The militants too. They overpower us.”

Arisu stops walking, thinking deeply. Usagi asks him what’s wrong but he walks again and looks out the window.

Out there, the residents of the Beach we’re partying like there’s no tomorrow.

“The Beach,” Arisu starts. “A utopia built upon charisma. However, maybe that’s just our imagination. A utopia doesn’t exist in this world.”

Usagi and you look at each other, confused at your friend’s mumbling.

“Usagi. Y/N. I’d like to talk to you about something.”

He stares at the two of you deeply in the eye, waiting for your answer intently.

You let out a loud huff. “Why? What’s got you serious all of a sudden?”

You were mad. You found Chishiya on the rooftop with Kuina. How dare him tell Arisu to specifically leave you out of his plan?

“Y/N?” The tall woman was the first one to see you approaching with heavy breaths and clenched fists.

“Why would you tell Arisu to leave me out of the plan? What if something happens to the four of you? What am I supposed to do?” You protest in anger.

“Kuina.”

He only says her name but Kuina understands him. She gives him a nod and taps you on your shoulder before heading inside and out of the rooftop.

“I want to help. I want to leave here too,” you plead with him and take his hand. He pulls it away from your grasp and your heart doesn’t miss to ache because of that action.

“What is so valuable about your life outside Borderlands, anyway?”

“What?”

“You spend all day swiping Daddy’s credit card and drinking with your fake plastic friends. And when you’re bored of them, you come to the hospital to annoy me.”

“Why are you saying this?” Tears well up in your eyes. It’s not that he was lying. All he said was true. You know that you do, in fact, annoy him. You don’t forget the evident irritation on his face whenever he sees you approaching before Borderlands.

You couldn’t help it. Even if the life you had before was dull, there was something about him that pulled you in. You know that he never liked you despite the association of your parents to his. But to hear it tonight, right when you’ve only asked him if you could be a part of his plans—that you want to help him leave The Beach and out of Borderlands.

“Just go back to your room, Y/L/N.”

Stupid. Worthless. Annoying. That’s what he thinks you are. You’re too stupid to be in his oh-so-great plans to leave The Beach. You’re worthless in his and your own life. Most of it all, you were nothing but a nuisance to him. He doesn’t even think of you as a friend. He just thinks of you as someone whom his parents thrusted to.

You agree it’d be better if you weren’t sent to this world with him. But you were.

“I’m serious. You’ll mess up my plan,’ he even adds.

“Why would I do that? What about the games I played? Do you not think I’ve won them with my hard work?”

He makes a tsk sound, staring ahead. It was chillier on the rooftop than expected and your long-sleeved shirt wasn’t enough to shield you from the cold. But you endure it for him and for this argument.

“No. You’ve won games on your own.”

“Then why?” You plead. “Why do you think I’m incapable?”

“I don’t think you’re incapable.”

“Probably not. But you think I’m nothing but a burden to you.”

“You are.” Typical. Unfiltered and cruel truth comes out of his mouth.

“Then you should just let me die in the games I will be in. That way, you’re free of me forever. You’d be able to come back to our life, Chishiya. I know it. I just want to help you. Because I—, even if I’m not your friend, you are mine.” You rarely call him by his last name. The only other times were when it was necessary so you don’t doubt that he felt the coldness in your voice when you uttered his name.

‘Because I love you’, you almost let out.

You don’t wait for his answer and turn around, leaving him alone on the rooftop with his uncaring face and his hand inside the pocket of his white jacket.

While his other hand, the one you held in yours, twitches against the cold breeze of the night.

As Shuntaro’s childhood friend, his unfiltered words were nothing but old news to you. Every time he’d push you away and tell you mean things in disguise of cold harsh truth, you won’t deny that you feel a pang of pain in your heart for a millisecond. But, as aforementioned, with the years you’ve known the nonchalant cat-man, you’ve learned to tug that feeling away as soon as possible.

Right now though, you find yourself exhausted dealing with him.

Now, your feet have carried you to Arisu’s doorstep instead of yours. Despite knowing Chishiya before Borderlands, you weren’t brought here with him. You had your first games alone. That’s when you found Usagi and then eventually, a distraught and defeated Arisu lying on the street.

You spent most of your time in Borderlands with him and Asugi. The three of you joined The Beach together. Who would’ve thought you’d find your long-time crush and friend here as one of the executives?

But before knowing he was here, all your thoughts consisted of the guilt of survival. After all the games you were in, why have you survived? You didn’t deserve it. You don’t consider yourself a good person. You were high on privilege and you basked in it. Your life was pointless with no real hardship.

You’ve confided in Arisu when these thoughts occur. It wasn’t because he was good at comforting you. It was because he understood. He told you he lived a similar life before Borderlands. You picked each other up when he lost Karube and Chotta.

You knocked on his door while hugging yourself in one arm. Your head was all scrambled and there was an aching pain in your heart because of Chishiya.

“Y/N?”

Arisu opens the door to you with tears streaming down your face. His hair was shaggier than usual and he could barely open his eyes. You felt a bit guilty for waking him up so late at night.

“What happened?”

