#I have paced around the room so many times over them. I have cried so many times over them. I'm barely even started with this

[noteclan]

Noteclan Moon 2!

so uh. Here's that aforementioned written piece. I think this is probably the best place to put it given that I want the end of the post to be about the end of the update:

It's still early in the day when Oatdawn and Beechdream set out in search of herbs, padding down the mountain into the forest of the valley.

Birds chirp and flutter in the trees. Iron-mud-red squirrels dash through the leaf litter after each other, oblivious to the cats trodding steadily along nearby. This forest is probably the liveliest place in several kilometres, other than maybe the shore of the lake. It’d be lovely, if not for the fact that all the animal smells are making it hard to find herbs.

At least if they can’t find anything it’s not a long walk back to the cave, something she wouldn’t be able to say if she was by the lake. Oatdawn dreads things fairly often, and one of them is the walk back up the mountain if xe must get herbs from all the way down there someday.

She glances to Beechdream for a second. He went there just recently to get xir a fish. He doesn’t even like fish.

..This walk is rather lovely, actually.

The scent of a mouse hits Oatdawn’s nose. Yet another animal distraction, yet another small creature she wants to pause and watch. But her duties as a medic must come first, as always.

You could use the bile against ticks, her mind chimes, tempting her, though she knows..

She doesn’t realize xe’s stopped until Beechdream does as well, his head tilted in silent question.

Oatdawn flicks her tail to point to the source of the smell, and seconds later there’s a skittering in the leaves in that spot. She watches, amused(surely this twinge in her heart is that), as Beechdream lowers himself to a hunting crouch. 

He fumbles the catch, which is probably for the best, though Oatdawn does struggle to believe that when xe catches a sharp bitterness in his eyes.

“When did you get so into hunting?” She asks, tone light enough to ease the edge in Beechdream’s eyes as he looks at xir. “I still remember- you used to hate it, didn’t you? And now you’re fishing and going after mice and challenging eagles, always out- when’d that happen?”

Beechdream stares at the ground for a second. “I got tired of not being able to.” He glances up to Oatdawn after a second, sees xir’s curiosity. “Like- skill wise? And from my job back home. I’m sick of being cooped in.”

“You did.." Oh, she wishes xir memory was better. "Camp security, yeah?”

Beechdream nods.

“You still went out to get brambles and stuff, though. Was that not enough?”

He shrugs. “No? I’m glad your plants are for you, but. Not for me.”

Oatdawn stills, considering. Xir eyes drift to where the mouse had been.

(That twinge in her heart, as xe watched Beechdream smoothly stalk along the forest floor, his movements precise and certain. Was that admiration or jealousy?)

Well. Even if she wanted to hunt, she doesn’t know-

“How do you.” She swallows, face hot. “how do you hunt?”

Any distance that’d been clinging in Beechdream’s eyes fades. “You-? Of course, you’re a medic. Ok, uhm-”

He launches into a very - dare xe say adorably - flustered explanation of a hunter’s crouch, glancing back at Oatdawn far too often(“I keep thinking- that clearly you know this so it’ll be rude to explain,” “snrk-, It’s not, I promise,”) for it to be a smooth process.

She does learn, though. And soon the mission of collecting herbs is forgotten, as Xe hunts for the first time. It takes a couple of tries but soon Oatdawn has a mouse clamped tight in her jaws and triumph settled nicely into that aching spot in xir chest.

She’s well familiar with having to talk around things, and lifts xir paw to set the mouse down on it to say “Thank you.”

Beechdream grins, and the two of them bask in the moment.

before Ochrewillow glances over his head.

“Oh. That’s rosemary.”

“..So it is, yes.”

Oatdawn stares for a second. “I should probably harvest some sprigs from that.”

So xe should probably give Beechdream the mouse.

Passing it to him is easy. It means that he stands there, apparently too busy holding it to help gather rosemary, but that’s fine. This is fine. He should get the credit for it anyway, he’s the warrior.

When she’s gathered as much as xe can easily hold in her mouth, Oatdawn turns to face him again. Beechdream pads closer, takes the mouse from his mouth with a paw and- sets it on her head?

“What? You’ve got good balance.” He says, grinning, and pads past her to start breaking twigs off of the rosemary bush. “Just- this size good?” He asks, holding a piece up.

Oatdawn goes to nod, then pauses, humming a m-hm instead.

this is really happening.

She really shouldn’t bring this back, Spirestar wouldn’t- Heronstar would. He would approve. They’re breaking out of the specialties now, aren’t they? Defenders and medics can hunt. Fighters can learn to build barriers. The kits are growing up without having to pick that strict a role, without a war.

Right.

She just did her first, and hopefully far from last, hunt.

and now we resume our regularly scheduled comicing, with a Veilbreak and Rainpaw patrol!

ah yes. neon orange. a sure sign that Plot lurks the area.

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For anyone who skipped the written scene, Sílexclan wasn't the only name dropped; Oatdawn also thinks of a cat named Spirestar.

I don't plan on doing the huge written pieces often, but I had a lot of fun exploring it. One thing I've Not been having a lot of fun with is keeping these damned lineless cats from blending into the background. if anyone has any tips they'd be much appreciated

I'm still like. Hoping to eventually start updating more frequently. The reason this took so long is in large part because I started college partway through making it. So far I'm relatively low on homework though so here's hoping

So yeah! Hope you all enjoyed and that you have a lovely day!

[p1astr81]

baby piastri - op81

in which: Oscar is learning to take care of his new baby girl.

pairing: dad!oscar piastri x mom!reader

warnings: none I don’t think?? fluff, super short blurb

‧‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅

You woke to the sound of yours and Oscar’s child crying. It’s been only three weeks since you brought her home, but it felt like ages, as you have hardly slept. Oscar usually slept through her cries. You never wanted to bother him, so you took care of it yourself despite his many protests.

Tonight was no different. You didn’t care about the time as the concept of it became irrelevant to you in the past weeks. But at some point late in the night, your little Isla started to fuss. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, walking in zombie-like motions toward the baby cradle. You yawned as you reached into her cot, but your hands were met with nothing but air.

All of your senses immediately switched on high. You became more alert than that time you had three energy drinks in one day. You followed the sound of her cries, your feet moving faster than your brain could even process.

Your movements stopped when you saw Oscar pacing around the living room. He kept his usual calm demeanor, but you knew him so well that you could tell he was internally panicking. Little isla flailed in his arms as he softly bounced her around, hoping it would calm her. It didn’t. Her lungs worked overtime as she cried.

There was an open book on the coffee table. One of the books Oscar bought in preparation for the baby. A book all about parenting a new born. He leaned over to read something before turning to Isla, “You want your passy? Is that it?” He asked, offering the piece of plastic right in front of her mouth, but she swatted it away with her little hand. “No? Okay. Are you hungry then?” His voice was soft and low, overflowing with concern. “Mum isn’t awake but I’m sure there’s some food for you in the fridge.” He smiled lovingly down at your daughter.

“Oscar,” you called softly, just loud enough for him to hear you over isla’s screeching cries. His eyes met yours, an amount of remorse in them that you’d never seen before. He sighed. “I’m sorry, hon. I really didn’t want to wake you. I tried to get her to calm down.” He knew how much you’d been doing. How often you’d wake up and how little you slept. He always tried to help but you were so stubborn on being independent. His attention reverted back to the baby girl, tsk-ing out shushes as he tried to calm her.

You grabbed an unfinished bottle from the day before, and met Oscar in the middle of the room to hand it over. “I don’t know how you do it.” He chuckled and joined you on the couch. Luckily, isla clung to the bottle as soon as it was in her reach, solving the problem of her screaming. “You’ll learn,” you replied with a hum and rested your head on his shoulder. It didn’t take long for you to drift away from consciousness.

[twola]

Arthur definitely grips the headboard

Softness

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

Somehow you always had known he could be like this. One doesn’t get the reputation that he does by handing out flowers and being gentle.

Deep down, you had also known that this side of him simmered beneath the surface. Though he has been nothing but a gentleman to you through this courtship, or whatever you’d call it, you knew there would be a moment when he snaps, taut like a rope.

The pillow mercifully muffles your hoarse voice, strung out and breathless as you are completely under his control, pressed down into the mattress as if you were to melt into it.

Thoroughly used and fucked out, your moans and cries have become guttural as you smother them by shoving your face into the pillow, having lost your fight with gravity long ago.

Although you can do nothing more than accept, he on the other hand is still full of energy he is taking out on you. Your arms have gone useless, unable to hold you up for some time now. Having fallen forward into the pillow, your back is arched and hips held up by one of his large hands.

“Tha’s it,” he grunts above you, throwing his hips into yours, mercilessly pumping his cock into your cunt. You groan again into the pillow as he slams into you hard.

“Take it, fuck - take it,” he hisses as he leans further over you, one of his hands leaving your hips and clutching at the headboard of the bed. It’s been banging against the wall for the last several minutes, surely alerting the other guests of the hotel what you were up to.

You mewl piteously. You won’t be able to ride a horse for a week at this point. Your cunt is sopping wet as he pounds into you, bruises from his fingers already blooming across your skin. You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve come; from the second he shut the door behind you in this hotel room, he’s been on you like a man possessed.

Maybe he’s riding the high of the score. Maybe it’s taking frustration out.

“Ngh, Arth- agh - Arthur-”

Hearing his name muffled into the pillow seems to drive him wild, clenching your hips with one hand and pressing you down, down into the mattress as his cock hits spots so deep inside you you swear you’re going to pass out.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl-” he pants as his breakneck pace begins to falter, leaning heavily on the headboard, his knuckles white from gripping it.

“Gonna fill you up, g-gonna-”

His babbling devolves into a low moan as he slams his hips down into yours one final time. He remains still for a moment, breathing heavily as he finds his release deep into your waiting cunt.

Arthur groans as he pulls out, his cock near dripping with his spend and your slick. He flops down next to you in the bed as you slowly roll onto your side.

He breathes out through his nose, and chuckles softly as he turns his head toward you, “Well that was different there, darl-”

“Shit, shit -” his satisfied grin drops as he sees your tear- streaked face, “Oh, oh honey - I didn’t - shit.”

He draws you into his embrace, cupping your cheek as his brow furrows, you can see in his eyes the guilt overtaking him.

“ M’okay-”

“Jesus, what a bastard I am-”

“Arthur-” You press your hand against his sweat-dotted sternum, “I’m fine. Seriously. Maybe just gonna a bit sore riding.”

He clenches his jaw, obviously not thrilled with your answer.

“Christ, I’m sorry. Last thing I ever want to do is hurt-”

You cut him off by surging forward and pressing your lips to his, pressing your tongue inside, throwing your leg over his hip to plaster yourself against him.

He’s breathless by the time you pull away, one arm tight around your waist.

You smile, reaching up and brushing a lock of his hair from his forehead.

“Just warn a girl next time, Mister Morgan.”

His cheeks blaze red for a moment before you lean in and kiss him again.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Captain II

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Fridolina Rolfö x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You come home after being announced as captain

In true Magda fashion, everyone in her contact list gets a call. A quick 'did you hear my kid's Sweden Captain?' call where she ends it before the other person can reply.

You get a text and several missed calls that you just ignore until you're free to go to your mothers' house. It was a slip that had you forgetting to tell them that you were Sweden's new captain.

There wasn't much time between your discussion with Emma and walking out to the press conference.

The best you could have given them was a text in warning but, judging by the messages your Morsa sent and all the uncharacteristic emojis she sent with it, you assumed she was happy.

You also assumed that you wouldn't be yelled at for not giving them a heads up.

You pull up at their house and sigh.

Frido's car is also in the driveway and you roll your eyes.

You don't want to think about how many traffic laws she broke to get here before you.

You unlock the front door, unbothered with using the bell, and slip inside.

The low hum of the tv is apparent as you slide off your shoes and hang up your coat. Frido's definitely in the house because you have to put your shoes next to hers and her bag is sitting on the stairs.

You're not entirely sure why she keeps bringing a bag when all her clothes are in the spare room but you don't dwell on it long before making your way into the living room.

Momma is sitting on the sofa, watching the last five minutes of a random show before what she actually wants to watch comes on.

"Your Morsa and moster are in the garden," She tells you," Calling everyone they know to brag."

"Are you angry I didn't tell you? Are they?"

"I'm not angry and those two are much too smug to be angry as well."

You smile and sit next to Pernille, one of her arms being thrown over your shoulder comfortably.

"At least tell me you told Natalia at least. She's not got access to you while on camp like we do."

"I told Talia," You reply.

In fact, Talia was the first and only person you told before the press conference. She'd congratulated you with a laugh before teasing and saying to take it in while you could because she would be gunning for the Spanish captaincy next.

She'd get it eventually, you knew that. It was only a matter of time but, still, you were the only national captain in the relationship at the moment and you just knew she'd have something to say about it when you finally reunited.

"Good girl," Pernille says," I'd hate for her to suddenly appear at the house unexpectedly. You know what your Morsa gets like."

In sync, you both lean forward to peer out of the windows leading to the garden.

Magda's still on the phone, waving her hand around excitedly as her mouth moves quickly before she drops the call only to immediately make a new one.

Frido's also pacing around the garden doing the exact same thing and you can't help but roll your eyes at both of them.

Magda catches your eyes and instantly makes her way back inside.

"Look at you!" She cries, bursting into the room," My little captain! Look at you!"

You're pulled away from Pernille and crushed into a hug as Magda all but sobs into your hair.

"I remember the first time you wore the armband! So small! You couldn't even walk yet! It kept slipping off! Now look at you!"

"Morsa," You groan, trying to escape from her suffocating hug," Let go!"

"My baby!" She's definitely crying now. "Carrying Sweden to greatness!"

(One day, you do lead Sweden to greatness. One day, you make your mark as one of Sweden's captains. One day, you pass off the armband to a young player you saw greatness in like your captain did for you.)

"Come on," You complain," Let go!"

You're released, only to be forced right back into another hug, from your moster Frido now.

Her hugs is just as suffocating as Magda's. She rocks side to side with you as you struggle to get away.

She speaks to Magda over your head. "Do you think I can borrow your old armband? I can't just wear her shirt to matches anymore. Got to complete the look."

"Please don't," You beg but she ignores you.

"Er..." Magda says," I'm not sure actually. I'll have a look-"

"It's on the bedside table," Pernille cuts in," Magda insisted on wearing it last night when we-"

"Gross!" You complain," Please don't talk about your sex life. You know I wear the armband now. Please don't make me think about you guys having sex every time I wear it."

You peak your head over Frido's shoulder to look at your mothers.

Magda shrugs. "A healthy sex life-"

"Stop!" You clamp your hands over your ears. "Stop talking or I'll go straight back to camp. Stop talking!"

