#and no one ever gains the curse of being your child

[beautifulscreaminglady]

to love someone is give someone the power to destroy your life and yet persist in the belief that they will not

[rizsu]

+ extra: canon-type family relations: jin itadori & sukuna are brothers, itadori is a child here ( 8 years ).

boyfriend-girlfriend life with sukuna except he thinks he's being replaced — in all seriousness. sukuna's seconds away from destroying his nephew's remote-controlled cars collection.

can the kid move? he wants yuuji gone. he's not jealous of him, he just wants your undivided attention back on him. if he knew beforehand that agreeing to jin's invitation over would result in this, he'd probably fly out of the country with you to avoid it.

manspreading on the sofa with one hand slung over the backrest, he swirls the beer in his other hand. his brother's in the kitchen, stacking the extra beers in the fridge.

“you can help me, you know?” jin calls sukuna out, lacing his voice with slight annoyance.

“nah,” sukuna responds, waving him off.

he's busy watching you sit on the floor with yuuji, pretending to race against time with him.

it's not all that bad when he thinks about it — never mind, it is. the kid's had you on the floor since you walked through the door. not a moment spared for his uncle. all yuuji did was look up at sukuna, stick his tongue out, and engulfed your legs in a big hug.

ever since then he's been sulking in the corner. jin can only pity him for so long — it's been an hour, he needs to get over it.

jin sneaks up behind sukuna, gathering his fingers to surprise attack him. in only a matter of seconds he's subjected to the ear-pinch-and-ring combination.

sukuna flinches, immediately swatting jin's hand off.

“you must've gone fucking crazy!?”

he gets yet another ear-pinch-and-ring combination from jin.

“i have a son, don't curse.”

“fuck that boy,” he whispers under his breath, cupping his ear. it's hot from the pain — most likely already gained a red shade.

even after such commotion both yuuji's and your attention didn't turn to them. you both are far too immersed in the racing game.

the brothers are now both on the sofa: one has his attention on you and the other has his attention on the unattended mail on the coffee table that's been neglected two days ago.

“this one? no... that one? also no...”

“jin, quit mumbling.”

“cover your ears then.”

rolling his eyes, sukuna downs the last bit of beer remaining in the bottle. he's now officially out of beer and too lazy to get one.

being left without a distraction, he's forced to observe jin's house. it's nothing extraordinary. he believes his house to be better.

he voices out a sigh, slouching and spreading his legs further apart. the boredom's hitting him earlier than it usually does — this is your fault. if you weren't busy zooming cars around the living room with yuuji then he wouldn't be bored.

as sukuna's busy with complaining, he doesn't notice yuuji speed walking to the sofa with a broken car in hand. you're right behind him, sporting a smile that says you got yourself in some trouble.

“daaad, the car!” yuuji whines, climbing onto the free spot between his dad and his uncle.

jin hums, raising his eyebrows but his gaze is fixed on the mail as he's still sorting them out.

“it broke,” the boy complains, pouting at the toy.

“it lost control and rammed into the wall,” you explained further, sitting on the armrest on sukuna's side.

sukuna's arm fixes itself around your hips. he's slightly smirking at the news.

that doesn't go unnoticed by you. you're more than familiar with your boyfriend's joy at other's misery. you shot him a glare with a light tap on his shoulder.

“is that so?” jin's attention is now fully on his boy. he takes the glasses off, pulling yuuji onto his lap.

taking the car into his hand, he inspects the damages. it's not too much, and it's fixable.

“dad will fix it later, okay,” reassuring yuuji, jin ruffles his hair.

yuuji nods, jumping down from his dad's lap to return to the toys. as he's on his way, he turns, appearing to have suddenly remembered something.

“(y/n), come play with me!”

“no, she won't,” sukuna answers for you, ignoring the harder hit you gave him on his shoulder.

“i'll be right there, yuuji,” this time you answer, giving him a warm smile and a thumbs up.

“give the boy a fucking brother,” sukuna grumbles, looking at jin with pure annoyance.

jin shoots his brother a smile, giving him no reply before he goes back to reading the final mail of the bunch.

[usetheeauthor]

Kinktober Day 16: Facesitting + Pregnancy

Burned!Aegon II Targaryen x Hightower!Mistress!Reader

Summary: On the verge of losing you, Aegon shows you just how valuable his mouth can be to serve you.

Warnings: 18+ smut, oral sex/facesitting, passionate sex, sloppy kisses, pregnant!reader, targcest, implied age gap, aegon calls reader “auntie” so auntie kink, cum-eating, finger sucking, fingering, lactation kink, pathetic!softdom!aegon, some dub-con elements, mutual orgasm (phantom orgasm for aegon), no c*ck!aegon, pregnant body worship, nipple play, brief thigh humping, surprise guest: Larys being a creeper

You watch him being fed with a scowl on your face. He looks so pathetic now. Whimpering and groaning in bed after nearly costing his loyal men the battle by being stupidly reckless.

There are many things you regret and his frail condition is a constant reminder of those faults. Never should you have laid in bed with Aegon II Targaryen, your half-sister Alicent’s son—your nephew. And should you have been tempted to befall the Targaryen’s incestuous sins than rather it have been with the mightier Aemond Targaryen.

A pity that you’ve done so all in the pursuit to bear a babe with hair of silver simply because you admired the beauty of a family you’d once heard bedtime stories about, dreaming that one day you’d marry your dragon prince. But, alas, the Gods did not have this in your favor and to spite them you lusted. Your punishment: you’ll have your silver-haired babe…however your supposedly beautiful dragon prince was now incapacitated. He is not used to you. And now that there’s been whispers of Queen Rhaenyra planning an attack on King’s Landing, it was about time for you to disappear and live life somewhere comfortable. Like Essos.

You hoped to be free of all this. All the mess your father has caused and risked your family’s extinction. But then you learned of Larys’ plans to quietly leave for Essos with Aegon and you fumed at the thought of being haunted by this war despite the distance.

You waited as the caretakers filed out of the room so you could have a moment alone with the broken man, arms crossed to your chest you paced to and fro.

Aegon is first to speak, a small smile on his face. “Darlin’, I was worried I wouldn’t receive a visit from you again. You’ve not entered my chambers in days. Months. Is it that you could not stomach seeing me this way? In such pain?”

You roll your eyes at his arrogance, walking over to his bedside. “You’re correct in the sense that I did not wish to see you in this light. But it isn’t for reasons regarding seeing you in pain. Rather I refused to see how weak you’ve become. I feared it to be detrimental to my health which in turn could affect the babe. I’ve finally gained the courage to do so because in a way I’ve been blessed and cursed by the Gods. You’re no longer the man I desired and yet I still carry your child. That is my punishment. But I’ve been blessed to be free of my desires for you and the…customs of your family.”

Aegon could only watch you with wet eyes at your confession. He searches your features pleadingly, hoping he can find deception in them. You couldn’t possibly feel this way towards him. You love him! He knows you do. You wouldn’t fuck him the way you did. You wouldn’t have held him the way you did. He knows you care.

You straighten up before slowly inching away. “I’ll be taking my leave at dawn—”

“No, no, no, no….” He chants over and over like a broken record, grunting as he sat up in his bed to reach for your hand and squeezing it tight. “You cannot leave me! I am your King! And I command you to stay by my side. You carry my child; the possible heir—”

“I’ve done no such thing.” You hiss.

“B-but you said…” He says, trailing off to stare at your protruding belly.

“As far as we’re both concerned, this depravity between you and I has never transpired. No one will ever know—”

“Please, no!” He cries, tears finally streaming down his face. They sting as they trail along the open wounds running across one half of his face but nothing could hurt in comparison to your rejection. “Don’t leave me. I do not wish to be alone. Everyone’s left me. Helaena, my grandfather, my hand, my mother, b-brother—you’re all I have left.”

“I will not take this responsibility,” You say, ripping your hand from him. “You have Larys. I know of your plans to leave for Essos. To walk amongst the ashes once the dust settles. I no longer have it in me to remain complicit to this war. I will raise my child somewhere where they shall never have to fear the weight of the crown.”

“Please, Auntie,” Aegon sobs, trembling. “I love you.”

“That’s unfortunate.” You whisper, turning your back on him.

You hear a loud cry behind you and all of a sudden you feel a pair of arms wrapped around your upper torso just below your bosom, holding you firmly.

“Let me go.” You hiss through gritted teeth, gripping his injured arm tightly but he simply yells out and holds you tighter.

“I can still be of use to you, Auntie. Maybe I cannot provide you with any more children but I’d live the rest of my life serving you, pleasing you.” He says, wet face pressed against your back.

“I require no such thing from the likes of you!” You whine, squirming and kicking.

Aegon pins you to his bed, placing wet kisses all over your exposed neck as you try to fight him off. He works on disrobing your clothes and you slowly give in to him, biting and sucking on his bottom lip while he tries to tear off your clothes. It takes him sometime as his fingers shook—-whether it was from pain or impatience you aren’t sure.

While you pull your dress off from over your head, he continues to trail kisses down your body. Aegon pays special attention to your round belly, one hand rubbing it tenderly. His free hand glides between the valley of your breasts, before clawing at the nearest breast. His fingers gently pull and flick at a hardened nub and it tears a guttural moan from your lips. You’re incredibly sensitive there.

“You’re so beautiful,” He whispers against your stomach, snaking up your body again to capture your nipple in his mouth. Your back arches, hands entangling in his hair while being cautious not to dig your nails in his scalp.

Aegon slurps. He drinks of your sweet milk that flows graciously from your teat. It spills from the corners of his mouth as he gratefully moans and whines against you.

“Oh, Aegon, I love you. I still love you,” You mewl, grinding down on his thigh between your legs. “I’m so sorry.”

He shows you that he accepts your apology, sticking his tongue in your mouth once more. You can taste your milk on his tongue, sucking on it earnestly.

His fingers part the fabric that separates your wet pussy from him and once he tests the waters—running a ringed finger through your folds—he plunges his longest finger inside you and immediately begins to work.

You gasp and his hand in your hair forces you to look in his eyes, to stare at his partially burnt yet still beautiful face. His mouth falls open after how tight and wet you are, missing that feeling of you around his cock. But somehow, it’s as if he can feel a phantom sense of pleasure coursing through his body.

He mimics your cries. Every whine, whimper and gasp thrown back at you until it’s as if he were competing with you.

Just as you felt like you were on the brink of cumming, he pulls his finger out of you and displays it over your face as if to brag. Your sticky wetness drips from the thick digit and you stick your tongue out to capture the essence on your tongue. Impatiently, you grip his wrist with both hands, lowering it to your mouth so you can suck on his middle finger as if it were the tastiest treat. You don’t even care about the metallic taste of his ring or the way he clashes against your teeth.

“My beautiful Auntie,” He praises with a groan. “I knew you could never leave your king. God, I need to suffocate between your legs. I’d die a happy man.”

He positions himself against his level pillows and beckons you towards him. “Please, love, I need you to ride my face.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” You say, brushing strands of hair that clung to his sweaty tear-stained face.

“You could never. No matter how hard you try,” He says with a warm smile. “I’ll always know you care.”

He sinks his finger into the thick of your thigh like a quiet order and you soon oblige, crawling over his body before making your way to hover over his face.

He lets out yet another thankful whine before he begins feasting on you. One arm coils around your thigh to keep you in place and bring your weight fully against him while the other trails up and down your naked body.

The pleasure becomes so overwhelming that you begin to grind and roll your hips against his face and he’s pleased beyond his reach, tears of joy prickling the corners of his eyes.

“Aegon! Fuck…p-please.” You’re sobbing now, holding onto his hair for dear life.

Your milk begins to flow once more, streaming down your body and in between your legs. The mixture of your honeyed juices along with your milk is an intoxicating concoction that has Aegon humping the air.

“I’m close! Oh, Gods, I’m going to cum all over your pretty face.”

“Yes, cummm, Auntie. Cum for me. Mmm.” Aegon hums eagerly. now both of his large hands held you down against him.

It’s as if he feels your pleasure through him, too, because the moment your eyes cross and you gush into his mouth. He begins to tremor and moan as well.

Both your sobs and gasps battle out until they mingle into one symphony. You continue to ride him until you’re satisfied that the aftershocks have ceased.

Pulling off of him, you immediately check on his well-being, cupping his face in your hands and examining him on each side. He laughs, placing a hand over yours.

“Relax, I’m just fine. Maybe a little sore but that comes with a territory,” He says before sighing happily. “How does life in Essos sound? You, me, our child…away from the war. Fuck it all.”

You smile, shaking your head as you aren’t sure whether he’s being serious or not but nonetheless you kiss the top of his forehead.

Unbeknownst to the two of you, Larys had been listening in the whole time, peeping through the crack of the door at your sensual tryst. Cum soils his hands as he stared at them angrily once he’s gained the clarity to see you as a threat to his standing.

[lqveharrington]

Feelings Mutual | C.G.

summary: Your forced to hangout with Cardan at the High King’s birthday celebration. Turns out, you both make stupid decisions when drunk. And what’s the fine line between hatred and love between two being who can’t lie anyway?

pairing: Cardan Greenbriar x half fae!fem!reader

includes: drunk Cardan, drunk reader, cursing, making out, suggestiveness, no use of Y/N, barely proofread (i think that’s it)

a/n: i’m on a reading spree, and working on my projects, so this should help get me out of a huge writing slump.

In Faerie, it was uncommon for a half fae, half human being to be a princess in the court. Your father — the King of one of the many lands — wed a human woman, causing you to become the land’s princess. Of course many of the court thought that you were lesser than them; For such a creation should never hold that high of a status.

Ever since you were younger, you often attended lessons with the High King’s youngest child. At first, you sought out to befriend him and his group of friends. But you soon found out that they loathed you. Because how could a halfling ever be a worthy princess?

So you gave up trying to befriend them. You let the group taunt you for not being full fae, but what was the worst thing they could do? You still were a daughter of a very powerful king. The very king that was the closest with the High King himself.

You and your family were constantly invited to all their gatherings, and this one wasn’t an exception. It was the High King’s birthday, which meant all of Faerie was invited to Elfhame palace to celebrate such a day. The only issue with that meant your father and mother urged you to talk to Cardan and his group.

“Mother, they don’t like me.” You wring your hands together, fidgeting with your silver jewelry.

She clicked her tongue, “Nonsense. Prince Balekin spoke of how much Cardan talks about you when he comes home from your lessons.”

“Wait what?” Your eyes widen at her in disbelief. “Mother, I’m sure they’re words of hate.”

“Is it because you don’t like your dress? Are you afraid they’ll hate it?” She tugged you to stand in front of herself. “You look gorgeous, angel.”

You purse your lips at her compliment. You truly loved the dress. It was a beautiful sage color that complimented your skin tone completely, and the corset really did wonders. There were gorgeous lace details of butterflies that were a shade darker, with a slit running down one side of the dress. It was beautiful, but you feared that it was much too modern for Faerie, causing your thoughts to wander to how Cardan’s friends would insult it.

“No, I love the dress, mother.” You give her a tight lipped smile, squeeze her hands. “If you truly wish for me to find Cardan, I’ll go and be friendly so you and father can enjoy your time here.”

“Thank you.” She pressed a kiss to your forehead and a real smile etched its way onto your face.