And then you spilled everything to him—the talk with Chishiya and the way you felt about the blonde. You told him how you felt cast aside on the plan to steal the cards.

In the dark of Arisu’s room and on his bed, you tore open your heart in front of him. Your friend sat quietly on the side, listening while rubbing your back in comfort.

It’s ironic how Arisu felt more like a friend than someone you knew for more than a decade. To Chishiya, you were nothing but a burden. Just someone who his parents wanted him to be associated with. His father is a great doctor and a good friend of your father, the owner of multiple hospitals all over Japan.

And you, you were studying medicine as well but you never particularly felt attached to it. It felt like something you had to do. You were supposed to inherit all of it anyway.

You don’t consider yourself intelligent but you had good grades up to high school. It was during college that you started to drift away.

Little do you know, your parents didn’t think you were capable of handling all your businesses from the start. That’s why they chose Chishiya. He was put in the same classes as you from high school up to med school. It was never spoken of but both of you know—Chishiya was being put beside you to marry you and have him take over the company. Chishiya Shuntaro, the genius child.

It was what your parents wanted. It was what his parents wanted. It was what you learned to want. It was what he never wanted.

No, he did want your father’s position. He was always drawn to power and control. And he will get it. But you were the weight that had to come with it. It hurts but it’s the truth.

You clung to him for a long while. But a person can only take so much. Maybe he finally had enough. Without your parents in Borderland, he was free of your childish antics. If you die out here, you know that your parents will still take him in. In fact, maybe they’d be glad that they’ve gotten rid of you. It was nothing but a formality after all—just to say that the next owner is still of your father’s blood.

Despite all that, you love him. You love all of him. You love him even if he looks bored to death when he’s with you. You love him even if he straight up refuses to teach you the lessons you have a hard time on, only to give you his notes right after and even quiz you on them. You love him so much that you accepted being treated like you were worthless and nothing but a pretty display of a daughter by your father so you can have him. If Chishiya wanted to be selfish, then so can you. If he has your position as chairman, then you’ll have him. It’s only fair. He can be happy with his power and miserable with you and you can be happy with him and miserable with your life.

Chishiya is a complicated person. You know that deep inside, he has learned to care for you. Even for a little bit. Well, that’s what you try to believe.

“I’m sorry for waking you up.” You say to Arisu when you are done venting.

Arisu smiles and sighs.

“Our plan, Y/N. It’s dangerous and I understand him.”

You sniffed and paused. “You think I’m incapable too?”

His eyes widened and he shook his head violently. “No. No. That’s not what I meant.” You chuckled at his troubled facial expressions.

“I meant that if I cared about someone, I wouldn’t want them in danger.” He explains himself.

You went quiet after those words. Was it possible? Was it possible that Chishiya was ignoring and pushing you away in Borderlands because he… cared?

You don’t want to hope… but god do you want to.

“He hasn’t seen you in those games. You are more than capable, Y/N. I know it. But I know that if I had the option, I won’t risk putting my friend in danger.”

You nod, taking in his words with understanding. You want to believe that Arisu was right. You want to trust Chishiya. But could you? Do you really know the man behind the rose-colored glasses you wear when you see him?

“Okay,” you sigh.

That night, you stayed with Arisu in his room after arguing with Arisu to let you sleep on the couch instead of his bed. You only didn’t want to risk seeing Chishiya if you went back to yours, especially when his room was a couple of doors down from yours. And you were too tired that you just wanted to crash.

As you stare at the ceiling of the room and feel the digging of your shoulder blades and hips on the couch, you think about the person you and Chishiya were before Borderlands. It hasn’t been long but you’ve already found yourself comfortable with sleeping anywhere, not bathing for days, and hardly eating anything at all. You hadn’t faced any of these hardships.

Arisu was already awake when knocking on his door woke you up from your slumber on his couch. You stirred yourself awake and stood up from the couch.

“Kuina,” you hear him say as he opens the door.

You rise to your feet and head to the door. Kuina’s stare lingers at your recently woken-up form but waves at you and greets you anyway. You wave back.

Kuina whispers something to Arisu and he nods then looks back at you. “Y/N. You can follow Kuina after you’ve fixed yourself, okay?”

You hate this. You felt like a child being taken care of.

Kuina guides you outside the building after being holed up inside your room for the day. It seemed like the plan was a success and you were just waiting for the others.

You tap your foot repeatedly to aid your nerves. Kuina stood beside you quietly, chewing on her stick.

“It’s really hard not to have a smoke right now,” she sighs and talks to no one in particular.

“What’s taking them so long?” you couldn’t help but ask.

As if on cue, Chishiya walks out of the building with his hands in his pockets. You frown when there was no one who followed him next, no sign of the shaggy-haired boy and the athletic girl you’ve grown to love.

“I guess it’s time to say goodbye to this too.” Chishiya removes the band from his wrist indicating his ranking among the executives.

You follow him with your gaze but look behind him from time to time.

“Where’s Arisu? Usagi?” You ask him, worry evident in your tone.

Chishiya stares at you, looking at you with those unfeeling and unemotional eyes. You stare back at them, trying to decipher what he means. And then it hits you.

“No,” you breathe out.