Magda waves a hand dismissively. "You'll find out what I mean as soon as you see Natalia again."

[7ndipity]

Them With Pregnant S/o HCs

Taehyung x Reader, Jungkook x Reader

Summary: How they would look after their S/o during pregnancy and interact with the baby bump.

Warnings: none

A/N: Thanks to @lovelyxoxosworld for this request! Everybody seems to have babies on the brain lately, idk what’s going on, lol. I did include a few points about earlier months just for the sake of covering all the bases, but I tried to keep the focus on the later months like you asked.

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Taehyung:

When the two of you found out you were expecting, he was beyond excited and emotional. He’d always dreamt of having a family of his own, so the fact that it was finally happening, and with you, meant the world to him.

He would talk to them all the time. As soon as he comes home, he kisses you and asks how your day was, and then kneels down to kiss your belly and ask them the same thing.

He would play question games with your belly, like one kick for yes, two kicks for no. He’d probably try to get them to side with him during arguments.

Likes to just hold/hug you from behind and trace patterns over your bump.

You tend to fall asleep most nights talking about names or trying to guess what their personality will be like.

“We’re not naming them after Jimin.” “Why not?” “The rest of your members will be pissed.” “We can name the next ones after them.” “THE NEXT ONES?!”

He really dedicates himself to studying your pregnancy books and trying to be as educated as possible about the whole process.

As your belly gets bigger, he tries to help and take over as many household tasks as possible, reminding you every time you try to argue with him about smth that you’re growing A HUMAN?! You’re busy enough!

He loves getting to dote on you; helping you apply cream to your belly for stretch marks, giving you back rubs to ease any aches and pains, he’ll even paint your toenails for you if you want!

He takes so many photos of you as the pregnancy progresses, wanting to immortalize as much of this time as possible.

Jungkook:

When he found out that you were pregnant, he was so beside himself with happiness that he couldn’t sit still. He kept bouncing/pacing around the room, coming over at regular intervals to hug and kiss you and your tummy, and then back to pacing.

Reads so many pregnancy books he basically becomes a walking encyclopedia for a couple months.

When he finds out they can hear in there, he talks to them constantly, including them in your conversations and singing to them before bed.

He cried a little bit the first time he felt the baby kick, bc it just made everything a lot more real. Like, he knew they were there, but getting to actually feel them and interact with them was a whole different thing.

As your belly gets bigger, and daily tasks get more difficult to do, he becomes your full-time assistant, doing everything and anything he can to help out.

Refuses to let you do anything remotely straining in fear of you hurting yourself. Like, he gets anxious about you even carrying your own bag half the time.

Loves doing that thing where he holds/supports your belly to take the weight off your back for a few minutes so you can rest a little bit.

Will one hundred percent try any weird food cravings you have, just to know and to see if he can start predicting what the next ones will be.

Is constantly coming up with new name ideas and desperately wants to be the one to find THE name. “Heads: you win, Tails: I get to pick the baby’s name.”

Probably falls asleep with a hand resting on your belly most nights.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Coming Back || Björn Ironside x Oc

gifs by: unknown & @gifshistorical

Summary: Bjorn returns back to Wessex just in time for the birth of his first child with Evangeline. After being forced into marriage, it is the first time they see each other after the wedding.

—————————————————————————————

Kingdom of Wessex

“Move it!” Björn yells as he moves past servants and guards rushing around the place. Ragnar follows, amused at his son’s mood. They had just set foot back in Wessex after news came that Evangeline was expected to give birth very soon. Of course shocked, Björn wanted to be by his wife’s side when his first child is born.

The married couple had not seen each other in many months as he left right after their consummating ceremony. Although their marriage was only a political matter, Björn still cared about her.

“Ah, my son-in-law! How are you Björn?” King Ebert opens his arms wide. Björn awkwardly looks to his father before hesitating and moving closer to the King who pulls him in for a hug and a pat on the back.

“My dear Evangeline has missed your presence, but rest assured, her pregnancy has been very smooth. I pray to the God above that she delivers the child safely without much pain.” He does the sign of the cross as Björn slowly nods. “And where is she? The soon to be mother of my child?” His deep voice questions the King.

King Ecbert beckons a servant, “Take them to the birthing room,” And with that, Björn quickly follows the servant, Ragnar following suit but not before giving a look to the King.

The two walk into a hallway where they could already hear Evangeline’s cries of pain. Björn stiffened at the sound of her screams, it was his first time becoming a father so he did not know what to expect. Ragnar takes ahold of his son’s upper arm making him stop. “When you go in there, she is obviously in a lot of pain. Take her hand, comfort her. And pray to Freyja.” He says lowly to Björn who just nods before exhaling from his nose.

The servant waited in front of the door. Björn nodded and the door opened revealing his wife pacing slowly around the room. Her hands on her back as she breathed heavily. Her hair was sticking to her shiny face and her white gown slightly covered with blood. Evangeline had not yet noticed his presence in the room.

Another cry left her mouth as she threw her head back, massaging her stomach as servants press a cloth to her sweaty forehead. Ragnar stayed leaned up by the door, his eyes scanning around the room. “Evangeline…” Björn called out making the princess turn her head to his direction.

In a matter of seconds, she stormed up to him, hitting his chest a few times. “Where have you been! I have been waiting for you-“ She stopped mid sentence as she winced and leaned her head against his firm chest. “Because of you, I seem to be fighting against a demon inside my stomach!” She fumed before she turned back around and continued pacing.

Björn watched his wife in shock as she kept yelling “get out, get out, get out” over and over. He looks behind his shoulder to his father for help but Ragnar only chuckles. “Sounds like a typical Viking baby” He shrugs as Björn walks to Evangeline. He takes her shoulders, “I think you should this to the bed, yes?” He says to her with his slight accent.

“I think that is a great idea, my Prince. Let’s go lay down in the bed shall we?” An older handmaiden gently takes Evangeline’s hands and move her to the bed. Now that he was married to the Princess of Wessex, he was technically considered Prince. It sure was still new to Björn.

Evangeline laid down on the bed with her husband trailing behind, his hand on her lower back. Björn takes ahold of her hand, just like what his father told her to do, placing a kiss on her knuckles before silently praying to Freyja.

“Princess, you need to start pushing!” Evangeline screams in pain but nonetheless pushes. “What are you doing?” She says in between her yells of pain. “Praying to the Goddess Freyja, so that you safely deliver our son or daughter” Björn says as he looks her in the eyes.

She doesn’t say anything but continues to push, tears streaming down her face from the pain she was experiencing. “This baby is going to be the death of me!” She screams before she gives one final push, her hand squeezing hard with Björn’s but he did not mind.

For the first time that afternoon, the villa fell silent until the noise of a baby crying broke it . Evangeline fell back on the bed, exhausted with her eyes closed. Björn stares amazed at the newborn, his child, a daughter. The handmaiden wraps the baby in cloth before taking her to the exhausted mother.

“Look, isn’t our daughter beautiful?” Björn softly whispers in Evangeline’s ear as she slowly opens her eyes, her daughter resting on her chest as tears of joy flow down her face. Björn couldn’t stop smiling at the little human being he helped create.

“She’s beautiful,” Evangeline whispers, looking down at the baby. “What should we name her?” The Princess looks at Björn with searching eyes as he takes a moment to think before looking to his father.

“I think we should name her Ingrid. It means beautiful goddess, because I know our daughter already is one,” He smiles down at the baby, her tiny hand wrapping themselves around Björn’s finger. Evangeline’s eyes move to Björn as everyone in the room exchanges looks.

No doubt were they questioning the name of the Princess’ child as it was old norse originated. “Ingrid. Princess Ingrid. I like that name,” Evangeline says softly as Björn smiles at her and kisses her cheek.

“Where is my granddaughter!” King Ecbert rushes in and stops to see the sight infront of him. His eyes immediately soften before coming to his daughter’s side, Evangeline notices his older brother Aethulwulf standing by the door awkwardly. Evangeline carefully gives her father Ingrid as the King admires his granddaughter silently.

The young Princess beckons her older brother who takes a hesitant step forward. He moves past his father and engulfs the younger in a hug. “How are you dear sister?” He rubs her back as Evangeline lets out a breath. “I’m fine. Though rest and sleep is all I can think about right now,” She chuckles as the others around do the same.

King Ecbert than passes Ingrid to her uncle. Evangeline watch as the two fuss over her daughter as she rests her head on Björn’s chest. “Thank you for being here,” She looks up to him with a gentle smile. He says nothing but moves her closer to him and places a kiss on her forehead.

The door opened and revealed Lagertha and Ragnar. The famous Shield-maiden immediately moves to the bed where the couple laid. She engulfed Björn in a tight hug before giving Evangeline one aswell. Lagertha moves to the other side and Aethulwolf passes Ingrid to her.

“Oh she’s beautiful,” Lagertha softly says, looking at Evangeline and Björn. “What is her name?” She questions as she brushes Ingrid’s cheek. “Ingrid.” Evangeline answers with a proud smile. “Ingrid.” Ragnar nods, moving behind Lagertha to look down at the baby in her arms.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful baby,” Ragnar acknowledges with a smile and winks at the young Princess.

[flemingsgirl]

We got this

Supporting your best friend never let to such a heartbroken moment in your life. The story follows up to Vivianne's ACL injury.

TW: mention of injury, some angst

Watching the Lyon game filled you with ecstasy many fans gathered in the emirate’s stadium. The teams headed onto the field, and the anthem echoed through the venue. Vivianne was lined up in the starting eleven. As they got into their position Viv’s eyes found your figure in the crowd, and one side of her lips curled up as she waved at you.

It was an even game possession from both sides as well as pressing, creating chances. Some tackling here and there but still nil-nil. Three minutes additional time, the most hurtful you have ever lived through. Lyon took a chance and scored the nil-one due to an own goal which resulted from a free kick.

Arsenal with the kick off followed by an attack towards the goal Viv slaloming through the bodies and trying to get the ball she missed. Abruptly her butt met the cold grass and she waved for anyone to notice but the game went on McCabe sprinting into the box passing to Manuum and she stops. The gazes of her teammates fell to her laying on the ground. Viv hid her face in her arms and her body shaking as she cried in pain. You could see that van de Donk kneeled next to her trying to speak to her, caressing her back. Your hands clenched over your mouth and eyes wide as the stare down at Vivianne. The scratcher arrived just seconds later but it felt like hours, like the time froze and your heart broke. The medic finally arrived at her side; she turned over her arms still covering her face. They put her leg in a splint careful and slow. Her face scrunched up as they moved her to the scratcher, her face went pale, and her eyes shut as the tears ran down her cheeks.

When she was carried off Beth and you already standing at the side line the stadium cheered for the forward player. She was pushed into the tunnel and you and Beth trotted behind the woman. You let her enter before. Pacing up and down the hallway you fidget with your scrunchy. Stopping in one spot you shift from your toes to your heel and forwards again, eyes wandering through the room. A hand lays down on your shoulder and you turn around. Your eyes meet with Beth’s reddish and tear cover ones. “she’s really crestfallen.” You bring your arms around Beth and pressed slightly, “thank you,” the words are mumbled into her coat.

In a slow manner you open the door stepping into the room, it holds many emotions. “Hey gorgeous.” Your hand grabs a chair and place it next to the examination table. With her eyes shut she nods and stutters, “hi.”

“Oh Anna,” placing her hand in yours you squeeze it and rub circles on the back of it. “it’s going to be okay, yeah? I’m here. I’ll always be here, every step of it,” you bring her hand up to your lips and gently let them touch her skin. A tear slips out of her eyes, and you brush it away. “You’re freezing up,” getting out of your coat you lay it around her shoulder, your scent meeting her olfactory receptors.

The room went silent again until Viviane lets heart shattering cries and sobs out pulling your coat higher so she can hide her face in it. As the sound is processed in your head tears cover your sight, “it will be you and me til the end. You remember my sweet warrior?” moving closer to her you stroke her back and kissed the crown of her head. “We’ll get through this. You’re the strongest woman I know. The best player I ever met and I’m grateful for having you in my life. You’re my best friend my other half. You hear me Miedema?” your eyes darting on her, “you hear me beautiful?” you stroke through her hair, she leans into your touch and you can feel her shift.

A knock on the door echoes through the cold air. Beth head peaked in, “they’re gonna take to the hospital now, just so you know.”

Giving Beth a reassuring smile you answers, “all right,” disconnecting your touch on Viv’s head and lowering the hand which holds hers she grabs tightly onto it she makes you halt.

“Please stay,” her quivering voice mumbles. Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see Beth’s smile drop, and her eyes fall to the floor.

[vgilantee]

🥵 you and glossy 🥵

Sooo.. when did John finally get them into bed?

glossy @glossysoap indulges me and my worms too often <3 and always comes in with her own like !!! ty babyyyy

~✧

john gets his hands on johnny first.

stuck in a safe house with just each other, waiting on exfil but weather makes it almost impossible to covertly get them out. so they have to wait. it only takes a couple days before the tension becomes too much and they snap.

“you have fun with it?” john asks, smoking out the open window.

“fun with..?” in johnny’s defence, he’s not good with sitting still waiting when there isn’t a target. he’s excellent when there’s a goal, a mission, a mark. but just sitting, waiting in a tiny cabin in buttfuck nowhere? he’s antsy.

“m’ cock.” he says it so casually johnny chokes on his own spit.

“i, uh… yeah. bon cried so pretty. and i dinnae think i’ve ever been stretched so nice.”

“hm. want t’ have a go with the real thing?” johnny thinks his having hallucinations. no way his captain just offered to fuck him. it was one thing to gift you both a mould of his cock, it was one other thing to send a photo of himself covered in his own cum after clearly jerking off to johnny fucking you with it. it’s another entirely to offer… that. “yes or no sergeant?”

“yes.” it’s almost pathetic how johnny whines as he clamours to his feet, john’s finger crooking to summon him over.

“your cunt looked so pretty takin’ the silicone, bet it feels like heaven around my cock.”

it doesn’t take long for johnny to have his pants and boxers thrown elsewhere in the room and be bent over the arm of the dingy sofa, wet, puffy cunt presented for john while his little cock twitches.

john knows that johnny can take his cock, watched the video of you taking him apart on it god knows how many times, but he still wants to have his sergeant cum on his fingers first. wants to feel just how warm and wet johnny’s pussy can get before giving soap what he desperately wants.

when he finally, finally, sinks into johnny’s cunt, he almost collapses forward. it had been too long since he’d had a warm pussy around him, and soap’s flutters and clenches around the thick length as it verges on overstimulation.

john can’t help himself as he bottoms out over and over again, fucking into johnny at a bruising pace, punching his cervix every time. but it’s clear soap doesn’t mind at all, not with the way he keeps reaching back to scratch at the captain’s thighs while moaning out thank you’s between his swearing and whining.

they both shudder as john fills soap’s cunt, pelvis flush against his ass to keep him full for as long as possible. john clumsily reaches for his phone, taking a slightly graining video of the way johnny’s cunt stretches over john’s cunt, fluttering once he’s pulled out and forces cum to dribble out.

when you watch the way john swipes at johnny’s cunt from clit to hole before pushing the cum back in, listening to john rumble out “don’t waste it”, you can’t help the “oh fuck” you whisper out.