“Be safe, alright?” Your father squeezed your shoulder before leaning down to whisper words your mother couldn’t hear. “If trouble comes, you know what I’ve taught you. You have your dagger?”

Your lips twitch in excitement, “Of course.”

“Then you’re all set then, kiddo.” He gave you one last look before resting an arm around your mother’s waist. “I’ll come find you when it’s time for us to depart.”

You nod before taking a small bow. You watched them leave and make their way to the throne, immediately engaging with the High King and Queen. They seemed happy, which made you glad that they accepted your mother as their own. Shaking your head, you took a deep breath and blew out the air in one go. Carefully, you made your way over to Cardan. Luckily, he was on his own for once.

“Cardan.” You nod in his direction, watching his dark eyes with flecks of gold suddenly gazing into yours. Without fail, his eyes roam over your body, tail whipping behind himself after gaining someone’s attention.

“Princess! Don’t you look absolutely captivating tonight.” He slurred, red wine dripping out of his glass. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

You raised a brow at the prince. From what you could recall, he didn’t live inside the palace walls. And there wasn’t a chance he could lie either. “You don’t live here.”

“I used to.” He tipped his glass up to his wine stained lips, taking in the drink whilst taking in the sight of you.

“Where are your—“ You use your hand to gesture in the air as you grab your own glass of wine from a server passing buy. Unsure of how to word your question, you sip on the wine, immediately hit by its strength. “Where are your friends, I should say.”

“Off to bother some mortal or do something stupid.” He smiles in your direction as you down your drink and reach for another. “What’s upsetting you, princess?”

“Nothing.” You tilt your head toward him, eyes flicking down from his strange stare to his stained lips. “Just want time to move faster.”

“How drunk do you want to get?” He leans closer to you, fingers itching to pull you into him.

You place a hand to his mouth and push him further away from yourself. He hums as he traces his finger over his empty wine glass.

“How many glasses have you had, Cardan?” You tip back your third drink, missing his smirk while he watches.

“Enough.”

“Enough to forget?” You turn toward the table and grab the strongest drink, carefully downing the drink.

His shadow towers over you as his breath tickles your neck, “Forget what exactly, love?”

“I hate you.” You say against Cardan’s lips, arms loosely hanging around his neck. “I hate you so much.”

He continues to push you backwards as he slams the door behind him, hands finding their place around your waist. “Feelings mutual, princess.”

Letting your hand thread through his hair, you pull him in for a more heated kiss, tugging ever so slightly at his roots. Cardan groans against your lips, pulling your body closer to his.

“This is such a stupid idea.” You unwillingly part as he drops you down on a bed — hopefully one that used to be his. You let out a small gasp as he litters soft kisses on your throat and down to your exposed collar bone. Your hands find his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer. “Cardan—“

“Yes, love?” He slowly makes his way back up to your lips, pressing short kisses as you try to make sense of the situation. He stops attacking you with his lips, staring and waiting for you to continue.

You shake your head, eyes glassy with drunkenness as you meet his gaze. “Kiss me.”

“You’re too perfect for me.” He groans again, tasting the red wine from your lips as he kisses you harder. “God, I hate you.” Cardan mumbles as he lets his hands wander over your body, refraining from the more private areas at the moment.

Cardan allows you to wander over his own body, feeling you fidget with the hem of his shirt. Letting your hands slip underneath his shirt, you let out a small sigh before flipping the both of you over. You quickly toss your dagger onto the floor before meeting his lips again, the kiss heightening all your profound feelings.

As minutes turned into an hour more, you both fell into a pit of no return. The shared kisses were intensified, and without either party having a clear mind or being sober, neither could stop the motions that lulled them both to sleep very late into night.

It wasn’t until early afternoon that the pair awoke to the sounds of pounding at the door and a splitting headache.

“Your highness, your father is looking for you.” The voice called from outside the wooden doors, causing you to groan and bury your head into the warmth emitting from your bed.

A beat passed before the pounding occurred once more.

“Your highness—!”

“In a minute!” Cardan shouted, eyes shut from the dizziness and hangover. “For fucks sake…”

Your eyes widen at the voice, head rushing up before falling back down at the impact of a jaw. “Shit, that hurt.” You mutter, wincing when you felt the hangover hit you. Slowly, you remove yourself from Cardan’s arm, slightly frowning when you saw him rubbing his jaw. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to slam into you…”

“I think that’s the least of our concerns.” He grumbled, glaring at the door again.

He pushed himself up from the bed, eyes raking over your appearance. He smirked over at you before leaning against the headboard. You crease your brows before looking down and realizing whose clothes you were in — crossing your arms over the loose shirt.

“Princess, I think your father will be a little disappointed in you.”

“Why is that?” You roll your eyes at him, keeping one arm over Cardan’s shirt while running your free hand through your hair.

Your bored gaze meet his amused one, watching him tilt his head. You look away as you weren’t necessarily hiding the fact that you were eyeing his bare chest either.

He pulled you into his chest, despite your halfhearted protests. “Because you have hickeys all over your skin.” Cardan presses a kiss to your cheek, causing your breath to hitch.

All the memories from last name came rushing in, warmth filling your body at the thoughts. Your eyes flit to your dress and dagger scattered across his floor, still thinking of the punishment to come.

However, you did not regret him.

“I don’t think we drank enough last night.” You twist in his arms, lips barely touching his.

“I don’t think so.” He lands a soft kiss to your lips. “I still hate you, love.”

“Feelings mutual.” You straddle over his hips and rest your forehead on his, both your heads still pounding from last night’s activities.

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[hexlenx]

I'D PICK HER OVER ME — james fleamont potter

note: I do not own any of the characters in harry Potter except for the plot in this small fic. This is purely made for entertainment purposes as well as cuz I am craving for some angst.

warnings!: mentions of death, angst

__________________

James was tired, he really was.

Being a single father was hard, plus being an auror for the ministry. His schedule from his work as well as being a father at the same time was harder than the war that had just ended four years ago.

James sighed in exhaustion as he covered his eyes with his arm while laying on his bed. He had just came back from a meeting in the ministry that ended two hours ago. The meeting ended very late and he hadn't had the time to rest until earlier before waking up in cold sweat.

James had nightmares. It was always the same.

Getting paralyzed by a spell, watching his wife get killed by a dark curse, his son almost dying but some miracle happened and the curse thrown at him was rebounded towards the killer, and repeat. All the same thing, every night.

So James did the only thing that helped him everytime it happened. Sitting up as he groaned, he began to stand up to walk towards downstairs and to the kitchen. Arriving at the location, he began to brew tea. Normally when he was still in his adolescence, he would drink firewhiskey to cope with the war, but now he settled for tea that he added a teaspoon of honey to cope with his loss.

It was what his wife always had whenever she was stressed, tea with a bit of honey. Something he never understood why that preference until now.

"Papa?" A timid voice of a young boy called out to James making him snap out of his daze.

"Yes, Harry?" James said to his son. Harry was a four year old boy, unruly brown hair like his father, circular black glasses on his face because of the poor eyesight he gained from his father. He was practically the carbon copy of James Potter but the only thing different is his son's eyes. It was his mother's, the only woman James had ever loved.

"Where's Mama?" Harry questioned. The air stilled but the small child was oblivious of it. It was a very sensitive topic but it is not a taboo. With sharp intake of breath, James knelt down to his son's height, putting his hand on his shoulder as he fixed his gaze on Harry's.

"Your mother." James started as he paused for a moment to think of a sentence to explain why his mother is gone. "Is in a far away land, at the moment."

"But why so far?"

"Because, Harry, she is trying to protect us from something and she needs to go away for a while." That's it, James. The father encouraged himself. He's still young, tell him when he is old enough. He continued these thoughts as he looked at his son's thoughtful expression.

"Will she come back?"

Silence. There was no answer to that question as James embraced his son in his arms, brows furrowed as tears were threatening to fall from its sockets. The truth was, his mother was not gonna come back but how could he tell that to his four year old son?

Finally having set his son to bed, James took one last glance to Harry before going downstairs to sit on the couch of the living room. The honey-tea has long gone cold as he sat in front of the fire that was slowly dwindling. James stared blankly at it as his thoughts were loud but at the same time quiet.

If only you were here.

"If I could pick on who would survive that day, I would've picked you." James muttered to himself out loud, quietly sniffling his tears that slowly fell on his cheeks to his hands.

"Because you would've known what to do.."

The crying of a baby echoed through the house in Godric's Hollow. The scene showed a master bedroom, two bumps could be seen under sheets of the bed. As the cry continued, one of the figures moved.

"Fuck.."

A deep male's voice cursed out as he sat up, not being able to fall asleep now because of the noise. Another voice moaned out from being awaken from the movement of the man.

"I'll take care of him, love. Just continue sleeping." The man coaxed to his wife beside him who blinked at him to ask if he's sure.

"You sure?"

"Yea, you sleep and I'll tend, yea?" With that, the woman went back to her dreams as the man carefully unravels himself from the sheets before walking out the bedroom to the nursery.

"Shh, it's okay, Harry. I got you, bud." He said the moment he took Harry from the crib and coaxed him in his arms. The man was James Potter, the leader of the band of misfits, Marauders is now a father. The one thing he never knew he would be with the war going on.

Harry, the baby, now stopped his fussing and opened his eyes that he got from his mother to stare at his father. Smiling widely, he giggled and tried to reach for James' hair.

"Hey now, not the hair you little twit."

"Do not curse at our child, James Fleamont Potter." A stern melodic voice spoke out from behind the father who flinched as James chuckled sheepishly.

"I'm not...." James trailed off as he looked everywhere but his wife, who rolled her eyes.

"I swear, I can't leave you alone for one second with Harry." You scolded your husband with a slight slap on his arm making him grin at you.

"You love me!" James teased to which you rolled your eyes again.

"Unfortunately." You said while grabbing Harry out of his hands and propping him up on your hip.

"What is that supposed to mean?!"

James leaned against the door frame of the kitchen as he wore a pink apron with a giant cute teddy bear printed on its front, courtesy of Sirius saying it was to look husband material and James agreeing to it because he was told it was husband material, he was listening to you humming a small song to Harry as you kept him occupied by holding up a toy on your son's face.

James was cooking up lunch because he wanted you to rest and let him handle household chores while you occupy your son. It was the least he could do for you as the war lead both of you into hiding your son from the Dark Lord because of a prophecy. He knew you wanted to spend more time with Harry before the worse happens, so he did all the chores while you spend your time with your child, even after so many of your refusals.

James smiled in content as well as fondness as he watched the both of you. How could he have such a wonderful family with how arrogant and stupid he was when he was a teen. He didn't think he deserved such thing after being such a prejudice prick towards Slytherins.

"Take Harry and run!" James yelled out to you as he tried to push the Dark Lord back even if it was just for a delay. He couldn't let him get to both of you, you're all that he had left.

Successfully stunning the Dark Lord, James then ran upstairs to be with you and Harry. It was the only thing he could do to help you run away before the Dark Lord catches up. Unfortunately, James underestimated the Dark Lord's recovery from a stunning hex. The moment James arrived at the doorframe of the nursery of where you were, he fell paralyzed by the spell the Dark Lord had thrown at him.

"No.." James mumbled as his eyes went wide in horror. He kept chanting the word like a mantra as he helplessly watched the scene in front of him. His mumbles becoming screams as he sobbed heavily. Sweat dripped from his forehead as his face turned red, eyes squinting, brows furrowing hard as tears kept flowing down like a waterfall from his reddening eyes.

No...not my family..

Not the one I just built..

Please don't do this to me..

A green light blinded the whole room as a loud thump echoed the room. Silence overlapped as the Dark Lord grinned viciously. James' brown eyes stilled as he watched the limped lifeless body of the woman he was proud to say was his, the love of his life, the mother of his son, his wife, you.

James was not spared from tragedy as he now watched his son getting cursed by the Dark Lord before he stared in disbelief as the curse rebounded and hit the one who casted it. Watching as a lightning bolt of a cut appeared on his son's forehead.

But the moment he was free from his trap, he screamed in agony, not from his wounds, but from the death of his love.

"Now, Harry. If I could choose on who would've lived between me and your mother." James said to his son who was now in his teen, sixteen, as they stood in front of a gravestone. A familiar name etched in the stone.

[ Your Name ] Potter

[ Birthdate ] — October 31st, 1981

"In loving memory of a great friend, sister, mother, and wife."

"I'd pick her over me."

"Why?"

"Because, she would've known what to do."

[tadhgsstuff]

Simon fucking reader after the postpartum period and just cumming after one thrust because it feels that good

okayokayokay

thank you guys for sending in some stuff i love y’all

this is not proof read 💔

warnings: smut, insecurity, cursing etc

Simon is definitely on the more patient side (sometimes). At least he was before you had your daughter, don’t get me wrong he LOVES his little girl, he cradles her to sleep when shes fussy, he helps changing her and helps out as much as he can because he knows you’re stressed and its the first time being a parent for the both of you.

That being said, it is STRESSFUL to have a screaming child, a husband that works, and constant cleaning for the both of you, between all of this you’ve had no time to just- be together, have time with each other. Even late at night when shes finally gone to sleep, whoever didn’t put her down was already sound asleep, grasping onto whatever hours of REM they could gain.

You are both exhausted and you have no form of ‘relief’ for four to six weeks after you have the baby, and those four to six weeks were long and agonizing.

One faithful night, your mother drops by and offers to take the baby off your hands for a few hours, she lives a block away so she can call if there was any issue, at first you were hesitant to just give up your daughter but you know your mom is going to take great care of her, and probably spoil the shit out of her regardless of the fact that she cant comprehend the gifts given to her.

Finally you and your painfully attractive husband are alone, despite how much you craved him, every single centimeter of his body, his soul, his whole being, you were a little.. insecure. You rubbed your arm sitting close to him on the couch.

“Si’?”

“Yes, luvie?”

“Are you still attracted to me? Like physically? because I know I have all these stretch marks and my boobs wont ever be the same again and my body isn’t quite-“

He stops you.

“fuck are you talkin’ about? you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever fuckin’ met”

he says in a harsh tone, because he genuinely thinks you’ve lost your mind, having the idea that he wasn’t attracted to you every minute of every day.

“Well maybe before I was but-“

He cuts you off again but this time he pulls your face to his and crashes his lips against yours, a smooth but captivating kiss that gets rougher by the second

“I’ll just have to show you how fuckin’ gorgeous you are”

He stands up off the couch and picks you up with him, still holding onto the desperate and sloppy kiss, he grabs your ass on the way to the bedroom just to feel you moan into his mouth. He sets you down on the bed and unbuckles his pants, he watches you start to undress yourself and stops you.

“That’s my job baby, you jus’ relax n’ take it, ‘kay?”

He’s carnivorous, he needs you but he knows to be gentle, his goal is to make you feel good, take his sweet wife’s stress away.. he takes off your garments one by one, kissing every inch of your body revealed. His underwear grow tighter because of his painfully hard cock, aching to be taken in by you for the first time in months. He finally takes his boxers off and his dick springs up, pre-cum leaking out of the tip as you lay bare, staring up at him with those stunning eyes that have never failed to captivate him, and that just makes the overwhelming hunger grow stronger.