You look at the girl beside you who hung her head low, not being able to look at you.

“Kuina?” Your voice weakened.

Your heart sunk to your stomach. Anger filled your senses and for the very first time ever, you felt hatred for the man in front of you.

“You sacrificed them?!”

He looks away. “It was the only way.”

“They’re my friends,” you complain with a heavy heart. “Arisu is my friend.”

“I feel really bad for them, Chishiya,” Kuina adds.

His gaze flits back to you. “Oh, is that why you ran to your friend’s room for the night after our argument?”

How did he know that? But why does he care?

“Yes. Because unlike you, he gives a shit about me.” You answer with spite. “How could you do this to him? To me? Is this why you didn’t include me in the plans? Because you know I’ll stop you?”

Chishiya doesn’t answer for a while. Silence fills the void between the two of you. Kuina stays silent by your side, watching the scene unfold with her eyes.

“Then go.”

His words held no emotion as he stared at you deadly.

“I betrayed them so we can go out. The three of us. But if you want to go, then go. Help them. I don’t care.”

You look at him and then back to the building. Arisu and Usagi were probably being held by the militants right now. You’ll be outnumbered and caught. But what were you going to do? Go with Chishiya and leave them to die? You thought about the awful things they would’ve done to the three of you if it wasn’t for Hatter stopping them and you felt sick to your stomach. This was not the game. You aren’t supposed to kill and betray unless you were forced to in a game.

Arisu and Usagi are your friends. Chishiya is your friend. You’ve never had real friends before, at least no one really felt like they were. Arisu and Usagi were the first people who made you feel like they were happy to be your friend.

You can’t leave your friends.

“You have the cards, right?” You ask him.

He smirks. “Of course, I do.”

He says it with confidence like he has the ticket to the way out of Borderlands. With this, he was so sure that you’d have to come out with him. So you can go out. That was what he believed you wanted—that you wanted to go back to your life before.

But he was wrong.

“Then you’ll be fine.”

His eyes widened for a second before they turned to something different. They weren’t as dark or lifeless as they usually are. Instead, you could almost see a hint of surprise and maybe even hurt spread across his eyes.

You jump to him and wrap your arms around the man. How many times have you hugged him? You could probably count it with your hands. So you take it in, close your eyes, and try to engrave the feeling in your brain.

“Take care of my parents and the hospitals, yeah?” You whisper in his ear and hold on for five more seconds before completely letting him go.

“Kuina, look out for him, please?” You ask the tall girl but don’t wait for her answer.

Chishiya still stares at you, unspeaking. You look at him one more time and give him a sad smile with tears in your eyes before turning around. You’re afraid that if you look back again, you’ll run to his arms once more and cry about how much you love him.

He doesn’t care if you do. It’s better for you to leave him.

He has the cards now which means he’ll be fine. He can get out of here. If there was someone who can, it was him.

He has no purpose for you anymore and you’ll only be a burden.

With that, you run back inside the building.

#chishiya x reader #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya imagine #chishiya x you #chishiya angst

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koolades-world · 2 months

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the fear of loss (satan x reader)

What is it to lose?

When Satan thought about loss, first his mind always made it's way to that book he was in the middle of reading that he'd managed to misplace, or how his favorite pen was missing somewhere in his bag again. A button popped off his shirt, or a missed opportunity to give back something he borrowed. It was something mildly annoying at most.

As he thought more, he began to dig deeper into the definition/ Sometimes, a plant he'd been working hard to take care of would die, or one of his beloved cats would go missing. Breaking the cover off a book by accident, or the handcrafted bookmark finally coming fully unraveled. With the help of magic, though, this could easily be resolved and made right, or the way they were previously. It was something that hurt more to think about.

However, when he was having a bad day or he somehow managed to slide into the slippery pit of the meaning of his existence, loss meant more than just that to him. Mc was the light of his life. They showed him that he didn't need to prove to anyone that he wasn't Lucifer. They indulged him and his interests in a way his brothers never did. He couldn't imagine living without them. It was something that felt like it was ripping the very fabric of his being to pieces.

In retrospect, he was quite young and had much to learn. His brothers had experienced this already, when they lost Lilith. He couldn't imagine spending an eternity in paradise with someone you loved, just to have them ripped away in such a way. They couldn't have seen it coming. He'd never asked, but he wasn't even sure they'd considered it as a possibility; that god might strike down one of his own angels to such an extent of no return.

Mc had only been with him for a relatively short period of time, but he was a changed demon with them in his life. He knew humans' time was limited, and before his eyes, even if he tried to ignore it, he just couldn't. While he shared some of these sentiments, such as staying up too late binge reading and getting eyebags, the fact that they were human spoke louder than anything else. The gradual development of aches and pains that they seemed set on ignoring, the formation of crows feet and smiles lines. While he remained the same: unchanged. Aging wasn't something he'd considered until the exchange program.

Loss was something Mc had seem to come to terms with. He wished he could too. He had much to learn, even from a being much younger than himself. They had told him many stories about their life, and even if they weren't the focal point of the tale, loss was ingrained within them. Satan had met many powerful beings, but none of which seemed as content as Mc did with the idea of death.