~✧

john goes with johnny to your little home when they finally get back, inviting himself while johnny was between his thighs, cock too far down his throat for soap to argue.

you get no warning, only expecting johnny to walk through the door while you move around in only one of his shirts and a pair of panties. despite the fact that john has already seen everything, you still squeak and pull the front of the shirt down between your legs.

“sorry for intruding without warning, love.”

“oh! it’s- it’s okay john.” you wave him off with one hand, the other trying to keep the shirt in place. “i can make some food for you both if you give me a minute to put some pants on.”

“no need, sweetheart. if it’s okay with you, i’d much prefer you take them off so i can have a proper meal.”

you’re lucky to make it to the bedroom with how desperate they both are to have you naked. soft and warm. john makes you squirt on his fingers while he and johnny alternate between eating you out and making out with each other, making a mess of spit and slick

[sparklesandpudding]

Hear me out jealous yandere Beelzebub X reader smut

Also side note the reader is immune to his curse

And I don't really know what else to ask in this request so I guess the rest is up to you

Ok! 😊 But you didn't specify the gender of the reader, so I just put it as fem. You may request to change the gender if it isn't what you asked for.

Yandere Beelzebub × fem!reader!

SMUT IN THE LAST PART!!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Beelzebub was described as many many things, like lonely, cold, and many more. But whenever it came to his significant other, only one word was best for describing him.

Obssesssive.

When he met you, there was always something in him that made him get rid of any lingering feelings towards you. Knowing that he did not want to risk hurting you or anyone in the process, which is why he's so distant.

Until you showed care for him, mothering him and taking care of all his needs, nagging about his lifestyle and how living in such a dark place and isolating himself was horrible. You knew about his curse, but not once have you ever given up on him like all the others have.

Due to that reason, he just couldn't help but like you. Which he tried to stop, knowing that it'll end with blood in his hands once again..but, when you kissed him, his love meter went higher than the heaven's could reach.

He stared at you in shock, mentally preparing himself for the bloodshed that was about to happen...but, it never did.

"what the.." he stared at you for answers, before you kissed him again, a sympathetic smile on your face. "Are you done now?" You mumbled quietly, as he started crying in your arms, demanding answers. But you simply told him, that you were immune to his curse. Since back then, you casted a spell on yourself to turn immune, due to your traditions as an immortal.

From that day on, Beelzebub was finally able to love freely. Something he had never felt for so long...

But because of his past with his loved ones, that ended in him killing all of them...he knew that he had to keep you safe. Not from him anymore, but from the dangers that could be lurking around the place.

He started growing paranoid...and later on, obssessed.

...

"(y/n)..." He called out from afar, before seeing you chatting with a person, laughing about random stuff until you saw him. Quickly hugging him tightly, introducing him to your 'friend'.

He gave the friend a cold glare, not fond over how you were talking to them so much, until he grabbed you by your arm. And dragged you back to his place.

There, you knew what was about to happen. He was never very good with keeping in his jealousy, he wanted you all to himself. Just to make up for all that he's missed out on

You had to understand.

"(y/n)...I need you." You gave a soft sigh, as he started getting unclothed. Oh boy....

Sounds of flesh slapping together echoed through the room, your moans and whines accompanied by his growls of need. Things escalated quite quickly..all you did was take your bra off and that already sent his horny meter up the sky.

"you're so pretty today..." He mumbled, as he plunged his tip into your pretty little hole. Before taking it back out, and humping it on your sticky clit, his tip already leaking with precum. You moaned softly, feeling his tongue take your nipple in his mouth, sucking greedily. "Ngh..mnh..beel..gentle..."

The stimulation you felt on your clit made you whimper in pleasure, subconsciously forcing your legs to open wider. "It needs you...I need you..." He then enters his cock into your pussy, pounding it with hunger and intense speed. Your pretty cries like a melody in his ears, making him go faster.

Sweat dripped on both your bodies, before he let out an animalistic growl "m..gonna cum..(y/n)...I'm gonna cum.." he went faster, then slowing his pace to really stimulate himself in pleasure. Before you heard a loud spurt of his cum, Making sure it was real deep inside.

He switched your positions, this time laying you on your back, so he could see your face. Before sliding his cock up and down your clit once again, and then pounding it harshly. Your body was paradise, the only thing he wanted to eat and feel for the rest of eternity. You cried and moaned harder, practically drooling at this point from his endless assault on your pussy. "Faster...faster please-!mmnhnn...!" He listened to your pleas, going faster and then spurting harder.

This time he plunged his fingers in your pussy, putting his cock in your asshole instead. He had to be fair and show his love to both holes, right? That's what he's doing. Your hole milked his cock for all it's worth, greedily sucking up all his cum for itself. Only giving him a better reason to continue till you couldn't walk for a while.

"pretty...don't ever leave me for some deadbeat scum like that ...okay..? I'll kill him if he ever gets close to you without me knowing.."

You gave a whine, your thoughts clouded with nothing but pleasure, which was a good view to him. How he love you so much.. you are all his.. all his to keep, all his to take...only his.

With one last squirt of cum, he pulled out, leaving your leaking butthole and pussy throbbing. Giving you a kiss on the cheek, "so beautiful.. aren't you?"

When you fell asleep, he took one last glance at you before walking out. He would come back later, after taking care of that 'bug' you considered a friend. He's not in the wrong, in his eyes, it was your friend who tested his nerves to begin with. It's not his fault that he was only playing safe.

••••••••••

[seoktized]

idk if you write about this BUT HEAR ME OUT stepdad!hanbin fucking you behind your mom’s back. it all started off as some light banter between the two of you, until it progressed to him putting his hands on your waist whenever he walked past you, flirting with you, even getting handsy when your mom wasn't looking, even if she was in the same room. sometimes he would reward you with many orgasms as much as he wants you to have, as you squirm and whine. shaking & trying to wriggle out of his grasp after countless orgasms, he would ask if you can give him one more and when you whimper and whine out a “no”, he would reply “okay”, seeing you feel relieved for a sec before he grabs your legs and pushes them to your chest & says “if you can't give me another, l'll just have to take it from you.". sorry if this is bad this is my first request 😭😭

hi anonnie you are the loml and i want you to know i was thinking about this the whole time i was on break. many kisses for you, thank you for matching my freak <3

tw: stepcest

he’s so sweet most of the time, praising you with every movement, calling you his pretty girl while he fucks you the way you like. but other times when he’s got pent up anger or energy from the day, he lays you down and has his way with you.

“n-no daddy, s’too much!” hanbin pressed your legs to your chest, thrusting in harshly as tears ran down your face. “shh, take daddy’s cock like a good girl,” hanbin leaned down, kissing away your tears.

as he pressed against you, the tip of his cock hit against your cervix with every thrust. you shuddered, your body shaking from overstimulation as he pounded into you with no abandon. his hands gripping your thighs tight enough to bruise. “hhaah- ‘m so close, daddy, don’t stop!” you cried out. this only drove him further, his thumb now pressed against your clit drawing tight circles.

your jaw dropped as you creamed around his length, nails leaving crescents on his skin. hanbin’s pace never faltered, but a wicked laugh erupted from his chest. “knew you could give me another, fuck, baby.”

incoherent babbles left your lips as hanbin chased his high. he hooked your legs over his shoulders, pistoning his cock into your cunt until his hips stilled, spilling his thick cum into your cunt. “shit, fuck, take it, baby. daddy’s good fucking girl,” he groaned, squeezing your thighs as he came down from his high.

he pulls out, collapsing beside you with a sigh. hanbin turns towards you, wrapping his arm around your, rubbing soothingly. “you okay, princess?” you nod and a warm smile spreads across his face. “good.” he mumbled, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

[scribbly-squid]

Anyone, Anything

Lucifer x F!Imp Reader

Lucifer's world is thrown into chaos when his wife, Lilith, announces she needs a break from their relationship. Her sudden departure leaves him reeling, clutching their infant daughter, Charlie, in his arms as he battles feelings of betrayal and heartbreak. Struggling to reconcile his emotions, he finds himself thrust into the challenges of parenthood alone - until he meets a fellow Hellborn who understands his struggles.

🌻Here’s my first attempt on writing a small series with [y]our short king of hell. Happy Holidays!

Next Chapter / Masterlist

Prologue

The words that left Lilith's mouth took Lucifer by surprise.

"W-what..?" Lucifer asked hesitantly, hoping he had misheard her.

"I need a break," Lilith said softly, her voice lacking its usual edge.

"Lilith... I don't... I don't understand..." Lucifer stammered, staring down at the bundle of joy in his arms, their daughter, Charlie.

Lilith stood at the entrance of the room, her back turned to both of them. Charlie, oblivious to the tension, let out a tiny yawn, her bright eyes unfocused, too young to comprehend what was unfolding. But Lucifer felt the dread rising within him. Why was Lilith saying this now, after everything they'd been through? The weight of the words crushed him, even if he couldn’t yet grasp their full meaning.

"I can't do this. Not now..." Lilith's voice was distant as she started walking down the hallway.

Lucifer's heart sank. He quickened his pace, following her, a tremor in his voice. "Lilith, please. Don’t... don’t do this. Not when we have Charlie. Not after everything."

"I'm sorry, Lucifer," she said without turning around. "But this is what I need."

"So, what? You’re just giving up on us?" he asked, desperation and disbelief creeping into his voice. "After everything we’ve been through?" His mind raced with memories of their rebellion, of being cast out of Heaven together, side by side. They had survived the fall from grace together. Now, she was walking away?

Lilith remained silent, her footsteps echoing through the grand hallway, each one widening the gulf between them. Lucifer's voice broke with anguish as he pleaded, "At least... for her."

Lilith finally turned, her eyes briefly resting on Charlie, the child she had barely held in the past few months. But then, with a heavy sigh, she turned back to the door, her hand resting on the polished handle of the Morningstar manor.

"Goodbye, Lucifer."

The door shut behind her with a deafening thud, and Lucifer stood frozen in place, the sting of her departure tearing at him. Tears welled at the corners of his eyes, but he held them back. He couldn’t crumble—not now. Not when Charlie needed him. But why? Why would Lilith abandon him like this, when they had everything, when they were supposed to be happy?

A soft, startled cry broke the silence as Charlie reacted to the harsh sound of the door. She hiccupped, her tiny body trembling in his arms. Her frightened cries snapped Lucifer out of his daze.

The murmurs behind him grew louder. His staff had witnessed everything. The thought of their whispers spreading through the halls like wildfire sparked something dark within him. Rage flared, and in an instant, his horns sprouted from his forehead, his eyes blazing crimson. His tail lashed out, cutting through the air as his voice thundered through the manor.

"Get out of my sight!"

Terrified, the staff scattered, fleeing from the wrath of the King of Hell. Once alone in the empty corridor, his fury dissipated, leaving only exhaustion and sorrow. His tail dragged limply behind him as he trudged toward Charlie's room.

He entered the nursery, the walls adorned with circus-themed toys, plush animals, and colorful lamps. Lilith had chosen every detail, but now she was gone. Charlie’s cries had softened but hadn’t stopped, her tiny face scrunched up in distress.

Lucifer’s hand hovered over the rocking chair. He had seen Lilith use it many times, but she never allowed him close enough to help. Now, standing in front of it alone, he realized he had no idea how to comfort his daughter. He was the King of Hell, but he felt utterly powerless in this moment.

He sat down slowly, cradling Charlie as he gently rocked back and forth, unsure of himself. She squirmed restlessly in his arms, her tiny fingers clenching and unclenching. Panic gripped him—what if he couldn’t do this? What if he failed her?

Then, out of nowhere, a memory surfaced. Lilith used to hum to Charlie when she wouldn’t stop crying. With a shaky breath, Lucifer began to hum a soft, tentative melody.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…"

His voice cracked as the emotions surged through him, but he forced himself to continue, choking back the sobs that threatened to escape.

"You'll never know, dear, how much I love you... Please don’t take my sunshine away..."

As the song’s final notes faded into the quiet of the nursery, Charlie’s cries began to settle. Her eyelids fluttered, and soon she was asleep, her tiny body rising and falling peacefully in his arms.

Lucifer gazed down at her, his heart aching. He had to be strong for her now—for both of them. He wasn’t just her father anymore. He would have to be her everything.

[perdidosbucky-yyo]

𝓡𝓸𝓼𝓪

Part🥀

Main Masterlist

Pairing: Best Friend!Steve Rogers x Plus size! Fem!Reader (no mention of ethnicity)

Summary: Trapped in a prison of your husband and your mother’s expectations, haunted by the memory of your best friend, your only comfort is the ghost in your garden.

You thought you would never see him again but when he unexpectedly returns home from the war after 12 years, you’re not prepared for what’s to come.

wc: 6k

Warnings: Feminism doesn’t exist in this fic,  the story is set between 1950-1965, fertility issues, detailed mention of miscarriage, body shaming (not from Steve), implied boner and handjob, violence, terms of endearment (I got carried away jsjs), detailed sexual abuse attempt (not from Steve), domestic violence, flashbacks and small time jumps (I hope it’s not confusing lmao), changing POVs (again, I hope it’s not confusing lmao), please let me know if I missed anything! more warnings to be added in part II.

a/n: This is my entry to @witchywithwhiskey 's Slasher Summer writing challenge, with the prompts: small town and stalker. I've poured my heart and soul into this fic, I had so many ideas I had to cut the fic in half so part two will be posted soon I hope (but it won't be part of the wc given that it ends today hehe) I hope you like it 👉🏼👈🏼

This is not beta'd any and all mistakes are my own.

“Move” your mother reprimanded.

You wanted to, you did, but your body wouldn’t listen, your chest was so heavy you felt trapped under the covers.

The sky was so blue, it reminded you of the blue puppies you once had in the garden. You cried all night when you came home from a trip to find them wilted and forgotten by your husband, they were the same shade as those eyes… every time you tended to them, it was like he was looking at you.

“Speak! Do something!” she hissed, the blue sundown behind her, tainted the room slate, and her black eyes became even darker. You noticed as she screamed in your face that her breath smelled of cigarettes, normally you’d be cowering in fear or trying to appease her but you remained frozen not even blinking.

Letting out a snort she wipes the sweat off your forehead with a cloth, “Look at yourself”, the woman grimaced, did you truly look so ghastly? 