He teases your dripping cunt with the head of his dick, drinking in the image of you. You whine, needing him finally inside you, and just like that hes sliding himself in, slowly. Feeling your warmth around his thick member, he pulls back and pistons forward. You let out a loud moan as you grip his forearm and the sheet beneath you. Simon feels you clench up and suddenly your climax was there and done, you finished in the middle of his second thrust, squeezing your eyes shut.

“I’m so sorry baby- I don’t even know how-“

“It’s okay love, we’ll try again soon and we’ll make sure you get better”

He says with a deviant smirk painting his face, walking to the bathroom to grab a towel and then to finish the job with his hand and his imagination.

(I hope this was what you wanted!)

(Edit: Okay so I just reread the wording in the ask and I did not in fact write it correctly, BUT I can always rewrite it but reversed in the future sorry guys 😞)

[kayjaywrites]

Like Bugs in a Rug: Chapter One

Summary: Azriel Shadowsinger, mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, was head over heels in love with you for years. Everyone in the room could see it, except for you of course. A series of connected one-shots.

Chapter Word Count: 6,350 Chapter Music Inspo: End of It - Friday Pilots Club

Chapter Content Warnings: fluff, some cursing, one bed trope, awkward but wholesome communication, AFAB Reader, Reader (You), some details about Reader's appearance but overall vague, canon plot spoilers as this is canon compliant-ish, reader low key being thirsty for Azzie

Note: Hello! Welcome to my first fic in like 10 years! This idea came about when I was having a hard time falling back asleep. I sometimes draft fanfiction when i'm trying to sleep. I don't often remember the plots come morning, but the memory of this one remained intact enough for me to jot down. I’m thinking this update is gonna be the longest chapter because it's both prologue and the first chapter, but I have terrible self control with word count limits. So I guess we’ll see what the next chapters bring, but they may be shorter!

Enjoy me 2am fugue state musings, there are likely typos~

XxXx

Prologue

It was all worth it. The decades of patience and silent suffering. The centuries of loneliness paying off just as you lost hope of ever leaving The Court of Nightmares. You and your father, Kier, expected a typical visit from the Inner Circle. The High Lord would threaten your father to keep him in line, you’d go unnoticed in the back of the throne room monitoring the interaction. Just like every other time they visited.

Except, the High Lord and his Inner Circle asked about you like you were the reason behind their visit. You had clocked the visit as odd as soon as only Rhysand, Feyre, and Mor arrived. The absence of both The General & Shadowsinger at the same time a rarity. Despite being related to Rhysand and Mor, you didn’t think they knew your name, so when they asked Kier about you, by name, your heart damn near fell out of your ass.

They wanted you to leave Hewn City to work with them. A Courtier of the Night Court, working alongside Nesta, Lady Death herself, of all people. They wanted you to start immediately now that the war with Hybern was over. Relations between Courts were strained, and upon learning of your talent, the High Lord deemed it a waste for you to be hidden away down here. He and the Inner Circle believed you did not belong in The Court of Nightmares. To anyone else, having the High Lord speak so highly of your child would have been an honor.

It was the most furious you’d ever seen Kier. Which was saying something. His emotions grew volatile in a blink of an eye, outraged by the absolute gall of the High Lord. How dare he come to his city and tell him that you weren’t meeting your full potential down here? At some point Kier stood up, snarling at Rhysand and the others like a wild animal. Kier, so lost in his anger, let his mental shields falter. Just for a second, but it was more than enough time for your powers to draw his wayward thoughts to you, like a magnet, his unspoken intentions seeped into your own mind. You were always terrible at blocking him out when he got like that.

Power. Kier's thoughts whispered to you. A spy for him in the Inner Circle.

It disgusted you how predictable your father was, his intentions were always about how he could best use you for his own gain. It was the driving force behind your excessive training habits, desperate to protect yourself from the toxicity of his intentions. The more you failed at keeping him out, the more you hated him, and by default hated yourself.

Rhysand was right, you were wasted down here, and it wasn’t that your father didn’t see that, he didn’t care. He wasn’t furious with the High Lord for taking another daughter away from him, he was mad about losing a tool.

Well, your father could rot down here alone for all you cared.

You felt a lot of things in that moment. Intimidated by the prospect of working with Nesta, unsure of Mor’s morals and the rumors surrounding her, apprehensive of Rhysand and Feyre’s power, and not to mention all the unknown dynamics between the rest of the Inner Circle. But, despite all that uncertainty, you did not feel nervous about leaving Hewn City with them.

The first task Kier ever appointed you was to report on Rhysand and his Inner Circle’s intentions every time they visited. Either they all had flawless control over their mental shields, or their icy behavior was an act from the beginning. You never dared to share your suspicions with Kier, your father only wanted ammo for his hate, and he never took kindly to evidence that didn’t support his biases against High Lord Rhysand.

It felt a little too much like blind faith and a hunch for you to be 100% comfortable with the decision, but you decided to put your trust in these strangers anyway.

You would take the job.

Not to be a spy for Kier.

Not out of some duty to your High Lord or older sister.

It was time to live your life for you. Consequences be damned.

But, the focus of this story was not about moving to Velaris with Mor and getting to know the Inner Circle. It wasn’t about how much you rock as a diplomat for the Night Court. It wasn’t about how good it felt the first time sunlight touched your skin upon leaving the underground city. It wasn’t even about how you and Nesta became best friends. However good those stories may be.

However, this story is about Azriel Shadowsinger, and how the mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, fell head over heels for you without you ever picking up on it. Yeah, that’s right, the girl who struggled to control her talent for hearing unspoken intentions never puzzled the pieces together. For literal years everyone else in the godforsaken room could tell the Spymaster was in love with you, except for you.

...one year and a couple months later....

It all started with an argument with Rhysand a few assignments into your career as the Night Court Courtier. You felt like you could handle traveling between Courts without needing an escort, especially if you’d be meeting up with Nesta at the destination anyway. Rhysand did not agree, basically threatening to ground you if you didn’t allow someone to accompany you.

That was how Azriel had become your full-time travel partner. Rhysand appointed Azriel as an additional escort in case Nesta was pulled away.

You’d take this to your grave before ever admitting it, but Rhysand wasn’t wrong to be worried. There had been a good number of times where just that had happened. Nesta would be working the other side of the room, and having Azriel lingering nearby eased your nerves. Prythian was a vast Realm, and Rhys had been right in worrying about your adjustment.

It didn’t take too long for you to adapt once you had visited all the different Courts a few times. Yet, Azriel continued to go out of his way to accompany you to events. The first obvious sign of his affections for you came a little over a year into your career.

The event was in a small Day Court town on the border of the Night Court, just under a day’s travel from Velaris on foot. Home to one of the libraries hit hardest by Amarantha’s looting, the entire town was celebrating the return of a sizable chunk of the stolen volumes. The gala was advertised to be a quaint dinner and cocktail hour. You suspected that scholars and book enthusiasts would be the bulk of those present. Although interested in going, Rhysand had High Lord duties to attend to that involved Nesta and the other Archeron sisters in the Summer Court. With a promise to fill everyone in on anything of interest, you packed a small overnight bag and waited for Mor to arrive home. You never developed the ability to winnow, so you needed someone to bring you.

Fussing with your hair in one of the numerous mirrors decorating Mor’s walls, you couldn’t help but smile at your reflection. Your time in Velaris, just over two years, had already begun to sooth a deep sadness you hadn’t realized had settled under your skin. It was obvious in the gentle way you gazed at your reflection, the healthy flush of your cheeks, and the warmth of your thoughts. Velaris looked good on you, and as you smoothed a hand down the shimmery sapphire blue fabric of the dress that clung to your curves, you thought the new formalwear looked good on you too.

Giddiness bubbled up in you at the idea of modeling the new dress for Mor. The excitement felt foreign still, after spending centuries believing Mor didn’t care to know her own little sister. You never thought you’d ever get the chance to gush over dresses with her. Kier hated everything Mor represented, and was cruel to her in ways that made you feel lucky in a perverse way. Your father may have manipulated and alienated you, filling your head with lies about your older sister, but it was never public. Kier made sure everyone in the Court of Nightmares knew that Mor was a useless whore and a traitor.

When Mor became a core member of the Inner Circle, and Rhysand put her in charge of Hewn City, you would wait for her to acknowledge you during her visits. Decades turned into a century, but the same hope would always rise up when Mor was due for a visit, only to be crushed when she ignored you. She never paid you a second of her time, just a fleeting look in passing as if you were another spectator. Knowing that she wasn’t ignoring you out of ill intent stung more, because you couldn’t bring yourself to hate her.

Kier may be your father, but that didn’t mean you had to be a fan of his intentions. You never believe the rumors he spread about Mor.

And then, the big reveal came. It turned out that to Mor, you were just another spectator. Mor didn’t know she had a younger sister at all. Keir hid you so well that no one realized you were related to him. A detail that made you feel so small when it came to light. You were just the shy woman in the background, taught to be pleasant when spoken to, a pretty little wallflower the rest of the time.

Later, when you asked about who first realized your identity, you got mixed accounts from the Inner Circle. Rhysand insisted that it was he who put the pieces together first. Stating that it came to him suddenly after Azriel submitted a report from a surveillance mission detailing an overheard conversation between you and Kier about your talents. Rhysand claimed that your powers reminded him of a variation of Mor’s. The rest of the Inner Circle credited Feyre for noting the resemblance between you, Kier, and The Morrigan the first time she noticed you loitering at the back of a council meeting.

When the truth was confirmed, and you agreed to go with them, Mor wept. She vowed to never leave you alone in The Court of Nightmares ever again, even for a second. That promise was your first experience with making a deal in the Night Court. Your clear surprise at the intricate tattoo that branded itself over the center of your sternum clued Mor, Rhysand, and Feyre in on how out of touch you were with common lore from your own Court. Mor wasted no time in winnowing you out of there after that. The both of you had heard enough of Keir’s nasty sneers and low-blow comments to last a lifetime.

Now, Mor’s cozy little home was also your cozy little home, if not a bit tight for two people. If someone asked you a decade ago if you thought you’d ever have a relationship with Mor you would advise them to seek out a healer.

And yet there you were, vibrating with things to tell her, anticipating her arrival with an almost goofy grin when…Azriel of all people winnowed into the living room.

Perplexed, but not totally disappointed, “Oh!” you said, clearly taken aback. “I was expecting Mor.”

Azriel huffed a low chuckle, dimples bracketing his amused half-smile. “Sorry to disappoint.”

You looked him over, dark circles under his eyes, droopy eyelids, posture leaning forward in a slight slouch. “Az, didn’t you just return from a long mission? Why aren’t you resting?”

“Wanted to escort you to the Day Court Library Gala, of course.”

The tenderness in his voice had warmth bubbling up from your chest. “That is very kind,” you started, making sure to meet his gaze so he knew you meant it, “but you look so tired, Az. I’ve visited the Day Court a bunch of times now and only need someone to winnow me there. As much as I enjoy having you accompany me to these things, I don’t want you to stretch yourself thin on my account. I’ve got this.”

“I know you’ve got this,” came his immediate reply, “as you’ve pointed out I’ve been gone for a few weeks. What if I offered to escort you because I missed you, hm?”

Despite yourself you felt a flush of heat in your cheeks at his teasing. You refused to use your powers on anyone in the inner circle, unwilling to violate their privacy without explicit consent. But you didn’t need your powers to read Azriel’s sincerity. It made it hard to meet his gaze, you turned back to running your fingers through your hair in the mirror, taking a moment to compose yourself. “Well alright then, I don’t think I can do anything more to tame my hair, we should be off then.”

You felt Azriel at your back, a gloved hand coming up to gently grasp your elbow, guiding your arm down as his hand trailed down the bare skin of your forearm to hold yours, turning you to face him. “Stop fussing, you look stunning, this dress is new, right? I think the color suits you.”

You smiled. “Thank you, I suppose you would like this color, now that I’m thinking about it,” with your free hand you held up the skirt of the floor length dress to the siphon on his wrist, marveling at the color match, “it looks like I did it on purpose.”

He hummed in acknowledgement as he pulled you closer into an almost embrace. “We should go now. Wouldn’t want to miss the opening speeches.”

You suppressed a shudder. Definitely from the way his breath tickled your ear, and not from the way his voice sounded as he tucked you into his chest. “You hate opening speeches.” You pointed out, remembering all the times he complained about how boring they were.

“I do, but you like them.” You’d never said as much aloud, but you did enjoy listening to people talk about things they were passionate about, and opening speeches tended to be just that. Of course the Spymaster had noticed.

If Azriel saw your smile before you hid your face against his leather-clad pec he didn’t let on. You pulled your hands free and looped your arms around his middle, clasping your fingers together under the base of his wings.

“I’m ready then, thank you for coming with me.” Your voice was muffled, unwilling to tilt your head up to talk to him in case your maddening blush was there. It didn’t seem to matter how many times you winnowed with Az, your whole face would go cherry red. Something Cassian never failed to poke fun at whenever he witnessed it.

Azriel wrapped his arms tightly around you, your body now flush to his. You focused on the sound of his wings rustling as he tucked them in closer. Anything to distract from the way your pulse spiked when you felt his lips brush against the crown of your head, his hold on you gentle, yet firm and protective as darkness folded around the both of you.

XxXx

Neither you nor Azriel realized the issue with your room reservation until much too late. Upon arrival in The Day Court the both of you hurried to the event. The gala wrapped up around midnight, and like most of the other guests staying in town, you and Azriel retired back to the nearby Inn. With your strappy heels in hand and a pleasant buzz from the alcohol, you felt positively bubbly. Paused in front of your room, you let Azriel rummage through the small black purse at your side for the key. After almost leading them into the wrong room, Azriel took it upon himself to find the correct room and unlock the door.

Minutes later you were still trying to suppress a smile at how Azriel reacted with such mortification when he realized you’d led them to the wrong room. The mental image of the great Shadowsinger so frantic in his efforts to stop you from further jostling the doorknob, had you letting out a laugh before you could stop it.

“It’s not funny.” He grumbled as he swung the wooden door to your room open, leading you inside. You were on the verge of poking fun at him some more when you caught a glimpse of the interior layout. Right, you had RSVP’d expecting to attend the gala alone. The realization sobered you up real fast.

The room was small, burgundy curtains concealing a sizable window, antique desk with tourist flyers stacked in a neat pile on top. A queen sized, four post bed situated in the middle of the room.

“I’ll take the floor—” Azriel started saying.

But you interrupted him. “—you should have the bed.”

“Absolutely not, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let a lady sleep on the floor while I hogged the whole bed.” He nodded, as if the conversation was over, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes at him.

“There’s not even enough space on the floor for you to stretch out Az. The room is basically only bed. It’s fine, I can use my extra clothes—”

You inhaled sharply, tensing at the thought of your overnight bag, left forgotten back at Mor's apartment. Your eyes darted to Azriel, meeting his gaze out of the corner of your eye, and you knew you didn’t need to say anything about it as he scoffed under his breath.

“You forgot your bag.” He observed.

Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair, your tight dress feeling like it was constricting around your chest as you contemplated sleeping in it. “I did indeed forget my bag.”

