#Grabbing you by the shoulders. DISTORT! DISTORT! DISTORT! DISTORT!

[uwuwha]

Art of major block tales demo 3 spoilers!

(Project moon voice) Builderman I'm beginning to think you want me to lose my mind

[asgardian--angels]

pls stop characterizing viktor as angry and violent i s2g fdsgfgdfh

[mattybsgroupie]

— tub ★ matt sturniolo

— CONTENTS: established relationship; making out; semi-public sex; p in v; creampie; sub!matt

— NOTES: i literally gasped when i saw that pic and i just had to tell @mattscoquette how much i needed hot tub sex with him. well… here it is! i know i have so many requests but i promise i’m gonna write them all! not proofread as usual, i apologize for any mistakes, hope you enjoy it ♡

“finally” matt mumbled under his breath as he watched chris drink his last sip of soda before wrapping himself in a towel and getting inside the house. you chuckled at his comment, dragging your arms across the warm liquid that embraced you and moving towards matt. “why? i thought you were having fun”.

“i will have fun” he said, reaching for your hands and interlocking your fingers in each other’s palms as he pulled you closer, face to face with him. “now that it’s only us” .

“you’re so lucky water distorts the actual form of things” you teased, placing your forearms around his shoulders and comfortably positioning yourself on his lap, feeling matt’s boner against you. “i could tell you were hard 30 minutes ago” you continued, index flickering around matt’s necklace. you went further, bringing the chain in between your teeth before closing your lips around the cold metal, deeply staring inside his blue orbs.

“it’s not my fault” matt whispered, not being able to keep his eyes off of you. “not when you look this good” he allowed his hands to travel across your body, stopping by your hips and forcing them down. you gasped with the sudden contact, matt’s cock seemed to have gotten even harder if that was possible.

the purple, blueish light that shimmered from the corners of the tub along with the warm bubbles turned the moment intimate, and matt couldn’t help it — he pressed his chapped lips on your neck, licking the tiny droplets of water there.

you let out a heavy sigh, letting go of his chain and tilting your head to the side, allowing matt to go further. his stubble tickled against your skin as the kisses got more heated, his teeth gently nibbling on your exposed neck.

lost in matt’s touch, your hips started moving in a pace of their own, slowly grinding your covered pussy against matt’s hardened cock. the pressure caused by the water intensified the proximity of your parts, causing matt to groan in a low tone, trying his best to stay quiet.

“my good boy doesn’t wanna be loud?” you teased and matt threw his head back, squeezing his eyes shut. “mhm” he nodded, “don’t call me that”.

“why? you don’t want chris to know his big brother is all worked up from a little grinding?” matt nods again. your thumb hovered over his lips, brushing above the lower one before pulling it down in a pout. “use your big boy words” you demand as matt sticks his tongue out, licking your digit.

“need you” matt whined, his grip on your waist growing tighter. “need you so bad, please” he repeated, slightly jerking his pelvis upwards, a silent plead for you to notice his aching cock. you leaned in and sealed your lips together, intensifying the kiss as your hands traced their way down his torso, your nails scratching his chest.

matt’s hands went to your ass, harshly grabbing your flesh and lifting you from his lap. you took the opportunity to quickly pull his shorts — just enough to free his dick from the swimwear he was wearing. you could tell matt’s eyes were wandering around the backyard, as if he was checking if you were actually alone. you cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look at you and smiling warmly, letting him know he didn’t have to worry about a thing.

his sneaky fingers reached the straps of your bikini, easily undoing the tie and letting the black fabric hang loose, your bare pussy now only a few inches away from his shaft. matt guided you towards his length, lowering your cunt on his tip. you let out a deep sigh before fully sitting on him, his dick opening you up entirely. “fuck fuck fuck” he whimpered, “s-so tight fuck”.

“be a good boy hm? you want to shut you up?” you said, trying your best to keep your composure. matt’s veins pumped inside you, his tip brushing on your cervix. “nhng— yes… can’t be loud”. you chuckled at his eagerness, pressing your lips against his once more and sliding your tongue in, twirling the wet muscle around his own.

“you’re so big” you said amidst the kiss before pulling away, flickering your gaze from his lips to where your parts met. “look how good you fill me up hm?” matt nodded. it all felt too good. almost too much. he had been staring at you for hours, and his cock was throbbing underneath that bathing suit. the warm water around his body, your hands pressing his biceps, your pussy squeezing him. “you’re right here” you said, gently grabbing his wrist and placing his palm on your tummy.

“please i-i need to—” matt whimpered, his grip on your ass growing tighter as he bucked his hips upwards, mindlessly pounding inside you. you felt your own high approaching, the familiar knot on your lower belly begging to be released. “cum! please!” matt cried out loud. you shushed him, grabbing his jaw and lifting his chin up. moans came from the back of his throat, and you had no other choice but to bring your fingers to his open mouth. matt immediately wrapped his lips around your knuckles, sucking them with all his might.

“good boy” you praised him, receiving a muffled whine from him. “cum for me baby, fill me up” as you gave him permission, matt’s entire body trembled underneath you. his orgasm washed over him and his release threw you over the edge, the warm, thick spurts of cum painting your walls white.

matt panted heavily, tiny droplets of water dripping from his brown strands. none of you wanted to let go or get up, the comfort of being in each other’s embrace being enough to fall asleep right there — and you wouldn’t mind cockwarming him for the rest of the night. unfortunately, you still had to find your bikini panties and he had to make sure his brothers were already asleep. “hey, at least we didn’t make any messes huh?” he joked, giving you one last kiss before getting up and turning the lights from the hot tub off.

— TAGLIST ★ @thepubeburgler @submattenthusiast @pearlzier @mattsfavbitchhh @bugeyedgrl @sturncakez @riowritesitall @mattsturnswife @sturnsmia @sturnthepot @mattscoquette @conspiracy-ash @ilovemattsturn @lizzymacdonald06 @blahbel668 @fratbrochrisgf @sturnobsessedwh0re @cayleeuhithinknott @sturniolo04 @1c3b4th @mattsfavbigtitties @bellassturniolo @sturnsxplr-25 @ivammbb @shadowthesim237 @slutformatthewsturniolo @stefansring @teeheeomg @dystfopia @riasturns @faiyaz555 @sturnslutz @alesturniolos @emely9274 @courta13 @elandrys @sturns-mermaid @mattsplaything @marrykisskilled @bells-sturn @mattsgstring @strnilolover @jetaimevous @aaliyahsturniolo @evie-sturns @ivysturnss

complete masterlist ★ matt masterlist

[catdia]

Lost in a Wild Rune

“Jayce— p-please slow down.” You whined. Throat straining against his hand.

He had you pressed against the wall of his abandoned workshop. Entering you with one thrust of his hips.

You came to his workshop to mourn his memory. Walk around the now ice cold fire pit and touch all those unfinished projects he had laying around.

Instead you found a broken Jayce, longer hair and full beard. Beautiful amber eyes uneasy and intense like never before. Talis hammer distorted with a Gem stone no longer blue.

A short emotion filled reunion. Hands grasping his dirty ruined coat. Nails digging into his clothing to see if this all was real. That he was flesh and bone.

You had so many questions about what and why. Before you could even get them out your mouth he claimed you with a kiss. Stripping you of your bottoms and shoved into a cold wall.

“I missed you so much, baby. I’ve become crazy without you.” He moan into your ear. Teeth sinking into your neck. Marking your skin red.

What happened to the man that used to make love to you so tenderly? The one that would give and give, and never take.

You refuse to believe that the man that was fucking you so hard was your lover.

He was pounding away at your entrance. Leg brace scrapping the outsides of your thighs. Your ass bouncing against his pelvis each time he thrusted into your weeping cunt. Other hand holding your arms behind your back making your wrists hurt.

He was so hairless before. Claiming he liked to be groomed for you. But seeing him shirtless with hair on his chest and a happy trail pointing to his cock made your cunt drool.

Jayce smelled of musk. The hand on your neck calloused by the lack of gloves. He wasn’t the council member you last saw.

He was just a man with the primal urge to fuck. And that made you unbelievably willing.

“Jayce, please, i-it’s too much!” tears were escaping your eyes. Your moans and cries echoed through the workshop walls. As if those walls were mocking you.

“My beautiful girl.”

He growled like an animal, having your velvety walls contract on his shaft was pure heaven. After months of pain and mental strain your skin was a much needed pill.

Balls slapping against your little abused clit deliciously. They were so backed up and heavy. Full of creamy seed. Head of his cock hitting your sweet spot just right. Squirming to get out of his hold, fearing of cumming too quickly. You wanted to savor his lust.

You almost forgot how big he was. Without any prep the shock of having him inside you was great, the burn was mouthwatering.

“How I’ve missed this pussy. Fuck, can’t wait to breed you.” He moaned between hollow breaths.“Should have done it sooner. I need to make you mine, baby.”

You were his the moment you met. Forever and always.

“Make me yours, Jayce. Fuck me full with your fat cock!”

He let go of your arms and neck. You braced yourself on the cold concrete. Palms violently grabbing the flesh of your hips, dragging them to meet the start of his shaft and all the way to the tip.

“Give yourself to me, muñeca—”

He came screaming your name, coating your cervix in white.

“Ohhh, fuck.” Jayce pulled you flat on his chest.

His hands pressing on your lower tummy. The pressure made you see stars, throwing your head back on his shoulder. Arching your back. Jayce captured your lips in a kiss, beard scratchy against your chin.

He made quick work of your clit with his fingers. Slapping her a few times making your body shiver and whine out.

“Jayceeeeee— I’m gonna cum!”

“Cream all over my cock, baby.” You came on his shaft. Body convulsing by the lack of release you haven’t had in months.

“That’s it, that’s it…” Jayce slowly pulled out with a hiss. Spreading your cheeks apart to see his cum dripping out of your swollen lips.

Your legs were like jelly, if it wasn’t for him turning his back against the wall and sliding you down to the floor your knees you have been bleeding.

Jayce wrapped his arms around you. They were more muscular than you remembered. You were all fucked out. Hair in every direction, sweat coating your brow. But this Jayce didn’t care.

He was smelling your body, nuzzling his nose into every crevice of your skin. Licking and tasting you as if you were going to disappear.

A giggle filled Jayce’s ears.

“Your beard is tickling me, baby.”

He smiled like a lunatic. Kissing the back of your hand. “It is? Do you like it?”

“Mmm I love it, Jayce. And the hair too.” You said tracing his jaw with your knuckles.

You missed each other’s joy so much.

You saw the pain in his eyes, one of a massive headache that cannot even be controlled by morphine. The way the lines of his nose scrunched up in discomfort. What happened to your lover?

The hormones of sex and bliss slowly diminishing.

“What happend to you? Why did you leave me alone?” You broke down in his chest. Ugly crying like he has never seen before.

“Sshhh, baby, please don’t cry. I’m right here with you.” Jayce cradled your head in his large palms. Bringing his lips up to your eyes and drinking your tears.

“I don’t even know where to begin…”

“Start with why the Hexcore has tuned into an angry human tissue sample.”

You pushed a strand of hair behind his ears. Massaging the sides of his temple with little pressure. Making him sigh in relief.

His gaze was focused, like the young inventor you saw for the first time in his blown-up apartment.

“Ok. Well, it all happened so fast after the attack—”

[somnoir]

Bats and Phantoms - Part 1

Prompt: All the Phantom/Fenton Siblings end up with one of the Bats and Birds. It's just that neither of the two families know that their partner is related to their siblings' partners.

Danny and Red Hood

Going to Gotham for university was a planned decision, mind you. It was one of their many contingency plans in case the reveal went wrong. Thankfully, it didn't but his parents were still trying to change their views on ghosts for the sake of their children. Last he heard from his parents, Jack and Maddie Fenton were practically harassing every ghost they could find on culture, history, and etiquette. (He's gotten one too many complains from Box Ghost and Poindexter.) Plus the mess that was the situationship between the Fenton Couple and Vlad Fucking Masters. (Dante was about to kill himself again for that).

Gotham had enough ambient ectoplasm for him to be stable. Everything was very normal. Absolutely...

If not for the fact that Danny loathed clowns. When a clown decided to try and attack Danny, what does he do?

He did what every self respecting Fenton would do when faced with something he absolutely hates. He came at him swinging, aiming for the face.

And maybe he put a little too much power into the punch and the next thing he knew, a body was flung against a wall and breaking it on impact. Danny stares at the toppled wall and—HOLY SHIT HE JUST KILLED THE JOKER.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—BATMAN WAS GOING TO KICK HIM OUR OF GOTHAM!

But this was the Joker... The last time that crazy fucker got out of Arkham, he threatened to blow up an orphanage. Okay, he could do this. Gotham Harbor it is.

And in typical Fenton fashion, his luck was shittier than ever.

"What the fuck..."

Danny whipped around, freezing in place when he came face to face with the Red Hood. The fucking revenant of Gotham that the city spirit seemed to really favor. Fuck.

"It's not what it looks like! I mean—It is—But, like..." He swallowed thickly, trying to offer a smile but he flinches away when Red Hood snapped his head from the corpse then too Danny.

"That's the fucking Joker!" The Red Hood was pointing a gun at the corpse now, voice distorted and everything.

Yeah. Well. Shit. Danny gulped, finally deciding that since he was already half dead, he might as well clean up. Not like the Red Hood could kill him—I mean, he could, but Danny wasn't going to die by a bullet.

"You—" The gun was now pointed at him.

"It's not my fault he decided to fucking jump me!" Danny immediately argued, grabbing the clown by the legs and dragging him forward before he winced at the trail of blood. "It's a clown! A fucking clown!"

He yelped when the crime lord slapped his hands away from the corpse, "The fuck is wrong with you? Don't fucking touch the corpse unless you want that shit to traced to you." The Red Hood grunted, shaking his head. He sounded... He kinda sounded giddy, in all honesty. Why the fuck was the Red Hood teaching Danny how to get away with murder?

"What were you even going to do with the body?"

Danny cringed away. To tell the truth or not? Such a difficult question... Okay, he's pretty sure most of the Bats were like detectives and lying to this one might get him shot.

"Gotham Harbor?" He squeaked out.

Danny was met with silence and the man built like a fucking fridge (but he's so damn sure that Dan was still the tallest person he knew) didn't move a bit. Then his shoulders shook. And then he was laughing. Fucking shit, the Red Hood was laughing because Danny was going to dump a body in the harbor.

What was Jazz going to say?!

(Meanwhile, Jason Todd finds a strange boy that makes him feel strange, warm—the same boy had killed his worst nightmare. He might just have fallen in love right then and there.)

Part 2 | Masterpost

[carnalcrows]

tight spaces

genre: smut

pairing: triangle guard x m!reader

CW: bottom reader, top guard, blowjobs, dacryphillia, dubcon, y/n is not used, the guard is MEAN, reader gets off to his dick being stepped on, facefucking, choking, hair pulling.

word count: 0.9k

A/N: pretend the guard did NOT walk into reader, inho and gihun doing the deed, but he is aware that it happened.

The Triangle Guard's grip on your arm was firm as he guided you through the dimly lit corridor, the oppressive silence heightening the tension that hung in the air. The recent encounter with Gi-hun and In-ho still burned in your memory, a distraction you couldn't afford right now.

The guard stopped without warning.