Eventually, he decided to ask them himself. He didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't what they told him. Mc told him they knew there was no going back or redoing anything that has already been done, so they wanted to live life to the fullest. They didn't want to cling onto something they knew wouldn't last, so there was no point in worrying. They did tell him that they were kind of afraid, but that that was normal. Living life to the fullest was most important to them.

After that, he resolved to take them to experience anything and everything he could think of that he thought they might like. While he was a creature of habit who loved to do most of the same things daily, he began to branch out and took them all over the Devildom. For a while, many words unspoken floated between himself and Mc, until they eventually thanked him, because they hadn't forgotten that conversation either. It was that day, he realized, he was actually afraid to lose Mc.

He was afraid to wake up without them by his side. He was afraid to eat breakfast by himself. He was afraid to walk to RAD without them. He was afraid to sit at lunch alone. He was afraid to sit by himself in the library. He was afraid to read in silence by himself. He was afraid to spend every night by himself.

He was afraid to be alone again.

So, he promised himself that he'd treasure them and everything they had together, while he still could. He let them know much he actually loves and cares for them. He held them close and treated them to everything they wanted, before he couldn't any longer.

He didn't let Mc know about the growing ache in his heart as he thought about their future together.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me x reader #obey me satan #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date #omswd satan #obey me mc #omswd mc

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drakaripykiros130ac · 5 months

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Let me just say how much I appreciate this beauty:

Queen Aemma Arryn

Wed to Viserys when she was 11, and gave birth to the future Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen when she was only 15.

This woman right here suffered through several miscarriages and stillbirths and still managed to put aside her grief and embody the Queen Consort Westeros deserved to have.

She was kind, honorable, graceful, wise and strong.

Alicent Hightower has nothing on her. What does she know about pain and suffering? What has she suffered that led her to have such terrible mannerisms as a consort and be an overall hateful, despicable shrew?

Queen Aemma was a child bride too. She was forced to become a mother at a very young age too. But unlike Alicent, she had to go through the pain of five failed pregnancies. Unlike Alicent, she didn’t flaunt her position of Queen around Court. Unlike Alicent, she wasn’t vicious. Unlike Alicent, Aemma didn’t have the privilege to act like a b*tch around Court and get away with it.

In fact, I don’t believe Aemma had half the privileges Alicent had when she was Queen, and yet, she never complained or attempted to cause trouble because things didn’t go her way (unlike you know who).

Do you think Aemma wanted to be a baby maker? No. But she did her duty to the Realm without complaint. And what’s more, she did it with a smile on her face.

There’s a genuine difference in how Queen Aemma presents herself, compared to how Alicent does (whose so-called “sufferings” pale compared to Aemma’s).

All of these things need to be pointed out because I am sick to death of Alicent being excused for her behavior simply because she “suffered” (I don’t see these people granting Rhaenyra - someone who actually suffers like A LOT - the same courtesy). She chose to behave the way she did. She chose to abuse her power and create division lines in the family.

The lesson here is that both these women had their fair share of problems, but how they chose to react to these problems defined them.

Queen Aemma has suffered a whole lot more than Alicent ever did, and would have certainly deserved to live her life to the fullest.

#house of the dragon #team black #pro team black #aemma arryn #queen aemma #hotd #rhaenyra targaryen #queen rhaenyra #anti alicent hightower #anti team green #anti alicent stans #aemma x viserys #asoiaf #asoiaf meta #anti greens #rhaenyra i #team rhaenyra #pro rhaenyra

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pholla-jm · 1 month

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Colors

IMAGINE: COLORS - ZORO X READER GENRE: FLUFF cw: soulmate au. a bit ooc? ****************

The world was rather drab in your opinion. Just black, white and grays. And to see color you have to meet a certain person, your soulmate to be more specific.

You hated that idea. If you want to see the world at its fullest you have to depend on a single person? You cursed the deity that created it. You wanted to be an independent person, and falling in love only sounded like it was going to slow you down.

So you continued to live life in monochrome, accepting to live like this. That doesn’t mean you hated every second of it. To make the best of it, you traveled to different islands, exploring different cultures and trying different foods.

It was a good life.

The island you were currently at was quite busy. People constantly bump into each other, shoving, just trying to get to their destination. You wouldn’t be surprised if there were any pickpockets in the area. You didn’t really like it, too many people. So you decided to head to the docks to find your little boat.

However, it was gone. Someone had stolen it. Your day literally couldn’t get any worse.

Your eyes gaze at all the other ships, trying to find one that you deemed worthy enough to get help. A ship with a sheep figurehead caught your eyes. It was rather… cute.

You could see some people walking around on the deck. With a deep sigh, you mentally prepare yourself to play the damsel in distress. Forcing tears to sheen over your eyes, you climb up the ship.

“Excuse me,” You softly say, tears becoming more fresh in your eyes as you try to catch someone's attention.

“Hey! What are you doing on my ship?” You hear a boy call out to you. You look at him, seeing that he was wearing a straw hat and an open vest. You could tell he had his guard up, and you don’t blame him. It is his ship anyway. However, you could tell that it would be rather easy to convince.

“Someone stole my ship… and now I’m stuck here. Can you help me?” “Huh, are you a pirate too?”