“We could just go back, we don’t have to stay here for the night.” Azriel pointed out, but the thought of cutting the trip short caused a ripple of disappointment to drop in your stomach.

“Or,” he continued with a hint of amusement, “I have an undershirt beneath my leathers. I changed before I met you at Mor’s, so it’s relatively clean. I was going to sleep in it tonight, but I would sacrifice my shirt for you if it meant you’d stop frowning like that.”

If you thought you were anxious before, Azriel’s suggestion sent your anxiety through the roof. You had always found Azriel attractive, even when you were still living in Hewn City. Who wouldn’t? That attraction grew into a bit of a crush when you first arrived in Velaris. He treated you with such care as you adjusted to living above ground, quiet, patient, and thoughtful.

Once it was apparent that you would be working closely with him you shut that shit down. You and him had spent a lot of time traveling together the last few years, always with separate sleeping arrangements, and never sharing clothing. You went out of your way to respect his privacy, give him space, all in hopes of being someone he one day could trust, like how you trusted him.

You could handle one night, sharing a bed, borrowing his shirt. That wouldn’t totally backfire on you in any way, right? Nodding to yourself once, you tried for an air of confidence as you talked around the nerves that have bloomed in your chest.

“Okay,” you agreed, “but if I change into your shirt you definitely can’t take the floor. I won’t let you sleep shirtless on the ground while I’m all tucked in and cozy in bed. I’ll only take up a sliver of it by myself anyway.”

He opened his mouth to object, his intentions written in the way his brow furrowed at you. But you barreled on anyway, “So, we share the bed tonight. Are you comfortable with that?”

His mouth snapped shut, eyes studying you for a tense moment as if you may be tricking him. You clasped your hands together in front of you, the longer you waited for him to respond the clammier your palms felt. Each second felt like an eternity and in no time at all you found yourself scrambling for a way to play off your idea as a joke.

Of course he wouldn’t want to share a bed with you. What in the world had you been thinking?

Maybe you could blame it on that deliciously fizzy drink you downed before leaving the gala, say you weren’t in your right mind. Pretend to not remember in the morning, as if this wasn’t going to be a moment you cringe about decades later. Would you be able to just laugh it off? Would Azriel be chill enough to let you live this down? You were probably so screwed.

He was still a little tense, but just before your panic truly took root Azriel began to nod his head like he...agreed with you?

“Yes, I think that is the most logical solution. The bed can definitely fit two.” Azriel finally said, and you tried to keep yourself from gaping at his response. But your surprise must have been all over your face because he went on to say, “I didn’t suggest it myself because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Wiping your hands down the front of your dress did little to help with the sweat. The pit that had been taking form in your stomach churned, your dread morphing into jittery nerves.

Then, as if you weren’t having a nervous breakdown right in front of him, the handsome lunatic started striping his leathers off. Dept hands tossing his gloves to the desk, he unclasped the chest pieces of his leathers, they fell to the floor with a thud. Then, the promised black undershirt was up over his head, and you were drinking in all his tattoos and corded muscles like you were a tactless teenager instead of a 300+ year old female.

A flash of movement from him, and you flinched when his shirt hit you square in the face. It was so big it draped over your head. You made a disgruntled noise, ignoring how delicious the shirt smelled as you removed it from your face, “Hey—!”

“If you’re done gawking at me like you’ve never seen a shirtless male, you can get ready for bed first.” He headed further into the room, collecting his chest piece off the floor and approaching the desk to place it with his gloves. He turned to face you, his butt propped against the desk as he gestured to the door his wingspan had been blocking from view. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, flexing his biceps, and you almost swooned at the sight. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Your fist tightened around the shirt, fighting the urge to toss it back at him out of spite. Embarrassment felt like hot iron under your skin, so instead you snapped your attention to the door he had pointed out–the bathroom. You knew you’d averted your gaze much too fast to seem unaffected by him. He chuckled, and you glowered at him as his head tilted to the side, watching you with a bemused expression. He looked about ready to comment further, but you waved him off with faux-annoyance and an exaggerated roll of your eyes. Clutching his shirt close to your chest, you escaped into the bathroom.

Subtle.

Pressing your back to the door, it closed under your weight. You paused there for a moment to focus on your breathing, your frazzled mind going a mile a minute. This was all so far out of your comfort zone, it wasn’t even funny. You never had to deal with handsome males in The Court of Nightmares, Kier didn’t let you socialize long enough for it to even be on your radar. Dating hadn’t quite made your list of top priorities upon arriving in Velaris either.

What little experience you did have was with a male named Allistair. You’d met him at Rita’s within your first year above ground. It was a fling of sorts that lasted a few months before you decided casual dating wasn’t for you. He was a perfectly adequate lover. At least you think he was. He was also your only lover. A nice enough companion as you acclimated to your new life. The times you had been intimate with that male had left you feeling…bereft. Seeing Allistair shirtless had been nothing like seeing Azriel shirtless.

And Azriel calling you out for ogling him so blatantly? Mother have mercy.

So now you were just expected to fall asleep next to him wearing his shirt after that? The situation almost made you want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. The last thing you wanted was to draw his suspicion by loitering against the door for too much longer, so you moved to the sink. Maybe splashing lukewarm water on your face would reveal that this had all been a weird ass nightmare.

Cupping water into your face a couple more times, you took in the smeared makeup dripping down your face in the mirror. Definitely not a dream.

Azriel was going to think you were in love with him for fucksake.

Snatching the nearby hand towel from the rack on the wall you soaked it, and got to work on scrubbing your face clean. You had to have a little more faith in Azriel. He wouldn’t let a single weird moment ruin over a year of amicable teamwork. But your personal relationship with him felt fragile to you at best. You can't let some tattoos and abs mess up what you considered to be the most solid friendship you’d made among the Inner Circle.

So what if he was hot as hell? You could co-exist with attractive people, it was legit a part of your job. You could salvage the situation, just change out of the dress you accidentally matched to the colors of his siphons, put his shirt on that smelled so strongly of him it gave you a headrush, and face him like you hadn't just been drooling over his naked chest.

You know, simple.

The hem of his t-shirt landed just above your knees, and the comfort you found in it was criminal. The black fabric was very soft and so baggy that you worried the wing slits in the back would shift forward in your sleep. It could reveal a little more than what you’d considered 'tasteful side boob'.

Resisting the urge to fuss in the mirror (because it wasn't like you were trying to look cute for anyone, right?), you exited the bathroom clean faced and a bit more settled than when you had entered.

Your bravado, however, was short lived. Azriel faced away from you in only his underwear, the rest of his leathers added to the pile on the desk. He was organizing his various knives on the bedside table closest to the main door.

He looked over his shoulder at you. Totally not catching you checking out his butt in the tight underpants. Cauldron boil you. Would it be weird if you marched yourself back into the bathroom to try the whole “not affected by sexy, almost nude Illyrian warrior” thing again?

Azriel inhaled sharply, and you snuck a glance at him. His attention was back on his knives, but there was a tension to him, almost like he was brooding. There might have been a light blush over his cheeks, but you felt weird analyzing him anymore than you already had out of habit. You clocked the change in his body language for what it was the instant he saw you in his shirt. Clenched jaw, tense shoulders, spine ramrod straight, wide eyed before averting his gaze, elevated heart rate–classic signs of attraction. Reactions he clearly didn’t want you to notice.

"I'm taking this side." He informed almost absently, patting the mattress. Leaving you with the window side.

You wandered to the desk to avoid observing him further, wishing that you could turn off the part of you that always seemed to be prying for more information. And then you felt it, his thoughts getting louder, his emotions growing wilder, reaching out to you. You slammed your mental shields up hard, a gross feeling taking root when it was too late.

Protect. Azriel’s intentions conveyed to you. Protect. Comfort. Provide. Here you were invading his private thoughts without his knowledge, while he was concerned with your wellbeing. What was the point of all that effort Rhysand put into teaching you how to better control your mental shields? It never worked when you needed it most. The failure stung, and you had to busy yourself with folding your dress in a neat square so you had something to keep your hands from shaking.

It was quiet for too long, and you struggled with recalling what he had said to you before you’d lost control. Something about the bed. "Sounds good to me." You decide on saying, placing your dress next to his leathers.

Azriel didn’t seem to find your reply out of the ordinary. Small mercies.

"I'll be out in a few minutes, then." His voice was rougher than before, and it sent chills down your spine. As soon as you heard the bathroom door click shut you scurried into bed. You couldn’t get under the covers fast enough, pulling the blankets up to your neck with a hefty sigh of relief.

It felt awesome to be laying down after such a long evening on your feet. Too bad you couldn’t enjoy it more, instead drowning under waves of shame. Maybe you’d never get a full handle on your powers. Maybe the Mother was teaching you a lesson in this life? You couldn’t fathom what the moral could be. You wanted more than anything to be able to mind your business.

You wished you could turn your brain off. Alas, even your guilt couldn’t stop you from reflecting and organizing what you’d just observed. Not only had you heard his intentions, but you also felt them. Unlike the sweet warmth of his thoughts, his gaze had felt like desire and bad decisions.

He didn’t seem like he was actively seeking to bed you. You reasoned that you were also an available female wearing nothing but his shirt and a pair of panties. You could only imagine how all of that must have chafed against his Illyrian instincts. Rhysand had once mentioned that Illyrians were possessive and protective at best, controlling and jealous at their worst.

Surely those possessive instincts were what you were picking up on, then. You were covered in his scent after all. That was the only logical explanation for his reaction, his instincts were telling him to protect you because you were vulnerable and wearing his clothing. Even if it didn’t quite sound right to you, it was the only explanation you were willing to entertain. You were barely friends, there was no way Azriel wanted to court you. The thought sent a fleeting pang of disappointment through you that you refused to examine.

Whatever. There wasn’t anything you could do to make the situation less messy right now. You were exhausted, and stewing on scenarios that would never amount to anything real was unlike you.

Snuggling further into the sheets, you decided it was best to just pretend you hadn’t noticed shit. The damage was done, Azriel wasn’t dumb, he at least knew he had flustered you. You weren’t going to draw any more attention to that tonight. Or tomorrow. Or ever. Everything about this night was a fluke.

Azriel returned from the bathroom, and you kept your focus on fluffing your pillows. Sitting up you tossed an extra pillow onto the floor, and you could feel as soon as his eyes landed on you that some of his…instincts…were still acting up. You pulled the comforter back up to your neck as he got into bed next to you. Turning on your side to face him you were determined to be normal. No more awkward gawking allowed tonight.

He stretched his arms up above his head, his joints popping a million times as he groaned in relief. You couldn't help chuckling at him, the fearsome Shadowsinger of the Night Court, doing something so mundane.

Scooting further onto the bed, Azriel rolled over to meet your gaze, his wings tucked close to his back as he settled. Most of his wingspan spilled over the side of the bed anyway. He surveyed you, eyes lingering along your tired but genuine smile, and you saw the stern tenseness slowly leave his body. "You sure you're comfortable with this?" He asked.

Your smile turned a tad warmer. This male was just so kind, so different from what you knew in Hewn City. "I am, I trust you Azriel." It was the truth. You didn't have friends growing up, and although you may have a long way to go before Azriel truly called you his friend, you considered him a dear (sexy) friend.

Your words seem to settle something in him, and you could have sworn you saw something almost affectionate flash across his face. You blink, and it's gone, but the fuzzy feeling it left in your chest remained.

Like he sensed your mushy thoughts, he ruined the moment. "So I have to ask you something, it’s serious.”

Your brows raised in bemused interest, the scenario with him wishing to court you snapping to the forefront of your mind again. He’d always been very attentive to you, but in a worried protective way. You’d never picked up on any romantic intentions from him before, and he’s not the type to make a decision like that on a whim. The chance was small, but you couldn’t 100% rule out him wanting to ask you out. Could you say no to him? Would you even want to say no? You’d never considered this as an option before!

He held your gaze, as if for dramatic effect and then with the seriousness of a top notch spymaster he asked you, “You have seen a shirtless male before...right?"

Maybe it was a mistake to consider this male kind, he was a menace all along.

You had never rolled your eyes so hard at someone. Unbelievable.

Turning away from him with enough force to toss your hair in his face, you are rewarded with the sound of his indignant grunt.

"Can you turn the light off please?" You snap, unable to rein in your annoyance. Unsettled by how it tasted almost like rejection.

"You didn't answer my question." He goaded, and you fell right for it.

"Yeah, because it's a silly question." You fire back.

He hummed at your response, "Doesn't seem like you think it's a silly question."

You would rather swallow your own tongue than admit to Azriel that you’d seen shirtless males, but he had been the first you’d enjoyed seeing shirtless.

Done with the line of questioning, you blindly flung your arm back, swatting at him. He startled at the contact, and he exhaled a scoff when you didn't stop flopping your arm at him after the first blow.

He caught your wrist, stilling your flailing. "Fine, fine, I'll drop it," He let go of your wrist, “for now.”

You shifted to burrow further into your pillows, totally not dwelling on how his big hand wrapped around your wrist made you feel dainty. The texture of his scars hadn’t made your heart skip a beat either. Nope. Not at all.

"Could you shut the light off please." You asked again with more venom than you intended. It bothered you how easy this male could get under your skin. He wasn’t even trying.

You felt his weight shifting, the bed frame squeaking a bit as he moved. "Anything for you, Princess." He shuffled a little more, and then the light went off, casting the both of you in darkness.

The nickname made you grimace into your pillow. No one had ever called you that before, and you really didn’t want it to catch on.

You felt him return to the position on his side facing you. Some moments passed in loud silence, and although you were the one that let the conversation drop, the residual tension in the room was killing you. There was no way you would be able to fall asleep, and you would bet that Azriel was stewing in the tension too.

"Az?" You whispered. His response was quick like he’d been waiting on edge for you to speak, "Yes?"

"Goodnight." And you found yourself meaning it. You hoped he got some sleep tonight despite the turmoil he had so effortlessly sowed in your stomach with his teasing. The prick.

You could practically hear the mischief in his voice. "Sleep well, princess."

Ugh. Your stomach coiled, but not in an entirely unpleasant way. Very dangerous. It was an inappropriate reaction, and you wrote it off as stress. However as hard as you wished to forget it, you wouldn’t be forgetting how Azriel had made you feel that night anytime soon.

Even your racing thoughts couldn’t stop sleep from finding you, putting you out of your misery.

And if you woke up to the sounds of song birds that morning, your face pressed against Azriel's neck, your body sprawled atop him while he slept on his back, then that was your business. No one would know if you relished being in his arms a few minutes longer than necessary. You wouldn’t confirm nor deny if one of his hands had looped through a wing hole of his borrowed shirt, his fingers resting just under your breast.

And so what if it had been the best sleep you'd gotten since leaving Hewn City. And if Azriel seemed more well rested than usual on your return to the Night Court, you certainly didn't notice that either.

XxXx

Next Chapter

[fiapartridge]

♡ how you get the girl | quinn hughes

quinn hughes x fem!reader

summary: after you walk out on quinn, he realizes he made the biggest mistake of his life, leading him to your doorstep. wet, soppy, and begging for forgiveness.

warning(s): cursing, kissing and grinding and stuff leading to sex but no actual sex described??? idk it just gets heated, angst but there is a happy ending!!!! <33333

author's note 💌: i love writing for quinn. he's my fave. anyways, i got a request to do a part two to the "you're losing me" imagine so! hope u enjoy!

read part one here !!