Before you could utter a word of confusion, he whirled and pushed you into a dark alcove. The rough coolness of the wall bit into your back as he crowded in after, his hard body blocking any route of retreat. The closeness was suffocating, yet strangely intoxicating, the heat radiating from him an extreme contrast to the antiseptic chill of the corridor.

"What were you doing, back there?" he asked in that low voice filled with equal quantities of curiosity and accusation, so much more threatening with the mechanical distortion in his mask.

"Cleaning up," you said, trying to keep your voice level, though your heart was racing.

"Cleaning up," he repeated in obvious disbelief, leaning a little closer. The mask was nearly touching your face, and his body was pressed onto yours enough so that every inhale and exhale sounded tenfold. "That's what you're calling it?"

"Does it matter?" you shot back, forcing a smirk despite the coiling tension.

"It does," he whispered, his voice dropping to a near growl. A gloved hand rose to brush against your neck, as if to settle your collar, but his touch tarried. His fingers traced along your jawline with deliberation, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Breaking rules," he muttered, almost to himself, his thumb brushing your cheekbone. "Or looking for trouble?"

"Maybe both," you said back, quieter, yet still daring.

The charged air between you seemed to condense, causing the world to fade away beyond that shadowy alcove. His hand fell onto your shoulder, clenching tight as he leaned into you. His breathing, combined with yours, sounded distorted and filled that small space.

Then, he moved. One of his hands slid to the back of your neck, cupping it as his masked face leaned slightly, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss. The mask was cold and rigid against your skin, but the mouth beneath it was warm, demanding, and unrelenting.

It was a hard, almost punishing kiss, as if he wished to make certain of the control at that very moment. You gasped against him, and he took full advantage, plunging into the depths with a hunger that allowed for no demur.

The edges of his mask pressed lightly into your skin as he pushed closer, his body pinning you against the wall. Your hands clutched his uniform, desperate for some anchor amidst the whirlwind of sensation. His grip tightened, tugging you closer than was possible, his heat searing through the layers of clothes between you. When he finally pulled back, his breathing was as uneven as yours. His mask tilted, as if studying your reaction.

Wordlessly, he pushed you down to your knees, and unbuckled his belt. Before you could say anything, his erection sprang out, hitting your cheek lightly.

“Suck.” He demanded, to which you shook your head in protest. Your throat was still sore from your previous… escapade.

“Do what is told of you, dumb whore. I’ll fuck your corpse if I have to”, the guard uttered, his hand going back to grip a fistfull of your hair. A gasp left your mouth from the sting, and he takes it as an opportunity to slide his cock into your warm mouth.

You choke at the sudden intrusion, your hands grabbing at his thighs. He didn’t wait for you to get accustomed to his length, fucking into your mouth like it was the last day on Earth.

The guards foot slowly inched towards your crotch, rubbing over it slowly, giving you wanton relief as he was using your mouth.

Him hitting the back of your throat with every thrust had led to your gag reflex turning on. Tears kept pooling around your eyes, and when you tried to close them, he yanked your hair to look right at him. “Don’t even think about looking away baby, you know the consequences”, the same hand went from your face to the holster at his hip, indicating that he could still use the gun on you if he wished.

You whined and stared up at his mask, the white triangle seeming to illuminate the dark alcove. Without warning, the guard’s thrusts started to become erratic, and you knew what was coming. He on the other hand, didn't let you pull back, and pushed your head all the way to his hilt, the musky scent of his balls hitting you. Your hands gripped on his thighs while he forced you to swallow every. single. drop.

After a moment or two, he finally slid out of your mouth, with you taking a long, shaky breath. His hand slid down from your hair to your shoulders, slowly hoisting you up.

While getting up, you noticed that your thighs felt sticky. It turned out that you had come undone in your pants as he was using your face.

He seemed to notice this too, as he took a rag from the nearby shelf in the small alcove and used it to wipe you down.

His gloved hands gently cupped your face, a sharp contrast to what he was doing to you earlier

"Nobody hears about this," he said, his voice thick with lust. His thumb smoothed over your swelling bottom lip and teased on without moving any farther, long enough to have you wanting more. A far-away echo of footsteps broke the spell.

He stepped back abruptly as the commanding mask of professionalism snapped firmly back into place. Wordlessly, he took your arm and steered you out into the main corridor.

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time and and I take genuine effort to do them.

[entitled-fangirl]

I'll always be thanking you.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

Summary: The reader goes through postpartum depression after she gives him yet another girl. Cregan reassures her that he loves his daughters.

Warnings: postpartum depression, recovering from childbirth, sexist culture

Masterlist

A/n: it's a two fic kinda day

...............................................................................

It had happened so suddenly.

Cregan thought all was right in the world. Everything was set in place by the Old Gods as it should be. Everything was perfect.

But he knew that the last two pregnancies had been unkind to her, prompting a horrid depression after them that went on for months. But when it hadn't shown yet for this last one, he thought that perhaps it had stopped completely.

Until now.

He stepped into their chamber with a broad smile, lightly bouncing the two-year-old on his arm. Arya. She giggled with each one, the sound distorted with the force of the bounces. Witnessing the intimidating man turn soft for the little girl was entirely endearing. 

"Your mother is still in bed," he chipped lightly as he observed his wife covered by the furs they shared every night.

"She always in bed," Lyanna, their five year old said as she trailed behind them.

"Not always," Cregan corrected firmly. "She just gave us your new sister. It takes a long time for the body and mind to recover from something that great."

A small shaking of his wife's shoulders from her laying form in the bed caused him to worry slightly. "Lyanna, why don't you take your sister?"

She wanted to complain but knew better than to argue with her father. She took the toddler's hand and they walked out from the room.

Cregan's recovering wife laid in their bed, completely unmoving except for the small shoulder shake he'd seen. It was a quiver and it sent him on edge. She only ever did that when-

"Are you crying?" He whispered as he sat on the bed, her back to him.

Finally she turned. She had been awake the entire time. Her face was red from crying, the paths of her tears evident on her face. Her lips pouted down as she suppressed a sob.

Cregan was quick to comfort her. He practically laid his body over hers, keeping an arm around her to let her weep into his collarbone. And she did so.

He cooed every few moments, his free hand rubbing at her hair. The tears pained him almost as much as watching her endure the harsh labor only a two weeks before.

When the violent part of the crying was over, he pulled her face away to look at her. "Now," he caressed her cheek, "What is all this for?"

She sniffled and hiccuped between words. "It's just… just… Sarra."

His face fell. "Is something wrong with the babe?"

"No. It's just…" she caught her breath. "Another girl."

Cregan's head tilted. "It is," he reckoned. "What is the problem, my love?"

"Can I not give you a boy?" She whispered in fear of the answer.

Realization flooded Cregan. "You're doing nothing wrong," he assured. "I love my girls with all my heart. Did you want a boy this badly?"

"I just want you to be proud of me."

He visibly flinched. The thought of his postpartum wife crying over giving him a healthy baby was too much for him. "I'm proud of you. You've given me three girls now."

"But it's not a boy." Her eyes continually welled up with tears. "I was so sure it was a boy."

"Do you think me that shallow, dear wife?" He asked in a firm tone. "That I'd have you birth children until I got a boy?"

"Two," she corrected. "You need an heir and a spare and I-" her breath caught. "I cannot even give you one. A cursed womb-"

"Don't say that." His voice was a firm growl, his hand grabbing her jaw a bit harder than he meant to. "Do not say that."

A few tears ran down her cheeks.

Cregan forced a sigh and let his anger die down. He sat up a bit, giving her space. "Do you think that all I wanted in this world were two sons? Do you think that is all my heart desires?"

It was clear that she knew deep down how ridiculous she sounded. "Well-"

"-I've said it many times. What does my heart desire? Hmm? What brightens my day more than the sun?"

She let out a breath through her nose.

Cregan continued, tilting his head down to catch her gaze. "My wife and what? What else?"

"Your children," she whispered.

"Hm?" He asked, though he clearly heard it. He just wanted her to say it once again.

"Your children," she said a bit louder. 

He smiled. "Yes, our children." He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "Whether we had had one or you give me an army, I shall love them all until my remains in the crypt are long gone. Being a boy or girl doesn't change it."

"But… Winterfell-"

"-We'll deal with the succession when it is meant to happen. Until now, you're going to rest, and I'm going to spend time with our children. But I'm not going anywhere until you've done your part."

"The maester said it would take much longer to heal this time," she muttered. To herself or Cregan, she wasn't sure.

"That's alright. We've got all the time we need for now, don't we? No need to rush things."

"But the sooner we try-"

"-No-"

"-And Sarra was such a surprise-"

"-Stop-"

"-The next one could be sooner-"

"-Love," he said with a slightly raised voice. "When you're healed and ready to try once more, I will be eternally grateful. But I can wait a lifetime if I need to. I have all I need in the world already."

There was a small knock on the door. "Papa?"

No doubt it was Arya.

Cregan grinned and kissed his wife's temple before going to the door. In the doorway stood little Arya, her hair a sandy brown like Cregan's, her bright eyes like her mother. "What do you need?" It was a firm ask from him, but not one without care.

Arya had yet to say complete sentences yet, only a few  words here and there and the lord would be forced to try to make sense of them. She babbled about something and Cregan's brows raised, completely at a loss. "Um… I-"

"Here, darling," Y/n's soft voice came from behind Cregan as she walked to them. In her hand was Arya's doll that she had no doubt dropped earlier. It was a carefully sewn piece from Cregan's bastard sister, Sara, of whom the new babe was named after. "I see Aunt Sara got a new dress for her, hm?"

Arya grabbed the doll quickly from her mother and hugged the doll tightly. 

Cregan wrapped an arm around his wife. He wanted to scold her for getting up but he would refrain from that for now. "Aye. A very pretty dress," he tried to compliment. Cregan didn't know the first thing about sewing or doll making, or even the fashion of ladies, but he tried anyway to please his girls.

Arya's brows came together in clear confusion, prompting his wife to lightly elbow him. He gave a grunt and gawked.

"It's a battle dress," she spoke through her teeth. "It's a doll dressed like a female warrior."

He decided to go along with it, though he clearly didn't understand it. "I mean, what a very fierce dress. Seems very… protective."

Arya accepted that answer and held the doll out for Cregan to truly see. His gruff hand reached out and took the doll, bringing it up to his level to admire. His sister had done well with it, even he could see that. "So very pr-" he caught himself. "So very strong."

Arya jumped up to grab the doll and Cregan handed it back to her. The two parents watched her take off again like nothing had happened. 

"How'd you know what she wanted?" He asked his wife.

She rubbed at her tired eyes, ignoring the slight ache in her thighs. "She said so. Didn't you hear it?"

"We have three lovely girls and I still have so much to learn," he remarked, amusement oozing from his voice.

She gave a tired grin at that. She began leaning more into him than before and he held her hips taught. "Now," he remarked, "to bed with you."

"Sarra might need me-"

"-I'll check on Sarra."

"And Lyanna was hoping to play outside-"

"-I'll see to it."

"And Arya-"

"-What of Arya?" He asked quietly.

She paused. "I- She always needs something."

He let out a deep chuckle, guiding her back to the bed. "I'll see to it all. I promise you. I can be a father, whether you believe that or not."

She hummed. "I do."

"Alright. Then let me." He kissed her cheek, his scruff rubbing at her skin. "We'll get you in bed."

"Can the girls visit later?" 

He couldn't deny those bright eyes of hers. The same ones each of his girls inherited. It was his one weakness. "After you sup, then yes. But that is in a few hours."

Relief and excitement pulled at her shoulders, a comforting feeling washing over her. "Thank you."

As he tucked her back into the bed, he smiled at her. "Don't thank me. You've given me everything. I'll always be thanking you."

................................................

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar @kidd3ath @yujyujj @misswynters @cosmosnkaz @sithapprentice @kaniromi @lovemesomevesey @its-jackie-bb @thorins-queen-of-erebor @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn @callsignwidow @a1lexh-blog @alyssa-dayne @ethereal-athalia @ashovertheriver @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @dozcan123 @wangjiangelangel @kamitargaryen @aegonswife @lv7867 @helpmedecideaname @cherryheairt @classicsimpforaaronwarner

[ivoraic]

Closer than Infinity

Summary: No one touches Gojo Satoru without permission. No one bypasses his infinity. And yet here you are, clinging to him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Paring: Gojo x Reader who’s cursed technique is cursed energy absorption

Word Count : 9.6k

Cw: choking (as in the trying to kill you kind not the sexy kind), potential jjk spoilers, kidnapping, mahito, kenjaku performing experiments on you. let me know if i missed any pls mostly just tooth rotting fluff with satoru being whipped for you (and some heart wrenching angst as well... but with a happy ending!) Read on ao3

The sun glares down at you, searing and relentless. It was bright. Too bright. A moment ago, you were in your room, lulled by the soft patter of night rain against the window. Now, you’re here, disoriented and overwhelmed, standing in the middle of a bustling Tokyo street.

The sky feels heavier here, the air thick with something you can’t quite place; cursed energy, though you don’t know it yet. People bustle about around you, eyes glued to their screens, their expressions vacant. No one spares you a second glance.

You don’t understand where you are, and the anxiety starts creeping in, your vision blurring as tears threaten to spill.

Then, you hear a voice.

"Hey, hey, you okay there? So, you’re the one displacing all the cursed energy in this area, huh?”

You turn toward it, and he’s just standing there, hands shoved into his pockets lazily. Clad in an all-black attire, his blindfold is tugged just above his sharp grin.

His name, you would come to learn, is Gojo Satoru. The catalyst for your new life.

There’s something about him, something undeniably safe despite the power that hums around him, distorting the air. The oppressive weight pressing down on you seems to lift in his presence, and instinctively, you take a step toward him.

But before you can reach him, a careless passerby bumps into your shoulder, sending you stumbling.

Your hand shoots out, grabbing onto his arm to steady yourself.

His smirk falters.

His mind blanks for a second, and his eyes widen just slightly; a flicker of shock. His Infinity didn’t activate. Didn’t even react.

You had bypassed it entirely.

Why… why did my Infinity not activate?

He didn’t drop it. He knows he didn’t. And yet, your hand, small, soft, and trembling, touches him like it’s nothing. Like touching Gojo Satoru is the most natural thing in the world. His brain scrambles for an explanation, but all you do is blink up at him with wide, confused eyes, unaware of what you’ve just done.

It fascinates him. No one gets this close to him without permission. No one just touches him.

But you did.

And you're clinging to him like he's the only safe thing in this entire strange world.

Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer alive, is rattled by a single touch. He masks it quickly, of course. A sly grin spreads across his face as he leans in, eyes narrowing with interest.

"Oh? You must be special, huh?" he teases, but there’s an edge to his words, a curiosity that borders on obsession.

He doesn’t give you the chance to answer, not that you could. Before you know it, he’s taken your hand, his grip light yet unyielding.

Because now he needs to know.

Why you can touch him. Why his Infinity doesn’t react. Why he can’t see through you with his Six Eyes.

You’re like a puzzle he can’t solve, and Gojo is obsessed with solving things. He takes you back to Jujutsu High, deciding to figure out exactly what you are.

---

At the school, he watches you quietly, letting you stick close to him. His explanations about Jujutsu society, cursed spirits, and techniques are frustratingly vague, always seeming to leave out some crucial detail. You scramble to piece things together, devouring books from the school’s archives and pestering him with endless questions, to which he mostly responds with amused grins and teasing remarks.