What, a pirate?

You didn’t really consider yourself to be a pirate but if it pleased the boy in front of you, then you would say that you were.

“Because if you are, then you’re a terrible pirate.” He says and you almost choke on your spit.

“No,” you whisper while wiping away some tears, “I’m not a pirate. I’m sailing by myself.”

The boy was about to say something until another woman appeared.

“Luffy, who is this person?” A taller woman now stood behind the boy, a slight scowl present on her face.

“I’m (y/n), and my ship has been stolen. I just need passage to the next island… I have berri to pay you with.” You say holding up a small bag of berri, since the rest of it was on your ship. Something that irked you even more.

As soon as the woman heard berri, her scowl lifted away and a bright smile graced her face. “Of course!” She says immediately grabbing the small pouch of money that you had. She walks off, not saying anything else. Leaving you with the boy named Luffy.

“Welcome to the crew!” He excitedly says. You quirked an eyebrow, “uh. Not part of the crew. Just to the next island.”

Luffy ignores you, “I’ll show you to the rest of the crew. That was Nami, she’s our navigator,” he grabs your hand and starts to drag you around the ship. He opens one of the doors, which led to a kitchen. A man stood over the stove, stirring something.

The man sighs hearing the door open. “Luffy, how many times do I have to tell you-” He turns around, ready to scold the boy. However, he stops once he sees you.

“Well, who do I have the honor meeting?” He walks over to you, with a suave smile. “This is (y/n), she’s going to be a part of the crew now. This is Sanji, he’s the cook” Sanji grabs onto your hand, and you just slightly shake your head, “oh no. Just to the next island.” Sanji brings your hand up to his lips, placing a chaste kiss on it. “Well, I do hope you change your mind.” You nervously laugh at him while pulling your hand back, “thanks.”

Luffy grabs onto your other hand, dragging you out of the kitchen.

“This is Usopp!” He shouts pointing to someone with curly hair and quite a long nose. “He’s a-” “I’m the Captain!” He cuts off Luffy. “No! I’m the Captain!”

The two start to bicker, causing you to sweat drop at their antics.

While they are bickering, you decide to look around the ship. Your eyes caught a man that was sleeping on the side of the wall. He had three swords right next to him, and you wondered, who uses three swords?

Leaving the two bickering boys, you walked up to the sleeping man. Wanting to get a closer look at the three swords. However, when you are standing right infront of him, his eyes snapped open, looking straight into your eyes.

Suddenly, you could see this green hair. Something that greatly stood out to you.

Wait.

You could see the color of his hair. You could see every color around you.

It was all too much. The sudden rush of colors causes your head to spin and hurt. There were too many colors that you’ve never seen or heard before. You didn't have time to process the fact that you were now face to face with your soulmate. You rush past the man, and lean yourself over the railing. It wasn’t long until you were puking your guts out.

“Huh, I guess my first impression isn’t that great.” You hear the man speak and you inwardly cringe. He must think you’re disgusting now.

You groan, pushing yourself up to face your soulmate. Now that your headache has calmed down a little, you were able to take a better look at the man. He was tall, and had a few muscles on him. The thing that stood out to you was his green hair. You weren’t expecting to meet your soulmate on a pirate ship, and an actual pirate nonetheless.

“I’m sorry… I wasn’t expecting to meet my soulmate. And the colors… and it was just too much.” You explain. The man hums in response, “I wasn’t expecting my soulmate to sneak up on me.” You purse your lips, “I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you… I was just interested in your swords.”

The corner of his lips twitched, and he was about to say something until Luffy jumped in between the two of you.

“(y/n)! There you are! You met Zoro!” He excitedly says. “Yeah, we met. They’re a part of our crew now, right?” Zoro says and your eyes widen.

It seems like Luffy wasn’t the only one who decided that you were going to be a part of the crew.

“Shhiiishiiishii, yeah!”

Zoro shoots you a look, one of amusement and just a little bit of smugness. “Welcome, I can’t wait to show you more about my swords.”Zoro walks away leaving you speechless and Luffy just a little bit confused. “What was that about?” He asks. “Uh, don’t worry about it.” You answer, “I just found my soulmate…”

#one piece #one piece x reader #oneshot #zoro x you #zoro x reader #one piece zoro #one piece fluff #zoro fluff #zoro x y/n

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chyeyuj · 4 months

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an anon reqeusted this fic and im sirry if it wasnt exactly like the one you requested bcs i forgot baout it and this is my 2nd remake...if the pic below is like not being lined tgt or smtg, js ignore it. im not remaking this again.

cheater!ex!bada lee x wife!reader x wife!aiki

"yn."

you felt someone tap on your shoulder and look sroumd to see none other than your ex, Bada Lee. You never knew you'd meet her again. "I didn't know you were involved in this show." She said, chuckling but all you did was smile at her awkwardly. "Yeah, I didn't know you were involved too." You replied. "Well you know me, dancing is my passion!" The way she spoke was as if she didnt just cheat on you a long time ago. She continued to speak again, "How's your life going, yn?" She asked, a grin on her face as she waits for your answer patiently. "Its alright, what about you? How is you and Howl?" You shoot her back with a question and she immediately drops her smile when you mentioned Howl. "We're..not together." Bada replied, looking away.