YOU LEFT HIM. And for a moment, the longest moment of his life, it felt like Quinn’s heart stopped beating. It felt like a wake-up call. 

Ever since becoming captain, his focus shifted. His eyes grew tired, waking up before you had the chance to pepper him with kisses in the morning. His arms felt sluggish, coming home later and later, trying to perfect his performance, trying to be a good captain for the team, trying to be the person they needed after a terrible, horrific season. He was trying so hard to be what they needed that he forgot about the most important person in his life, and what she needed.

The second you walked out the door, he knew he fucked up. He knew he should’ve called out for you, or kissed you before you had the chance to break up with him and end it all, or promise to be there, to be what you needed. But that argument—it felt like the end. He hadn't lost you in that moment; you had been slipping away for much longer.

“Hey, where’s Y/N going?” Brock drunkenly draped his arm over Quinn’s shoulder, watching him watch the door like you were going to come back and rush into his arms, saying that it was all a huge mistake; that you didn’t mean what you said; that you didn’t care that Quinn had made no time for you in the months he became captain. But that’s not who you are. When you say something, you mean it. 

“I fucked up,” he whispered, like he didn’t want to believe that it was true. 

Brock’s brows raised, his words a bit slurred but still comprehensive. He pouted. “What did Captain Huggy do now?”

“She asked me if I wanted to marry her.”

Brock released a breath as if gaining his sobriety. “Oh shit. What’d you say?”

Quinn gulped, not believing the words he was gonna say. Of course he wanted to marry you. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. He would give up anything to be with you, even hockey. And he should’ve said it, he knows he should’ve said it. But would you even believe him if he did? He hasn’t spent a waking minute with you for the past three months. You don’t do that to someone you love. “I said no.”

“What did you want to say?”

Quinn didn’t even hesitate. He didn’t have to think about his answer. “That I would marry her in a heartbeat. That I fucked up and I don’t even know how to fix it.” That when he’s asleep, you’re the only thing he sees in his dreams; that when he’s at practice, and he sees his teammates with their wives and kids, he wonders what it would be like for you to be there, your child on your lap, cheering him on from the stands; that he knows he’s been neglecting you, but he just felt like you would always be there, even if he stopped paying attention. 

“So what’re you gonna do?”

Walking back into the party, Quinn scrambled to find his car keys, ignoring the questions of where he’s going and if he’ll return because, for once, he didn’t care about what they thought about him. All he thought about was making it up to you and getting you back.

After fifteen of the longest minutes of his life, he finally made it to your apartment. He knew you would be here instead of his, but it broke his heart nonetheless. You always said that you hated being here. It felt cold and lonely in contrast to Quinn’s, but after these past couple months, neither apartment felt like home. 

It was raining outside as he paced outside your apartment complex, trying to come up with the right words, not wanting to say something that’ll upset you further. His suit was wet, his hair shaggy, and his new white socks a squishy mess. You deserved more than him, he thought. You deserved so much better. Someone that would actually be there for you and love you and take care of you. That wasn’t Quinn; it was never going to be Quinn, but the least he could do was try.

Knocking on your door, Quinn shook from the rain, and maybe also from a little bit of fear. As terrible as it sounds, he knew you still loved him, but he was worried that that part of your heart was growing smaller and smaller by the second. 

Opening your door, you saw the wet mop on his head and his flustery red cheeks. He was standing in a puddle of rainwater and his hands were trembling. You wanted to hold them, give him a mug of hot chocolate, and warm him up. Swaddle him in a fuzzy blanket, cuddle him, and never let go, but you were also pissed as hell. Why was he standing here? Did he want to rub it in some more? That the only guy you’ve ever truly loved, that you ever actually considered marrying, doesn’t want you? That’s just messed up.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, anger still laced in your tone. But you felt like your heart was stuck in your throat. You wanted to push it down, but the longer you looked at Quinn and his sad stupid eyes, you resisted it a little less.

“I was afraid,” he muttered, a little less than a whisper. 

You rolled your eyes. You’ve been together for years, and he was afraid to tell you he loves you? That he sees a future with you? That he could maybe possibly want to marry you? 

Not wanting to hear his excuses, you held your hand on the wood, attempting to close the door as he held it open, a plea in his eyes—please hear me out. “I was afraid that I wouldn’t be what you needed. You shouldn’t marry me. You deserve so much more than me, Y/N.”

You scoffed. “And that’s supposed to be your decision? I get to decide who and what I deserve, not you.” Tearing your eyes from him, Quinn felt his heart plummeting even faster. He can’t lose you. “You know, maybe you were right, Quinn. Maybe we don’t have a future together.” 

Was he dying? Was Quinn dying? Is this what death felt like? He felt like he was dying. Everything was going wrong. He was wet, you two weren’t back together yet, and somehow you are even more mad at him than before he came.

Just be honest, his mind screamed.

“I thought that I needed to be what everyone else needed,” he said, staring at the puddle of rain he tracked in. “I needed to be a good captain, I needed to be a good player for the fans and for the organization, I needed to be good for my family, but I forgot about you and what you needed.”

“You don’t need to be on for me, Quinn!” you shouted, not caring for your neighbors that could probably hear from down the hall or the people walking past your guys’ melodramatic scene. “If you just told me how you felt, I would’ve been there! I would’ve been there for you!” your eyes were stinging, sparkling with unshed tears. “But you pushed me aside like I was nothing.”

“Y/N-”

“No, no.” You shook your head. “I think you should go-”

“I’ve thought about marrying you since the moment I met you. Since the moment you met my family and you couldn’t care less that Jack had no idea what personal space was, and that Luke was in love with you so he always asked to sit next to you at dinner. And how invasive my parents were and my grandma giving you those crazy ten-minute-long hugs and always asking you when you were going to give her grandchildren. I’ve thought about marrying you since our first date when I got whipped cream on my nose from the funnel cake we shared and you licked it off even though it was our first date, and I thought ‘this girl is crazy and I think I’m in love with her.’ I’ve thought about marrying you every time we went to a wedding together, not even caring about the actual ceremony because I was imaging it was you and I walking down that aisle and you would start crying during your vows but you’d somehow also sneak in some sort of joke about me balding soon that would get everyone laughing and I would somehow fall more and more in love with you than I was before. 

Quinn walked closer, you let him. “Believe me, I want to marry you, Y/N. I would do it right now if I could.”

“So why-”

“I saw you pulling away. I knew I was losing you. I knew that hockey and my life and everything going on right now was hard, and I didn’t want you to be stuck with it if we got married. I didn’t want you to feel like you were stuck with me.”

You breathed out shakily, not expecting…any of that. “I don’t care if you go on roadies every other week, bring me with you. I don’t care if you have a bruised eye or a missing tooth, I’ll be there with an ice pack. If you have to practice from 5 in the morning to 5 in the afternoon, wake me up and I’ll be there with snacks! If the Canucks tank this entire season or they win every single game, I’ll still be here. I don’t care about any of it," you shook your head. "I only care about you. 

You held his wet cheeks, his eyes closing against your warm palms. “I’m not stuck with you,” you whispered against his lips. Planting a soft kiss, you felt him chasing your lips as you pulled back. “I want to be with you forever. But what do you want?”

For the first time in his life, he didn’t have to think. “I want you, Y/N. I want to marry you, and grow old with you, and do everything with you. I just- I want you.”

Standing on your toes, you pulled Quinn into a kiss, his lips quickly closing the distance. He melted into your body, his hands finding themselves underneath the fabric of your shirt, wrapping his arms around your torso as if you were going to dissipate into a clear mist.

As you backed into the apartment, Quinn kicked the door shut, sealing the world outside. With the living room dimly lit, you found yourselves on the couch, pulled gently onto his lap, his hands exploring the curves of your body. “I love you,” he whispered, wanting to get closer, closer, so much closer.

Meeting his urgency, you grinded against his hard-on, licking his lips. “Yeah?” 

He nodded profusely, already imagining you back at his apartment, where you were meant to be, in his bed, in his shirt, moaning his name. “Yeah.”

You smirked, lifting your shirt over your head, your lacy red bra being on full display. Quinn's eyes drank in the sight, his desire palpable in the air. “Show me how much.”

Quinn wasted no time, his hands finding the clasp of your bra, skillfully releasing the constraints. As the fabric fell away, his hands traced the contours of your skin, a silent vow to explore every inch. To kiss each mole and each dimple, and thank whatever godly entity led you to him. 

"Wanna marry you," he moaned into your lips.

"You obsessed with me or something?" you smirked, giggling as he lifted you from the couch, carrying you to your bedroom.

"Something like that."

[yawneon]

percy will a s/o that’s always sleeping🫶

BLUE - NOISE

a/n : this is so bad 😭😭😭

pairing : in love!percy jackson x hermes kid!reader

summary : in which percy jackson has his best birthday yet.

!!! : praying for more reqs, this one is so cute, i try my best 😞, maybe the plot was the friends we made along the way, unspecified demigod reader, book percy, ooc camp, i wanted it to be rainy in camp so ITS GOINF TO RAIN 🤬, the curse of never being able to write alot returns, THIS IS SO BAD

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

people at camp could’ve sworn there had been a mix up in olympus.

you. an hermes child? what a laugh.

you had to be a kid of hypnos. you slept so much, how couldn’t you? genuinely you couldn’t peel yourself off your bed like ever. everyone in camp knew, you were the person in cabin 11 that won’t get out bed if not needed. alcoholics had alcohol, gamblers had casinos but you… you had something far more worse.

you had the (in your humble opinion) the most comfortable bed in all of camp. sure, it wasn’t a 5 star hotel quality but shit was it good.

and more importantly it was the beds fault that you were oh so tired all the time and you just needed to sleep more than half the day.

everyone else couldn’t care less.. your siblings would just give you a small glance before ignoring you because honestly it was more surprising to see you awake! and trust me when you started dating percy.. did this get worse.

whatever you thought about having the best bed in camp was trampled on and thrown over a cliff edge the moment you laid in percy’s bed.

not only was his bed adorned with comfortable sheets and pillows his cabin was quiet.

-

percy didn’t understand however.

how on earth could you sleep when you have the most handsome and amazing boyfriend in all of the whole universe??

he has whined and frowned at you multiple times but you’ve slickly avoided his dramatics by lathering him up with sweet and sappy comments like “im dreaming of you~” that make annabeth and grover cringe at when he goes and boasts to them.

but today,

today you couldn’t avoid the dread of getting out of bed.

-

you stood at the foot of his bed holding a plate of waffles, blue ones. it was far too early for you, (it was 8am) but it was percy’s birthday. you weren’t going to neglect your boyfriend because gods you would never hear the end of it. so you decided to go against your force of nature and got up to whip up a batch of waffles for him.

despite it being the midst of summer rain pelted down against the hard exterior of cabin 3. it didn’t rain usually in camp, the rain would usually just pass right by but maybe the gods were arguing again and the storm was especially hard this day.

sluggishly you drag your feet to stand beside the bed in which percy sleeping.

you wished that was you.

the plate adorning the blue waffles are set down on his bedside table and you place a gentle hand on his shoulder shaking him. despite your (sucky) efforts he doesn’t stir awake.

you grab his arm now with both hands and you shake him harder than before and finally does he grumble awake.

he looks up at you, confused.

“happy birthday, idiot” you pick up and hold the plate of waffles up so he could see them a tired but sweet look on your face. he sits up on his elbows and a dopey smile appears on his face, a very common smile he shines when he looks at you.

“this all for me?” percy sits up fully now taking the plate from you and he smiles bigger now gaining his full conscious. he pats the empty side of the bed next to him and you basically throw yourself into the white sheets.

despite the innate need to sink further in and take ahold of the sleep thats so desperately trying to drag you down you sit up and watch him. “you’re up, today.” percy teases, his shoulder nudging yours.

“just shut up and eat your breakfast.” you laugh softly amused by his jokes.

he begins gobbling the waffles down, scoffing down the cream on top and cleaning the plate of any remains of food. it was actually very impressive how well he ate all of it.

percy’s eyes trail to the window of his cabin his eyes watching as the raindrops pelt down at the glass and the sound of the rain hitting the walls and roof echo loudly.

-

percy places the plate back onto the bedside and looks out the window. “say aye if your in to stay home all day?” he peeks at you, another dopey smile that you just couldn’t resist is painted on his face.

you didn’t even reply to him, your arm snakes around his collarbone and you basically slump him into bed. you both lay on your back and then percy starts talking.

he always did this. percy would talk and talk and talk while you laid next to him, even if you were asleep he would keep going. just the feeling of having you next to him was comfortable so he would talk about all different kinds of things and today wasn’t any different.

you however wanted to listen to him today but oh geez was it hard.

again it wasn’t your fault that his voice was smooth and calming to listen to even of he was talking about how he fell one time and scraped his knee when he was 7. it was like ypur white noise. you already slept a fuck-ton and having a boyfriend with the most sweetest voice was not helping you.

he held your hand as he laid next to you, his eyes tracing every detail of the ceiling as his fingers dance along your palm. he starts telling you all about how his first quest went. a story you’ve heard over.. and over and over again.

“when i started my quest..” blah blah blah.

your eyes shut and all you could focus on was his voice and the noise of water hitting the window panes. his hand was warm in yours and with his free hand percy pulls the covers over the both of you so only your heads were poking out. he slips his arm under your head and his other hand grabs yours again as he keeps rambling on.

before you could fully drift off you turn into him, you could feel his eyes on you as he watches you shift and his words pause for a moment.

“i love you.” he whispers, hoping that you were asleep. you smile into his skin, a clear sign you were still all there.

“i love you too, happy birthday percy.” you half open your eyes you pull his face down by grabbing his cheeks and you kiss under his eye before moving back down.

percy flashes his signature smile before his story changes from his quest to tell you about how on his 9th birthday his mom baked him a blue cake and how it was awesome. you make a mental note to yourself before drifitng off.

you dreamt of percy that night.

let me rephrase that.

you dream of percy.

you dream of him even though he is yours.

his pretty green eyes, his black hair, his sandy skin on the beach. but more often than not you dream of him like how you are now.

cuddled up beside you, warm under the covers as he tells you about all kinds of things like how he thinks the universe was made.

you dream about him dreaming of you which you know he does (since he tells you).

you dream about the way he wants you despite your sleeping routines, you dream about the way he calls you his sleeping beauty.

yet all those dreams are the reality you live. maybe missing a few hours off of slumber isn’t all that bad when your spending it with the boy you see when you close your eyes.

-

@yawneon

[4pfsukuna]

Kings get jealous too

Yall voted and honestly the thought of Jealous!sukuna was tooooo good to not write. Reader is black (happy black history month btw). Sukuna does not like to share… or have anyone touch whats his why would a king have to?

The vibrations of my phone for the 3rd time was finally begining to annoy me so with eyes still closed i reach around the bed only to slap something warm and firm.

“Still here sweetheart” i hear the raspy voice of sukuna i dont need to look at him to know hes smirking and my eyes shoot open making direct eye contact.