“You’ll figure it out,” he’d casually reply, lounging back in his chair, arms folded behind his head. “You’re a quick learner.”

Despite his carefree demeanor, you soon realize that he’s much sharper and more perceptive than he lets on, and he takes a certain delight in testing your limits. Through a series of spontaneous, almost playful experiments, you both begin to uncover the nature of your cursed technique: cursed energy absorption.

“Let’s see what happens,” he announces one afternoon, tossing a small flicker of cursed energy your way. It’s harmless, just a wisp, really, but the moment it touches you, it vanishes, swallowed into the void of your body. You barely feel it, just the faintest tingle, like static electricity dissipating against your skin.

Gojo’s eyes narrow slightly, his interest piqued. “Huh. That’s neat.”

He doesn’t stop there. For extra measure, he releases a low-grade fly head into the room; a harmless cursed spirit. The creature buzzes around erratically, its movements jittery and unpredictable. But the second it brushes against you, it crumples up and disappears completely, as if sucked into a black hole.

He lets out a low whistle. “Scary,” he murmurs, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

But you’re not invincible. Physical attacks, you quickly discover, can still hurt you. The realization makes Gojo frown thoughtfully, tapping his chin as he processes the implications.

“So cursed techniques don’t work on you, huh? But a punch in the face would?” He leans in slightly, a slight smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “That’s… not good.”

You huff at his bluntness, crossing your arms. “Thanks, mister obvious.”

He chuckles at that, but his expression grows serious as he continues. “All this cursed energy you absorb, it has to go somewhere, right? Energy can’t just vanish into thin air. It’s gotta build up or… redistribute somehow.”

His words linger in your mind for days, gnawing at the edges of your thoughts. Where does all that energy go? You find out soon enough.

It happens by accident, during another one of Gojo’s experiments. He’s been pushing you harder lately, testing your capacity to absorb larger amounts of cursed energy. You’re already tired, your body humming with the energy you’ve collected over the past hour, when he suddenly says, “Alright. Let’s try something new.”

Before you can protest, his hand lands gently on your shoulder. The moment his palm touches you, the world shifts.

It’s like a thread pulls taut between you and him, an invisible line that snaps into place and yanks you forward. The energy within you stirs violently, surging toward him as though drawn by an irresistible force. And then, without warning, you’re pulled in.

Your physical body seems to dissolve, your consciousness folding into his. It’s not painful, more like slipping into warm water, the boundaries between you blurring as you’re absorbed into him completely. You’re disoriented at first, overwhelmed by the sudden influx of sensations. His cursed energy roars around you, infinite and untamed, but instead of drowning in it, you find yourself amplifying it. Strengthening it.

And then you feel his thoughts.

They’re loud and clear, vivid and raw. His confidence. His focus. His endless, swirling intellect. But underneath it all, there’s something else. A quiet loneliness, buried so deeply that even he might not realize it’s there.

You know he feels you too. His awareness brushes against yours, tentative at first, then curious. He’s seeing all of you. Your awe, your nervousness, the way your heart stutters when you think about him.

A voice echoes in your mind. His voice, but softer than you’ve ever heard it. “Is this… you?”

And then it’s over.

Your body emerges from his in a rush, like being expelled through a barrier. You’re weightless for a moment, reeling from the sudden separation, before his arms catch you instinctively. One hand steadies your waist, the other bracing your back, holding you close as though afraid you might collapse.

You’re trembling, your head spinning, but his grip is firm, grounding. His expression is unreadable, his gaze flickering between concern and amazement.

“That,” he finally says, his voice low and breathless, “was… unexpected.”

You nod weakly, still trying to process what just happened. “What… what was that?”

Gojo tilts his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips despite the obvious seriousness of the moment. “Looks like your cursed technique has a little bonus feature,” he says. But there’s an unmistakable gleam in his eyes, something almost giddy, like he’s already thinking of all the ways this changes things.

“Merge,” he murmurs thoughtfully, his grip on you tightening just slightly. “You can merge with me. Boost my energy, maybe even my technique… and I can feel everything you feel.”

You blink, the weight of his words sinking in. “I… merged with you?”

“Yeah,” he says, his tone light. “I could feel you in there. Your thoughts, your emotions. It was… intimate.”

The word makes you flush, but Gojo doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he does, and he’s just enjoying your reaction. He allows you to remove his hands from your body and step back, regaining your composure.

“This changes everything,” he continues, his mind already racing with possibilities. “With an ability like that, you could turn the tide of any battle. But…” He trails off, his expression darkening.

“But what?”

He meets your gaze, his tone unusually solemn. “It also makes you a target. If people find out what you can do, they’ll come after you. And not just curses—the higher-ups, other sorcerers, maybe even people we don’t know about yet. You’ve got something they’ll want to control.”

The gravity of his words makes your stomach twist. You realize, perhaps for the first time, just how dangerous your ability could be. Not just for your enemies, but for yourself.

Gojo must see the worry on your face, because his grin returns, softer this time. “Don’t worry,” he says, ruffling your hair playfully. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I’m the strongest, remember?”

---

Word of your ability spreads fast. It’s not long before the higher-ups find out. They hear whispers of an anomaly. Someone who can bypass Gojo’s infinity, someone with a cursed technique powerful enough to absorb energy itself.

You first hear about their unease from Gojo himself. He brings it up casually one day, as if he’s commenting on the weather.

“The higher-ups are wary of you, you know.”

You glance up from the book in your hands, frowning. “Wary? Of me? But I haven’t done anything, have I?”

Gojo raises an eyebrow, as if the answer is obvious. “You have. You can do what no one else can.” He leans back in his chair, balancing it on two legs, a small smile playing on his lips. “You can touch me.”

To the higher-ups, you’re a threat. An unpredictable variable that could shatter the delicate balance of power.

If she can bypass Gojo, she can kill him.

And if she can kill Gojo, she can destroy everything.

The order is swift: Immediate execution.

Gojo only laughs when he hears it. Laughs in that cold, dangerous way that makes the air around him tighten.

“Oh? You want to what now?”

They try to argue.

“It’s a precaution. You can’t possibly guarantee she won’t turn on us.” “It’s too dangerous to let her live.”

Gojo’s smile sharpens. “No. You’re not laying a hand on her.”

And that’s the end of that conversation.

Even though the higher-ups were afraid of you, the one they were most afraid of was Gojo. They knew better than to risk provoking him. Instead, they compromise. If they can’t execute you, then they’ll find another way to control you.

That’s how you end up being appointed as Gojo’s personal assistant. Or, as you later realize, his handler. It’s a political move, thinly veiled under the guise of practicality. They claim it’s to “help you grow as a sorcerer” and to “ensure your potential is properly utilized,” but the truth is far simpler: they want you close to him, where they can keep an eye on you both.

Gojo seems happy enough with the arrangement, informing you of it with a wide grin.

You frown. “How is this a good thing?”

“Because,” he says, ruffling your hair playfully, “it means I get to keep you close. And you’re safer next to me than anywhere else.”

---

At first, Gojo is determined to keep you emotionally far away from his heart. He knows better than to get attached to someone like you, someone vulnerable and still finding their footing in the world of curses and sorcery. He’s lost too many people he cared about already. He can’t bear to go through that kind of pain again.

But you’re like gravity to him. The more time he spends with you, the harder it becomes to stay away. Not to mention the way your cursed technique pairs so naturally with his, like a missing puzzle piece. He tries to keep his feelings at bay, but he keeps getting pulled closer.

And slowly, before he even realizes it, he’s falling.

The first time you merge with him during a mission is a nightmare for you. As he’s cutting through curses with ease, beneath the adrenaline, he feels your awe and your admiration for how effortlessly powerful he is.

Your thoughts begin drifting to the image of him while fighting, the way he can effortlessly fight hand to hand, the way you can sometimes catch a glimpse of his well-built stature and abs when his jacket lifts up slightly mid battle…

God, he looks so attractive when he’s fighting.

He smirks mid-battle. Shoot.

“Oh? Is that what you’re thinking right now?”

You flush with embarrassment, mentally scrambling to cover it up, but it’s too late. He finds it adorable. He doesn’t stop teasing you about it for a week afterwards.

You find that you can merge with other sorcerers too. It isn’t just Gojo’s cursed energy that’s compatible with yours, as much as he likes to loudly claim that his is the best match. Nanami, for instance, has a steady, almost soothing flow of cursed energy. Organized, predictable, and oddly comforting in its calmness.

But there was admittedly something about Gojo’s cursed energy that stood apart. Merging with him felt... natural. Like his energy wasn’t just accepting of yours, but welcoming, pulling you in with an ease that was almost magnetic. You last longer in the merged state with him, your abilities amplified in a way that feels effortless. It’s a fact he takes great pride in, often teasing you about it with a smirk.

“Guess my energy is just built different,” he says, smirking. “No one else can keep up with you like I can, huh?”

It’s infuriatingly true, and he knows it. But his smugness doesn’t stop you from practicing with others. After all, you can’t rely on him for everything.

One day you decide to practice with Nanami in one of the training rooms. His cursed energy is steady as always, and you focus on syncing your flow with his, attempting to enter his body the same way you do with Gojo. The process is slower, less intuitive than when it’s with Gojo, but you’re making good progress.

You’re in the middle of a successful merge when you feel a strange presence, faint but undeniably familiar. Turning your head slightly, you spot a flash of white hair peeking around the corner of the doorway.

At first, you think you must be imagining it. But then the head tilts, and you catch the unmistakable glint of Gojo’s dark sunglasses reflecting the light.

Was he seriously spying on you?

It takes all your self-control not to burst out laughing. You can’t tell if Nanami is unaware, or just ignoring the figure at the door, though you assume the latter. He just continues with his usual calm focus, adjusting his stance and refocusing his cursed energy.

You glance back at the doorway, only to find Gojo glaring. Not at you, but at Nanami. His arms are crossed over his chest, and his expression is a mix of a pout and a death glare, like a sulking child who’d been told to share their favorite toy.

He catches your gaze and immediately straightens up, feigning innocence. With exaggerated casualness, he leans against the wall, whistling as if he hadn’t just been caught.

“Don’t mind me,” he calls out, his voice entirely too loud and cheerful. “Just passing by. Carry on!”

Nanami sighs, clearly unimpressed. “Gojo, if you’re going to spy, at least be subtle about it.”

“I wasn’t spying,” Gojo retorts, strolling into the room with his hands shoved in his pockets. “I was monitoring. Big difference.”

“Sure,” you say, smirking. “You’re monitoring my progress with Nanami. That’s why you were hiding behind the corner and glaring at him, right?”

Gojo’s eyes widen in mock offense, one hand flying to his chest. “Glaring? Me? I don’t glare. I radiate charm and positivity.”

Nanami pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering something about Gojo’s inability to take anything seriously.

Gojo ignores him, turning his full attention to you. “Anyway, you’ve been practicing enough with him. Time to come back to the one and only,” he declares, pointing at himself with a dramatic flourish.

“Jealous much?” you tease, raising an eyebrow.

“Me? Jealous? Pfft, never.” But the faint flush creeping up his neck betrays him.

Nanami, ever the professional, simply rolls his eyes. “I’ll leave you to it, then,” he says, stepping back. “Good luck.”

You both know the last part is directed towards you.

As soon as Nanami leaves, Gojo sidles up to you, his grin a mix of smugness and relief. “So, how’d it go?” he asks, his tone casual but his eyes betraying his curiosity.

“Fine,” you reply, being deliberately vague.

“Just fine?” he presses, leaning in closer.

“Don’t worry,” you sigh. “…Your cursed energy still feels the best.”

The triumphant grin that spreads across his face is both endearing and irritating. “Knew it,” he says, ruffling your hair.

---

Your new life is strange. But you grow used to it. You grow close to the staff members and students at the school and become more familiar with your cursed technique.

Over time, merging with Gojo becomes second nature. But what surprises you the most isn’t how well your cursed energies sync. It’s the emotions you begin to feel through the connection.

At first, it was fleeting impressions. An ache that wasn’t yours, a flicker of sadness that disappeared almost as soon as it surfaced. It was like catching shadows in the corner of your eye. Easy to miss if you weren’t paying attention.

But you were paying attention.

Through these merges, you truly begin to understand him. Gojo Satoru. The strongest sorcerer alive, but also someone who carries an almost invisible weight on his shoulders. You can sense his loneliness. It’s heavy, quiet, and constant, masked by his confidence and easy laughter. You begin to see the cracks in his carefree facade, the moments of vulnerability he rarely lets anyone see.

Beneath the teasing remarks and self-assured smiles was a man who bore the pain of loss and the burden of protecting a world that barely understood him.

You can’t shake the feeling. It lingers long after the merges end. You find yourself wanting to do something, anything, to ease that aching loneliness.

You start paying attention to him in ways no one else had.

When he cracks one of his terrible jokes, you laugh. Though not out of pity, but because more often than not, he’s actually hilarious in his own absurd way. When he tugs you away during missions to slack off, you go along without complaint. You let him have his fun, matching his playful energy with a smile of your own. You find his cheerful grin and happiness worth every second of it.

The more time you spend with him, the more you find yourself saying “yes.” Yes to his impromptu plans, late-night snack runs, and the ridiculous detours he insists on taking just because something caught his eye. Every spontaneous moment and silly adventure feels like a glimpse into a part of him the world rarely gets to see. A part he doesn’t let anyone else in on.

And slowly, things began to shift.

He doesn’t have to beg Nanami or Shoko to join him anymore because he has you. You’re the one he starts to seek out. Because you’re one of the few people who can offer him genuine comfort.

You see how his eyes light up when you listen to him ramble on about various topics, how his posture relaxes when you’re around. Slowly but surely, the walls he had built around himself start to crumble for you.

---

The streets of Tokyo are alive tonight. Lanterns light the pathways, casting a warm glow over the festival-goers. The scent of grilled skewers and sweet treats lingers in the air, mingling with the distant crackle of fireworks. You walk beside Gojo, his towering frame impossible to miss even in this crowd. His blindfold is in place as always, covering his eyes from your view. But you can tell he’s enjoying himself from the faint but genuine smile tugging the corners of his lips.

You had toured the festival together, eating your fill of tasty street food, and laughing as Gojo tried (and failed) to win you a stuffed animal from a claw machine. As the night winds down, the streets grow quieter, the hum of the festival fading into the distance. Gojo suggests taking a walk, and soon, the two of you find yourselves on a secluded hill overlooking the city. The soft glow of Tokyo stretches out below.

Gojo tugs his blindfold down, letting it rest loosely around his neck. His snowy white hair ruffles in the wind as he closes his eyes for a moment, letting the cool night breeze brush against his face.

He’s still holding his dango stick, though it’s down to one last piece. With a smirk, he holds it out to you.

“Wanna try?” he asks, his voice light and teasing.

You lean down, taking a bite. The sweetness of the sauce melts on your tongue.

“It’s good!” you exclaim, glancing up at him with a smile. But you pause when you see the way he’s looking at you.

His gaze isn’t teasing or playful like usual. It’s different. Softer, unguarded. His vivid blue eyes are fixed on you, admiring you like you’d hung the very stars that shine down upon you both.

The vibrant hues of the fireworks reflect off your face, your hair gently blowing back in the night breeze. And in that moment, with the way your eyes sparkled when you spoke, the way your smile lit up the world around you, he realized something he couldn’t deny any longer.