You wished she would just leave you, your mother was a busy woman, she had other things to do than take care of you… you hate to bother her.

“if you get any bigger people will know”, you vaguely hear her words,  you tried to care but the sky was so beautiful, so peaceful, something you appreciated given your current state. Your whole body ached and nausea kept you awake every night, you were exhausted, and yet sleep never came.

“You reap what you sow darling, you must've done something to dese- You should be thanking God John hasn’t left you yet! he won’t put up with this for long, he wants a wife, not this” Her hand points to you in bed with a scowl on her lips.

Tears start streaming down your face, you wish the shadows in your room swallowed you. As saliva gathers in your tongue you feel like you’re about to throw up but your body still wouldn’t move. 

She’s still rambling on about your failures as a woman, pacing around the room, so you take a frame from under your pillow, it was a photo of him and you.

Sophomore year, both of you sat on a bench just outside of your high school, he looked so handsome, you remember it well. Right after fall break, he wore a wool waistcoat that was much bigger for his skinny figure, and his hair was perfectly combed.

Both of you smiled from ear to ear, he was hunched over while you sat up straight with your knees resting on his.

It felt like it was a lifetime ago, instead of 12 years, you didn’t particularly enjoy high school, but Steve Rogers made it memorable.

Once upon a time you lived in the same neighborhood since you were 8 years old, the first time you saw him he was having an asthma attack as he crashed his bike into some trash cans. You ran to his side and quickly introduced yourself, his scrawny hand shook yours back before you took the white ribbon from your dress and pressed it against his bleeding forehead.

He instinctively reached for his head and your fingers grazed him for just a second, eyes so focused on yours, you realized he was scared, so your other hand reached to comfort him… sometimes you think you’ve held hands ever since, and neither of you could let go.

You couldn’t be separated even if your parents threatened and bargained, inseparable would be an understatement. After the accident, Steve found a kindred spirit and comfort in your friendship, while you discovered fierce loyalty and kindness. 

It was strange that, at such a young age you felt drawn to Steve, and you knew he did too, as children it only made you want to spend every second of every day together.

You’d spend summers, riding your bikes all over town despite your mother’s scorn, listening to Billie Holiday records in Grandma Rogers’ dusty old house, reading in the library until it closed, playing tag in his living room while his mother baked in the kitchen, hiding in his basement every time your dad picked you up. 

When the days you spent together weren’t enough, you begged for sleepovers, your sister had them all the time after all, but your mother thought it improper for a boy to sleep over, so eventually, you fashioned a sheet rope for Steve to climb once everyone had gone to bed, and then he’d sleep by your side.

Some nights you’d whisper what you imagined the past was like, both of you were passionate about history, sometimes Steve would caress your hair while you sobbed into his shoulder, cursing to hell all belts, but most nights you would stay silent, holding hands until you fell asleep, once the sun was up, Steve’s side of the bed was always empty.

This went on for years, even in high school, your love for each other only grew, despite the silly arguments like you spending more time studying than with Steve, or him always getting a black eye never knowing when to stand down. 

The both of you knew this was forever, and there was nothing you could do or say that would make either of you leave.

You tried getting out of his hold, squirming and pushing, if it were anyone else you’d be suffocated, “G-osh Stevie for someone so lean, you sure are strong” you huffed and puffed.

“If my mother finds us cuddling she’ll never let you see me again” You laughed, but you weren’t kidding, young ladies were never to engage in inappropriate behavior with boys your mother would always tell you.

“Yeah, I’d like to see her try” Steve grunted, almost possessively, his arms only squeezing you further into his chest, you couldn’t breathe but it wasn’t because of his bruising hold, chills went down your spine, and butterflies flew in your stomach.

You chose to ignore his comment and what it made you feel, “We have to go soon, Bucky won’t wait for us forever and he’s our ride”, finally you felt Steve’s arms relax but his hands remained on your back, rubbing it.

Catching him off guard, you free yourself and jump out of bed, quickly running to your mirror to check if your hair still looks good and to your relief it does. As you turn back you catch a glimpse of him adjusting his pants which makes your cheeks burn hot, you didn’t understand why that made you proud, and it isn’t the first time it’s happened, but Steve reassured you it was normal…

You weren’t brave enough to ask him if it was normal that you wanted to touch it.

As you walk out to your porch, Steve’s hand reaches for yours, “Promise you won’t stray too far from me, God knows what kind of people Tony invites to his parties”, his eyes search yours for something, you don’t know what, so you nod while your thumb caressed his knuckles, Bucky was already on your driveway honking the horn without any regard for your neighbors. 

“You’re lucky my parents are out of town Barnes!” you laugh as Steve opens the door for you, once everyone has their seat belts on, per your request, you head to Stark Manor.

After a short drive, you enter Tony Stark's ancestral home, it seems like the whole high school was invited. You never liked parties all that much, and neither did Steve but you thought socializing with other people besides each other would do you good, your mother insisted on it.

Swallowing a nervous gulp, you instinctively reached for Steve’s hand, just for a few seconds but then Peggy Carter jumped into his arms with a red smile and an even more gorgeous red dress that hugged her figure perfectly.

She was an exchange student, she was relatively new to the school but she quickly befriended your little group of friends, with her London charm and wit.

Your heart sank to your stomach and a knot formed in your throat when you saw his hands on her sides. Why were you jealous? he’s your friend you had to remind yourself, Steve couldn’t always be by your side, you knew this… and yet you couldn’t help the sickness brewing deep in your stomach when Peggy’s hands roamed all over Steve.

It was obvious Peggy liked him, but Steve’s reluctance to take her hand gave you a moment of relief, but then he was gone, lost in the sea of people. You hugged yourself as you considered asking Bucky to take you back home, but he already had his tongue down Dot’s throat.

Against your better judgment and Steve’s warnings, you found yourself in the bar, admiring all the bottles of liquor that came in different shapes and sizes, the one called Unicum caught your attention but as soon as you smelled it, you put it away.

“Not a fan I take it?” a voice comes from behind, following it, you find the host himself wearing a black turtle neck along with a blazer that hugs him just right, his brown eyes slowly studying you while he takes a sip of his drink.

Putting back the bottle, you chastised yourself for picking it up in the first place, “I’m sorry, this is expensive, I shouldn’t have touched it, I’m- I’m sorry” you sputtered.

You were nervous, but you realized you liked the attention, Tony was every girl’s dreamboat and the fact that his eyes were so focused on your body was thrilling.

With a sly smirk, he walks closer to you, “Don’t you worry Honeybun, that’s my father’s drink, break the damn thing if you want” he chuckled, “You’re Rogers’ little pet, aren’t you? he leave you all alone?”, he sounded a little drunk already.

Before you could get mad at his nickname, his arm wrapped itself around your waist “I think you’re a sweet-tooth Honeybun, you’re going to love Grasshoppers” he stated, without giving you a chance to refuse.

You were delighted to find out you did love the creamy drink, and after a few of them, Tony started to be less annoying to you, and if you squinted you could pretend he looked like Tony Curtis.

You missed Steve, where is he?

As Tony dragged you to the dance floor, squished between the crowd of drunk classmates, you started to feel suffocated and Tony’s grip on your wrist was starting to hurt, but your head was so fuzzy, and the room was so loud, he probably couldn’t even hear your protest.

Tony finally stops, his hands wander down your back until they’re on your waist, and his fingers dig into your dress, making your heart skip a beat, as he starts swaying you, Steve emerges from the sea of dancing silhouettes.

His smile of relief drops when he sees another man’s hands around your waist, you almost push Tony away in response, but you just put on your best smile.

 “H- Hey I’ve been looking all over for you”, Steve says, his tone is friendly but his eyes darken when Tony pulls you closer to him, making you trip a little, you didn’t have your wits about you, and Steve notices.

“Baby I need to get you home” he almost pleaded, you’re shocked he called you the nickname he only used when you’re alone, his perfect blue eyes had… longing in them? that couldn’t be right, especially when you discover the mark of red lips on his cheek, making your blood boil.

“I don’t want to leave Steve, I’m- I’m having fun with… T-Tony”, you tried to sound unyielding but you could feel the tension rise between the two men, you were never good with confrontation.

“You heard her little man, you shouldn’t have left her all alone if you didn’t want someone to steal her from you”, Tony says matter-of-factly.

Your best friend looks stoic, not moving a muscle, he looks intimidating despite Tony being much taller than him. He’s one step away from invading Tony’s space, but you’re quick to place your hand on his chest, and you immediately feel him relax, his eyes soften too when he turns to you.

“Go back to Peggy, I’m sure she’s waiting for you” is all you say with a wavering smile.

His hand wants to reach for you but all he does is nod before he disappears into the crowd, you’re a little disappointed. The rest of the night is eternal, your feet grow sore, and you had your 4th grasshopper a minute ago so your mind is comfortably numb, but every time Tony gropes your hips, or his fingers trace your cheeks, you feel guilt deep in your stomach, and to your dismay the party only seems to intensify.

As you slow danced you tried to ignore how dizzy you felt, but when the song ended you couldn’t help but let your weight fall into Tony’s arms, he just laughed and reaffirmed his hold on you “C’mon Honeybun don’t tell me you’re sleepy, night’s young! I want to show you something”.

You felt him move you before you could even respond, “Wh-where are we going Steve?” you slurred, not realizing you called him by another name, your question was met with silence, Tony just kept on pulling you across the grand hall.

“I want to show you the pretty flowers in the garden Honeybun, no one will bother us” his smile was wide but it did nothing to ease you, he shushed you while you tried to voice your thoughts.

You felt watched… the night breeze flew by your dress and your skin prickled, but it wasn’t because of the night chill. You were too busy admiring the pastoral landscape to worry, your eyes followed the tree-lined path up to a beautiful pond, with pink roses everywhere, but before you could take a step forward, you were being pushed up against a stone wall.

“Ow! Tony what-” His lips crushed yours before you could finish your sentence, he tasted bitter and unwanted, you tried pushing him away but you were weak, the alcohol in you like heavy chains around your arms and legs.

“Don’t you wanna make me feel good Honeybun?” he slurred in your ear, your stomach filled with dread, you almost gagged, “please stop” you begged, but his hand brutishly covered your mouth “Shut up” he spat while his assault continued down your neck, you could hear his belt coming off and alarms went off in your head, a scared whimper managed to escape his hand.

The party was roaring inside, and the music was muffled by the stone walls, you were sure no one would hear your screams, you sobbed at the realization. You were about to accept your fate but then Tony’s thrown back by the neck and into the dirt, it was Steve! 

Before you could react he was already on top of Tony pummeling him without compassion, animalistic grunts escaping his lips as his knuckles bloodied themselves.

“You don’t fucking touch her!” Steve growled, “You’re going to wish you were dead you piece of shit”, the hits kept coming, and you couldn’t stop watching, it was horrifying watching your best friend become this violent, controlled by his dark impulses, but a small part of you, a part of you that you wouldn’t acknowledge felt satisfaction, pride even…

Tony had been unconscious for a minute now and Steve wouldn’t stop, you were surprised he wasn’t having an asthma attack by now, the sickening sound of his fist meeting beaten flesh brought you out of your thoughts, you quickly ran to Steve to make him stop.

You grabbed his bloody fist in the air “Steve stop, you’re going to kill him” you cried, both of you heaving, you sensed Steve was making an effort to hold back, the blue in his eyes was almost gone, with only rage in them, “He should be six feet under just for putting his hands on you” he gruffed, you didn’t know how to respond so you only nodded, taking his hands in yours, and placing a gentle kiss on his knuckles.

Seeing your blood-stained lips made him feel unlike anything he’d ever felt before, a sense of ownership pleasantly lingered, but as he searched to see if you were harmed, your tear-streaked face made him move off Tony, and take you in his arms, the warmth radiating from him finally calmed you enough to let yourself feel the terror of what could’ve happened to you.

You let it all out onto Steve’s shoulder like you’ve done countless times before… except this was different, you’ve always felt safe with Steve, but after tonight, you also felt protected.

“I won’t let anybody touch you again baby” he lulls, your arms wrap around his neck and instinctively you rub off on his chest, needing to be as close to him as possible, his scent already soothing your soul.

“I promise”, he whispers in your ear and kisses your temple with such tenderness you barely feel his lips… everything is going to be ok.

Kiss me once, then kiss me twice,

then kiss me once again 

It’s been a long, long time 

Haven’t felt like this, my dear since I

can’t remember when

It’s been a long, long time 

          ♫ ♪

“He’s back in town” Peggy repeats after you remained silent for an awkward amount of time, you just couldn’t stop replaying this one song in your head…

“Did you even hear what I said?” Peggy’s annoyance startles you, making you drop the cup of tea you were nursing.

She rolls her eyes at you, while she grabs a dishtowel to wipe the spilled liquid, “Steve Rogers is back” she deadpans, carefully observing your reaction.

“So sad Sarah isn’t here to welcome him back home” you whispered, tears threatening to spill at the memory of the woman who took care of you for so long, far more tender than your mother ever was to you.

“Honorably discharged” she continued, probably not even hearing your comment “They even made him a Captain, can you imagine? I-”.

She keeps on talking but it’s all muffled noise to your ears, your mind running a million miles per hour. 

Would you give him a call? 

how much can war change a man? 

would he call you? 

what would you say if you bumped into each other at the supermarket? God, John doesn’t even know about him.

Knowing Steve was home rekindled the heartache you managed to bury in the back of your mind every single day, it took everything in you not to start crying every time you remembered his broken promise, but you learned a long time ago that it was best to keep your emotions under lock and key.

The sound of running water finally distracted you from your consuming thoughts, “Hon are you sure you’re up for visitors?” Peggy sings with faux concern as she does the dishes, “I know you’re still not over the incident but I have to agree with your mother, you need to try harder, this is not normal, when I was preg-”

Willing yourself not to throw the porcelain cup at her head, you grinned, “Maybe we’ll see Steve at the reunion, I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to see you Peggy”, you sassed behind your stiff smile, but of course, she didn’t notice. Her reaction only confirmed what you suspected, like a little girl her ears perked up and her cheeks turned bright red “It’ll be so good to see everyone again” Peggy tried to conceal her excitement.

“I’m sure your husband will enjoy seeing everyone too” you reminded her, too tired to play nice with her.

Peggy’s eyes widen “You see, I don’t think Tony will be able to attend… you know how he is, always work work work” she laughs nervously.

You know better than that, Tony Stark was a sleazy drunk, you knew it since that night back in high school, but as the years passed, Tony’s attempts to hide his transgressions were feeble, by now the whole town knew every time he went away for business to New York City, he was on a bender gambling, drinking and sowing his wild oats, but Tony’s wealth and power always kept him out of trouble.

“Of course, I’m sure he’ll be back from his business trip just in time for the reunion” You pleasantly smiled before getting up and cutting up a piece of pink azalea cake for her to take back home, far, far away from you.