Finally reaching for my phone hoping to get some sort of clarity i see 100 missed calls, 43 text messages, 17 instagram post. The safest option was to go through my messages as i try to gain memory of why this idiot was in bed next to me.

“Oh sweetheart do you not remember?” He chides cockily and i sit up seeing a picture that nearly killed me. My tongue out… against Sukunas sternum in a secluded corner of the club with him smirking devilishly at me and the next of him carrying me out his hands firm on my ass.

The club.

The club!

Housing yuji had been no problem at all, owing a favor to Gojo i was glad when this was all he needed. Yuji itadori was sweet kind always cleaned after himself and was a genuine pleasure to have around even cooking when away on missions.

The issue? The fact that he was a vessel for a 1000 year old king of curses that was a complete pain in the ass who gets a thrill out of you especially finding out i was kazumi Honoka and had i not resented my family could easily match Gojo or top him . The Honoka clan known for the most powerful flame and fire weilding sorcerers every few generations, squeaky clean image rich and arrogant just as the other powerful clans.

“Sukuna the only reason your not dead is because i havent found a way to exercise you from yuji i know for a fact i could kill you” i seethe only to be met with silence. I hated being ignored and he would do it on purpose as if his pathetic ass being housed by a child was better than me. Growling i pull a dagger from my waist band and swing it at Yuji necks who looks at me in fear but Sukunas mouth breaks through his neck biting the dager making it crumble into a million pieces as if it was nothing more than a cracker.

“You dont even know how to fully weild your cursed energy sweetheart, i could have you dead in 10 seconds and with the remaining 9 dance over your corpse” his mouth cackles from the side of Yujis neck.

This was a typical tuesday morning for us.

“Yet you’re only a pathetic excuse of what you used to be. King of curses yet you’ve been trapped inside of yuji for years how lame” i degrade a sneer on my face as i adjust my shirt.

“I— should we do something about this” Megumi ask from next to Nobara on the couch who looks concered and ready to break us up but not sure how plates of breakfast getting cold. It wasnt even 11am yet.

“No. This is a typical Tuesday it’s kind of like foreplay for them. Usually she ignores him or teases back unless she had a difficult mission” Yuji informs them before shoving another pancake in his mouth and of course he noticed the differences in our interactions i was the only one Sukuna really interacted with anyway.

“How was it?” Nobara looks at me and i sigh. I nearly died because i lost my footing tripping over my own tube of fenty lip gloss, how could i ever admit that.

“Pffft, struggling with a puny curse yet you think you could take me on? You make me laugh, brat” and thats what makes me lose it and ignite the fire flames on my hands my eyes matching as i do cause a groan from Yuji.

“I havent even finished breakfast yet can i atlea—“

I cut him off.

“Release him” i fume cracking my knucles making the flames bigger my breakfast completely forgotten about.

“Yeah release me brat so i can finally have my moment with her” he snaps back at yuji and this time I smirk the fire on my hands dulling.

“If thats what you wanted that’s all you had to say, it’s childish to be mean to a girl you like. Unfortunately you’re not my type” i grin patting Yuji cheek where Sukunas mouth was only to feel his sharp teeth nip at my hand.

“Youre nothing like the women i had keeping my bed warm just like you’re silly little technique you wouldnt know what to do with me” he chides back the two on the couch getting whiplash from how fast our conversation changes and how quick our comebacks are for another.

“See, foreplay” Yuji utters to them as he finishes his plate of pancakes satisfied with his belly being full leaning back on his seat.

“Well we were going to celebrate you getting back and figure you could use a night out since returning from your mission, but it looks like you definitely need it” Megumi speaks up motioning between myself and Yuji.

————————————————————-

Giggling with Nobara as we take a 6th shot of casamigos to see who would tap out first watching a woman try to flirt with  Megumi who's completely oblivious or just awkward at flirting.

“What's the deal with you and Sukuna? Girl to girl like i didn't even know he spoke unless he had full control” she prys bumping my shoulder which i roll my eyes at.  “Please Yuji told me how he always has an eye on you, always ask about you when you're not around and flirts with you relentlessly”

“He also pesters me” i add sipping the lemon drop the bartender placed infront of us mentioning it was on the house.

“Anything to keep your attention” she smirks while taking another shot. “It’s why he’s taken over Yuji yet instead of burning the entire world down he’s watching you”.

And he is, black tattoos adorned his body as he sits on the sofa eyes piercing through the crowd focused directly on me. Maybe it was the curiosity maybe it was the alcohol but i was tempted to test her theory. 

Swiping another coat of lipgloss over my lips and adjusting my shirt so my boobs were perked up with a quick hair fluff i turn to the guy at the end of the bar Whos been covering our tab for drinks.

“Hello handsome” i grin taking the stool next to him watching the instant lust build in his eyes. I could still

Feel his eyes on me and its only right to give him a show.

The man on the stool looks over at me, double taking before adjusting his posture to give me his full attention.

“My my tonight must be my lucky night an angel like you gracing me with your presence” he praises the strong smell of alcohol on his breath as he twirls one of my dark curls around his finger releasing it with a spring.

“Move” and Sukunas glare is deadly biceps rippling under the club light his shirt long gone.

“Hey pal” the man says setting a hand on Sukunas shoulder unaware of just what was about to happen and i couldnt even warn him my eyes never left the king of curses. 

Without breaking eye contact he grabs the mans hand crushing it the sound of bones crushing couldn’t be hidden by the loud music but i still could only focus on sukuna.

“Wipe the smug look off your face” he grumbles stepping closer the heat of his body rolling off onto me.

“Lord Sukuna, king of curses the almighty and powerful isnt… jealous?” I giggle watching as he takes the shot left behind by the man scowling as he takes the shot next to it as well.

“Dont humor me, he was weak and undeserving. Plus if something happened to you Yuji would never shut up” he… rambles? Oh he was so jealous. Fire literally comes out of my hand unless that man controlled water and in copious amount what harm would he truly bring me.

 “So if i were to go home with him and sleep with him you wouldnt be jealous in the slightest? And i mean hours of letting him have his way with me—“ to which he scoffs rolling his eyes in disgust.

Sukuna wasnt a man of many words more so action so i could talk all i wanted but the best reaction id get was from action. And i knew just how to pull it from him.

“Not even if i did this?” I ask but before he has a chance i bend down coming eye level with his abdomen and drag my tongue from the begining of the black mark to where it ends on his chest smirking when i come eye level with him watching as something dark ignites in his eyes.

___________________________________

When we get home theres not a surface left untouched that he doesnt have me against. Pressing me into the front door as he bites down my neck licking and sucking over my pulse.

“Suk—mmmm” the moan comes out of me as he tugs on my earlobe with his mouth his hands feeling like hot fire on my body. He begins to pull me further in but i pull back giggling at his look of dissatisfaction. 

“I gotta take m’shoes off” im sure i slur my words slightly only to be picked up and placed on the top of the black velvet couch my feet on the seat cushion giving him easier access. Im shocked by how gentle he is untying the straps from around my calfs before he gets frustrated ripping them off.

“SUKUNA!” I yell watching the coy smirk on his face and he leaves a kiss on my calf.

“Whaaaat?” Before another kiss is placed on my knee followed by my inner thigh and right when i think hes going to go under my skirt he switches to my other leg the warmth spreading in my core and i wanted him to stop teasing. 

“Sukuna” i groan but it instead comes out as a sigh feeling his thumbs massage into my inner thigh extremely close to my core as i feel his breath over my underwear.

“Tell me.” He grunts against my core the vibrations shaking my whole insides and maybe my body was just sensitive to him because i could definitely cum just like that. “Tell me what i want”

And hes placing kisses over my pussy through my underwear moaning and something about him wanting me so bad he would kiss me through my underwear turned me on even more. I’m sure he could tell because its not long before his tongue is poking at the sides making me shiver.

“Give me what i want” i counter to prideful to beg alcohol be damned the arrogant grin on his face doesnt budge as he pulls me down so im on the seat easily throwing my legs over his shoulders. Long fingers brush my wet folds as he hooks his finger in my underwear, a lewd comment about me being so wet for him my thongs were clinging to it in a way his tongue would replace.

And hes not lying, he places one long lick from my hole all the way up to my clit, a light swirl around before placing a peck and I feel electric. My head luls back as he uses two fingers to spread my lips open giving easier access to my clit which he sucks kisses licks and moans against.

“Fuck” he groans against it placing a wide open mouth tongue kiss on my pussy and i arch into him? Away? Im not sure my eyes slam shut when i realize hes kissing my pussy the same way he was kissing me against the door and the pure lewdness of his mouth being full of me. The wet smacking sounds were being drowned out by my moans and cries of his name and with a particular flick of his tongue on my clit i launch forward squeezing my thighs around his head which seems to entertain more than bother him.

“Eyes on me” he moans against me tapping my thighs twice and i couldnt even remember shutting them. His lips apply more pressure as my hands get lost in his hair holding him in place which seems to egg him on his motions becoming filthier with every flick of his tongue.

He pushes me back before his wide palms squeeze my thighs grunting as he continues his assault licking me in ways that would leave a mark on my mind before tongue-fucking me which is what sends me into the spiral of cuming for the first time. (And embarassingly fast)

“So delicious” he murmurs licking up every drop and i can feel my heart pounding in my ears as i try to catch my breath. It took him less than five minutes to have me in a puddle, figuratively and literally and my brain scrambled. 

Pulling me forward by my chin he places an aggressive kiss on my lips leaving me dizzy as i taste myself on his lips until he quickly pulls back standing up beckoning me to follow him.

“We need to get you to bed” he speaks and i miss the taunt in his voice taking it as being scolded instead which makes me stop the cold of the hallway floor settling on the pads of my feet.

“What?!” I snap and he raises a brow facing me the taunt evident on his face.

“Unless you want something from me, tell me sweetheart” And it’s nothing more than an attempt to get me to beg but i was entirely not going to. I would never, no matter how mad i wanted him to rearrange my insides.

“No?” He ask cupping my jaw roughly his thumb grazing my bottom lip rubbing the juices on my lip— the moment he fucks up.

Using my tongue to wrap it arround his thumb before sucking it into my mouth watching the desire come full force in his eyes. I release it with a small pop sound a string of saliva connecting his finger to my lip his eyes never moving from it.

“I mean i know you like when i lick your marks up your chest but what about down?” I whisper before my tongue drags down the black lines down to the waist band of the pants pulling them down watching his dick spring out yet the weight, length and girth stops it from springing completely against his abdomen. 

My mouth waters at the sight and i feel myself sink down to my knees keeping eye contact wrapping my acrylic fingers around it. Theres a drip of precum as i slowly begin to pump that i chase with my thumb smearing it against the tip.

Removed from my trance i feel his large hand cup my jaw roughly and the other replace my hand over his length giving a few slow pumps so i eagerly stick out my tongue knowing exactly what he wants to do.  He taps it on my tongue twice before slowly pushing it in my mouth keeping direct eye contact the whole time listening to the way his breath stops as he hits the back of my throat. He feels heavy in my mouth in the most delicious way causing me to moan and give a slight suck.

Its the soft groan that he makes that encourages me to take control pulling back slighty before pushing him all the way down my throat one hand at the base making a twisting motion while the other massages his balls this time earning a “fuck baby” and i almost tease him about it but my mouth was… full.

Pulling back once more for air i swirl my tongue around the tip collecting every drop of precum before licking my way down to his balls and taking them in my mouth. His leg twitches and his eyes are on me with a blown eyed gaze as i swish them around my mouth sending him a wink the smirk coming back.

“Youre such a— fuck… brat taking my dick like this in the…” he stops for a second going to reach for my hair and i almost send a glare until i realize hes just moving it off my shoulders. Hollowing my cheeks and sucking hes brought back to his words. “In the hallway, so hungry for me arent you” he growls 

Moving my mouth back onto his length taking him 4 more times down my throat my hand replacing where my mouth previously was before continuing a bobbing motion. The pace of my bobbing matching the pace of my hand twisting before his hands start caressing my cheeks using it as leverage.

“Such a good girl” he begins stuttering eyes rolling back head falling against the wall. His hips began moving and im not even sure he realizes it and hes fucking my face at a quick pace muttering words in a language that i couldnt identify— maybe something prehistoric.

“Throat so.. mmf… so good, such a good brat. FUCk” he growls when i gag but doesnt stop for a second just continues his rambling. “My brat, youre taking every inch so fucking… so fucking” he holds my head in place as if hes trying not to cum to quick.

Shit thats exactly what hes doing!

Tapping his thigh to gain his attention, the same way he did to me I internally smirk the moment his eyes meet mine and I know exactly what kind of thing would make him release. Slowly pushing down until my nose hits his pelvis as I pull back I give him the longest blink I can exaggerate without looking crazy letting the tears prick my eyes without falling giving the base of his dick and balls a slight squeeze moaning the entire time.

“You fucking demon— nnghhhh”he moans as ropes of his cum shoot down my throat his hips twitching as he holds me in place trying to keep his eyes on me. after hes satisfied everydrop is in my mouth not a single one gone to waste He finally lets my face go before im being pulled up by the front of my shirt. His lips are on mine as hes groping me like my clothes dont exist his hands running all over my body pulling me in closer. 

His tongue swirls in my mouth and its like a mix of both of us before i playfully bite down on his bottom lip feeling him harden against my hip making me grin. He likes it rough i could be as rough as i wanted and hed probably just love it even more.

My legs wrap around his waist the moment he picks me up walking the rest of the way to my room and placing me on the bed pulling me shirt over my head and to inpatient for my skirt and underwear he rips them off. Climbing over me he places a few teasing bites up my neck marking up what hadn't already been marked before pulling back slightly to line himself up with my entrance.

I assume hes going to tease but the squelch and sudden burn of him pushing in makes the corner of my eyes prick with tears only brought back by the sounds of his grunts.

“And you fucking thought id let you go hone with another man and hed have this view of you cock drunk already and all ive done was slide halfway in” he chuckles darkly and i look at where we are connected.

HALFWAY?

“Eyes on me brat” and my leg is thrown over his shoulder before he leans forward giving me a bruising thrust. Well clearly i bit off more than i could chew. His thrust are fast and heavy but not painful. He rolls his hips and my hands fly up to his chest.

Hold on what was this. He sends a handful more thrust just like that with the same force… no not force pressure and i can feel my mouth watering. These werent the quick hard and fast strokes i was expecting. Sure they were rough but—

His large hand throws my other leg over his shoulder pulling a high pitched moan from me and he was entirely to deep inside of me. Its a particular thrust that hits a spot deep inside of me causing my eyes to cross and i nearly push him off of me had it not been for our position.

“Ahhhh looks like i found that sweet spot” he taunts thrusting into it again and i bite my bottom lip trying to hold in the moans. “Cute attempt” and before i could ask what he means he leans forward so were chest to chest and if he wasnt deep before he definitely was now.

“Fuck” he growls against my ear continuing his assault my eyes only catching the way every muscle ripples in his back. He was making his mark and not just sucking and biting but engraving his self in my memory. Every thrust every roll of his hips its like he was trying to make sure i wouldnt forget drunk or sober. Its slight caresses that turn to grips, hip rolls that turn to strong thrust that rattle my whole body bites thats followed by his tongue flicking over them.