He was hopelessly, utterly, entirely in love with you.

You tilt your head, a little confused. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

That snaps him out of it, and he lets out a soft laugh. “No,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost reverent. “…You’re perfect.”

As the city lights sparkle below and the wind carries the distant echoes of the fireworks overhead, standing next to you, he wonders if this was the happiness he had been craving.

He doesn’t even realize his Infinity begins instinctively sneaking around you, hovering just above your skin, careful not to be absorbed by your technique. In time, it becomes second nature to him. Because in Gojo’s mind, you’re not just beside him, you’re a part of him.

He never realized how much he needed you until you were here with him.

But happiness, you learn, is fleeting in the world of jujutsu sorcery.

---

Kenjaku had heard of you. Your cursed technique, the ability to merge with other sorcerers, and amplify their power. Such a gift was dangerous, especially when paired with someone like Gojo. He recognizes the danger you pose if you’re allowed to grow stronger, especially under Gojo’s protection. But Kenjaku is patient. That’s why he waits. Waits for the perfect moment, when you would be at your most vulnerable.

Shibuya, 9:27 PM. Gojo Satoru was sealed.

You wander the winding halls of the subway alone, eyes frantically darting all around you. Where was he?

You two had arrived at the scene together, alongside the other sorcerers, but it soon became clear the situation was much graver and more calculated than anyone had first expected. Gojo headed towards Fukutoshin Line Platform alone, entrusting you with Nanami and the remaining sorcerers. Nanami made sure you stuck close to him, not letting you out of his sight for a second as you two split off from the other sorcerers to search for Ijichi, who had mysteriously gone silent on the intercoms a while ago. You couldn’t help but feel pity for the man. You already knew how insufferable Gojo could sometimes be towards him. You hoped he was alright.

Nanami led you through the streets above, the city now a warzone. Buildings shook, the air thick with cursed energy. You followed his lead, searching for Ijichi amid the destruction. The cursed energy in the air continued to grow heavier, more menacing. And then you heard it. The sound of a swarm. A wave of curses emerged from the shadows, surrounding Nanami in an instant. He fought them off with a calm precision, but there were too many.

You couldn’t get close enough to touch him, couldn’t merge with him to amplify his strength. You tried to fight, but without a partner, your cursed technique was nearly useless.

“Run,” Nanami ordered, his voice steady despite the chaos. “I’ll handle this.”

“But-”

“Go!” he snapped, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Your heart pounding, you turned and ran. The only place not teeming with curses was the underground subway entrance, so you slipped inside, cursing yourself for your own weakness.

---

That’s how you end up in your current predicament.

The subway is eerily quiet, the faint tremors of battle above shaking the walls. Dust particles fall from the ceiling as the yellow tinged led lights overhead flicker on and off. The air is thick with the stench of blood and curses. You swallow your fear and keep pushing forward in the dimly lit corridors. The sound of your footsteps seem to echo too loudly off the walls as your eyes dart around, searching desperately for Gojo.

“Gojo?” Your voice trembles as you call out for him, the silence swallowing your words. Something wasn’t right.

The floor beneath you shudders violently, and for a brief moment, you think the ceiling might collapse. You didn’t know it, but Sukuna and Mahoraga were clashing above, their battle shaking the city to its core.

You turn the corner. And you freeze.

You come face to face with a humanoid curse. Dead, greyish blue eyes and hair, and a patchwork face. His eyes widen with excitement as he spots you. You had seen the report from Nanami. His name was…

Mahito. A crazed grin stretches across his face, eyes glinting with manic glee as he pushes off the wall he was leaning against.

“Ohhh, you’re the one they’re all talking about.” He tilts his head.

Your breath hitches, but you force yourself to remain calm, or at least give off the pretense of it. “Stay back,” you warn, your cursed energy flaring.

He keeps talking like he doesn’t even hear your words. “I wonder… what happens if I do this?”

His hand lashes out faster than you can process, aiming for your arm, intending to twist your flesh and warp your body just enough to incapacitate you.

But nothing happens.

His palm presses against your skin, and he feels it. That pull. Like his cursed energy is slipping away, getting swallowed into a void.

Mahito’s grin falters for the first time.

He jerks his hand back, staring at you with narrowed eyes. Then realization dawns.

“Ah… right. That’s your cursed technique, isn’t it?”

His confusion quickly twists back into delight.

“Oh, this’ll be fun. No wonder Kenjaku wants you alive”

You take a step back to run, but he moves faster. His fist connects with your stomach, and the impact sends you lurching into the concrete wall, where you slump to the ground.

“Alive doesn’t mean unharmed.” He crouches down to grab you by the collar. “You’ll come with me now.”

The damp, musty air clings to your skin when you wake in the dark, your head pounding. The walls of a dingy cell press in around you, suffocating in their emptiness. No sunlight reached here, only the faint, flickering light of a distant bulb that barely illuminated the room.

Your limbs feel like lead, barely able to resist as Kenjaku runs countless experiments, one after the other on you. The sting of a needle piercing your skin feels all too familiar now, followed by the burn of whatever strange liquid he would inject into your veins. Each time, it drags you into unconsciousness, the edges of reality slipping away.

You have the same reoccurring nightmare every time. You see Satoru walking ahead of you, but no matter how fast you run, how loudly you call out to him, his back only grows smaller and smaller. Your hands reach out futilely towards him, but he doesn’t turn around. Doesn’t stop. Then he’s gone. And all you’re left with are the whispers. Cruel, taunting voices in the back of your mind.

If only you had done something differently.

You let him down.

He’s not coming for you.

The ground beneath your feet cracks, a void forming and swallowing you whole. You let out a soundless scream as you fall, knowing he wouldn’t be there to catch you. Then you wake in a cold sweat. There was no solace for you, no relief. The darkness of the cell is no better than the darkness of the void.

You’re growing weaker. You miss him. Desperately. Miss that familiar warmth of his cursed energy, miss his teasing voice, miss those kind, comforting eyes.

Groggily, you open your eyes, the faint sound of voices breaking through the fog in your head. Kenjaku and Mahito are speaking just outside your cell. You don’t know how many days it’s been. Your throat aches, you’re so thirsty. Their words come slowly, distorted by your exhaustion, taking time to process in your mind.

“…too dangerous to use…” Kenjaku’s voice is measured, clinical.

“Absorbing curses if she’s near them too long…” Mahito adds.

“So then, a waste of time.” Kenjaku concludes, clicking his tongue in annoyance. “Her ability is far too advantageous for the sorcerers. If she remains, she’ll only become a liability to us.”

Your eyes widen at the realization. Were they planning on getting rid of you? Then that meant… Your body jolts as the barred gate is thrown open loudly, and you scramble to your feet using what remains of your strength. Mahito steps towards you wearing a terrifyingly wide smile. Too wide. He’s still talking to Kenjaku, though in your panic you can’t hear what he’s saying properly. The sound of your pounding heart fills your ears. You attempt to back away from him but you can only move so far before your back hits the wall. You see his mouth move again.

“If she serves no purpose to us then… why don’t we just get rid of her?”

His cold hands wrap around your throat, before you can process it. He’s squeezing, watching you choke and claw at his hands. He only laughs at your attempts to struggle, clearly unhinged. Tears fill your eyes, flowing down your cheeks. He coos in mock sympathy at the sight. It was sickening. Was this really how you were going to die? Your vision becomes hazy as your hands slowly drop to your sides.

The ground trembles beneath you as a deafening explosion tears through the air. The crushing grip around your throat falters in shock, and you collapse to the floor, gasping for air. Shards of debris cascade around you like a deadly rain, but all you can feel is the warmth of sunlight spilling across your skin. It’s warm. A warmth you’d almost forgotten.

Blinking through the haze, your eyes struggle to adjust to the sudden brightness. You see a tall silhouette standing within the light, his white hair illuminated like a halo, his piercing blue eyes filled with raw fury. It’s him.

Satoru.

He looks frantic, his gaze locking onto you. You don’t remember what happens next as you finally pass out, but you swear you can hear your captor’s pitiful screams weaving their way into your dreams.

---

When your eyes open again, the harsh glow of artificial lights fills your vision. It takes a moment to register where you are. Shoko’s clinic. The sterile scent of antiseptic fills the air, and the faint beeping of monitors accompanies the sluggish rhythm of your heart. Your body feels impossibly heavy, and the stiff brace around your neck prevents you from moving your head.

Your eyes begin to dart around the room, searching, desperate. The heart monitor beside you spikes erratically. Panic claws at your chest, tears stinging your eyes before you even understand why. You don’t know why you’re crying, just that you need to see him, badly.

Then a warm hand wraps firmly around your own. You recognize the touch instantly.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” his voice is soft, steady, pulling you back from the edge. “I’m right here. You’re awake… thank god.”

Your body relaxes hearing his familiar voice, and a shaky breath escapes your lips, one you hadn’t realized you were holding. The bed shifts slightly as he leans over, his face coming into view.

And that’s when the tears fall in earnest.

You try to speak, but your throat is raw, the words breaking apart between hiccups. “I— I m-missed you so much— I…”

He silences you with an understanding smile, his thumb brushing gently at the tears streaking your cheeks. “I know. I know. I’m here now, okay? You’re safe.” His voice is quiet, soothing, but there’s a tremor of something beneath it. Relief, fear, maybe both.

He stays by your side, his hand never leaving yours, as silence settles between you. You finally notice how exhausted he looks. Dark circles shadowing his usually bright eyes, his normally neat hair a tousled mess. Even so, to you, he’s never looked more beautiful.

“You scared me, you know?” he murmurs after a while, the words almost too quiet to hear. “You scared the hell out of me.”

You want to apologize, but your voice catches. So instead, you squeeze his hand weakly.

---

A few days later, as you’re discharged, Shoko explains your injuries in her usual clipped tone. Your body is severely malnourished, and the curse had nearly fractured a vital bone in your neck. If Gojo had arrived even a few seconds later… she doesn’t finish the sentence, but her expression betrays the relief she doesn’t say aloud.

“You need to rest—no overexertion, no training, no missions,” Shoko warns, fixing you with a stern look. “I mean it. Don’t make me hunt you down.” Although her tone is clipped, you can tell she’s just as relieved as everyone else that you’re okay.

You manage a small smile, thankful for her concern for you. You make a mental note to gift her a bottle of her favorite wine later as thanks. Checking your phone, you notice a timid message from Ijichi, kindly pleading with you to try not to get kidnapped ever again, because Gojo was an absolute pain to deal with.

You find out later from reports that there was nothing left of the place, just rubble and ash. He had obliterated it all. Somehow Kenjaku had managed to escape during the chaos. But Mahito… it was a bloodbath. He didn’t stand a chance. The sheer devastation speaks volumes, but what hits you harder is the knowledge that he hadn’t stopped for even a moment. The second he was unsealed and heard about your disappearance—your likely kidnapping—he was livid. He didn’t rest once until he found you, until you were back in his arms where you belonged.

It was the first time you saw just how deep his need for you went.

You’re badly shaken. The events will haunt you for the rest of your life, your first taste of the brutality and violence of the Jujutsu world. But it’s clear Satoru fared even worse. After that he doesn’t leave your side for days, hovering constantly, as if afraid that you might disappear again the second he looks away. The whole experience serves as a painful reminder to him of your vulnerability. Without him, you were a target, easy prey for those who sought to exploit or destroy you. The thought eats away at him.

“You’re moving in with me,” he says one day, standing over you with an air of finality that left no room for argument.

You blink up at him from the couch, still recovering. “What?”

“It’s not up for debate,” he continues, arms crossed. “You’re safer with me. No one can get to you if you’re in my home.”

You take a moment to consider, but you find that you don’t really want to argue with him anyway. You can hear the hidden plea beneath his words. A part of you knows he’s right. If this is what he needs to find some semblance of peace of mind, then so be it. And a quieter, more selfish part of you doesn’t mind the idea of being close to him, spending more time with him.

“Okay,” you finally relent.

That’s how you find yourself standing in his penthouse a few hours later, what few belongings you own packed neatly into a bag at your side.

The penthouse is just as over-the-top as you expected: floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, sleek furniture, and little touches of Gojo’s eccentric personality scattered throughout.

“This is... a lot,” you murmur, taking in the sprawling space.

“Only the best for me, and now for you,” he says with a wink, tossing your bag onto the plush couch.

What catches your attention the most is the care he takes in making space for you. Your favorite snacks fill a section of the fridge, an extra toothbrush sits beside his in the bathroom, and a cozy corner of his study has been cleared out for you. It’s the little things, the quiet gestures, that tell you just how much this means to him.

But even as you settle into this new rhythm, something doesn’t sit right with you.

Satoru starts taking on more missions, alone. Where he used to insist on dragging you along for backup, now he refuses. Each time you bring it up, his excuses are vague, his tone dismissive.

Lately he had been returning home later and later, some nights not at all. His once-vibrant energy feels dimmed, like he’s burning himself out trying to shoulder more than even he can bear.

You hate seeing him like this.

The curses have been more active than ever, and you know he’s overworked. You try your best to help him with what you can, managing the paperwork, maintaining the space you shared, even preparing meals for him. But it’s not enough. He’s still stuck with the belief that as the strongest, he had to carry everything himself. You frown at the thought. You wish you could do more for him.

You hear the front door open, and you rush out of your shared bedroom to greet him. But your smile fades as you see him standing there, shoulders sagging with exhaustion, his usual carefree grin nowhere to be seen.

Your heart aches at how drained and worn out he looks. You tentatively step closer to him, wanting to soothe him but unsure of how. His blindfold keeps you from seeing his eyes, as if acting as the barrier between you and his true self. You feel an urge to pull it down. He lets you, hands resting at his sides as you gently tug down his blindfold. His weary eyes meet your own. Those usually sparkling eyes, now dull and lifeless.

You don’t know why you do it. It must have been instinctive. You just want to be able to lighten his pain and offer him rest, even just the slightest amount. Your hands move on their own, rising to lightly rest over his tired eyes. Covering them completely.

But the second your hands cover his eyes, his breath hitches. He can’t see anything. No cursed energy, no shapes, no flickering auras; its just darkness, pure and quiet. He’s stunned. His hands shakily reach up, wrapping around your wrists. Not to stop you, but to keep you there. Like if he lets go, that peace might disappear.

“What do you see?” you ask softly, almost afraid to disturb the stillness.

“Nothing. Nothing but you. Only you,” he murmurs, his voice is barely a whisper, as if he’s afraid saying it out loud might shatter the moment.

Gojo, burdened by his Six Eyes from birth. He had spent his whole life seeing everything, constantly overwhelmed by the endless stream of cursed energy and the weight of being the strongest. He can only find true relief with you. For once, he isn’t the strongest sorcerer, the invincible figure everyone relies on. With you, he’s just Satoru, resting in the soft comfort of your hands, shielded from the constant noise of the world.

From that moment on, it becomes your thing together. After long, grueling missions where he’s pushed to his limits, when his mind is frayed and his vision is burned with cursed energy, he’d search for you, tugging gently on your hands, silently asking for comfort. He leans into your touch like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. Sometimes he pulls you into his lap, burying his face into your neck, quietly asking, “Just for a minute… please…”

And you allow him as long as he needs, stroking his hair gently. Letting him enjoy that rare, sacred peace.