Years ago, you and Bada were the "healthiest" couple in your whole life. Everything was smooth, until Bada met one guy during her dance sessions. Howl. You thought they both had a sister brother bonding and you knew that Bada doesnt have feelings for men. But everything changed on that day, the day you got back from dancing with your friends. When you got home, you saw a pair of shoes that weren't yours but not wanting to think negatively, you thought that Bada bought new shoes.

Inside, you didnt see your girlfriend anywhere, she wasnt watching tv like she used to so you went to your room to put your things you just bought with your friends earlier before searching for Bada.

But opening that door was something you regretted doing because when you did that, you saw Bada and Howl on both of you guys' bed, making out.

Hearing the loud gasp you let out, the both of them pulled away and look at you, their eyes widening in shock.

Before Bada could get up though, you immediately closed the door and walked out of the house in tears. You immediately went to Tatter's place since she was the friend you trusted the most and when you told her baout what happened, she immediately gasped. She did not expect this from someone like Bada. She insisted you to stay with her, tomorrow or afterwards she will get your stuff in the house you and Bada used to live in together.

It has been days, weeks, months ever since the incident with Bada. You were living your life to the fullest. Tatter had introduced you to one of her friends, Aiki. Both of you hung out, telling eachother's interests and more. Soon, Aiki confessed which you accepted. Aiki has treated you better than Bada ever had, always being with you no matter what and she was very loyal. And eventually, both of you were happily married until this day.

Back to the current situation, Bada finally looked at you, smiling a bit. "So..anything new happening lately?" She asked, changing the topic. "Yes, I am married." Your reply making Bada's face turn into shock, her jaw agape. "With who?" "Aiki." Again, she was shocked to hear about the news. Never has she thought that you would end up being married to someone. Aiki showed up at the right time after fixing her clothes and everything, immediately walking beside you and putting her hand on your hip. "Oh Bada, right? Leader of Bebe? I like your team's spirit." She said, smiling while Bada only nodded, still a bit shocked. "Well the show is about to start, you should get ready." Was the last thing Aiki said before leaving along with you. Meanwhile Bada was looking at you both with shock and disappointment. She knew it was all her fault.

#gxg smut #bada lee x reader #bada x reader #bada lee #aiki x reader #street woman fighter 2 #street woman fighter x reader

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 1 year

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Left at the Altar - Hangman (Part 3)

Pairing: Hangman / Fem!Reader (Ex-Girlfriend!Reader)

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Some Light Angst; References to Sex; Second Person POV ("You"), No Y/N, No Physical Descriptions of Reader

This work, all of my other works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.

Summary: You struggle with your life back in Texas. Is California calling your name?

A.N. I double-checked and I'm pretty sure that I added everyone to the tag list who requested it and has their age on their blog, so hopefully this works.

Part 1 Part 2 Epilogue

Master List

Sitting on the couch of your childhood home, you held your wine glass close to your chest.

It was officially two days after you were left at the altar and the last forty-eight hours of your life were practically a blur.

After your night with Jake, you were forced to deal with reality. You moved out of the apartment that you shared with your ex and went through the process of literally cutting him out of your life one photo at a time. Literally. Your name wasn’t on the lease since you moved into your ex’s bigger apartment a few months ago, which worked to your advantage.

You dropped off anything to do with your wedding at your ex’s family’s home, including your wedding dress, since they paid for it and told them to do whatever the hell that they wanted with it. Or they could bring it back to you and you’d burn it.

And your last spiteful move against your ex was cancelling your honeymoon reservations and the extra ticket that he bought his mistress the night before they were supposed to fly out. And the best part was that they had already checked in. Your ex tried to angrily text and call you after he got to the airport, but you just blocked him and moved on.

And now here you were: moved into your childhood bedroom, with your life in a suitcase and a bunch of taped up cardboard boxes. Truly living life to the fullest. Well, at least you had some wine that your mom may or may not have stolen from the reception venue.

The night chill seeped through the screens on the windows and the back door and forced you to pull on a sweatshirt. It was one of Jake’s old faded UT ones that he got when you were both sixteen. He quickly grew out of it and you were happy to take it off of his hands. You kept it in the deepest corner of your closet when you were living with your ex-fiancé, but now, you wore it openly.

You thought that it would have been inappropriate to wear an ex-boyfriend’s sweatshirt in the apartment that you shared with your fiancé. Of course, you thought that fucking someone else would have qualified as inappropriate, but perhaps you didn’t have your priorities straight. You should have started wearing it months ago.

Taking a sip of your wine, you sighed and leaned back against the couch.

Even in the darkest days of your relationship with Jake, he never once degraded you like your ex-fiancé did. Sure, Jake could be an asshole and you were the first person to tell him that he was being an asshole, but he wasn’t irredeemable. He had his faults but his heart was always in the right place.

Your ex on the other hand; there was absolutely no way to justify his decision to break up with you over text on the morning of your wedding day. You were done with him and with the whole picture. Luckily, you already deleted and cut up all the remaining photos of the two of you together.