Once Peggy’s gone you start your chores, it was always the same, wash John’s clothes and press them, hang them by the door for the next day, then clean the windows, wash the curtains, scrub the floors until they’re shining, and never mop, last time you did your husband almost burned your books. Dust his trophy cabinet, sweep the garage, and finally make dinner and keep it in the oven so it’s warm when your husband comes home.

After finishing everything up to John’s liking, you always end up in your garden, the joy of your life besides a good book.

Your garden wasn’t grand or exotic like the other housewives’ gardens, Peggy would often say it was dull or pitiful or both, but in your eyes, it was precious and full of life. 

From hybrid phlox, peonies, and hydrangeas to blue holly bushes, you took care of them with love and tenderness, your garden was your comfort in your darkest days, sometimes the only thing you looked forward to in your day.

But your roses… they were your most prized possession, every day without fail you tended to them, making sure they were safe and felt cared for, sometimes you would even sing to them, your roses were your babies, you could never forsake them like he did you.

You cried as you fertilized the earth for your youngling, your tears fell on the little sprout right next to the other roses, now in full bloom. 

Your mind wandered 9 years back to when you first married John. You couldn’t fight your mother any longer, for years you rejected any suitor she brought, doctors, lawyers, professors, none of them compared to the one person you truly loved. Despite your mother’s constant denial, you hoped Steve would safely return and finally admit the feelings you knew he had for you, and take you far away… 

But it was a silly fantasy, he never wrote, not once since you said goodbye that September night, so long ago, you hated him for it, you never understood why he abandoned you like that, you only knew he was alive because of the letters he sent to his mother, but his beautiful eyes haunted you at night, and when you didn’t dream of him you resented him for it.

Then your mother arranged a date with John Walker, he was young, easy on the eyes, and set to inherit his grandfather’s sugar company which was said to be a very wealthy prospect. He wasn't particularly sweet or charming but his easy-going smile helped you ease your nerves.

The first thing he did when he saw you was take your hand and plant a kiss on your knuckles, he was sturdy and his posture was always rigid, but he had this suave confidence that made you think he owned the entire world.

He offered stability and comfort when you needed it the most, so you forced yourself to love him, you told yourself that he would be a good husband despite not knowing his faults or even his traits,... Steve wasn't coming back, so you decided to trust your mother's judgment.

The first year of your marriage you came to accept the fact that as hard as you tried, you would never feel the same way for your husband as you did for your best friend, but life with John had become comfortably dull. 

You never thought your life would turn like it did… 

As you adapted to married life, you found out John’s easy going smile was a facade, he was strict and expected certain things of you. To please him in every possible aspect, that was a wife's duty after all, he'd turn mean and a brute if you failed in your duties but if you followed the rules, he would leave you be to read your books and tend to the garden. You learned the hard way if he came home to find his clothes wrinkly or God forbid the floors mopped instead of scrubbed, you would suffer the consequences.. 

Eventually, you learned to appease his ego and keep your head down, your days went out painfully slow, and you would dread every time the hands of the clock slowly approached the time of his return, each day you wondered what new insult John had prepared to make you feel inadequate. 

Thinking his temper would placate once you carried his child was naive, you realize that now. The first time you got pregnant you were ecstatic to love someone with your whole heart and soul, and for your love to be returned, but soon there was nothing to tell.

It was difficult to keep it a secret from your husband, like your mother, he crushed you under his expectations, the weight of them almost unbearable, and both, always made sure you knew the disappointment that you were.

But missing his smell, the comfort he provided, missing Steve was the most painful.

Tonight was your high school reunion and you couldn’t stop pacing around the living room, it was almost time to leave and you were still waiting for John to come home and change. Given that it was summer, the nights were hotter so you wore a sleeveless, wide-skirt baby-pink dress, adorned with white lace, pearl earrings, and white gloves as the finishing touch.

You were about to call his office when you heard the car park in the driveway. Too anxious to wait for him, you ran outside ready to greet him with a scotch, “Welcome home dear, please hurry, I left your clothes on the bed. If we leave in five minutes no one will noti-”

John slams the car door before you can finish your sentence, “We’re not going” is all he says without sparing you a look, taking the scotch from your hand and drinking it in one gulp.

“Please John, don’t be like this” you protested, “you said we could-”

“For fucks sake!” your husband snapped, his hand hit the hood of his black Chevrolet Impala, making you jump scared, he treated that car like his baby… the alarms in your head cautioned you to choose your words carefully.

“J-John please, be reasonable, let’s go inside I’ll make you another drink” you pleaded, afraid the neighbors would hear you arguing, the street was busy with kids riding their bikes and people coming in and out of their homes.

“You don’t tell me what to do!” he barked out your name like an insult, his body shaking with anger he had to clench his fists, he took a step forward and you recoiled, making him huff in offense.

He took your wrist with force and jerked you towards him, making you tumble on your heels, “Stop being so dramatic” he reprimanded. You didn’t mean to upset him but you didn’t want to go alone, you couldn’t! John had promised weeks ago he would go.

“I fired over 50 of my best workers because they thought they could do whatever they wanted, I will teach you a fucking lesson too if you keep pushing me” he threatened with malice, tears threatened to spill, you didn’t want to look at him but his hand forced your chin up.

You instinctively shook your head, too afraid to even speak, that only fed his ego and in a second he was dragging you through the pavement and into the house, a sick smile displayed on his face. 

“John you’re hurting me” you panicked, holding onto his arms for some support, as he kicked the door close, he dropped you on the carpet of the living room, you almost hit your head against the tube.

Your husband’s chest heaves above you and before he can touch you again you quickly get on your knees with your head looking up, trying your hardest to make eye contact with the man you feared “I’m sorry!” you repeated over and over, the knot in your throat making it painful to speak.

After a long silence, you see his features relax, you’re flabbergasted by his swift change of attitude, his smile slowly widens and you flinch when his fingers wipe a single tear “That’s what I like to hear Sugar”. 

“You know what I think?” he continued,  “You should be at home trying to get pregnant and start our family instead of running off to a party and see some moron you used to be friends with”.

Nausea overwhelmed you at his implication but your mind spun at the mention of Steve, how on earth did he know about him?! Maybe you weren’t as discreet as you thought.

A stabbing pain on your wrist interrupted your thoughts and you reached for it, John comically pouts “I’m so sorry Sugar, work was just so stressful” he sighed while helping you stand up, your scrapped knees shake as you find your balance. You couldn’t be in the same room as him anymore, but your body wouldn’t move, he didn’t like it when you refused to look at him, so he tilted your chin up.

“Tell you what, I’ll let you go to this thing… I know Tony and Peggy will keep an eye on you”, he grinned, pulled you close to him and kissed your forehead, making your body tense.

You desperately wanted to push him off of you, and you almost did, but it wasn’t a good idea to piss him off further, after tonight, you weren’t sure how far your husband’s cruelty could go. 

“I need to call Peggy” stated, your voice meek, too afraid he would change his mind, “so they can come to pick me up” you clarify, taking John’s silence as your cue, you took a hesitant step back, and briskly walked to the phone in the kitchen, thankful you had some space from him.

After the 5th ring, Peggy finally picked up and without getting into the details, you explained to her why you needed a ride to the reunion, to which she reluctantly agreed. As you waited, you cleaned the scrapes on your knees, if you put on stockings no one would notice, you quickly re-did your makeup and hair, and It wasn’t more than 15 minutes when you heard Peggy’s tootle.

You were almost out the door when John called your name, clearly asserting once more his power over you, letting out a shuddery breath, you turned to face him with your chin held high. 

“Get me a beer” he commanded, too entranced with the boob tube to even bother looking at you, the room went quiet and all you could hear was your heart beating in your ears, you knew what he wanted from you. You wondered if you would ever be free of his torment, but the weight of your wedding ring reminded you of your vows…

Till death do us part.

So you plastered on a graceful smile, walked to the kitchen and returned with an opened can to place in his hand, with a smug smirk, he pats your ass, “off you go” he dismissed, and you promptly did.

The ride to the school was silent, Peggy didn’t question your vacant stare or why you kept rubbing your wrist, her mood seemed sour and you had no intention of untwisting that ball of yarn she called a brain.

As you walked in, you barely recognized the halls you used to walk every day, you remember Steve struggling to open his locker, Bucky flirting with anyone who wore a skirt, skipping Gym class so Steve wouldn’t be all alone in detention.

As you walked into the gym, you admired the decorations, balloons scattered all over the floor, red and pink confetti cascading down on everyone, glimmering under the soft light. You recognized some people but there was so much people, you weren’t even sure you went to class with some of them, the party was in full swing, and people danced as the band played your favorite song.

Never thought that you would be 

Standing here so close to me 

There’s so much I feel that I should say

But words can wait until some other day.

                       ♫ ♪

You are as beautiful as the day he lost you, Steve thought, from all the way across the room, you still hadn’t seen him but he saw you the moment you walked into the room, stealing the air from his lungs.

His heart aches so painfully to be near you he swears it could be a heart attack, he was frozen in place afraid that if he moved you’d disappear, he wonders how long it would take for him to win you back…

Something in you compels you to turn around, and when you do, a gasp escapes you… You couldn’t believe your own eyes, for a moment you didn’t recognize him, he was taller and incredibly broad, nothing like the man you saw last a decade ago, his posture was intimidating, but then you met his eyes, and those were the same. He truly was back, and all those emotions you kept under lock broke free, making your legs move forward before you could think, he immediately did too, and suddenly the both of you were running through the crowd to get to each other.

Without hesitation, you crashed into his arms, and he crushed you to him, easily picking you up, he was definitely stronger. Breathing him in, a sob almost escaped your lips, it was still the same after 12 years, the noise around you drowns out and it’s as if the earth stops spinning altogether… “I’m so sorry you lost your mom”, you whimper, it was the first thing you needed to say.

His hold only tightens, making it harder to breathe, memories of his suffocating embrace making you feel warm inside, you grip the nape of his hair for comfort, “I didn’t get to say goodbye” Steve whispers into your neck. Since you can remember, you always hated when he was heartbroken, his pain was your own, you wished you could take it away. 

“I know”, you nod, before he slowly lets you down, making you realize just how much the height difference is, it made you nervous.

His hands settle on your lower back while yours rest on the sides of his shoulders, you’re so close, he’s hunched over and you’re on your tiptoes, just inches away from his lips,  his nose nudges your own for a moment, making the butterflies in your stomach wild, you feel drawn to each other like magnets. Steve’s leaning in, and like a bucket of cold water, you remember the last 12 years, you remembered how easily he abandoned you, breaking every promise he made to you.

You quickly turn your cheek and you can feel his disappointment boring into your head, taking a small step back, you hold his hand tightly, not redy to let him go yet, and you shake your head, silently telling him you couldn’t kiss him. 

The soldier had half a mind to grab and kiss you, remind you of what you meant to each other, after years and oceans apart he never stopped thinking about you. You both knew from the day  you met , you were his, and he wasn’t going to let anyone get in between the two of you ever again.

But before he could say anything, Peggy Carter approached them.

“Well well, look at you two chums getting reacquainted”, her smile was sickenly sweet, but her eyes told you, you were caught… How long had she been watching? you ask yourself as anxiety settles in your stomach, and then your husband’s words ring in your head.

“I know Tony and Peggy will keep an eye on you”.

Your heart beats incessantly against your chest, and your breathing becomes shallow, she was going to tell John, you realized… and you were terrified of what he would do.

To be continued… 

Thank you for reading! Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply encouraged.

part 🥀🥀

[leahsgf]

Can we have a Katie McCabe x reader where the reader comes back to arsenal and is upset after not qualifying for the Olympics with the Lionesses and gf katie comforts her?

NOT YOUR FAULT - katie mccabe

katie mccabe x reader

i wrote this the day after the scotland game and have only just finished it up now so i’m sorry for the wait!

a sort of cloud loomed over you as you made your way through the arsenal gym, which was usually a place of comfort to you.

today was different. it had been a few days since the lionesses’ game against scotland and the realisation that you hadn’t qualified for the olympics had only just started to sink in for you, and unlike your teammates, who seemed to just bounce back from it and move on - everything around you football related was just a screaming reminder of the failure. your failure.

you should’ve done something. anything. to create more chances, create a different outcome. you had let them down, and you didn’t know how to live with that.

you hadn’t answered any of the messages you’d received online or elsewhere, not even those from fellow players, instead obsessing over the negative ones, that did nothing but confirm your doubts.

eyes were locked on you as you swiftly crossed the room, a specific set particularly burning.

you had yet to face your girlfriend, never mind speak to her since the loss, despite her best efforts, and you weren’t entirely sure that you could without absolutely crumbling.

your pace increased - exiting the gym as you heard the all too familiar sound of her footsteps trailing behind you, your initial hope to get through the day failing immediately as tears pricked at your eyes.

“y/n wait up!” she called after you, her walk becoming a jog and her irish accent filling the corridor as you made another turn.

she was always quicker than you, and you knew that she’d catch up to you with ease - a thought that was confirmed almost immediately after it crossed your mind as hands grasped at your shoulders from behind and guided you into an empty room, before turning you around to face her.

your eyes remained glued to the floor, in a desperate cling to the remains of your composure, which had pretty much vanished the minute you heard her voice.

“hey, look at me.” the softness of the tips of her fingers against your chin as she guided your head upwards to lock eyes with her own, was enough to make you completely melt, and the previously threatening tears to break free, spilling down your flushed cheeks.

her frown deepened as she took in you, freezing for a split second before pulling you into her arms, rocking the both of you gently and brushing away any stray tears.

the pair of you remained in silence as you cried into her shoulder, and she cradled your head, stroking your hair and pressing the odd kiss to it, letting her lips linger in an attempt to soothe you.

you knew that this was all part of football, and being many years into your career, you had expected yourself to be well adjusted to the times where things don’t go exactly how you planned, and losses - but you had always been over critical and unnecessarily hard on yourself, and katie knew this too.

“it is not your fault okay?” she finally spoke after letting you feel your emotions.

“i know you’re not going to believe me, but please try to trust me when i say that there’s nothing more you could’ve done - you played incredibly well. and i know that it hurts like hell, but sometimes things just aren’t meant to be, and i’ll be here for you through it all. but what i won’t allow is you blaming yourself for this, and i doubt any of the girls’ would either. now what do you say we head home sweetheart.”

“thank you”

“there’s my girl. i’m so proud of you baby, you know that? let’s head off then, i’ll look after you.”