The intimacy deepens his attachment to you in ways he never thought possible. You’re no longer just his assistant, his partner. You’re the one person in the world who truly understands him, makes him feel human. It’s in these stolen moments, when the world falls away and it’s just the two of you, that he realizes how much he truly needs you. And when he thinks about how fragile you are, how vulnerable, it terrifies him.

You’re my everything, he thinks to himself one night, as your body rests above his. The room is quiet, save for the faint sound of your breaths and the steady rhythm of Satoru’s heartbeat beneath you. You lay sprawled across his chest, your cheek resting against him as his arms hold you close to him.

Maybe that fear is the reason his arms wrap around you just a tad tighter, why he holds you flush to his own body as if afraid you’ll disappear.

“What do you think about having kids one day?”

Satoru blinks, caught completely off guard by your question. He stares at you, his mouth opening slightly before closing again. For once, Gojo Satoru, the man who always had something clever to say, was at a loss for words.

“You—kids?” he finally manages, his voice slightly hoarse.

You nod, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Yeah. Kids.”

He lets out a breathy laugh, tilting his head back against the pillow as he processes your words. “Huh. You really know how to throw a guy off, don’t you?”

Your smile widens, and you prop yourself up on his chest, looking down at him. “I’m serious, Satoru. What do you think?”

His eyes flicker to yours, searching your expression for any hint of doubt, any sign that you might be joking. But you aren’t. You’re completely serious.

“I… I never thought about it,” he admits, his voice quieter now. “I never thought I’d want something like that. Or that I could even have it.”

Your brows furrow slightly. “Why not?”

He lets out a soft sigh, his gaze shifting to the ceiling. “Because I’m me,” he says simply. “The strongest. The guy everyone depends on. The guy who…” He trails off, his jaw tightening. “I never thought I deserved that kind of happiness. Not with the life I’ve lived. Not with all the things I’ve done.”

You feel a pang of sadness at his words, and you reach up, brushing your fingers gently along his jawline. “You deserve to be happy, Satoru,” you say softly. “You deserve to have a family, to have someone who loves you unconditionally. And you know what?”

He turns his head to look at you, his blue eyes shimmering with something you couldn’t quite place.

“I think you’d be an amazing dad,” you continue, your voice steady and sincere.

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you, his expression unreadable. But then his lips quirk into a small, almost shy smile.

“You really think so?”

“I know so,” you say, your voice firm.

He lets out a quiet laugh, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from your face. “You make me believe it,” he murmurs.

You smile, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his lips. When you pull back, his eyes are still locked on yours, searching, as if he was trying to commit this moment to memory.

"We'd make a cute kid," he eventually says, a genuine smile spreading across his face, one that makes your heart swell.

You can’t help but grin back, bright and contagious. His hands slide to the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair as he guides you gently toward him.

And then he kisses you, slowly, deeply, as if pouring all of his emotions into that single moment.

In his arms, you feel it. The warmth, the love, the unspoken promise of a future that seems a little brighter, a little fuller.

With him, it feels right.

---

The kiss lingers in your mind, even as the two of you walk side by side toward the battlefield. The warmth of his hand in yours grounds you. His long fingers curl tightly around yours, as if to anchor you to him. To remind you of his silent promise.

I’ll protect you. I won’t let anything happen to you.

But even with his reassurances, there’s a weight in the air, heavy and oppressive. You both know this fight isn’t like the others. Ahead of you, Sukuna’s cursed energy crackles in the distance, dark and suffocating, a storm that threatens to swallow everything whole.

Gojo’s grip on your hand tightens as you near the edge of the battlefield, and the two of you come to a stop. You glance up at him, and the sight takes your breath away. His white haori catches the breeze, billowing behind him like the wings of an angel sent to bring judgment. To you, perhaps he is.

His hair is wild, tousled by the wind, and his blindfold is gone, leaving his piercing blue eyes on full display. They glimmer with an intensity that’s equal parts terrifying and beautiful. But beneath the crystalline clarity of his gaze, you see something softer. Something meant only for you.

“You ready?” he asks, his voice soft yet steady, the calm within the chaos.

You nod, your hand squeezing his in quiet reassurance.

For a moment, the world seems to fall away. It’s just the two of you standing there, bound together by something deeper than words. You wish he didn’t have to fight. You wish things were different, that there was another way. But you know this is the path he has to walk. The world is counting on him. It always has.

So you’ll stand by him, no matter what.

Somewhere in the pit of your stomach, the uneasy feeling that something is about to go terribly wrong begins to take root.

---

The air crackles with cursed energy as Gojo and Sukuna stand, facing each other. The battlefield is in ruins, the ground scorched and torn as the clash of the two strongest sorcerers continues. Gojo stands in the center of it all, his body aching, his cursed energy reserves dangerously low. But inside him, he can feel you, your cursed energy merging with his, amplifying his strength, your unwavering determination giving him the edge he needed to keep fighting. Your presence is warm, steady, even as you pour every ounce of your strength into helping him.

But he knows what you’re doing.

“Stop it,” he growls, his voice strained as he sends another powerful attack towards Sukuna. His words aren’t aimed towards his enemy, but at you. “You’re pushing yourself too far. I can handle this.” “No, you can’t,” your voice echoes softly in his mind, calm yet firm. “Not alone.”

Gojo’s jaw clenches as he blocks another strike, his fingers trembling from the strain. He can feel it, feel your energy fading, slipping through his fingers like sand. It’s not just his body weakening. It’s you giving everything you had, pouring your soul into protecting him.

“Damn it, stop!” he shouts, his frustration boiling over. But you can hear the desperation and worry beneath the words. “I’m telling you, don’t do this! I won’t let you-”

“You don’t get to decide this, Satoru.” There’s a bittersweet smile in your voice, one he feels deep in his chest. “If it means keeping you alive, I’ll do it a thousand times over.”

He freezes for a fraction of a second, Sukuna’s cleave grazing his shoulder. His eyes widen in a panic as your words register. “No- no, don’t talk like that. We’re getting out of this together, you hear me?”

You don’t reply. Instead, he feels his arm raising on its own, his hand forming the symbol for a hollow purple. But he’s not the one in control. You are, your cursed energy overriding his will, guiding his body. The over exertion from the devastating technique would drain you completely. You both know it.

“Satoru,” you whisper, your voice barely audible now. “Thank you… for everything. For making me feel like I wasn’t alone. For loving me. I’m sorry...”

“No. No, no no!” Gojo cries out desperately, as he tries to force his arms down. But his own body doesn’t listen to him, controlled by you using the last of your energy. The blinding glow of purple grows bigger at his finger tips, ready to end the battle. “Don’t you dare say goodbye to me! Don’t you dare-”

But then, he feels it. The moment you fade entirely. That comforting presence, the warmth he’d grown so used to. It was gone. His fingers release in that instant, his hollow purple launching forward with imperceivable speed, overpowering Sukuna in a brilliant burst of energy. It was over. Gojo had won. But victory feels like ashes in his mouth.

Because you were gone.

As the dust settles, he falls to his knees, his chest heaving. His hands claw at his heart, trying to feel for you, trying to sense even a sliver of your presence, but there was nothing. Nothing but a hollow, aching void, filling every crevice.

“No,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “No, no, no. Come back. Come back to me!” He clutches at his chest, tears streaming down his face as he calls your name over and over again. “Please… don’t leave me. I need you. I need you…”

Then, a faint glow emerges from his chest. He freezes, his breath hitching as he watches a small, delicate gem form in his hand. A teardrop shaped crystal, shimmering faintly with the last traces of your essence. It’s beautiful, radiant, and it breaks his heart into a million pieces.

He stares at it, tears dripping onto the gem as he cradles it in his palm. All that’s left of you. His hands shake as he holds it to his chest, gripping it tightly as if afraid it might vanish. He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the sobs wrack his body. “I should have protected you… I should have stopped you… Why did you do this for me?” His voice cracks, raw with pain.

“You promised we’d stay together…”

---

Days turn into weeks, weeks into months. He barely sleeps anymore. Reduced to a shell of the man he used to be. He has the gem crafted into a necklace, the delicate pendant resting over his heart at all times. He clutches it during sleepless nights, fingers brushing over its smooth surface as he whispers your name into the silence.

“Do you know how much I miss you?” he murmurs one night, his voice hoarse. He’d been crying, again. He always did when the nights were too quiet. “Do you know how much it hurts to wake up every day without you here?” His thumb traces the edges of the gem as if it could bring you back.

Sometimes, when the moonlight hits the gem just right, it seems to shimmer, and he swears he can feel a faint warmth radiating from it. As if you were reassuring him. It’s foolish, he knows, but it’s the only thing keeping him sane at this point.

“I still look for you,” he admits quietly. “In the crowds. In my dreams.”

His voice cracks, and he bows his head, tears falling freely. “I miss you so much. I miss everything about you. Your laugh. Your touch. Your stupid little jokes.” His grip on the gem tightens. “God, I’d give anything to hear you again. To feel you again. Just… once.”

He pauses, his breath catching.

“If I had known…”

His voice trails off as he can’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

Had I known I wouldn’t see you again,

I would have said goodbye.

Unbeknownst to him, the gem begins to glow faintly, a soft, warm light pulsing from within. At first, it’s subtle, almost imperceptible. But then the light grows brighter, more radiant, until it fills the room, making his breath hitch. He freezes, staring at it with wide eyes. For a second, he thinks he’s hallucinating, his grief playing cruel tricks on him. But then he feels it. The familiar hum of your cursed energy. A presence he hadn’t felt in so long.

“…No,” he whispers, weakly shaking his head in disbelief. “No, this can’t be…”

The light begins to shift and shape itself, materializing into something he thought he’d never see again.

You.

“Satoru,” you say, your voice soft and warm, filled with love and longing.

He doesn’t move at first. He can’t. He just stares at you, his entire body trembling. “…Is this real?” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “Are you real?”

You smile at him, stepping closer. “It’s real,” you say gently. “I’m real.”

He reaches out, hesitant, as if afraid you might disappear if he touches you. But the moment his hand brushes against yours, his composure shatters. He pulls you into his arms, clutching you tightly, face buried in your shoulder as his body shakes with quiet sobs.

“You’re here,” he says breathlessly, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re really here…”

You wrap your arms around him, holding him just as tightly. “I’m here,” you murmur, your voice soothing. “I’m sorry it took so long, Satoru. My cursed energy… it was all but gone after the battle. But there was a sliver of me left in that gem. Over time, I slowly regained my strength… enough to come back to you.”

He pulls back slightly, his hands cupping your face as he looks at you, his tears streaming freely. “I thought I lost you,” he chokes out. “I thought you were gone forever.”

You smile, brushing away his tears with your thumbs. “I was never really gone,” you say softly. “You kept me close the whole time. Thanks for taking such good care of me, even in gem form,” you can’t help but add with a chuckle.

His laugh is shaky, barely more than a breath. “Of course I did,” he says, his voice low and trembling. “It was the one thing that kept me sane. The only thing I had left of you.”

Your heart aches at his words, and you lean in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “I’m sorry for putting you through all that,” you whisper against his lips. “But I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”

He rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closing as he lets out a long, shaky breath. “You’d better not,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t lose you again. I can’t…”

“You won’t,” you promise, your hands resting against his chest, right over his heart. “You saved me, Satoru. You saved everyone. You were so brave. So strong. I’m so proud of you.”

He shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “I didn’t save you,” he says quietly. “You saved me. You always have.”

You smile softly, your hands brushing through his hair. “Then let’s call it even,” you say, your voice light and teasing.

For the first time in a long time, Satoru smiles, warm and genuine, brimming with everything he feels for you. He pulls you back into his arms, holding you tightly as if he’d never let go.

His warmth was the first thing you felt as you entered this strange world. You hope it’s the last thing you’ll feel as you one day leave it behind, together with him.

[harknessxo]

I’ve Missed You

Paring: Dark!Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: You and Agatha had a twisted history. She had kidnapped you into Wanda’s distorted reality to make you into her perfect wife. She had you under a spell until Wanda freed you. Wanda promised you Agatha would never hurt you again and helped you find a new home where Agatha wouldn’t be able to find you. You had your little house in the middle of nowhere, where you were safe…or so you thought. (This is also based on the one clip of Rio pinning Agatha to the wall.)

Warnings; kidnapping, magical manipulation, manipulation, metal abuse, fingering, strap on use (r receiving), mommy kink.

Word Count: 1.9k

A/n: All these Agatha All Along trailers and teaser have motivated me to write after four months. I am so ecstatic for it to come out already! I have waited two years for this! 😭

You and Agatha had a twisted history. She had kidnapped you into Wanda’s distorted reality to make you into her perfect wife. She had you under a spell until Wanda freed you. You told her everything about Agatha’s sick plan and Wanda then was able to trick Agatha and put her under spell, trapping her in Westview. Wanda promised you Agatha would never hurt you again and helped you find a new home where Agatha wouldn’t be able to find you. She even casted runes around the house.

A couple months after those events you found out about Wanda’s death. You grieved her death little, she was the closest thing you had to a friend ever since Agatha stripped you from your friends and family, but most of all you felt fear. Fear that Agatha would come out of the spell and go looking for you especially because Wanda’s runes had disappeared.

You were paranoid for months until you had confirmation that she was still in Westview under the spell. You spent the next three years in hiding. You had your little house in the middle of nowhere, where you were safe…or so you thought.

It was around mid day when you found yourself in the kitchen making some coffee. You were just wearing a robe and your hair was laying wild over your shoulders. As you were pouring the milk into your coffee, you heard a noise outside. You frowned and walked over to the window and saw nothing. As you were about to get back to your coffee, you heard it again. You grabbed a knife and walked over to the front door. Before you could even open it, the door burst over and someone pinned you against the wall, making you drop the knife.

“I’ve missed you, sweetheart.” That voice…you hadn’t heard it in so long, it made your skin crawl.

“A-agatha?” your voice trembled as you said her name. You looked into her eyes, she looked the same, she hadn’t aged a day yet she looked older in a way. Maybe it was the dark circles that laid under her eyes. She gave you a sinister smile moving her hand to brush a strand of hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear.

“You look as beautiful as the day you left me.”

“How did you free yourself? And how did you find me-”

“I had some help,” she simply said, moving her hand to your neck and squeezing lightly, “I didn’t appreciate you betraying me and running away. Did you really think you could get away from me?” she pouted mockingly.

“Agatha please-” you wrapped your hand around her wrist.

“Say that again, you know how much I love to hear you beg.”

“P-please don’t hurt m-me…” your voice cracked. You were terrified of this woman’s power, of what she could do. Agatha dismissed your pleas and started kissing down your neck, surprisingly gentle.

“God, I missed you so much,” her hand sneaked underneath your robe to grip onto your waist, “Wanda did quite the number on me but now she’s not here to save you,” she whispered harshly into your ear and a tear silently ran down your cheek.

“Shh, baby, there's no need to cry,” she wiped the tear away, “I promise to take my time with you.” She started dragging you to your bedroom and you just let her, you knew better than to fight back. She pushed you on your bed and started undressing. Even if she was manipulative she was still very attractive. Something you would never admit. When she was done, she crawled on top of you, still leaving your robe on.

“Look at me,” she said when you looked everywhere but her. You just wanted this to be over with. “I said look at me,” she demanded, cupping your face, making you look at her. Usually when you looked into her eyes, all you saw was lust and possessiveness but this time, there was something different.