The orgasm begins to build and i feel the wetness already sliding down making him grunt picking up the pace. 

“S-sukuna!” It rocks through me before i have time to warn him but he doesnt stop just continues to fuck me through it his chuckles a distant thought it my head.

“You were so jealous” i mutter through heavy pants the only thought i could hold onto before he's pulling out and i'm flipped onto my stomach his length pushed back in this time his hand snaking under me to play with my clit his strokes different this time. 

His fingers are going fast yet his strokes are slow are taunting his balls slapping against me the contrast sends me into another orgasm my brain telling me to fight back. 

“The next time you think IM jealous of another man some puny mortal remember i can make you cum in 30 seconds” he grunts in my ear and i know theres a glare on his face. But he doesnt stop he alternates the pace of his fingers and thrust making me moan out trying to hold back long forgotten.

“You look so delicious” he moans and the sound has my toes curling. He drops half of his weight on me as his other hand comes around grabbing my neck lifting me up so I can see our reflections in the mirror. His maroon eyes were dark and getting darker with lust as we made eye contact through the mirror and for a second my mind turns to mush the only thought was how good he felt with every thrust and pinch of my clit.

“Look at you… fuck falling apart under me” he grunts a smile building on his lips before he licks them gripping tighter on my neck. “You look so perfect taking my cock like this. Getting so… youre making such a mess on me. Youre pussy is so tight and warm and the way youre clenching when i talk… shit. You must like my voice” his grin grows and i look away but the way i clench around him gives me away im sure.

His hand moves from my clit leaving three stinging SMACKS. His grip grows tighter on my throat forcing me to look at him again in the mirror, his hand squeezing over my cheeks.

“Sukuna” i snap or try to but it only comes out as a stuttering moan which satisfies him. 

“Don't look away” he growls and when hes sure im not going to try again he places his hand back on my clit.

“Im not jealous,” he tries to prove his point but it was lost on me i didnt even care i was in complete bliss.

“I can fuck you better than him. He was just going to turn into a boy and jackrabbit you. He wouldnt know what to do with all the woman you are. Me…JEALOUS? No im leaving my mark youre going to remember every touch, lick, bite, shit and thrust. Thats real punishment. Ruining you for every man after me. They couldnt fuck you like this” he rants a deranged look in his eyes before his speed increases and of course.

He wasnt some 20 something year old guy he was a 1000 year old curse with years of experience in torture. Brute force was a mere quick thing and nothing about this was quick.

“Sukuna im going to…” i whine kicking my legs feeling the pressure build up and it was becoming to much for me. I try to thrust back to push him off but that sinister smile grows the widest ive ever seen and instead he pulls me to my knees by my hip. It instead becomes leverage as he uses his other hand to push my back down creating an arch as his pace comes to the fastest its been all night finally pushing in all the way the tip hitting the spot that made my eyes cross again.

“Oh… OH” he chuckles as he watches my fist curling in the blankets the moans no longer quiet but loud screams im sure my neighbors would complain about tomorrow but i couldnt care. 

“Feels good doesnt it, i should make you beg to cum, i should edge you. I shouldnt even.. fuck.. youre lucky youre so pretty i shouldnt even let you cum for even entertaining him. Were you trying to piss me off?” He growls but it all falls on deaf ears. My own shrieks of pleasure are the only thing i can register.

“But since youre here… under me and that stunt you pulled? At that silly little club? Ill be nice just this once brat.” He moans his thrust becoming sloppy as if the thought of me licking him turns him on. 

“Cum for me” he pinches my clit sending me into my demise the hot ropes of cum from him shooting inside of me as his grunts get louder while he rides out our orgasms. 

“Good girl” is the last thing i hear before darkness takes over.

_________________________

Sukuna isnt prepared to glance at the clock at 4:37am. Sure he wasnt fully sleep but being prepared for the brown skinned fire sorceress to wake him up 10 minutes ago for another round was the last thing he expected.

Sukuna loved every second of it. She wasnt like past women who wanted to made sure they just pleased him oh no she wanted to conquer him.  find every kink, every sensitive spot any twist of her hips or clutching of his core that made him putty for her and exploit it. Biting him, sucking on his neck, hair pulls and even slight chocking— ok it was nothing slight about it at all, even when she pins his arms above his head he was losing his senses because everything was her.

She had the audacity to try this and look so fucking good doing it. It was no longer him fucking her but dhe was fucking him and damn did it feel good. She was marking him every inch of his body stating her claim and he nearly felt pride, his brat, fuck did she know how to get him going. So prideful she wouldnt even cum again until he did even if that means he did have to snake one of his hand down to pinch her clit watching her tears come down her face as she fights so strongly.

Sukunas proud and for a moments forget this isnt his body just a mere vessel but hes so proud of her he wants to drop his whole load and really claim her as his own but things are a bit complicated right now. But hes so prpud of her being so strong taking every inch and seeing the lengths of her stubotness but fuck does he want her to cum. He needs to feel the way she cums arounds him and watch as the cream builds up at where their bodies meet, he needs to see that pure look of bliss and feel the desperation as her body clings to his. But he can talk her through it.

“H-hey sweetheart, look at me” he growls angry she had him stuttering and with a sharp thrust upward to meet hers she whines looking down at him.

“What?! Y-youre —-mmmm fuck… youre fucking up my pace” she seeethes through clutch teeth pulling roughly on the hair at the nape of his neck his moans unable to be hid at the pure pleasure.

“Sorry sweetheart” he falsely apologized repeating the thrist again feeling her clench. “Just wanna say youre doing so good, taking me dick so good just like you should” he sits up watching as she adjust using his shoulders for leverage.

“Listen to it… every sound, squelch— youre gripping me soooo tight. I could fuck you all night, loose myself in it. Its so wet and warm and your taking every inch like a good brat for me, my brat” he breathes in her ear before bringing her jaw so theyre eye to eye once more.

“I cant wait to watch you cum for me again, make a mess all over your dick.” He tells her watching as she tries to close her eyes and he sends another rough thrust forcing her eyes back open.

“You have 5 seconds to give it all to me” he tells her darkly left hand going to her clit as a threat not rubbing or moving just pressing into her.

“4” and she presses her forehead against his

“3” he smirks as her hips become erattic the whimpers increasing from her mouth.

“Sukuna!” She snaps digging her nails into his back holding on tighter to him. He grins kissing the side of her head thumb not moving from her clit but pressing harder.

“2” and the wet sounds increase  letting him know he was more than capable of talking her… counting her through it.

“I hate you” she moans releasing all over him sending him into an orgasm as well thrusting his hips so they can both ride it through only stopping when he feels her body slump against his.

“I hate you so much” she speaks through ragged breaths as he leans back never pulling out and he chuckles kissing her head again pushing her hair out of her face.

_____________________________________

“So youre telling me…” i trail off completely speachless when all the memories from last night come back and i can feel everywhere he touched like it was burned into my skin.

His arms rest behind his head the holds that cocky smirk and lazy look in his eye as if i forgot his moans.

“You fucked me like that because you were jealous?” I giggle once more watching as his glare comes back

[mtchee]

My Chosen Beloved - [Zhongli] GN

blurb:

In ancient Teyvat, you worship your Lord of Geo as much as the next villager. When you hear that you're cursed by something unknown, your fears are only confirmed when you're given to your Archon as a sacrifice to save your village. Only, it turns out you're not quite the sacrifice you thought you were. OH, turns out, you're to be wedded to your Archon. Except, since arriving at his hidden chambers, you've seen neither hide nor hair of him. Only his pet dragon, Morax, lazes about in the mountainscape to accompany you. Welp, new best friend! Even if it is a sassy lizard. What... What do you mean, he is the sassy lizard...

cw: not edited, second-person-pov, kinda chaotic [name], sugestive at the end, arranged (??) marriage trope except he arranged it, Zhongli is a little shit, i think he's slightly OOC im SO sorry, dragonli, young Morax?? but not quite, ancient teyvat au (kind of), swearing, might do a part 2

| masterlist | genshin impact collection |

[4.0k]

"Cursed!?" You cry out in horror, "I'm cursed!?"

"Not cursed, dear one," The sweet old lady hums, swishing around your cup of left over tea leaves, "just marked."

"Oh, oh good," You feign relief, "so I'm a target."

"Oh hush you," The tea reader swats you over the head, "you fret too much. Besides, there's more I've yet to see..."

You grumble to yourself under your breath, rubbing your sore spot with a pout before sitting and waiting for the rest of her verdict. The woman hums lowly, a content smile on her delicate old features as she keeps her eyes trained on the semi-warm yunomi cup in her hands.

"Ooh, would you look at that," She hums happily, "a crescent star--how wonderful. You will have an unusually large fortune happen upon you..." she swishes the cup once more, "and... ah! And these are... indeed! Health and happiness shall befall you! Though beware, a great sacrifice must you omit in your coming days for this to be achieved."

You sigh to yourself quietly, smiling softly with a shake of your head, "Thank you, grandma."

You place a small pouch of coins atop her tattered, velvet cloth table as you move to stand.

"Ah, ah, ah!" She tuts, eyes wide as she stares at your tea leaves, "my child... I see that someone has their eye on you; beware of whom it is that you trust, deary. Not all things are as they seem..."

You feel a shiver crawl up your spine, and you squeak; you feel your soul levitate.

You gain a cold sweat, "T-Thanks, granny..."

"It's no problem, child!" The old lady beams, positively ignorant of your terror, "come back anytime. It's always such a joy to read for you..."

"Aha, yes. I-I'm sure..." You wince, smile strained, "um... goodnight, granny."

"Goodnight, dear one!"

You're quick to leave the quaint tea shop, placid smile immediately dropping into one of panic. Ever since you'd gone up that stupid magical mountain or whatever, you'd felt these odd shivers down your spine, like someone was watching you.

Constantly.

Or, nearly constantly. It usually stopped when you got to your house--at least this stalker had some decency. 

It certainly didn't help that there was an apparent raid being planned on your village, an attack that you'd all been warned about by an anonymous.

It was a curse of sorts, unleashed by an old enemy of your land's beloved Archon, Rex Lapis. The main city of Liyue is only small at this time, and the adepti, each to their own, have additionally been busy with protecting the various other scattered villages around the land.

You were given fourteen days to figure out a solution. 

Now, there's only three left. 

You shudder, once again feeling a pair of eyes glaring into you from archons knows where, and you let out an angsty huff, crossing your arms over yourself. 

"Great," You crinkle your nose, "now I'm even more paranoid." 

"A WHAT!?" 

Ah, what a wonderful start to the morning, with two days left before the presumed attack. 

The whole village gathers with murmurs of concern, pity, and fear.

In seeing no other way to prevent the attack, the town elder had announced a last resort solution, as provided with help from the adepti.

A sacrifice is to be made and sent to the stone mountains where it is told that their Great Lord and his dragon reside. A sacrifice must be made to their Archon in exchange for protection from the oncoming curse.

And with consultation from Adeptis Cloud Retainer and Moon Carver, you were chosen to be the offered one. 

"You want me to be a WHAT!?" Your eyes practically bulge from your head, and a panic rushes through you, thoughts spiralling as your heart tightens painfully in your chest.

Your outburst garnered further chatter from the rest of the town, some shouting their concern for you, others in protest of the decision made--but ultimately, it wasn't up to them.

The adepti themselves had chosen. 

Your ears rang with a high pitch, gaze hazy as you grew dizzy, struggling to breathe.

You couldn't hear what anyone else was saying--and quite frankly, you didn't want to, nor did you care.

A further immense feeling of fright pierced through you, causing your knees to buckle. It was those eyes again. 

'Dear archons,' You thought to yourself fearfully, 'am I going to die?'

The next forty-eight hours went by too fast, consisting of preparation for your departure, where a group of villagers would later escort you to the mountains and present you at its base before returning home.

And where you would be left alone, alongside barrels of fruit and meat offerings, and baskets of their finest silk and gold.

Then, it would be up to their Great Lord to make the decision. 

And so there you had been, fearful and adorned in opaque silks and fine threads, arms and legs decorated with pretty golden jewellery for an extravagent yet elegant appeal.

Your heart stuttered painfully in your chest, breath uncomfortably stuck in your throat as paranoia and terror consume you simultaneously. The feeling of eyes being burnt into your form had never left, and they had never felt so intense until then.

Staring at the mountain base with your back to the open field behind you, you felt your very soul ice over as a dark shadow swallowed you. You hadn't dared to look back, eyes wide with your skin pricked, breath stagnant as your base most instincts went wild; run.

But you felt you were dead before it had even approached.

You don't remember anything from that point on, only recalling a behemoth silhouette drowning yours before everything went silent and dark.

You had fainted.

But freedom! You cry in your mind, finding yourself awake inside a palace worthy bedchamber. You weren't eaten! Yay! CELEBRATE FOOL.

You notice a soft quilt upon you, its fabric smooth to the touch. Your hands tremble ever so slightly, nerves recovering from being shot. You swallow thickly, unsure of what to expect as you observe your surroundings.

The room is heavenly. Much grander than even the nobles in the nearest city, the room is vast and elegant, with artworks and calligraphy engraved into the stone walls. Cor lapis illuminates it all, along with the plentiful golden intricacies.

An elaborate archway to your left is separated from your room by a semi-sheer curtain, and you can hear the ever so soothing tinkling of water. A bathroom.

Placed along that same wall is a beautiful vanity and smaller archway separated similarly to the other. You can spy a more than generous number of hanging fabrics and neat, polished crates--a wardrobe.

The opposite side of the room displays practically half a library. Gorgeous bookshelves line the walls with ornate pillars and decorative foliage, a grand desk situated nearby with an equally as exquisite chair. The floor is covered by a soft carpet, accompanied by various cosy and inhumanely large pillows.

Nevermind, you must have been eaten, because this looks like heaven.

Mouth agape in bewilderment and disbelief, you slowly slip out from beneath the covers, tip toeing along the cool flooring into the middle of the room.

Your eyes graze over everything, and you're tempted to throw yourself indulgently into the giant pile of pillows just begging to be laid on.

Yet you restrain yourself because where the hell are you.

The large door across from you looks promising.

It takes a good hard push from you before it opens, though once it does the doors part for you effortlessly on their own. You pause, peeking out into the hallway skeptically before actually stepping out.

The door shuts quietly by itself one you're out of its way.

Interesting.

The corridor itself is daunting, both in size and extravagence. One side leads to an archway concealed by a thick red curtain, whilst the other reveals an opening into what appears to be a sun room.

Well, that looks promising.

Like everything else, the area is expansive and elegant. Sunlight bathes everything in a soft, golden glow, and water trickles pleasingly from ornate divets in the high stone walls, following a painstakingly carved path down into a rivet in the ground that outlines the floor plan.

Looking up into the high ceiling, your mouth drops in awe at the crystal clear glass encasing. In an octagonal, dome shape, the largest panes showcase stained glass designs, threading rainbow highlights here and there.

Thriving vines decorate the roofs edge, neatly climbing down the walls and curling around the spaced pillars that hold it all together. The plantation has been carefully placed as to not obstuct or corrode the ornate architecture.

In the centre of the room is a mound of silks and pillows with gold trims and intricacies, a large serpentine figure curled atop the delicate fabrics gracefully as it slumbers.

What.