-

katie was incredible at everything she did, no matter what it was. but her looking after you was something that she managed to do just perfectly, every single time.

she never once let your hand go as she lead you through your shared apartment, guiding you to the living room, where a fresh bouquet of flowers sat in the vase on the coffee table, and a card that read “so proud of you always - love, katie”

she never tried to force a fix to your issues, and let you feel your losses and low points, knowing that she couldn’t take away the feeling exactly, but she could take care of you, and remind you that she loved you, and would be by your side through anything and everything that life threw at you, and ultimately of your worth - which she would never let you forget.

and she just always knew exactly what to do, ushering you to sit down on the sofa, putting on your comfort show and insisting that you relax as she rushed around, running a bath for the pair of you and ordered your favourite takeout.

losses would always hurt, and you would undoubtedly be hard on yourself every time.

but with katie by your side paired with pizza and bubble baths you knew that you’d be alright, and you’d get back up and fight back to the negative voices in your mind, every time.

-

really wanted to finally finish this so the ending is kind of rushed - sorry! hope you enjoyed anyway, and please send me more requests!

[horror-sapphic]

NSFW ALPHABET | VICTORIA NEUMAN

Some letters were left out on purpose. Sorry for any errors.

Cw: nsfw (18+), this got so filthy idek.

A — ( aftercare ) - She likes to lay with you, letting your breaths sync up together, depending on how hard the two of you go - she will totally baby you up after (asking if you're okay/sore, and gently rubbing you letting her mommy instincts kick in).

B — ( body part ) - V loves your tits, she loves the way they fill your bra (wishing her hands were the thing that held them all day), and she loves how they look, full and round. She loves how they look, bouncing on your chest and she plows into you from every angle. She enjoys putting them in her mouth, sucking and nibbling on your hard bud

C — ( cum ) - She loves sucking your cum out of your slippery cunt after she's finished fucking it however she pleases, she loves watching it leak out of your hole after she fucks you with a cum filled strap.

D — ( dirty secret ) - She likes the idea of you calling her mommy in bed, she wants to try the "Mommy" and "little" roleplay once in a while with you.

E — ( experience ) - V has a bit of experience. Once or twice with men and then sticking with only women.

F — (favorite position ) - She loves watching you ride her, how her cock slides in and out of your tight wet pussy, squeezing around her as you get closer to cumming. Milking her. She'll notice you getting tired and will ram into you, watching you go slack-jawed while she plows into your cunt from below.

G — ( goofy ) - V will have a "laugh", in a teasing dom way. "Oh baby, c'mon I know you can take more"

H — ( hair ) - She won't be completely shaven; the sides will be shaved and everything else trimmed.

J — ( jack off ) - (G!P Neuman) She likes stroking herself to the thought of you, reminiscing about how well you took her the other night. How your tight, warm hole gobbled her cock up so desperately. You weren't even wet enough to fully take her yet but after your whiny cries, she gave in and filled you up. She starts to speed up thinking about how teary-eyed you got as she gave you the fucking you were hungry for, your face twisted in pleasure only she could give you. How the sound of your sloppy cunt filled the room as she plowed into you, her hips meeting yours over and over again. Your tits bouncing from the force of her thrusts were enough to bring her over the edge, cumming all over her hands and stomach.

K — ( kink ) - Biggggg mommy kink. Bigggggg mommy kink. The idea of breastfeeding you has crossed her mind.

L — ( location ) - Anywhere she pleases. She's Victoria Fucking Neuman. If she wants you bent over with your pussy on her tongue in a park, then that's where you'll be. That's how prevented she can be.

O — ( oral sex ) - She loves going down on you as much as she loves going down on you. She loves to drown in your pussy, having you sit on her face and watching you ride her, chasing after your own pleasure. Using her to cum.

P — ( pace ) - (With strap) She likes to change up the pace, she'll sometimes start out slow to tease you before speeding up and going back to slow when she can see you close to cumming.

(With her fingers) same medium pace the entire time, coaxing out way too many orgasms out of you. Covering her fingers in your cum as she licks dribbles of it coming down her wrists.

Q — ( quickie ) - If you come to visit her at work she'll almost always sneak a quick orgasm or two, having you hide under her desk with your mouth latched onto her cunt.

R — ( risk ) - She simply does not care, she'll fuck you anywhere she pleases and doesn't care who hears. Either hearing the both of your moans harmonizing together or the wet sounds coming from your pussy.

S — ( stamina ) - She's a supe, you're the one asking for a timeout.

T — ( toys ) - She loves to bring toys in the bedroom, a cum filled strapon to watch the cum dribble out of you. Vibrators, to have it pressed against the two of you making each other squirt onto one another. She likes getting big cocks to stretch you out, she gets so wet watching you struggle to take her in your cunt or tight ass. She loves watching you ride the thick cock she picks out, either for her enjoyment or a punishment.

U — ( unfair ) - SHE LOVES TO TEASE. Fucking you until you're on the edge just to have the thick, slick, silicone cock slip out of your hungry pussy just because. Repeating this until you have a quivering orgasm. She likes to hear you beg for her to fuck you. "Poor baby, don't worry. Mommy will take care of you" as she slips back into you more forcefully.

V — ( volume ) - (When Zoe isn't home) She can get pretty loud when she finally gives you the okay to fuck her, making you get on your knees licking and sucking on her aching pussy. After giving you a few rounds she decided she was too wet to not cum so she made you get to work. Not that you'd mind. "Fuuuck baby, right there. Mommy's gonna come for you baby, don't stop".

W — ( wildcard ) - She loves it when you send her sexy stuff while she's at work, either you stuffing yourself while dirty talking about how much you can't wait for her to come home and fuck you numb. Or just lewd pictures of yourself.

X — ( x-ray ) - (G!P Neuman) She has a 7-inch cock with 3-inch width to her, she loves how big she is because she gets to watch you struggle yet beg to have her fuck and cum in you.

[aunicorn97]

He hadn’t seen her all day, no one had. There weren’t any immediate issues that day that required a team to go out, so no one had thought to look for her. Except him. Except he kept stopping himself. Physically stopping himself from leaving the room to go look for her. He didn’t need to go looking for her, she was fine. She was alright. She just didn’t want to come see him today. 

Except she did usually come see him. In fact she’d come see him every day. Except today. He paced around the room slowly, hands behind his back. He missed her. He shook his head and sighed, heading towards her room.

He approached her door carefully, listening for a moment. It was quiet. He shook his head. She must be resting, maybe she didn’t feel well. His hand wrapped on the door gently.

“Inquisitor?” He called out softly. Quiet. He knocked a little harder, there was nothing. SIghing again, he opened the door slightly and peeked in. A pile of letters were scattered on the neatly made bed, a broken vase on the ground. He wandered in carefully, confused. Then he heard the quiet sniffle, out on the balcony. He pushed the curtain aside and found her, leaning against the rail, her head in her hand. A letter in the other. 

He walked up behind her, placing a hand tentatively on her back, trying to get a look at her. She wouldn’t raise her head. Her shoulders shook as she cried softly. He didn’t say anything at first, just kept his hand on her.

“I told you about my sisters.” She finally looked up and spoke. Wiping her arm across her eyes.

“You mentioned your family, yes.” He peered at her, hoping to see her face, but she stayed slightly turned away from him.

“Linara and Elora,” she paused, saying their names with a fondness, a recollection of memories. She took a deep breath. “I’ve missed them so much. A day hasn’t gone by that I haven’t thought about them.” She read the letter again with slightly shaky hands. He saw the devastation in her eyes, the way her brows furrowed in anguish as she read.

“Have you written to them?”

“One or two letters, it’s been hard to find the time.” She looked up at him. “My parents have been gone a long time.”

“I am sorry to hear that.”

“Me too.” She inhaled sharply and looked out into the sky, her chin quivering softly. “I’m no stranger to loss, Solas. Not on a large scale… but I like to think I’ve become used to it.” She didn’t elaborate. She handed him the letter, then retreated back into her bedroom, as he began to read.

“It is with great regret that we inform you….” His eyes scanned down the page. “...despite our efforts, we were too late…” His eyes widened slightly. “...no survivors…” He looked into the room at her as she watched him read. “Clan Lavellan is dead.” He looked up as he finished and locked eyes with her. Neither said anything at first.

He walked towards her and enveloped her in his arms as she began to cry again. She didn’t move, didn’t hug him, just leaned her head against his chest and cried. He stood, rubbing her back as she shook against him. 

“I’ve never been alone before.” She finally mumbled into his chest as she glanced up at him. He looked down at her and waited for her to continue. “I always had my clan, my family. Now there’s no one, and that scares me.”

“You are not alone. There are many people here ready to stand with you for whatever is to come next.” He attempted to soothe her. “You don’t have to be scared.” She stepped back and looked up at him, studying his face.

“What happens after this? After we kill Corypheus? Where do I go back to?”

“I… “ He trailed off, unsure. He looked down at her as she waited for an answer that he couldn’t give.

“Will you stay?” She asked quietly.

“What?”

“When all this is over… will you stay with me?” She looked at him sadly, her eyes puffy, red. She looked tired. He pulled her to him again, as his heart sank into his stomach. Neither of them said anything for a while, just held each other. “When this is over, Vhenan, you will not be alone. I am sure of that.” He mumbled to her, resting his chin on her head. She didn’t answer.

He knew it wasn’t enough, and he knew that she knew. Even though she had him in her arms, he was still, always, just out of her reach.

[phyx-m]

Beneath The Silk | True form Sukuna x Reader

🔗 Masterlist

Chapter 24: The Devil At Your Back

Content warning: Angst, vivid dream, wounds, blood, slightly suggestive.

🔗 Songs for this chapter:

House Of Self-Undoing - Chelsea Wolfe Bad Weather - Stomper (feat. Lucy Tops)

Chapter 23 | Chapter 25

You’re nine years old, and the cat’s fur beneath your hand is soft. It purrs affectionately as your tiny fingers trail its velvety coat, feeling the rounded bumps that make up its spine. You laugh softly, smiling, as it comes to—

A hand shoves into your hair and yanks you back. Your shuffling feet try to run, try to pull away, but your scalp is screaming. A cry pours out while your father’s face appears. The skin sagging at his neck wobbles with each angry exhale.

Hands that should protect take away so much.

“You stupid, useless girl! I should have had sons to carry this clan’s weight. Instead, I’m cursed with two fucking daughters!”

Crack!

The strike hits your cheek with a stinging burn, forcing your watering eyes shut. When they blink open, you suck in a breath. Your sister stands before you in the corridor, in the shrine.

“Sister, it’s time to go.” She extends a hand.

You reach for it but stop and look down.

A bone-white kimono with dark blue edges hangs around you. Matching him. The thing you’ll be bound to.

“No. I can’t. I can’t do this.”

You step back.

She smiles softly, taking your hand, skin to skin.

“It’s okay,” she whispers. “You must stay. You have to do this.”

No!

Somewhere, a baby’s cries reach your ears. You snap your head to the sound. It wails as if it were in pain. It wails as if it were frightened. 

Make it stop.

It doesn’t stop.

You shut your eyes and— 

Blink.

Opening them, your sister is gone. 

Down the darkened corridor, you start to walk, your body heavy, disoriented, not your own.

Reaching the end of the passage, there’s a door. You slide it open, a little ajar and slip in sideways.

Inside the room, is a futon, and there in the center of it lies your mother, split open, guts spilling from her swollen belly, eyes flickering, breath fast and shallow. She looks at you, mouth trembling, eyes wide, shock all over her face. A cry takes you over as she melts in a rupture of crimson meat and bone.

Nothing more than a pile. Nothing more than rot.

Somewhere, that baby still cries, and no one comforts it.

Blink.

There’s a glow on the horizon, and something’s burn—

Screaming. Homes on fire. People running in all directions. Bodies, so many bodies, some partially eaten, and others not. The scent of blood, searing fat and skin clogs your throat.

Blink.

From behind, four hands slide across your stomach, a black band encircling the wrists. One climbs to your breasts, another to your cunt, the next slowly comes to wrap around your throat, while the last presses flush to your abdomen.

“Let me see you.” A deep rumbling voice at your back, warm breath on your neck, before a hot tongue licks a path to your ear. “Let me see you, my winter flower.”

A nudge along the side of your throat before teeth sink in, breaking skin and muscle. Blood rolls down your neck to shoulder, soaking your yukata red. It doesn’t hurt. If anything, there’s only pleasure.

Leaning back into touch, into warmth and solidity, you moan, something denied for so long.

“Sukuna.” Your breathless voice reaches him, and fingers squeeze harder, gently choking you.

At your back, the King of Curses groans, shoving his face deeper into the wound he’s made, licking, sucking, trying to swallow skin and—

The air suddenly splits, breaks, and falls apart on a sensation that sends the whole world vibrating. 

Blink.

Walking with dirt on your feet, cool grass between your toes, you turn, pace, turn again.

“I killed her…”

You turn, pace, turn again.

“I killed her…”

Turn, pace, turn again, lift your head. 

Death is here.

It’s going to kill me.

A flame opens and slithers across your eyes. Muscles tense, muscles straining.

Red everywhere.

That’s all there is.

Red, red, red—

“Oi, brat! Time to wake up!”

CRACK!

“Mother!” you scream, pushing your body up, hearing the sound echo off the stone walls of the dark overhang.

Panting, your breaths arrive in short, small gasps, chest heaving, the world around you a blur.

Breathe.

You do.

Breathe again.

You do, and then blink.

It’s strange, but you must still be lingering between sleep and waking because four glowing eyes hover close, staring into your tear-streaked face.

But you’re not. You’re awake.

Sukuna crouches beside your mat, his upper right hand planted on the ground next to your hip, massive body leaning in, almost framing you, close enough for his warmth to seep in. The firelight from the dying coals silhouettes him, casting a small glow across the dim shelter.

It’s late, you realize—still the middle of the night. 

“What’s going on?” you rasp, finally coming to.

You hate waking like this. Screaming. But at least being awake means no dreams. Awake means no nightmares. Just… looking into the King of Curses’ face.

“My Lord,” you whisper, staring at him, eyes squinting slightly. “What are you doing?”

How long has he been next to you? And why does this feel familiar?

Sukuna pulls back a bit, staring down at you. Even crouching, he looms so tall that you must tilt your head back to meet his gaze.

“You were crying out in your sleep,” he grumbles flatly, clicking his tongue. “You know how I feel about that. It disturbed my rest.”

A sudden weight presses around your neck. His energy. It drags over it like a phantom hand—like in your dream, and it leaves a surprising amount of goosebumps in its wake, making you shudder softly, though not entirely out of disgust.

Far from it.

Sukuna’s scarlet orbs drift down, lingering on your throat and chest, then lower.

“Also, this fell.”

Swallowing a thick knot, your eyes drop to his second pair of hands, where he lifts your crumpled blanket from the ground and tosses it carelessly into your lap. Then he stands, rounds the fire and returns to his mat, settling himself with a glance at the dying flames. Quietly, he lies down, propping his upper arms behind his head, eyes drifting to the stone ceiling. After a moment, he turns onto his side, offering you his back.