“Tell me you missed me, Y/n. Tell me you missed my touch.” she pleaded. This was very out of character for her. She never showed vulnerability. Ever. Yet, here she was asking you if you missed her as if her life depended on it.

“I…” she started to kiss your neck again, nipping at it, “I missed you too,” you finally said. It wasn’t a complete lie, a small part of you did miss her. She did kidnap you but she still took care of you and gave you everything you had ever wanted.

“Good girl~” she finally started to untie your robe.

“Aggie-” you tried to protest, gripping into her wrist but she pinned your hand above your head with her magical binds.

“Shh, just relax,” she took off your robe, leaving you completely bare, “I’m going to take care of you.”

“All you do is h-hurt me…”

“That’s because you disobeyed me. I had to discipline you,” she said, manipulating you into thinking it was your fault, “If only you just did as you were told, I wouldn't have had to hurt you bunny…” she softly ran her nails down your waist and hips, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. You remained quiet, not saying a word as her fingers moved closer to your core.

“I can’t wait to have you all to myself again,” she finally dipped her fingers into your wetness, chuckling at the fact that you were absolutely soaked for her. She started to slowly circle your clit, her breath hot against your ear.

“You were always so ready for me, baby. Your body still remembers me.” You whimpered when the pleasure caught up to you. You hadn’t touched yourself for so long. Your thoughts undoubtedly went to Agatha every time you tried so you gave up trying to find relief.

She chuckled at your reaction, clearly amused by your whimpers. She started to move her fingers faster, applying more pressure to your clit.

“I bet you haven’t touched yourself since you left me. You were too afraid to think about me, weren’t you?”

“…yes.” You replied, biting your lip when she sped up her movements.

“That’s what I thought. You knew that no one could make you feel as good as I do. No one can satisfy you like I can,” she smiled and leaned down to suck on your neck, leaving a dark spot.

“N-no one can…” You said, your brain turning into mush as she slipped her fingers inside you.

“I’m the only one who knows you better than you know yourself. You can barely take care of yourself, baby. You need me.” Agatha was doing what she knew best, manipulating you. She could put you under her spell again but she wanted you to willingly submit to her. She could feel your body starting to tense up as she continued to work her fingers inside you. She moved her lips to your jaw, placing gentle kisses along the way.

“You’re so close, aren’t you baby? Do you remember the rules?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed in response, tugging at the binds slightly.

“What do you say then?” she slowed down her movements, loving to see you so desperate for her touch.

“Can I cum please?”

“Beg me, baby. I want to hear you beg for me.”

“Please mommy? I promise to be a good girl!” And there it was. She finally had you exactly where she wanted you. She smirked at your words, her eyes darkened with lust.

“That’s my good girl. You always know how to please me. Cum for me, baby. Cum for mommy.” She freed your hands and you clung to her as you rode your high, moving your hips against her hand. She spoke sweet nothings into your ear, encouraging you before finally pulling her fingers out and kissing your forehead. You thought it was over until you felt something poking your entrance again.

“Mommy?” You mumbled again, trying to clench your thighs together. She smiled and gently caressed your face.

“I’m not done with you yet, baby. You still have a lot to make up for~”

“No more-” you tried to push her away but she didn’t budge. She grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at her.

“Don’t tell me no, darling. You’re going to be a good girl and take whatever I give you. Understood? Don’t you want mommy to feel good too?” She started rubbing the tip of her enchanted strap against your pussy lips. She’d fucked you with the strap many times and she could feel everything which is why it was her favorite toy to use on you.

“But I’m too sensitive.” You whined.

“You can handle it, baby,” she chuckled and slowly pushed the tip of the strap inside you, “You’ve done it before…” she started to move her hips, pushing the strap deeper inside you. The strap slipped right in, your juices making it quite easy.

“Fuck, baby. You still feel so fucking tight. You’re taking me so well. You’re such a good girl~” Agatha groaned. Your pained whimpers soon turned into pleasurable moans and the knot in your stomach started to build up again. She continued to thrust into you, her movements becoming more erratic as she felt her own pleasure building up. She leaned down and whispered in your ear.

“That’s it, baby. Keep making those pretty sounds for me. I want to hear you scream my name when you cum.”

“A-Aggie-“ You dug your nails onto her back. She let out a low growl, her grip on your hips tightening.

“Say it again, baby. Say my name again.”

“Agatha!” You came again, your pussy pulsing around her strap as your legs started to shake. Agatha let out a moan as she felt you cum around her strap, her own orgasm washing over her. She continued to thrust into you a few more times before pulling out and collapsing on top of you.

“That’s my good girl. You did so well, baby,” she started petting your hair as if you were a pet. She pulled you closer, holding you in her arms. She ran her fingers through your hair, her voice soft.

“You’re mine and no one else’s. You’re going to be a good girl and obey me, understand? You don’t want mommy to have to hurt for not listening, do you?” You frantically shook your head, burning your face in her neck. She gripped your hair and pulled your head back, forcing you to look at her.

“I said, do you understand? You will do as I say. You will obey me. You are mine to control and use as I please. Don’t make me punish you, baby.”

“I u-understand…” your eyes watered a bit, now you were really trapped. She smiled and released your hair, her hand gently stroking your cheek.

“Good girl. I knew you would see things my way. You’re so much more compliant when your brain is turned into mush, isn’t that right? Maybe I’ll have to fuck you more often so you don’t fight me,” she kissed your forehead and pulled you closer to her, wrapping her arms around you possessively. Agatha held you tightly, enjoying the feeling of having you in her arms again. She ran her fingers through your hair, gently massaging your scalp. She could see the gears turning in your head and spoke up again.

“Don’t worry, baby. You’ll get used to it. You’ll learn to love being mine again. And I’ll take good care of you, I promise. You won’t want anything as long as you’re with me…”

[avoidthings]

kitchen’s closed | t. richmond

About: Terry catches you in the kitchen late at night and has his own idea of a midnight snack. [word count: 2.1k] Warnings: Explicit language. 18+ Readers Only. Oral (female receiving), Unprotected PIV (wrap your willy, pls). I had concepts of a plot. 

It was well past midnight in North Carolina, and you could hear the crickets and other critters abuzz outside of your bedroom window. You stared at the sliver of moonlight cast between your curtains, realizing the clutches of insomnia had sunk its sneaky fingers in you yet again. 

Your boyfriend, Terry, rarely stirred in his sleep, and kept a hefty arm draped over your waist every night. Being that he was ex-military, it was sort of ironic how heavy of a sleeper he was. Some evenings you tried to count the rise and fall of his chest instead of sheep, but rather than lulling you to bed it just disgruntled you. You wanted to poke the bear awake and damn him for leaving you so smitten. 

The room was quiet aside from the bustle of the outdoors, and you thanked God your man didn’t snore or else this would feel like a torture chamber. You flipped through the rolodex of your thoughts and landed on recapping your day; you went to work, Terry picked you up and made a stop at Kroger, then you two watched some sitcom reruns for a bit. House rules were to grab takeout after grocery shopping so neither of you had to bother with cooking something. 

All that thinking of food must’ve sent a reminder to your stomach. You exhaled as it grumbled. While very cute, you would rather not see Terry’s grumpy face should he discover his miso soup missing. You perked up at the memory of slipping a pint of ice cream in the shopping cart earlier. 

It was counterproductive, solving sleeplessness with sugar, but you hoped Ben & Jerry’s would be your saving grace tonight. You peered over your shoulder to find your boyfriend as sound as ever, eyes fluttered closed like a saint. 

After a silent prayer, you wriggled from his hold and toed out of bed. You pattered around the twilight of the room, starting your mission to the fridge. Past the master bathroom, the thermostat, (which nearly broke the two of you up), and to the far right of your living space was your destination. Thankfully, the range hood light was on so you weren’t too sore of eyesight. 

You opened the freezer and plucked out your reward. After grabbing a spoon, you settled in, sitting on top of the counter. The granite was cold against your bare thighs, your body only blanketed by a worn t-shirt that hung off your shoulders. 

That first mouthful was instant gratification and you nearly rolled your eyes back in delight. 

“Baby, what are you doing up this late?” You were startled by Terry’s voice, the tone more gruff from the interruption of his slumber. 

You were caught red-handed, spoon in mouth, so you shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. Wanted something sweet.” 

He hummed. Terry made his way closer, no longer a distorted shadow in your peripheral vision. He had come to bed in only his sweatpants and socks. 

Terry had a glow about him, even in the dim of your surroundings. He slipped comfortably in your personal space, stepping right between your legs. You relished in the warmth. 

You had to look up even with the extra height the counter gave you.

“Sorry to wake you. I know you have to go for your run in the morning,” you said. 

Terry gave you a lazy smile and shook his head. “Nah, it’s fine. Everythin’ okay?” You nod wordlessly. 

“Hey!” You protested when he nabbed the pint from you, his hands quicker than your reflex to reach for it back. It was a battle you would more than likely lose anyway. 

He successfully hushed you by taking a scoop from the container to raise to your lips. 

“Open.” 

You held his gaze as you took what was given, inciting a groan that rumbled low in his chest. 

Terry obliged you once more and made notice of your tongue swiping to the corner of your mouth to catch what you missed. His own hunger dwelled in his underbelly. Between your job returning to the office and his growing trucking business, you haven’t made much time for intimacy as of late. 

“I think I’m in the mood for somethin’ sweet too.” The spoon and tub clattered by your side and he disappeared from your view. 

“Terry--” 

“Open,” he demanded once more, kneeling toward your feet, causing fire to crawl up the back of your neck. He did not take kindly to being ignored, and you wanted this to be an easy night, so you let your legs spread apart. 

He tossed one behind his shoulder, mumbling something inaudible to you. A kiss to your ankle, the inside of your knee, then your thigh. 

A yelp pierced the air when Terry’s large hands claimed the curve of your hips, tugging you closer to the counter’s edge. Your clammy palms braced themselves on the flat surface beneath you. You could feel his smirk and goatee rubbing on your exposed skin. 

Your breath quickened with the anticipation of what was next. His mouth ghosted over your center, blowing on your clit through your dampening panties. 

“Oh, fuck,” you shuddered. 

He was a merciless man, dropping open-mouthed kisses to your clothed center. He retreated as you tried to furl into his touch, reaching underneath your shirt to roll your nipple for more stimulation.

“You’re so fucking wet,” Terry inhaled your scent without shame. Finally, the cotton of your undies was torn from your pelvis to who-knows-where. You felt the coolness of the air over your exposed skin for a brief moment, the absence of touch not lasting long. 

You jerked, feeling his tongue swipe a slow strip up from your wet entrance, gathering your slick. He lewdly spat it back over your clit and sucked until you cried out. Terry ate you without abandon, with little regard for any manners, overtaken by his own greed. --

“I missed how you taste, baby.” Voice muffled in between your legs, his eyes flitted up at you, earnest as always. Terry’s grip maintained the underside of your thighs, keeping your legs spread so he could continue to steal all breath and sense from you. 

“Oh my God,” you moaned. Your brain and your body sounded an alarm, reeling with the increasing need for release. His name fell like a chant from your mouth. 

Two fingers pushing into you caused the band to snap, Terry immediately seeking the button that left you gushing. He was unaffected when your heel dug deep at his shoulder, urging his face further in your pussy as if it was possible. His fingertips sped in pace, turning your mewls into high-pitched squeals. 

Soon enough, your back bowed with the intensity of your orgasm. He tightened his hold, keeping you steady as the current flowed through you. “That’s my girl,” he kissed and licked you through it. Pleasure never reached a precipice when you were under his care, and you shouted to the heavens.

When your legs eventually deflated, your hands found his ears, rubbing behind them gingerly. A grunt slipped from his mouth.

Terry staggered to his feet, hooded eyes glazed over your heaving body. His teeth nipped between your breasts over your shirt, up to your collarbone and your neck. You hooked a leg around his waist, pulling him in to feel his erection prod at your inner thigh. 

Instinctively, he rutted up against you and you sighed. You were warm all over, sheeted with sweat and clenching around nothing, wanting only to be full of him. 

His lips left your jawline and found your mouth, luring you into a mind-numbing kiss. You cradled Terry’s face in your hands and took control, allowing your tongue to slot against his. It felt all the more indulgent, the lingering taste of chocolate on your lips mixed with your own arousal. 

He was still rubbing on your leg and it only intensified your need for connection. Like a minx, you curled into him, purring in his ear. “Terry, I need you. Please.” 

Your hands lowered to explore the solid planes of his body, all of its beautiful ridges and scars. He leant down so his forehead was touching yours. “Fuck, I need you too, baby. Been losing my damn mind about you,” he breathed.

Terry yanked at the waistband on his joggers and his dick sprung free. You two didn’t usually forgo protection but your cycle was around the corner, and desperation made your judgment very foggy. 

His fingers splayed under your shirt to grasp at your plush waist, thumbing the folds of your belly from where you sat. Terry pushed his way inside, coating himself to about half of his length. You sighed into his hold, legs locked at his torso, trying, and failing to meet him in the middle. 

Without much effort, he stilled your movements. Terry pulled out slowly, and slapped himself over your clit twice, leaving you to squirm pitifully. “Stop teasing and just fuck me, already,” you whined.

Terry did as told and burrowed into you in one, deep thrust. You ate your words in a choked gasp. His head cocked back as he felt your walls squeezing him, putting the cords of his neck on full display. 

Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you tried desperately to hold on to the thread of resolve you had left. Terry trampled on it when he set a brutal pace, drilling in you like you owed him something. Your ears were ringing with your own moans and the sounds of skin slapping against each other. It all felt like too much, far too soon. 

You pressed a hand to his chest feebly and whimpered. Promptly, he grabbed your trembling forearm and kissed the inside of your wrist. “I’m fucking you like you wanted, huh? Why you tryna run from me?”

“It’s t-too, m-much,” your words were slurring and you frowned through the pleasure, hoping he’d give you relief from his punishing strokes. That all too familiar storm brewed in your belly again and you couldn’t stifle any noise that left your lips. Each thrust brushed against that sensitive spot within you, and you try your might to stave off your climax. 

His stare was focused on you, utterly enamored by your carnal state. “Terry!” You wailed, slapping the countertop behind you and shifting to scoot away. The crack of his hand on the side of your ass rang loud and welled your eyes with fresh, salty tears. Terry landed a sweltering kiss on your lips to pacify you. 

He gripped you by the coils at the nape of your neck, and you blinked at him, huffing out shattered breaths. You wanted to ask him why he was fucking you like this, and what did you ever do to deserve it. But your brain could only compute expletives. You clenched and unclenched around him greedily, and his teeth clashed at the sensation.

“Stop holding back, I can feel it. Let that shit go.” And under his spell, you did, surmounting to a shaking ball in his arms. Your toes curled at his sides and his rhythm didn’t falter, his own release not far behind. You keeled with overstimulation, the air feeling sticky on your skin.

Terry’s hands abandoned your waist to cup your ass, bouncing you on his dick in hardy, final thrusts. You bite down his shoulder so you don’t scream loud enough to wake the entire neighborhood. His head is buried in the crook of your neck now, sweat dripping on your collar. 

“‘Gonna make me cum all in this tight pussy, fuckk,” he groaned, ropes of his release starting to spurt inside of you. Your body was taut around him as his hips slowed to a halt. You were filled to the brim.

“My pretty baby did so good. So perfect for me,” Terry was panting like he just finished a mile-run, and still chose to sing your praises. He softened and pulled out, a part of you now missing. You sat there for a beat to catch your breaths, limbs still tangled together.