The sound of footsteps caused you to open your eyes and turn towards the stairs. Your mom slowly walked downstairs and smiled softly when she saw that you were still awake. Making her way over to you, she sat down beside you on the couch and squeezed your shoulder.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked softly.

“Something like that,” you replied, just as quietly.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been better,” you answered honestly, trying to force a small smile.

“Did you hear from Jake?”

“Yeah, we’ve been texting a lot. He apologized for fact that he had to run out.” You nodded slowly, pursing your lips together as you let a breath out of your nose. “But it’s not his fault. That’s just how it always goes with the two of us.”

“Why does it have to work out like that?” your mom asked softly.

“That’s just how it’s always been, Mom. You know that,” you replied, turning to stare down at your wine glass. “When we’re together and alone, everything is perfect. Everything feels right and I never ever felt like that with someone else. But then reality hits and we have to go back to the paths that we picked and . . . we’re separated in the end again.”

Your mom nodded solemnly, though her expression gave away her opinion on the subject. Straightening up, she glanced out the window at the rose bushes that sat right below your childhood bedroom window. The ones that were planted there for a very specific reason.

“I remember when your father bought those bushes,” your mom stated wistfully, causing you to pick your head up and turn around.

“You mean when he tried and break me and Jake up?” you mused, shaking your head.

“He was trying to prevent you from sneaking out and Jake from sneaking in,” your mom corrected you with a small smile. “And how well did that work?”

“Not even in the slightest,” you replied without skipping a beat. You smiled softly as you glanced out at the familiar bushes, working through some of the associated memories. “I remember when he fell into them one night. He showed up the next day to school looking like he lost a fight with a cactus. Told his parents and everyone that he fell off a skateboard and they somehow bought it.”

“And did he come back after that?”

“He might have,” you stated with a shrug, earning a look from your mom. “A few times.”

“Exactly,” your mom responded, folding her hands in her lap. “He kept coming back. He keeps coming back to you no matter what life throws in front of the two of you.”

“He does,” you agreed quietly.

“I mean, how many times have the two of you been in a relationship?”

“A few,” you replied, earning another look from your mom. “Seven or eight, depending on factors that I need to be a bit little drunker to discuss with you, Mom.”

“My point is,” your mom continued, resting a hand on your arm, “you two keep finding your way back to each other. Over and over again. And honey, I have to tell you this honestly. I’ve never seen you happier than you are when you’re with Jake. You could combine your love for all of your other exes and it still wouldn’t compare to the affection that you have for Jake. And we can all see that.”

“I know, Mom,” you replied softly, trying to not choke on your emotions. Letting out a breath, you sunk further into the couch. “I was so stupid for thinking that marrying anyone else was going to solve any of my problems. Or make me happy.”

“Well, the good news is that your ex looks like a complete ass and now you get to go on and live your fairytale without that burden on your shoulders,” your mom stated, squeezing your hand. “And, honey, I want you to have your fairytale. I want it for you so badly.”

“I know, Mom.”

“And I think that Jake is that person for you,” your mom reiterated, rubbing your arm soothingly. “You let him go and he let you go because you two loved each other and you wanted what was best for each other. But despite that, you two still found your way back together so many times that you can’t even keep track. And that sounds a lot like love to me.”

“I love him, Mom,” you confirmed for her. “I do. I love him so much.”

“Then why are you staying here?” your mom asked you, causing you to sit up more. “Honey, I know that you love living here, but I don’t want you to hold yourself back from your happiness because you’re scared of taking that first step out.”

You nodded slowly, not really sure what else to say. Your mom pulled you in for a hug. Pressing a kiss to the top of your head, like she did when you were a kid, she squeezed you tightly to her chest.

“I just want you to be happy, sweetheart,” your mom whispered to you. “And I know that I taught you to not rely on other people for your own happiness—and you still shouldn’t—but you always just seem happier when you’re with him.”

“I am happier when I’m with him, Mom,” you agreed, burying your face into her shoulder.