You can’t help but watch him as the nightmare stays fresh in your mind—the look on your mother’s anguished face.

Leaning into a slouch, you wipe the dampness from your eyes, your nose stinging as fresh tears threaten to escape.

Was that what she looked like before you took her life? The dread that was there, the betrayal, the fear on her face.

Your heart begins to pound.

Why can’t you remember how that night unfolded? Not that you want to, but still. It’s all a blank space, forgotten and stripped away. Perhaps for good reason.

Because in that dream, she looked terrified.

A tremor runs through your hands. Throat thick, palms slick. The beating muscle in your chest pulses faster and faster.

Instinctively, you dig your index fingernail into the cuticle of your thumb, hoping the pain will ground you, but it’s useless.

Thankfully, there are still a few sticks near the fire. Needing a distraction, you lean forward, pick one up and push it into the coals. Sparks flutter up, the tip glowing a faint red. 

Better.

With your mind beginning to settle, you grab a bit of moss, pressing and rolling it between your fingers. It’s still damp, giving off an earthy smell. Fingertips pushing in more, you explore the texture—soft but slightly coarse, cold against your skin—until, all at once, it fades.

You stop and look down.

The tuft blackens in your hands—lush green fading to a putrid brown, then a brittle gray. Tiny tendrils shrivel up, curling and recoiling from your touch.

“What the… hell…” you breathe.

Hands flying apart, you quickly drop it to the ground, watching it disintegrate into dust on the stone floor.

Lifeless.

Panting softly, there’s a scent that creeps into your nose. One, you know well.

Rot.

Your eyes move to your fingers, and your heart trips over a beat.

The tips up to the knuckles are a bruising colour, with thin, web-like veins spreading from the cuticles, branching unevenly. It looks as if a creeping blight infects your skin. 

You rub your fingers together, scraping a nail along the surface. The sensation is still there, reassuring you that you aren’t decaying, that the flesh isn’t dead. Another rake, and gradually, the discoloration fades, your skin returning to normal.

You’ve never done anything like that before. Killing animals… people, yes, but plants? And it happened so quickly, with no sense of restraint.

The rocky walls of the overhang suddenly feel choking.

You rise quietly, moving smoothly despite the wobbly feeling in your legs, and walk past Sukuna. Judging by his stillness, he must have fallen asleep.

At the mouth of the hollow stone, you stop, needing air to steady yourself, feeling too out of control in your own body.

Tipping your head back, the clouds from the downpour are gone, leaving only the sky and its inky black curve and stars. You admire it for a moment, but the expanse and the moon sitting lonely overhead stir a familiar ache.

At this moment, you crave your mother’s presence, her comfort.

Dropping your gaze, you spot Ayana’s white-dappled coat in the dark. She rests beside Sukuna’s horse, whose massive form nearly engulfs hers. The two creatures stand so close that their nearness brings a small sense of ease.

Keeping your hands in tight fists, careful not to touch, you step toward her and rest your forehead against the soft surface of her neck. Her ears flick, and she lowers her head, sensing your tension, and gives a gentle nudge.

A trace of a smile tries to form on your lips, but it doesn’t quite settle.

Warmth suddenly flares at the bend of your neck—whether intentional or not, malicious or not—your eyes drift shut. You know Sukuna is not asleep but quietly watching you from behind.

You stay like this for a while until you sense him withdraw, and eventually, you do the same.

Turning, you move back to the shelter, catching his lower eyes as you pass but saying nothing. When you reach your mat, you glance down at the remnants of the moss once more.

You’ll have to worry about it later; there are other priorities above your own.

Sister, protector, tool.

Lying down, you pull the blanket over your body as the space falls into stillness. Only the soft hiss of the crumbling embers remain, lulling you back into drowsiness.

Your eyes shut.

A flicker of your mother’s dying face presses against your eyelids.

You snap them open.

“Lord Sukuna?” you suddenly murmur.

Silence follows, but then you hear him shift.

“What?” he grunts, sounding annoyed.

You pause, rolling to your side to take in his profile, the right side of his face, his mask. You still can’t quite place what it is.

“I never did thank you for the mare,” you say quietly, watching him focus on the stone ceiling.

The fire hisses again as it cools.

“Thank you…” you continue, the words sincere yet hesitant. “She’s perfect… and I’ll treasure her forever.”

The embers release one last dying breath.

His lower right eye slowly falls over at you. The upper one joins it a heartbeat later.

Even in the black, with only a pocket of waning glow, you catch the corner of his mouth twitching into the softest smirk you’ve ever seen on him.

Your foolish heart aches at the sight, and you mentally kick that feeling into some dark corner.

“Get some rest, brat,” he mumbles, rolling onto his side again. “You’ll need it for tomorrow.”

Pulling the blanket up, it takes a long time before you realize the corners of your mouth are curving into a smile. Smothering it, you roll onto your side, mirroring his back, and drift into a dreamless sleep.

* * * * *

The late afternoon sun hangs low in the sky when you and the King of Curses finally ride into the Kasai compound. Yesterday's weather delayed your journey, and when you arrive, the place is already bright with activity.

People—family members, guests, attendants, other clans. There’s so much noise, so much chatter. Laughter, singing, jeering. If you listen closely, you can even catch the occasional shameless moan of a man enjoying himself a bit too openly with his concubine.

It’s going to be a long night.

Your eyes wander ahead, trying to decipher what Sukuna might be thinking. When you woke this morning, he was already up—less agitated but still contemplative. His energy seemed more subdued, enough that even Ayana allowed him to water and feed her.

Something has shifted on your journey, though you can’t quite name it. Perhaps it was the time away from the shrine or the moments spent alone.

But the sense of something being broken between you two remains.

There’s also a nagging voice inside insisting that something is wrong despite the countless reasons that could explain it.

As you approach the stables, you watch him closely. He surveys the surroundings—the gaudy estate, the limestone barrier, the tops of the yew trees forming the grove along the perimeter—studying everything in great detail before finally turning his attention to the stables.

Inside, retainers and attendants mill about, drinking and chatting as they tend to a slew of horses—likely their way of passing the time while whoever they’re here with spends the day getting properly shitfaced.

But as you enter—more precisely, as he enters—everything comes to a standstill.

You expected Sukuna to draw attention—his reputation, appearance, energy. Today is no exception. As you ride further inside, every weary eye falls on the four-armed creature. Then those eyes shift to you. And any hope of going unnoticed while here, gone.

Your jaw tightens, muscles coiling.

When Sukuna dismounts, the stables fall into a cage of silence, broken only by the restless movements of the tethered horses. They sway and knock their hooves in agitation as conversations die to murmurs. It almost feels like that night seven years ago when deranged whispers spoke of a demon’s arrival in the north.

Now, that same demon is here again, but this time, he’s among them.

Sukuna’s red orbs sweep the stables, making most avert their eyes, a few bow their heads, and some turn away completely. 

“Fucking fools.” A deep cackle erupts from his chest, and from atop Ayana, you spot a grin sneaking across his face—pleased with their fear and likely pleased with himself.

Hell, this is going to be a long night.

With one last twisted flash of his teeth and a glare that skewers the onlookers, he turns, pushes back the strands of his wind-tousled hair and locks eyes with you.

One side of his mouth curves up smoothly. This man is a terror, but damn it, you were so blind before, only seeing the cruelty in his face. Terrifying, even.

Now, you couldn’t deny it—you see what else he is—breathtaki—

Gods, fucking take me. 

Large hands slide around your waist, fingers crowding into the curve of your spine as he lifts you from the saddle.

“Oy! I can dismount on my own!” you snap, feet thudding into the hay-covered floor.

Disregarding your protests, Sukuna draws you in until his mouth brushes your ear, a stream of warm breath tickling your skin. Inwardly, you curse yourself because, for a moment, your eyes flutter at the contact.

“Remember, we made a deal,” he murmurs, voice low, just for you. “We’re here now, and I want that name.”

Your heart pounds.

Impatient.

You’d barely touched solid ground, and he’s pressing for it already? What will he do once you give it up—or if he drags it from you? Though you might know the answer to this, and it’s bloody.

You turn, finding his face close to yours. Instinct makes you lean back, but he cocks his eyebrow and hauls you closer, unfolding to his height and gripping your wrist.

“Don’t make this harder for yourself,” he growls through his teeth, digging his fingertips into your skin until it hurts. “You may think you see me, but you have no idea what I’m capable of.”

“Lord Sukuna, in case you’ve forgotten, I’ve lived in these parts the entire time you’ve been destroying them,” you hiss quietly while flexing the hand he grips. “So I know exactly what you’re capable of.”

Or most of it.

You’re not sure you want to know the rest.

The pressure on your wrist increases while his jaw tightens as if he were gnashing your words around with his teeth.

“Yes. And isn’t fate just a cruel bitch that you were?”

Your nose wrinkles at his words.

“Lord Sukuna!”

Multiple footsteps thud inside the stables, and a loud, boisterous voice draws your and the King of Curses’ attention.

“Welcome!”

One of your father’s attendants steps forward and bows, lifting her head. Despite her magnanimous welcome, there’s a nervousness in her eyes.

“Please, this way.” She gestures toward the stony path leading away from the stables. “And my Lady, your father will expect to see you before you settle in.”

Great.

“All right. Thank you,” you reply.

She steps outside, leaving two other attendants to handle your trunks and tether the horses. Sukuna glances once more at the two mounts as if assessing them before stepping onto the path.

Following the attendant, she leads you through a screen of hedges. The route winding discreetly along the estate’s perimeter, skirting the front gardens and leading into the compound. No doubt she’s been instructed to bring you inside through quieter means, a poor attempt to keep the King of Curses out of sight as much as possible.

Once inside, the attendant brings you to a secluded room. Bowing once more, she slides the door open. You follow Sukuna inside, kneeling on the floor as the door closes behind you, sealing in the quiet, leaving you both to wait.

Seconds stretch into minutes. Minutes feel like an eternity. Your mind starts pacing like a chained dog. Every sound—footsteps passing by, distant drunken laughter—sets you on edge.

You pick at your gloves and shift your posture, knees bent, feet tucked underneath you.

“You’re tense,” Sukuna points out. Your eyes peek over at his relaxed stance. “Any stiffer, and you’re bound to snap in half like a twig.”

He sinks back into his lean, sitting casually, his upper arms resting at his sides, one knee bent, and his lower arm draped over it, fingers tapping idly.

“I’m fine,” you say, squirming to find a more comfortable position.

Sukuna huffs.

“Idiot.”

More time trickles by, and under your growing impatience, you begin to warm. The multiple layers of clothing draw sweat to the surface of your skin. You move your hands to your cloak, ready to remove it, when fingers clamp around your wrist and pull them away.

“Leave it,” Sukuna growls.

You shoot him a bewildered look, preparing to utter a curse at him, but he jerks his head to the door, listening intently, straining for something just out of reach. You’ve seen him do this before, and it’s never a good omen. The last time you saw that expression, a polearm had been hurtling toward you moments later.

Outside the room come soft sounds. Delicate footsteps and a whisper of fabric brushing against the floor.

A pause.

Four red eyes dart back and forth.

The hand at your wrist tightens.

The door slides open, and your sister steps inside. Sukuna’s hand slips away.

“Yuna.” A smile spreads across your face, lifting your cheeks until they ache.

“Sister!” White silk swishes at her ankles. “You came.”

She’s outfitted in a beautiful pale kimono, and her hair and makeup are perfectly done for the festivities. The gem of the Kasai clan, indeed. Compared to her, after three days on the road, you feel like a ragged, unkempt toad.

Grinning, you start to rise to your feet, ready to go to her and gather her in your arms, but a snag at the back of your cloak holds you in place—Sukuna’s lower right hand. You stop moving. It shifts, sliding up to the top of your spine before trailing slowly down, vertebra by vertebra, until it passes over your obi and settles at the small of your back.

The possessiveness of his touch has a shiver spiralling through you.

Suddenly but carefully, he unfurls himself to his towering height, pulling you up and not letting go.

Yuna’s eyes hover between you and the King of Curses, her expression one of rapt attention.

“Hello, my Lord.” She bows formally, eyelashes fluttering. Then she lifts her head, and a graceful smile touches her painted lips. “It’s always lovely to see you.”

Sukuna says nothing.

A horrible silence descends upon the room.

The three of you remain in place.

They stare at each other—her features unreadable, his a challenging one, head cocking to the side in a sharp, smooth motion.

You feel the muscles in his arm tensing behind you, his fingers gripping the fabric of your garment with more force.

Yuna’s smile widens, eyes brightening with a strange recollection.

And then, ever so softly—

“I knew it…”

“Ah! My daughter!” Your father’s loud announcement cuts through the increasingly crowded room. The pungent scent of alcohol reaches you even from where you stand. “You’ve finally made it. I was getting worried something may have happened to you.”

Lying to your face, how refreshing.

He turns to the King of Curses and bows. Sukuna doesn’t return it, making the balance of power unmistakably clear.

At the door, another figure enters, your attention swinging to them.

Onishi, with his swollen face and all.

Hideous bruises snake out from below the cotton strips, trying in vain to hold the nose you had broken into place. It looks hastily treated, an effort to appear decent in public.

A tinge of satisfaction curves your lips.

He moves across the room and takes a spot behind your father, leaning against the wall. His eyes meet yours, glinting probably from the memory of when he had you pinned against the limestone barrier, hands touching your breasts, invading your space. Almost as if reading your thoughts, the bastard gives you a discreet wink.

The fucking audacity.

Your hands curl into fists, leather gloves creaking softly.

Calm down.

Your eyes shift away, only to find Sukuna watching. A quick glance shows his lower eyes trained on you, while the others settle firmly on Onishi’s bruised, crooked face.

Knowing him, he’s bound to piece this together without a word from you.

With more pressure, the hand at your tailbone splays across the small of your back. Surprisingly, it grounds you.

“Yuna,” your father says, pulling your attention from the warmth flooding you. “Why don’t you go back to our guests? I’d like a small word with your sister.”

“Of course.” Yuna bows and heads to the door. Halfway there, she flicks you a look. “I’ll find you at some point tonight, all right?” she whispers.

You give her a soft nod.

“Oh, and daughter.” Your father adds, making her pause. “Send them in.”

A tight smile replaces her easy one. She leaves, but taking her place are three beautiful women, by their well-kept clothing they’re attendants or—

"Our guest should be made comfortable,” your father states, gesturing to the trio before turning his gaze to Sukuna. “They’re yours. Do what you wish with them.”

What?

A sour taste churns your stomach.

Sukuna eyes them as they approach. Their pupils odd, blown wide.

“This way, my Lord,” they chime in unison, coaxing him toward the door.