“Mm..’can’t stop shaking,” you whispered.

His actions had left you exhausted, drowsiness coated in every blink of your eyes. Terry separated from you for a second and he had his pants back on, scooping you up in his arms. You latched onto him like a bear, nuzzling into his chest.

If it was up to you, you’d pass out right there and crawl to bed in the morning. Something squished against his foot on his trudge out of the kitchen. 

“Shit, my socks are wet…what is that?” 

Ice cream.

--

Author’s Note: Just wanted to drop my contribution to the Terry Richmond industrial complex.

P.S. This was supposed to be Trainer!Terry but my hormone monster won. 

As always if you made it to the end, thank you bunches!

[standamianwayne]

yandere!batfam/damian’s twin!reader

There are two notable moments that signify the beginning of Jason finally ‘warming up’ to you.

The first is when he talks to you — vigilante you. It’s somehow easier. When he can’t see your face, he can’t imagine it stained by the blood on his hands or the dirt on his clothes.

In all honesty, it was an accident. You were tailing a guy — some kind of robber, a mugger, maybe? it was a pretty quiet night (by Gotham standards) — and got just a bit too close to Crime Alley. Luckily, you managed to take the guy down just in time to avoid entering the area. Coincidentally, Jason, or rather, Red Hood, had been nearby with his own mission.

He had just wrapped up his task when he noticed you taking knocking the guy out and taking some kind of bag from him. He stood there, admittedly awkwardly, and watched you send a message to the Bat. There was a weird tightness in his chest, familiar but not as strong as it usually was. Possibly because it’s easy to separate you, his sister, from you, his (coworker?) fellow vigilante.

He wanted to say something to you. What, he wasn’t sure. A simple greeting if anything, but the words on his tongue felt like cotton. It wasn’t until you were wrangling the guy up, probably to take him to the GCPD, when he finally throws caution to the wind.

“…” His mouth opens and closes like a fish maybe three times before he can finally speak, “Good job!” ‘Good job, are you kidding?’ His face gets warm and he can feel his shoulders tense when your head snaps up to meet his gaze.

Your face is covered by a helmet (a motorcycle one? where’d you even get that?) but Jason can just feel the bewildered stare. He can’t blame you for the reaction. You’ve been living with the family for multiple years now and he’s pretty sure he’s only said small pleasantries to you, if that.

You look down to the guy and then back at Jason across the street. As if you didn’t know what he was complimenting you on.

It’s a moment of silence before you call out to him in response. “Thank you!” That helmet has some kind of built-in voice synthesizer (if you were any closer he’d tease you for ‘jacking his style,’ but you aren’t. so he doesn’t). It’s nothing crazy, just enough to distort your voice to be vaguely unrecognizable to others. Jason is pretty sure Tim had installed it as some kind of surprise, but he’s not sure. Still, even with the slight filtering, he thinks your voice is quite sweet.

Jason nods, a silent ‘you’re welcome’ —because what else can he say? You grab the guy and set to leave, turn him in. Jason can’t force himself to think over the interaction, he has a job to do damn it!

Later, when he’s alone and crawling into bed, he curses himself for the interaction. ‘Good job,’ he scoffs to himself, ‘never said more than 3 words to her and I said ‘good job.’

Then, there’s the second moment of Jason’s warming up to you.

It had been when you — Bruce Wayne’s daughter — had accompanied your father to one of those excessive ‘galas,’ or whatever they’re called. Jason can’t remember if he had ever gone to one even back when he was Robin. Nevertheless, they were way too uppity for him. Really, what’s so fun about rubbing elbows with a shit ton of socialites?

Maybe you shared his viewpoint, because at this particular gala, you were nowhere to be seen. At least, nowhere near Bruce. No, you were outside on a balcony. You looked nice, really nice. If Jason didn’t know you (though, how well did he even know you really?), he’d assume you were just another rich brat sulking cause Daddy didn’t buy you the car you wanted. But, even though he didn’t know you well, he still did know you. So, when he saw you on that balcony, leaning against the balustrade, he decided to speak with you. Check in on you, like a brother would do!

It wasn’t too difficult to approach you. Jason was Red Hood, again, so it was almost comforting that you wouldn’t see his face, even though he could see yours. He’ll work up the courage to talk to you as ‘Jason,’ he assures himself, but right now it’s much easier if you don’t have to face his scarred visage.

It’s when he drops down in the space behind you that he realizes this might be a bad idea. He doesn’t know you well enough to just understand what’s wrong by a glance, and who’s to say you’ll even tell him? He stands behind you awkwardly, almost ready to just abandon the idea and disappear before you recognize that he’s behind you.

He doesn’t get the chance, though.

“Need something?” Your voice rings out into the night. It’s almost embarrassing the way his chest stings ever so slightly at your sullen mood. You’re normally so… chipper. It’s a total 180 from usual.

“Just checking in.” Jason replies, his hands nervously clenching and unclenching at his sides. “You okay?” He asks, not wanting to assume in case he upsets you further.

You let out a sigh, letting your head fall to look at the city below you. “I hate these things.” The words come out as almost a grumble, your arms cross on the surface in front of you. “The people in there are… weird. Treat me like I‘m still a babe.”

“Why do you come then? I doubt B would force you.” He feels like he’s overstepped already. Maybe he should’ve just said a few words of comfort. Better yet, he should’ve just stayed away, damn it Jason, you idiot—

“I don’t know,” You shrug, and Jason internally breathes a sigh of relief that you don’t seem to be mad at him. “I just feel like I should, like I have to prove myself in some way. Damian and I are Father’s biological kids. The rest of you have been around longer, but to these people,” You give a slight roll of your eyes, “it means something. Especially since I’m the older one.”

“What, they think you’re gonna take over the business?” Jason finally wills himself to move. He copies your stance, crossing his arms on the railing and leaning forward on them. It’s likely the closest he’s ever gotten to you, he’s suddenly aware of what you look like up close.

You let out a huff of air and bend down, resting your chin on your arms. “Maybe, maybe not. I think it’s just to brag about knowing ‘Bruce Wayne’s daughter.’ They’re all… dickheads.”

That gets a chuckle out of Jason. “Careful. Don’t want them to hear that Bruce Wayne’s golden child has a potty mouth.” He lightly nudges your arm with his elbow. For once, he doesn’t find himself over thinking the gesture and cringing at it.

“Please, don’t give them another name to call me by.” You actually smile at him. First time he’s seen you do anything besides pout tonight. And it’s because of him. He tries to ignore the swelling of pride in his chest.

“Sorry, princess.” He teases (you’re not close enough for teasing) with a smile of his own. Of course, it’s one that you can’t see, given he’s still got his ‘Red Hood’ helmet on. But, he hopes you can at least tell he’s smiling.

You groan, somewhat exaggeratedly, and press your face into your folded arms. “Don’t even.” You practically whine, voice a bit muffled by your skin. “Conner calls me that enough.”

Jason lets out a huff of laughter. “Sorry, sorry. Won’t happen again.” He straightens up enough to lift his hands in surrender. It’s when he does that does he realize how cold it is. It’s not so bad for him, given he’s covered head to toe, literally. But for you, you must be freezing.

“You should go back inside.” He tells you, like a proper big brother should, with a hint of concern in his voice. “It’s cold out here, you’ll get sick.”

You sigh again and lift your head from your arms before straightening up. “I know, I will.” You sound like you’re resigning yourself to your doom. Though, given your past (and present) he finds himself kind of glad that this is what you consider bad. Then, you smile again and look up at Jason this time. “Thank you. For talking to me, I mean.”

He nods, and suddenly that awkwardness is back. Now that he’s facing you head-on, his chest gets a bit tighter all of a sudden. “You’re welcome, kid.”

It’d be a ‘big brother’ thing to do, to reach out. Place a hand on your shoulder, ruffle your hair, even pull you in for a hug. Jason doesn’t do any of those.

Instead, he pats your bicep twice and gives it a reassuring(?) squeeze. You nod at him, a hint of affection in your gaze as you punch his shoulder playfully. “See ya.” You smile again before heading back inside to mingle with the aristocrats once more.

Despite the interaction being a bit awkward — once you’re closer, you’ll relax around each other, Jason tells himself — it leaves him with a light feeling in his chest.

Once again, when Jason is settling in for the night, he thinks of you. This time, however, he doesn’t beat himself up for being so damn awkward. Instead, he thinks that maybe he’ll swing by the Estate one day. Maybe attend one of those ‘family dinners’ Dick is always trying to rope him into coming to.

Yeah, he reckons, that’d be nice.

okay first of all this was my first ever request 😛😛 so to the anon that sent it in i really hope i did this justice 🙏🙏

second of all we hit 100 followers???? are you serious??? guys thank you all so much for reading these little stories and liking them enough to follow 😭😭 i started writing simply for my own enjoyment and the fact that so many of you like this as much as i do is actually nuts to me ❤️

i lowkey based reader and jason’s dynamic off me and my oldest sister’s tbh 😔🙏 cause im an awkward person in general and she’s way older so we’re super different. but i hope you guys like the way they interact.

anyways! if you want to send in more requests please do 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ but also i randomly get super creative for a few days and then i don’t write anything for 2 weeks so! if you send something in and i don’t answer/write it, don’t worry, i will 🥲

but thanks so much for reading, i really appreciate the support. you guys are literally so sweet and it’s incredibly fulfilling that people enjoy my amateur writing 😅

bye byeee ❤️❤️

[fluoneia]

“this is dumb.” jinx mumbled. you grin, taking her hand in yours.

“it’s not!” you exclaim, dragging her into the open space. classical music played through the speaker, although buffered and a little distorted, still able to make out it was a slow song.

“i’m not.. slow dancing!” jinx huffs, crossing her arms on her chest. “i don’t even know how!”

“this is a staple in date night. couples slow dance!”

“not this couple.” jinx makes a hmph! sound, tilting her head up. “i don’t dance.”

“come on, i’ve seen you dance when you’re creating your little gadgets.”

“they’re not gadgets, they’re bombs. that kill people?”

“gadgets, bombs, whatever.” you say with a tut of your tongue. “come on! it’s just us. i’m not gonna judge you.”

“but you’ll make fun of me!”

“teasing you is just what i do.” you’d shrug. jinx groans in annoyance, moving to stomp away, before you grab her wrist. “come. i’ll teach you.”

jinx narrows her eyes at you.

“come on.. for me?”

she is silent for a second. then she makes a dramatic groan of fake frustration and saunters back to you.

those stupid eyes of yours could make her do anything.

“this is not out of my own volition.”

“you’re here, aren’t you?”

jinx deadpans. “whatever.” she makes a tch sound with her lips. “how do i do this stupid dance?”

“there’s no right way,” you say simply. you guide her hands onto your waist, your arms sliding onto her shoulders, hooking them behind her neck.

“wha—!”

“just relax.” you say softly, soothingly. with an annoyed huff, she tightens her hands on your waist.

“follow what i do.” you say. without another word, you take a step to the side, hand grabbing onto her torso to guide her to do the same. “don’t overthink it.”

“well, i am. this is so stupid.”

“it’s romantic.” you tease, raising a brow. jinx frowns. “just follow me. alright?”

“yeah, yeah.” she says quietly.

slowly, but surely, she finds the rythm as you both take steps around the open space. and slowly, she begins to smile. enjoy it, as she figures out the steps as you and the music continue on.

she lets out a sigh of relief.

her arms slide over your waist, her arms wrapping around you.

“this is.. actually kind of nice.” jinx whispers.

“see?” you beam up at her. “told you.”

“you don’t have to ruin it by being a smartass.” she grumbled.

you both find silence after a while. you treasured moments like this with her— where she was truly herself, and not some made up persona zaun believes her to be.

she was soft in her heart. and she was yours. yours to hold, to dance to songs like this in eachothers solitude like nothing else mattered.

because nothing else did matter with her.

.. but, she was still jinx, after all.

she yelped as she stepped on the end of her own braid, stumbling to the side.

and, therefore, caused a series of events. she dragged you down with her as she fell, crashing into a box where her work-in-progress smoke bombs that still had a sensitive trigger.

your eyes widen.

“oh, shi—“

BOOM!

you coughed as smoke filled the room, the sounds of the smoke bombs exploding beside the both of you deafening out the music.

“i told you this was dumb!” jinx waves her hand in the air, coughing.

slowly, the smoke dissipated, and the music started to become louder once more.

you turn over, seeing jinx with powdered ash all over her face, exclaiming in frustration as she brushed off her clothes. her gaze turns to you with a huff.

“that’s it. we’re never dancing again.”

you’re silent for a second.

then, you laugh. and you keep laughing till your stomach hurts.

“what the hell are you laughing at, huh?!”

“oh..” you wipe your fake tears, “oh, just, i fucking love you so much.”

jinx feels her eyes widen. her breath catches in her throat.

“whatever, dumbass!” and her voice crack is just so damn cute as she pushes herself off the floor, stomping away from the scene. “this was dumb! i’m never doing any cheesy romantic stuff with you again!”

“hey, date night isn’t over!”

jinx pauses. she turns, blinking. “where the hell do you think i’m going right now? i’m getting our stupid damn food.”

and you laugh again.

“stop laughing! ugh!” she slaps her hands on her thighs as she storms back toward the kitchen. “stupid dancing! stupid music!”

she kicks the record player to stop.

oh, date night couldn’t have gone any better then you imagined.

for @16spades omg this request was so cute i couldn’t help myself

[be-xkyy]

Yandere Brother-in-law

Warning: Smut, infidelity to a third party, violence, pregnancy, mentions of murder, feelings of guilt, children mentioned.

Divider credits: @cafekitsune

Yandere brother-in-law who has known you since you, him, and his younger brother (by two years) were teenagers (he hates his brother since everyone preferred him for being a "good boy")

Yandere brother-in-law who was (is) in love with you since you were teenagers as was his brother (but he thinks he has more right to you since he met you first)

Yandere brother-in-law who was in a relationship with you in his youth (friends with benefits) he thought you two would end up getting married someday (that didn't happen).

Yandere brother-in-law who was shocked when one day his brother brought you home hand in hand and announced that you were dating and planning to get married when his brother finished college.

Yandere brother-in-law who took advantage of the moment when you apologized and went to the bathroom and followed you and abruptly entered the bathroom ignoring your surprised look and your complaints that it was inappropriate and that he should get out of the bathroom.

Yandere brother-in-law who grabs you tightly by the arms and asks you furiously "What the fuck are you doing?! What the fuck is this about you marrying my fucking brother?! Huh?!" you can see the vein on his forehead throbbing his jaw is clenched tightly, he's really furious.

Yandere brother-in-law who squeezes you even harder (bordering on painful) when you tell him "You and I are too chaotic together, I need someone reliable in my life who's a safe bet for the long term" he ends up fucking you roughly in the bathroom sink when you walk down the stairs your legs are shaking and his warm seed is deep inside you you smile nervously at your boyfriend and his parents.

Yandere brother-in-law who keeps fucking you even after you married his brother, it was inevitable since you couldn't be without each other for too long, he convinced his brother to stay and live at his parents' house and your husband accepted (he's really dumb)

Yandere brother-in-law who even ten years later is still your lover under a tense coexistence in the family home, you have two wonderful children and he is a proud uncle (cough father) who wants to always be with his nephews.