“Then I think that you have your answer, sweetheart.”

~~~~~

After another long day at work, the Dagger Squad decided to go out for a cold beer together before taking some time for themselves. Except for Coyote, that is, who made some excuse about having to run a random errand.

It was a warm spring afternoon, so the Dagger Squad gathered out on the back deck to get away from the afternoon rush. Hangman glanced down at his phone frequently, waiting for your text. After your shared night in the honeymoon suite, the two of you had been texting frequently. Obviously, you were both busy, but you tried to text a few times a day.

But today, you weren’t answering. Jake didn’t want to jump to conclusions on anything, but it still struck him as odd. Especially because he knew that you had the next few days off because you were supposed to be on your now cancelled honeymoon.

“If you don’t put your phone down, you’re paying for the next round, Hangman,” Phoenix warned him, taking a long sip of her drink. “Remember Maverick’s rule?”

“He’s not here,” Hangman replied back, though he still stowed his phone away. “No need to try and win the teacher’s pet award.”

“Says the man who always sits in the front row of every briefing,” Bob spoke to his pilot’s defense.

“He’s got you there,” Phoenix stated with a proud smirk.

“You know, I think that I speak for everyone when I say how happy I am that the two of you chose to keep flying together,” Hangman replied sarcastically, reaching for his beer.

“You get crabby when Coyote’s not here to back you up,” Rooster quipped as Hangman took a swig of his beer. “Actually, you’ve been crabby for a while now.”

“Been hanging around you guys for too long,” Hangman replied without missing a beat, setting his beer down on the table.

“You just had a break from us,” Rooster pointed out, shifting in his seat.

“Wasn’t long enough,” Hangman stated, reaching for his phone again.

“Well, Coyote’s here to cheer you up,” Fanboy announced, staring down the boardwalk. Fanboy frowned slightly and straightened up a bit. “But he’s got a woman with him.”

That announcement got everyone else at the table to whip around to stare down the boardwalk. Coyote was, in fact, walking over with a woman. And who was that mysterious woman who may or may not have spent half an hour in an airport bathroom making sure that she didn’t look like she woke up at three that morning to get to the airport to get to San Diego?

You smiled softly and waved to Jake, who was completely shocked to see you in California. And, of course, you wore a sundress that he bought you. He felt obligated to get it for you after the two of you got a little handsy in a dressing room while you were trying it on.

“Who the hell is—” Rooster’s question was cut off by Hangman practically knocking over the entire table with how fast he got up from the table. “Jesus Christ,” Rooster complained as some beer spilled on his jeans. “Really, Hangman?”

But Jake was already bounding down the boardwalk, slipping around the tourists, civilians, and other naval personnel. The Daggers stared after Hangman with mildly confused expressions and curious stares. Except for Coyote, who grinned when he spotted Hangman hurrying over.

“You know,” Coyote told you with an amused smile, “I think that Javier is a very strong name for a baby boy. It rolls right off the tongue.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you promised Coyote with a small chuckle.

Coyote shot you a wink before walking towards the Hard Deck. Coyote sent Jake a mock salute that Jake returned before continuing on his way. You stopped in your approach since Jake was moving fast enough for the both of you and simply held out your arms.

The rest of the Daggers watched as Jake scooped you up into his arms and spun you around. You laughed and hugged him back, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist to avoid any risk of falling onto the weathered wood below.

“What are you doing here?” Jake breathed out, slowly placing you back on your feet.

“Well, I had a few days off,” you replied softly, smoothing down the creases on his shirt. “And so, I hopped on the first flight that I could get to San Diego. I thought that I would surprise you.”

“I’m certainly surprised,” Jake mused, resting his forehead against your own.

Gently guiding your chin towards his own, your lips met in a soft embrace. Jake wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer to him. You cupped his cheeks with your hands and deepened the kiss perhaps beyond what was respectable in public.

But hell, Miramar was a Navy town. This was far from the most indecent reunion kiss that this town had ever seen before.

Coyote walked over to where the other Daggers were gathered and took Hangman’s spot. If Coyote knew how Jake operated when you came to visit, he wasn’t going to need his seat back.

“Hangman has a girlfriend?” Bob asked Coyote curiously, assuming that he knew all.

“I think ‘girlfriend’ doesn’t really cover it anymore, honestly,” Coyote replied honestly.

Back on the boardwalk, you reluctantly pulled away from Hangman’s lips for a little air. Smiling goofily, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and just simply took in the fact that he was right here in front of you once again.

“How long are you in town for?” he asked you, slowly opening his eyes.

“Until Sunday,” you replied, meeting his gaze again. “So, we’ve got about five days together.”

“No time to waste then,” Hangman reasoned, picking up your bag from where you placed it on the ground. “This is it?”

“Yeah, I packed light because I needed to fly standby.”

“That’s fine. You won’t need to wear anything once we get back to my apartment,” Jake stated with a wink, earning a light smack to his arm.

Jake led you over to where his truck was parked. He put your bag in the backseat and handed you the keys. Jake sprinted back to the Hard Deck to pay his tab and gift Javy some beer for the surprise. Dancing around the invasive and curious questions from the rest of the Dagger Squad, Jake returned to your side as fast as he could.

“Ready?” he asked, shutting his door.

“Ready,” you agreed, leaning over to press a kiss to his lips.

Jake backed up out of the spot and started driving to his apartment. Once he put his truck back into drive, he reached over and grabbed your hand, threading your fingers together. You returned the gesture and squeezed his hand, trying to not melt into the seat when Jake pressed a kiss to the back of your hand.

“I missed you,” you told him softly, smiling over at him.

“I love you,” he returned confidently.

“You always have to one-up me,” you sighed, shaking your head playfully. “But I love you too.”

“What’s not the love?” Jake replied with a playful wink.

“Did you want me to get out the list?”

“Harsh,” Jake stated, smirking a bit. “Don’t worry, I can think of a way that you can make it up to me.”

“I intend to . . . Lieutenant.”

Part 1 Part 2 Epilogue

A.N. I'm thinking that I might do an epilogue that's set a few months or years into the future. So, if you're not already on the tag list and want to be tagged in an epilogue, then reply or reblog with that request (though you must show that you're an adult with your age in your blog to get tagged). Thanks!

Tag List (First 50 since there's a limit):

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