A sharp, needling sensation splits you sternum to chest, dragging with it an emotion you don’t want. Sukuna’s hand slips away from your back, and the entire room seems to stutter as you desperately try to catch his eyes. But he doesn’t look your way.

You’ve never been in a relationship—real or otherwise—but something is there. That sticky, unforgiving emotion that feels like swallowing fire, burning deep and spreading through your body, making your skin prickle with heat.

Jealousy. This is jealousy.

You watch, unable to tear your focus away. Their nimble fingers trace up his arms, gripping his clothing, smoothing it, touching the contours of his muscles. Cooing and preening. One of their fingers skims the ink on his wrist, peeking out from his kimono. And it's that touch, that brief skin-to-skin contact, so simple and insignificant, that stings more than anything else.

He claimed to regret what he did to you when you first met, and now here you are, stumbling all over yourself.

Pathetic.

Look away.

Your eyes shift to your father, who is watching you closely. Is this a test? A trap? A scheme laid out for you to fall into?

Has he charmed you, daughter?

His words ring out inside your head.

So what if he had? What if—

No.

But deep down, you knew you were well and truly fucked. This monster has started taking that tiny sliver from you that you once promised you’d never surrender.

A sudden urge to laugh squeezes your lungs fiercely.

One of the women giggles, and Sukuna’s mouth pulls into a sneer.

Say something.

“We’ll give you a bath, my Lord.” Another of them hums, making your heart lurch while they pull him towards the door.

Do something.

Brows pinched, Sukuna leaves, his upper arms folded across his chest while the lower ones hang at his sides, the women clinging to him like parasites.

A glance back and four fiery orbs find yours, brimming with intimidating annoyance, deepening the crease above your nose.

“I’ll see to you after,” he says, giving you a sidelong glance before he steps from the room, the women trailing closely behind.

“He probably won’t fit in the bath. My Lord’s body is too big,” one of them complains, their voices fading down the corridor.

“Perhaps we can use our mouths instead.”

More tittering, more giggles.

The door falls shut.

You stare at the spot he just stood for too long, long enough to hear your father clear his throat. You lift your eyes, pushing away those raw, unwanted emotions, though the place where he had touched your back still burns.

Focus.

You straighten.

Your father scrubs his jaw, his attention settling on you, and you keep your expression neutral. No cracks, nothing.

Onishi, still leaning against the wall, retrieves an object from his kimono to fiddle with. It's small, a box, and fits perfectly in his palm. He rotates it repeatedly, each side catching the light as it turns, his eyes never leaving yours. For some reason, you’re certain he must not have told your father about your encounter weeks ago; otherwise, you would have been reprimanded by now.

As he turns the object again, you notice the sides are decorated with hooded slits.

He turns it over again.

And again.

And—

“Well.” Your father’s voice pulls your focus back to him. “You’re here, and you managed to bring the creature with you. Well done.”

He pauses.

You can hear the unspoken words: Lured the creature here.

There’s a genuine smile on his face, as if, for the first time in his life, he’s proud of you.

Proud of you.

The thought leaves you conflicted because there’s another look there, one that’s not entirely tinged with contempt but carries a glimmer of care, as if he’s seeing you differently.

“You have your extra month,” he grants. “Your sister is safe once again.”

It’s a simple statement that should bring relief. A long time ago, you might have leapt at that look, like a dog waiting for scraps of affection. But now, all you feel is numbness.

“Thank you, Father.” The words carry no real sentiment.

You bow, and he smiles.

“Good. Now go.” He flicks two fingers toward the door. “Get washed up and dressed. And don’t forget to enjoy yourself.” His hawkish eyes lock onto you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl with disgust. “For once, you’ve earned it.”

* * * * *

Knock, knock, knock.

“My Lady? Are you decent?” A female voice calls from the other side of the door.

An hour has passed since you returned to your old chambers to prepare for the festivities.

It didn’t take long to bathe, slip into your new kimono, tie your obi, and slide your concealed scabbard into place. The makeup you applied—powder, kohl—was simple, nothing elaborate.

During your time alone, your mind continually replayed the earlier encounter with your sister, the three women, your father, Onishi… Sukuna.

Something feels wrong, but you’re unable to slide what that is into place.

Mind churning chaotically, you were in the middle of combing your hair when the knock interrupted your preparation.

Now, as the sun sets, a lantern sits beside you, it’s light flickering on the wooden floor. Red fires the edges of your garment to black.

“Yes,” you call out. “You may enter.”

Resting your hands on your thighs, comb in hand, your eyes shift to the door.

It slides open.

One of the women from earlier stands there, anxious, chin cast down. Your mouth twitches with barely concealed disappointment. She bows and quickly steps aside.

The King of Curses steps unexpectedly into view, blackening the doorway, his eyes locking onto you kneeling on the floor.

“Oh, Lord Sukuna.” You rise, the clack of your footwear echoing on wood.

A soft bow of your head, then you lift it. He’s dressed in colours matching yours: a deep, muted purple kimono, like a swollen bruise, nearly black, painful in its intensity, and perfectly moulded to him. Your gaze drops to his waist—his obi is a burnt umber, again, like yours, though his attire is stark, without embroidery. One more glance shows his hair swept back, all controlled chaos.

His eyes rake over you from head to toe, a muscle in his neck pulsing. At his side, all four of his hands tense, then release, as if he were restraining the urge to use them for something.

It’s hard to breathe when he looks at you like this—hungry. He is hungry.

“Leave,” he orders, flicking a hand dismissively at the woman. She bows and retreats, eager to put space between herself and him.

Without tearing his eyes away from you, Sukuna steps inside and shuts the door, dimming the room, making his scarlet eyes glow in the low light.

“Continue.” He grins, nodding his chin at the comb in your hand, then circles you.

Watching him, you sink back to the floor, resuming your kneeling posture and sliding the comb through your hair. His mouth twitches as he observes. This close, you catch the clean scent of him—no blood or ash, but something fresh. Cypress, perhaps.

“Did you need something, my Lord?” you ask quietly as he steps away, choosing to scrutinize your room in far greater detail than you’d like.

“Do I need a reason to see my wife?” He pulls a scroll lined with poetry from the shelf, inspects it, and makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a scoff before sliding it back. “Besides, I told you—you’re not leaving my side.”

But you did.

The image of the trio of women taking him into their mouths flashes through your subconscious. Anger has you pulling the comb through your hair with more force.

He glances over, catching your expression before you can look away.

“No, you don’t need a reason. I just thought perhaps you would be too preoccupied with other company,” you say, striving to keep the bitterness out of your voice. But it’s there.

The comb continues to move, your fingers following it.

A calm settles over the room, broken only by the soft crackle of the lantern's flame, until Sukuna chuckles. The sound breaks the silence, swelling into loud, insidious laughter that makes your teeth click together.

“You really are fucking stupid, you know that?” He steps around and comes to stand in front of you, the earlier grin on his face gone. “You can barely see what’s right in front of you, even when it’s still. It’s pathetic!”

You glare at him, the comb stilling in your hand before you set it aside and look away.

“I see just fine,” you mumble, picking up a hairpin with a pearl inlay.

Sukuna sinks to his haunches. Two fingers slide slowly across the underside of your chin, hooking and guiding your face to his.

“Oh, she sees just fine, does she?” he mocks, cruelly mimicking your voice.

A weight settles on your chest while your body silently begs you to turn away from him.

“She sees everything? Even what hides in plain sight?” he continues, then pauses.

Three heartbeats later, he tilts his head, squinting at you as his expression shifts from pity to seething hatred. The sudden flare of anger in his eyes disarms you.

“No… that’s not it, is it?” His gaze narrows, searching for something you can’t comprehend.

The air between you tightens.

Jabbing his fingertips into your chin, he forces you to straighten and lean toward him, so you must brace a hand against the floor between his knees.

“There are so many hooks in you…” he rumbles quietly, his thumb crawling up to smooth over the swell of your cheek. “So many pulling, all at once.”

He traces up to your temple, applying more pressure. Nervousness climbs into your throat, but despite it, you roughly pull your chin from his grip.

“What are you even rambling about?” you mutter.

A split breaks between his eyebrow and mask and his hands fall to his sides.

He clicks his tongue in agitation.

“Nothing, brat,” he grumbles, before reaching into his obi and suddenly pulling out a pear.

You quirk an eyebrow at it.

He takes a bite, the juice glistening on his lips as he leans back, letting go of your jaw.

You sit up straight, readjusting your posture.

“Where’d you get that from?” you ask, hands reaching to the crown of your head to part the silky strands of hair and twist a section, weaving the hairpin through it.

Sukuna moves to lean against the wall.

“The kitchen,” he replies, tracking your hands and the precise movements of your fingers. “I was hungry.”

As always.

He takes another bite.

“So, you’re just walking around here like you own the place?”

“Anyone who sees me coming usually shits themselves. Here, with all your kin wandering around, it’s easy enough to get a simple piece of fruit.”

Of course, they’re afraid. He’s been eating and killing them for years.

Another bite.

“I can understand why,” you say, letting your eyes trail down the length of his body.

His teeth flash.

“Nearly two months at my shrine, and my wife is still frightened of me?” he asks, amused.

Your eyes dart away, focusing ahead as the cool texture of the pin grazes your scalp.

“Your appearance… no.”

Your actions, yes.

With the hairpin in place, you reach for your comb and draw a few strands forward to frame your face—or to shield yourself.

“Oh? If my appearance doesn’t scare you, perhaps you'd like to share your thoughts about it.”

After tapping the pin one last time to ensure it’s secure, you lower your hands to your lap and glance over at him. The piece of fruit already eaten and gone.

“You want to know what I think about… your appearance?” You arch an eyebrow, features folding into soft confusion.

He crosses his upper arms over his chest, tapping a finger impatiently as he waits for an answer.

“You’re…”

A pause. He taps again.

You’re unwilling to admit how he’s begun to haunt you, how he’s slipping into your dreams, your thoughts, and worse into your—

“You’re adequate, my Lord.”

His chest swells, as if he’s about to burst into laughter, and you quickly turn away, grabbing your dark leather gloves from the floor.

“Adequate.” His voice fades into a condescending chuckle.

Through the curtain of hair, you see him push away from the wall and step toward you.

“Is that truly the grand assessment my wife can offer? Adequate?” He bends slightly. “But perhaps 'adequate' suits you just as well.”

You scoff.

“And here I thought I was uglier than you expected,” you mumble, fiddling with one glove as you slide it on, trying not to relive the first words he ever spoke to you.

Sukuna leans in further, forcing you to look up.

“I lied,” he hisses in your face, eyes flaring wide.

“What?” You shoot him an exasperated glare as you get to your feet.

For reasons you can’t quite place, your instinct is to punch him in the throat, knee him in the cocks, curse him into oblivion—and judging by the smirk growing on his face, the bastard knows it.

“Tch, don’t look at me like that.” His orbs brighten, as if this reaction brings him pleasure. “Your fragile emotions are so easy to fuck with.”

Another scoff. You start slipping on your second glove.

“Then—” You don’t know why you’re asking, but the words come out. Maybe some self conscious part of you just wants to know, even from him. “What… do you think of me?”

His grin falters, and you avert your gaze, a flush of embarrassment shading your features at how vain you sound.

“Never mind, don’t answer that.” One last soft tug, and the leather fits snugly over your fingers.

Sukuna steps closer, exhaling sharply.

You turn back to face him.

His lower eyes stare at your hands.

“You’re—”

“A sickness?” Your barb interrupts him.

“Fucking trouble,” he growls roughly, stepping closer. The palm of his upper left hand moves to your waist and slides to your obi, making you jump at the contact

“A nuisance.” Softer this time. His fingertips slip beneath, finding the scabbard hidden there.

“Something unexpected.” The pads of his fingers trace over it slowly, his four eyes following the movement as if mesmerized.

“Perhaps… something pleasant.” His voice turns to a deep purr, and when his hooded eyes lift, your cheeks threaten to warm. Then, with a flick of two fingers against the scabbard, a sharp sting jolts your abdomen. You wince. It’s such a subtle tap, yet it carries so much force. Grinning, he thumps it again before pulling back and striding to the door.

“Come.” He slides it open and steps out, demeanour turning severe. “It’s time to go.”

A heavy exhale punches past your lips.

Spilling into the corridor, you watch Sukuna step into the throat of the right passage instead of the left, the one that would discreetly shuffle you into the festivities.

“Where are you going?” you ask wearily.

He stops and glances over his shoulder at you, then to the left corridor.

Understanding washes over him.

“You expect me to sneak in there?” He turns, his face twisting into one of annoyance. “Is that what you expect of me?” 

“No,” you say.

It's less about him and more about yourself—an unwillingness to face all those judgmental eyes leering at you. The last time you were here, the insults and gawking looks had been draining.

Demon’s whore. Cunt. Oni bitch.

“Ah, I see.” Sukuna folds his lower arms at his torso. “The little snake is afraid.”

Your mouth twitches.

He gives you a mocking pout, then raises his upper right arm.

“Left—” A finger points down the corridor ahead. “—and you can sneak in like a mutt, with your tail tucked between your legs. Or, you can go right—” Another finger points toward the passage where loud voices trickle out. “—and walk through those insects with your head held high.”

Doubt creeping in, you glance to the corridor on the right. The idea of stepping into the heart of the hall feels daunting. Years of being cast aside and mistreated keep you from doing something so rash.

But perhaps, just this once, you will be brave.

Eyes glittering, you look back at Sukuna.

He lifts his eyebrow.

“It’s your choice.”

My choice.

For so long, choices have felt like sand passing through your fingers, never truly yours.

Elusive. False.

A persuasion to live a life that isn’t your own.

With a controlled inhale, you lift your head and incline your chin. Your sandals tap softly as you step toward him, choosing right.

You pause.

“It’s only proper for you to go first, my Lord.”

Tradition dictates that men of his status lead the way, and you to follow. Yet the King of Curses steps behind you, bending down to lean over your shoulder.

“Mhm, no,” he husks calmly. “I prefer the view from here.”

A hand gently pushes into your hair, pulling the strands back to your shoulder and exposing the scar he left on your neck.

A reminder.

“I’d hate to miss the look on everyone’s face when they see you, of all people, march in there like you own the place.” He pauses, hand moving, he traces your nape with a finger before circling the bone at the base of your neck. “The dutiful daughter, the shadow of the Kasai clan—”

A beat.

“The one given to me so willingly.”

The hair lifts on the back of your neck.

Your eyes dart to him, catching the smirk in his voice.

The nagging voice in your head cuts through, louder this time, screaming that something is deeply wrong.

His other hand moves, curling under your chin and tilting your face up to meet his scarlet eyes.

“Besides,” he hums arrogantly. “I’ll be right behind you.”

🔗 Chapter 25