Yandere brother-in-law who uses any opportunity to get intimate and physical with you even going as far as pretending to be sick just to skip work and stay home while your kids go to school and your husband goes to work which always ends up with you and him having sex (especially when he's jealous when he sees you with his brother)

Yandere brother-in-law who can never take you seriously when you tell him your relationship needs to end and what you two are doing is wrong he laughs when you say his brother is a good man and doesn't deserve this and blah blah blah... he really can't take you seriously especially when you're pregnant with another one of his babies and you moan so beautifully beneath him.

Your high pitched moans fill the room along with the wet sound of slapping, he gives you firm thrusts that make you roll your eyes back in your head he has you tight in a mating hold, your legs brushing against your ears as his fat cock hits all of your sweet spots inside your pussy.

Your nails dig into his shoulders leaving half moon marks on the hot skin, you hear his distorted voice but you can't understand what he says too drowned in pleasure. slap. the sudden slap he gives you on the cheek brings you out of your daze an "uh?" escapes your lips and you look at him with cloudy eyes.

He rolls his eyes and lets out a snort while still thrusting into you, he hits your forehead with his finger and asks slowly as if you were too dumb to understand his words "I asked you what the fuck do you mean that you want us to end? Answer me!" you gulp and try to formulate a coherent response although it's difficult when the delicious feeling of his cock going in and out of your pussy makes you dizzy, you barely manage to mumble "Gabriel— i just— i feel bad for my husband— he's so good... and i do this to him— i'm a bad person..."

Gabriel chuckles darkly and pushes your legs lower almost touching the mattress the new position allows more of his cock to slide inside me in every crease and hollow, he takes my chin in his hand and says in a mocking coo "you're not a bad person darling, you're just a cheating whore addicted to her brother-in-law cock, but i like you like that even if you're a slut don't worry" a pitiful whimper escapes my swollen lips at his words your chest burns with shame.

"But I am a bad person and your poor, repentant attitude is starting to tire me out, why don't you just admit that you made a mistake by marrying my stupid brother? Admit that you should have married me" He says with a growl, his sharp eyes stare into mine waiting for an answer and I can't do anything but close my eyes not wanting to answer the obvious.

He frowns at your stubborn refusal, his fingers tighten their grip on your legs and says "You don't want to talk? Fine. I'll make sure that when I'm done with you, you can't talk or think about anything but me."

A few hours later Gabriel looks at your sleeping form, your sweaty body and your thighs stained with a mixture of your juices and his semen, you fell asleep quickly after his assault. His eyes travel to your slightly swollen belly with his son, HIS SON, he reaches out his hand and traces the outline of your stomach then leans down placing a kiss above your navel and murmurs as if it were a secret.

"Don't worry son dad will fix this shitty situation and take his rightful place, you must be strong because mom will be sad when she finds out about my brother's death, but I will make it up to her... I promise"

[sun-kissy]

still here | r.l.

summary: it's your birthday :(

a/n: this is the first time i’ve ever really cried when writing something, it’s got a home in my heart now and i hope you like it!! 🫶 (also listen to our lovely girl billie while reading for added heartbreak)

tw: past suicide attempt

You lean back on the couch from where you’re bending over the table. Remus wastes no time in wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. He gently presses his lips to your forehead. “Happy birthday, lovely girl.”

“Thank you,” you mumble half-heartedly, grateful but too overwhelmed to show it. 

There’s a cut-up chocolate cake in front of you, which Remus had insisted upon baking. He’d honoured your wishes not to throw a big bash, and of not wanting an actual present. He didn’t exactly understand why — but he loved you too much to not do what you wanted him to; birthday or not.

Guilt weighs heavily on your heart; Remus has been kinder than you deserve. You decide to help him understand.

“You know,” you start softly, tilting your head to lay it on his shoulder. He hums in acknowledgement, fingertips grazing your sleeve as he starts to rub your arm. “I didn’t think I would last this long.”

The shakiness in your voice surprises even you. You feel Remus’ hand still on your arm. 

“What?” he murmurs. You can’t decipher if the slight lilt to his voice is because of sadness or confusion.

“I didn’t think I would last this long,” you repeat quietly, just to be safe, and you feel his hand coasting across your back as he gently grabs your shoulders. He turns you towards him, and you don’t wait for him to ask before you start to explain. “When I was 13, I couldn’t imagine ever making it this far. I tried to kill myself.”

Remus’ eyes widen the slightest bit as he takes in your sudden admission. His grip on your shoulders doesn’t falter; and it’s like you both know he’s the only thing holding you upright. 

When he doesn’t respond, your gaze immediately drops to the couch, shame clouding your eyes.

“I… I didn’t know that.”

The crack in his voice makes you look back up, meeting his gaze. His features are softer, sadder; somehow. There’s the slightest bit of grief in the way he’s regarding you. “Are you glad you made it this far?”

You rub your lips together, taking a shaky breath to make sure your voice comes out evenly. “Yeah,” you exhale softly. “Yeah, I am. I got to meet you.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“No,” you reply honestly. “I love my work. My friends, I really like hanging out with them. And I’d say our apartment is pretty sweet.”

The concern in Remus’ expression is still evident, his brows pinched together almost painfully. His hands bunch up the fabric on your shoulders, tugging you towards him. You’re certain the action is subconscious – he looks lost in thought, like he’s deliberating wrapping you up in his arms and never letting you go.

“Would you like more reasons?” you ask quietly, feeling your vision start to blur. You shouldn’t be surprised that he cares this much, but you are.

When he nods, your heart melts – the magma seems to be pooling in your stomach, and you feel the kind of warmth you’ve only ever been able to feel since you met him.

“Okay,” you decide to indulge him. “I like coffee when I wake up, especially when you make it. Feeding the stray dogs on the side of the road every morning. And my guitar, I like to make music on it. I think music is nice.”

You feel your throat start to clog up, the image of Remus distorting into a blurry swirl in your eyes. “It’s lovely when it rains, especially when we’re both at home, cuddling. And –”

Your voice comes out wobbly, the tears coming hard and fast now. You want to stop, but push on for his sake.

“And I really like our apartment. Did I mention that? Also, your hugs – I love the way you hug. It’s like you really love me, and —”

“I do love you,” Remus interrupts in a shaky exhale, words barely audible from the way his voice is trembling. “I love you, okay? I love you a whole lot. And I’m so glad you’re still with me.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, gently pulling you even closer towards him. You meet him in the middle, arms instinctively wrapping around his waist as he brings his hands up to encircle your shoulders.

Remus squeezes you like it’s his job to hold you together, and you hear a soft sniffle as he buries his face in your hair. 

“I’m so glad you’re still here,” he says again. Your heart clenches in your chest, in all the best ways.

“I love you,” you respond, because you both know it’s synonymous with Thank you for giving me a reason to be here.

[itsnesss]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 | lee myung-gi (player 333) × fem!reader

summary | you and player 333, race against the clock to find a door. when all hope seems lost, he risks everything to save you

warnings | violence, implied death, panic, and emotional distress, kissing

word count | 1.5 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me thanks ᡣ𐭩

The echo of footsteps reverberates around you like a drum in the endless labyrinth. Screams, chaos... everything blends together, and your breathing becomes just another noise. You look around, searching for something—someone—to save you, but all you see are distorted faces, moving without stopping.

“Find a partner and a door before time runs out, or you will be eliminated.”

The words buzz in your head like a cruel hum. The timer on the wall, illuminated in intense red, counts down the seconds of your life.

00:58… 00:57… 00:56

You run toward a door, but someone else is already there.

"Please, wait for me!" you shout, your voice desperate and broken.

They don’t even bother to look at you. You feel a shove on your shoulder as someone else rushes past. Despair sinks into your chest, heavy as a stone, and you start to think there might be no way out.

00:45

You trip, and the cold, hard floor meets your knees. Tears burn in your eyes, but you can’t stop to cry. Not here, not now.

"I’m going to die."

The thought cuts into you like a knife. There’s no metaphor in it; it’s the most terrifying truth you’ve ever faced. If you don’t find a door, if you don’t find a partner, you’re done.

00:30

"Quick!"

A voice pulls you out of your trance. You lift your gaze and see him. It’s him: Lee Myung-Gi, player 333. His white shirt with the number is drenched in sweat, his dark hair disheveled, but his eyes… his eyes shine with a determination that throws you off.

"What are you doing down there? Get up!" he yells, extending his hand.

Your body reacts before your mind can process it. You grab his hand, his grip firm and steady, and he pulls you to your feet.

"Run with me!" he orders, and you do.

His hand doesn’t let go of yours as you sprint down the endless hallway. Every door you pass is already closed, its number dark. There are no options left, and you feel your legs about to give out at any moment.

00:15… 00:14… 00:13

"There!" he shouts, pointing to a door at the end of the hallway. It’s the last one.

Your heart speeds up even more, if that’s possible. But then you see it: someone else is running toward that door. A tall man, faster than the two of you, is only steps away from reaching it.

"No…" you whisper, feeling panic tighten your throat.

"Keep running!" Myung-Gi yells, suddenly letting go of your hand.

You watch as he launches himself at the other player, shoving him with all the force he has. The man stumbles and crashes to the ground, yelling in frustration as he tries to get back up.

"I’m sorry!" Myung-Gi shouts before turning back to you and grabbing your hand again.

"Run!"

You don’t have time to think about what he just did. Your feet move on pure instinct, and before you know it, he pushes you through the door and follows right behind you.

00:03… 00:02… 00:01… 00:00

The sound of the door closing is followed by deafening silence. Then, screams, gunshots… and silence again.

You collapse onto the floor, unable to stay on your feet. You’re trembling, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you try to catch your breath.

"I’m sorry about that…" Myung-Gi says, leaning against the wall as he breathes heavily. "I didn’t want to do it, but there was no other way."

His voice is calm, but all you can think about is the man he left outside. The tears you’ve been holding back pour out in a hot, bitter stream.

"I can’t… I can’t do this anymore…" you whisper, feeling your entire body shatter inside.

He crosses the small space in a couple of steps and kneels in front of you.

"Hey… look at me. We’re alive. We’re here." His hand rests on your shoulder, firm but comforting.

You can’t help but look at him, even though your eyes are blurred with tears.

"Breathe with me, okay? Inhale… exhale… like this."

You try to follow him. His voice has something in it that soothes you, something that gives you a faint glimmer of hope.

"Thank you…" you manage to murmur. "For not leaving me."

He shakes his head, as if your words weren’t necessary.

"I wasn’t going to let you die. Not you.

His words hit you harder than any shove or fall. You look into his eyes, searching for something—maybe a reason, maybe comfort—and you find a warmth you didn’t expect.

"I don’t know what I would’ve done without you…"

"You don’t need to know. I’m here, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you."

Before you can think of a response, you lean into him, desperate for something to hold on to. He doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you, warm and protective, and you rest your head against his chest.

The sound of his heart, strong and steady, is the only thing keeping you grounded.

"I’m here," he whispers, his voice soft against your hair. "You’re not alone."

When you finally lift your head, you realize how close your faces are. His warm breath brushes against your skin, and suddenly, the noise of the game seems to vanish.

He lifts a hand and caresses your cheek, his fingers tracing a delicate path.

"You have to be strong. For us."

And then, his lips meet yours.

It’s a kiss filled with everything you can’t put into words. Desperate, yet comforting, as if he’s trying to imprint on your skin the fact that you’re still alive.

When you pull away, your eyes meet his, and though tears still streak your face, they’re no longer from fear.

"We’ll get out of this together," he says, a small but firm smile on his face. "I promise."

[joannasprose]

ellie williams x nervous!reader

content warning: slight insecurity, a nervous girl who doesn’t know what to do with herself, fluff, comfort (as always), vague angst, proofread this time! (proofread but not edited, sorry I’m lazy!)

note: I found this in my drafts, I didn’t even know I made something like this and decided to post it :) also you can thank my mind (in good ways and bad), because I have another Ellie post that will be ready soon 👀 trying so badly not to post back to back though 💜 (this one is a little rushed and not as good as my others because I completely forgot what it was about 🫡)

| ellie can tell that there’s something up with you. when you finally tell her, she can’t help but be slightly amused.

———

ellie’s hand has yet to leave the small of your back. as the two of you walk through the unfamiliar bar, you cling onto her a little more tightly.

she watches you—unbeknownst to you—as your brows furrow, as you begin to chew the flesh of your cheek. “you okay,” she questions, now leading you over to what you assumed to be the bathroom, closing the door and locking it behind you.

her hand moves slowly to the side of your waist, pulling you closely towards her, holding you gently. you smile, a nervous one as your arms nervously wrap around the sides of her shoulders and loop around her. “yeah. i’m okay, i’m just…” but you’ve stopped yourself.

it had now been four months since both you and ellie had started dating. even then, before she knew of your feelings—her actions had never failed to make you nervous. sure, she had her moments where she would stumble over her words while a rosy hue coated her cheeks. but the moment she had figured you out, the teasing became relentless. not that you minded it, though.

“I’m fine. It’s fine.” you say, eyes once leaving every inch of her figure and darting to the tiled floors, the decorative picture frames—anything but her.

“Y/N,” ellie says, the softness of her eyes never leaving as she spoke, “tell me what’s on your mind. you know I won’t judge.” her hand abandons your waist, now grazing over the skin of your cheek, holding you gently.

“It’s stupid. It’s nothing really,” you begin. this time ellie doesn’t interrupt, practically forcing you continue on with your ramble. “the people. they make me nervous. and you—“ you say but interrupt yourself. you almost don’t see it. the way ellie’s eyes flicker in guilt, the way her grip on you loosens subtly, as if to free you from the overwhelming feeling of her presence.

“no-no. that’s not what I meant.” you say as you scramble for words. abruptly, you pull her closer to you, a tightening hug that she embraces with you when the feeling subsides. slightly.

“you just. when I’m around you, I don’t know what to do with myself. you make me nervous, it’s just embarrassing. and yeah, I know we’ve been dating for a couple of months now,” ellie watches as you continue with your ramble, the words falling from your tongue mindlessly. she just waits, watches, “but I don’t know. It’s stupid. I’m sorry.”

ellie pauses, and she looks at you, pulling away just to see your face. you look away, eyes finding the hem of her shirt but she pulls her hand to your cheek, making you look at her now. “I make you nervous?” even if you hadn’t looked at her, you could practically hear the smile on her lips. you push her away, now embarrassed.

“ellie, stop,” you say, dragging out the letter p when you say it. You try to sound irritated, but you find yourself fighting away a smile.

“What? I like seeing my girl smile,” she begins, grabbing your waist, pulling you closer to her as the music from the house becomes distorted, slowing becoming nothing but background noise. “And, I don’t want you worrying about anything okay?” ellie backtracks, nearly cringing at her words, “not that, I could just make you not worry, you know? Like I’m not forcing you or anything. I hope it didn’t come out that way.” this time, you find comfort in ellie’s loosely put words.

And as you smile, when you smile, she stops, watching you like she always has.

“It’s okay ellie. I get it.” You pull her closer to you, and this time you don’t hesitate when you push your lips against hers. for a moment, her lips are still, presumably in slight shock—but she quickly recuperates and kisses you back.

after a moment, you pull away and speaks, “you’re not shy anymore? you can kiss me now?”

you shove ellie playfully away from you, muttering asshole, under your breath.

In the height of the night, even with your undying anxiety, you’d always known ellie would be there to comfort you no matter what.