Pause.

A dragon.

A fucking dragon.

Morax, Rex Lapis' dragon.

And you know it's Rex Lapis' dragon because who fucking else would have a dragon.

Your mouth drops in absolute horror at what you've stumbled upon, and you start to backtrack in silent terror when the slumbering creature begins to shuffle.

You internally curse yourself as the thing emits a sleepy grumble that vibrates the floor before locking eyes with you.

It blinks drearily, lazily yawning and smacking its maws before learning towards you with lidded amber eyes and a grounding purr.

You've been frozen in utter fear for the entirety of its slow awakening, and it huffs warm air into your wide eyed face once its levelled with you.

You let out a frightened squeak, blinking rapidly to recover from the assault while the serpentine creature rumbles contently. It looks... entirely unbothered by your presence.

You can't quite tell what it's thinking, its eyes watching you ever so intently, yet with a peculiar fondness that has you puzzled.

"He.. Hello, dragon," Your voice cracks, and you take a hasty bow to make up for it, "uh! Morax. Um, am I... aren't I suppose to be, uh, eaten..?"

Morax blinks at you cluelessly.

"As, uh, in sacrifice?"

The dragon huffs at you again, though this time much more sharply, as though offended. An odd keen gets stuck in its throat as it tilts its head before shaking out its mane.

Then, Morax leans towards you again with a grumbling coo, as though attempting to soothe you before nudging its large muzzle at your chest.

You stumble back from the unexpected contact, but the being only prods at you again until you gently guide its nose away with both hands. It retreats back into the rest of its curled form, watching you expectantly.

You reach a hand to where Morax had been poking, touching the thick cor lapis pendant situated on your chest in the shape of the geo symbol, secured by a deceivingly delicate looking gold chain.

"Oh this?" You look down at it from your awkward angle, "is something wrong with it?"

Morax lets out a curt grumble, not in warning or any form of vexation, but as a sort of prompt. Not quite.

You furrow your brows, "Then... does it mean something?"

Its grumbles again. Closer.

Your mind blanks, and you stare back at the beast that just blinks at you slowly. It makes no more sounds to edge you forwards, nor anymore mortion to aid your thinking. Instead, it watches you patiently, expectantly. Fondly.

"...You wanna... you wanna tell me?"

Your features flatten when the dragon emits an exaggerated yawn, crossing its massive paws and laying its head down upon them.

"Oh, you've got an attitude, you know," You frown at the mythical thing, and it closes its eyes teasingly in cheek.

You look at your pendant again. It had been provided by the Adeptis, and passed onto the village chief for when the chosen had been annouced. Then it was later given to you at the end of all your preparations, and you've been wearing it since.

Funnily enough, your preparations were similar to those of your wedding traditions--the older women fussing over your appearance while the men gathered gold and jewels to toss and offer up in symbolizing a rich, fruitiful future for the beweddeds.

The pendant is a similar heirloom typically passed from the more forthright intended to their beloved, as a way to show both their devotion, and their will to provide and protect.

The heirloom is usually something that represents the family from which it is given, as the receiver takes on their last name.

But your pendant is the geo symbol, your Archon's insignia.

Holy freaking shit you're wearing your Archon's insignia and it's not a vision.

Your stomach drops.

"O-Oh my god!" The pendant drops back into place on your chest, and you stare wide eyed at the serpent that daringly matches your panicked gaze, "I-I'm our Lord's intended!?"

"You're my one true friend Morax. But don't tell anyone I said that, that's kinda sad."

You distractedly scrub the dragon's scales by his neck, having moved on from his claws. You're dressed in thin bathing silks that cling to your figure from the water, parts of the fabric sheer upon your skin. You're not bothered though, it's only you and the dragon in this huge manor.

For the week or so that you've spent here, you've seen neither hide nor hair of your dear Archon. One part of you is curious as to why, seeing as this is his abode, though the other shudders at the prospect of running into him in person. You're still not mentally prepared for that.

You don't know how to talk to a god! Let alone how to your god--and that's not even mentioning the fact that you're technically supposed to be married to him.

Yeah. You've figured it out now.

No, you had not been sentenced to your death. No pain or any form of violence has been inflicted since your arrival, unless you want to count the dragon tormenting you with the fluff of its tail.

Stupid dragon.

Speaking of the damned creature, you've taken solace in its company. Although non-human, the dragon is a sentient being of its own, and though large and very much built for battle, Morax has been nothing but patient and gentle.

Ever so aware of your smaller being, the dragon has been careful with its every motion, bending its languid body elegently and fluidly to accomidate you. Even in a playful mood, Morax takes great care not to jostle you or startle you so.

You've claimed the overgrown reptile as your best friend in claws!

Morax had preened at the proclamation.

"Has our Lord been taking care of you? I haven't seen him once since I've been here. Do you think I've scared him off?" You snicker, wringing out the soaked cloth in the floral water you're seeping in, "ah, yes. As I am everything he should fear in a spouse. A merciless tongue and a non-existent sleep schedule."

In the furthest depths of this absolutely insanely huge manor, palace or whatever, is an opening in what you presume to be the back of the mountain.

Walls opening into a magnificent waterscape with a lazy lake and picturesque waterfalls, vines and flowers and brush decorating the scene with giant trees overshading parts of the water.

Morax snorts at your accusations, nostrils puffing non-aggravated smoke.

You move on to delicately rinsing the dragon's mane in parts, fingers sifting through the long, smooth fur to untangle any knots.

"Is he kind?"

From its once sleep tempted state, the beast perks up, opening its eyes to gaze at you. Sensing Morax's confusion, you give a tender smile while you brush a hand through its mane and over its scales.

"My betrothed, our Lord," The dragon croons softly, leaning its massive head down to rest its chin on your lap as you chuckle bashfully, "only you and the adepti know what he's really like. When he's not attending his duties, I mean."

You swallow thickly, worry glazing your eyes before being swiftly masked by a ginger smile as Moraz nudges you.

"I just... to be wedded to our Lord is just a fantasy. Who could I ever amass to in comparison to our Archon? I... don't think he will be cruel. But," Your eyes flutter to the side unsurely, "I don't want to live a lie."

Your heart pangs in your chest, and you slow in your movements which begin to cease. The water ripples around you at each notion, the air still and serene. Yet, despite the peace, you feel burdened.

No, not burdened.

Your brows crease in thought.

Perhaps dejected.

Although you have yet to meet, you've been provided with an abundance of wealth. It's evident your Lord is the spoiling type.

Your room is just one example, full of things you love and could lose yourself in for hours, alongside a wardrobe full of clothes you could only ever have previously dreamed of.

And you have the entire mountain to explore to entertain yourself--and it's not as though you were trapped.

You've gone flying with Morax twice now, and further explored the wilderness surrounding with the dragon's protective supervision. If you so truly wished, you could leave these hidden chambers to go elsewhere. To be honest though, you don't trust yourself to be able to find your way back.

The food is plentiful. Visiting the kitchens each morning and night, you find a feast is laden. And during the mid-day when you're hungry, or the late hours when you're peckish, the pantries are stocked in abundance.

A warm breeze caresses your shoulders, and the sound of the water trinkling melodically echoes a tranquil tune.

Morax purrs at you, and your smile saddens as you speak a dismal truth, "I will forever worship our Lord, not just for what he has provided me, but for him in all his existence. Though I admit, my heart will carry the dual burden of heartache."

The dragon blinks at you slowly, before reeling back in all its grace with a low croon. Its eyes are lidded, looking down at you in fondness and something else you can't quite place.

You puff a breathy laugh, reaching up a hand to cup the scales on its cheek. Despite the comically drastic size difference, the mystic being leans into your touch with a rumble.

"Thank you, Morax," You murmur, awed, "but I could ask nothing more from our dearest Archon who has given so much already. I only pray that someday he will find the one with whom he can truly return their affections."

A disgruntled huff escapes from the amber dragon's maw, and it shakes its head before leaning down to carefully press its horned head against yours.

A smile traces your lips, sincere gratitude oozing from your being as your eyes slip shut, nuzzling back against the smooth and damp scales of your mythical friend.

Another kind brush of air kisses your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. From behind your eyelids, a bright flash of light is muted, though you pass it off as naught.

Suddenly though, the scales you had cupped fit much better in your palm, a sensation much softer gracing your fingertips. Your brows furrow slightly as you feel the weight of the dragon's physical presence decrease. The water around you ripples greatly, though the atmosphere itself remains undisturbed.

The winds swoop gracefully as always, musical water cascades still singing their dream inducing tinkles while the scent of the surrounding natural flora soothes you.

You hear a gentle rumble, though much softer than the dragon before you. Your eyes gradually open, slinking up to lock onto the ethereal man leant into your loving caress.

Your gaze drifts to his nose, and then his lips, observing his attire that consists of layers of intricate brown and golden silks that float atop the water's surface.

And then you gasp, meeting eternally wise amber orbs that stare into yours knowingly.

Your muscles tense and your stomach drops, and you stumble back, almost tripping in the water.

At your sudden lurch in movement, the devastatingly handsome man fixes his arms around you, a gavelly chuckle sending a flush of heat to the tips of your ears as he pulls you flush against him.

"Y-You! I--" Embarrassment in all its forms overwhelms you while your beloved Lord himself stares down at you with lidded eyes, exuding elegance and unwavering strength just as he stands.

You don't dare look him in the eye, gaze latched shamefully onto the intricate details laced on the garment covering his chest. Your shame only increases once you notice the opening in the fabric that reveals part of his chest.

"M-My Lord..!"

Humiliation causes tears to prick at your eyes painfully.

But the dragon--his dragon, he is the dragon!

Heavens above, how utterly foolish could you be!?

Weeks you have spent confiding and bumbling about with that damned beast had you spilling the deepest depths of your heart and innermost being.

You would have never behaved in such a trecherous manner had you known it was your Lord! How disgusted he must be with you. How offended he must feel for the ignorant things you have speeled!

You clench your eyes shut, almost trembling in his grasp.

"My.. My most sincerest apologies, Lord Rex Lapis. I-I must avow that for each word I have spoken I never did intend-"

"Whatever do you mean, my love?" His voice is warm and low, a pleasant gravel that slinks into your ears like honey.

Rex Lapis--Morax, your very Archon who is one in the same, pulls himself back to admire you with fond eyes. Though his gaze is ever intense, the emotion he expresses is more than palpable.

His touch is tender, careful but full of longing, "Perish such nonsense from your mind. I, apologise, dear one," He leans down hopefully to meet your gaze, "for startling you so. And for withholding my true self for so long."

You flutter your eyes open, swallowing shakily when he smiles at you oh so adoringly.

"To be honest, I was... nervous. Unsure as to how you would perceive me."

"You? Nervous?" You incredulous tone has him breathe out a laugh.

"Indeed, dearest," You flush at the endearment, able to process it past your panic this time, "it is not everyday you are intended to a God. Now though, I see I should have been the one to welcome you first and foremost."

In contrast to his gentle touches and patient tone, a familiar cheeky twinkle sparkles in his eyes, "To think you thought you were a meat offering."

You blink up at him, horridly aghast at the mention of your initial misgrievances.

Forgetting your prior reservations about him as your Lord, no longer heeding your behaviour to such, you recognise that mischevious glint just as on the first day you had arrived.

A sense of relief floods your being, and you gradually untense in his tender grasp.

Though you're still unwilling to let him off unscathed.

"Who's the one who had me snatched up on such short notice?"

A sense of sheepishness has him ducking his head in self awareness, nodding acceptingly and in apology. A pink tint lines his fair cheeks at that.

But then he glances down at your drenched attire, and his flush deepens as a desire much too long forgone has him turning up his cheek a little more than he normally would.

"Well," He clears his throat distractedly, "who wouldn't at such a delightful temptation, hm?"

And then it's your turn to feel flushed.

Although he had left you lonesome in you first few weeks of stay, he more than made up for it in the coming nights.

And in response to your apprehensions and concern in being wedded to a God, he addressed them directly by providing you with an adoring reverence than even celestia would envy.

And he continued to do so, for the many years that would come.

For he had chosen you; his one and true beloved.

[certainlynotasimp]

Okay here me out miggy and sunny who get ambushed by another spider but it turns out to be there daughter from the future?! I feel like they’d be shocked to see a teenager (like 18) just trying to fix a mess she made to get back home. I love all your work especially Miguel and Sunny!

Our Girl

(Miguel O'Hara x Female Reader)

A/N: Hey lovely~ So I kinda went off track a little with this one and kinda focused a little more on Maria, the daughter, and not so much her fixing the problem and more her being overwhelmed by the idea of the multiverse. I'm sorry I went off kilter but I loved the idea of seeing how they would react in general to meeting their child.

Also, I've been obsessed with this song on TikTok so I had to name their daughter after it.

A/N: If you guys wanna view more of my works then feel free to read my master list and if you wanna see what else is coming up, then check out this one-shot schedule. If you love the Sunny and Miggy fics like I do then comment on the taglist post because I add everyone who comments. I hope you enjoy it!

Warning: Grumpy x Sunshine, Barely any use of (Y/N) ((Sunny is the Reader's nickname, not her actual name)), Female Reader/ Female pronouns, Shinangins, Kinda fluffy, kinda a crack fic lol, and Google translated Spanish ((Pls forgive me, my wonderful Spanish speakers.))

~~~~~~~~~~

Okay, I guess If im gonna do this, I’m gonna have to start with the beginning, Hi I’m Maria O’ Hara and I’m-

“Kids, Breakfast is ready~!” A soft cheery voice calls out causing a groan to escape the teenager’s mouth. The sound of two pairs of feet book it past her bedroom door with the notable bang of one of them being knocked into the wall.

“Mami!” A teary voice of her seven year old brother yells. “Gabriel keeps pushing me into the wall!”

“No I’m not!” The thirteen year old cries out with a loud crack in his voice. “He keeps getting in front of me!”

“Gabriel, Ben, quit bickering and come here before your father comes down.” The gentle scolding causes the boys to continue their run down the stairs while Maria rolls her eyes and goes back to her diary.

Dammit, okay, we can work with this. Hi, I’m Maria O’ Hara. I’m 18 years old and I live in Nueva York with my mama and papa and my two brothers. I’m basically your normal teenager except for one-

“Maria?” a soft knock on her door causes her to call back through the door.

“Yes, Mama?” “Breakfast is ready, honey. Come on down stairs before it gets cold…” She can hear the cautious edge in her mother’s voice as she tries to coo her child down stairs.

“I’m on my way, Mama, just let me get finish getting dressed.” She cringes at the lie as she was already dressed and ready for her day. Maria holds her breath for a couple of minutes until she can hear her mom mutter a simple okay as the sound of heavy foot steps come up beside her.

The low baritone of her father’s whisper can be heard along with her mother’s worried tone as she can hear her trying to urge her husband down stairs to give their daughter some privacy.

Maria returns to her writing as she knows shes definitely on a ticking time bomb now that her father was up and down stairs. He was a strickler for spending meals together as a family and the only time he let go of that rule was when one was sick or when…Maria and Javi were in that accident…

She shakes the haunting image of Javi out of her mind as she writes.

I’m basically your normal teenager except for one thing. I’m Spider Woman, the one and only beloved hero of Queens.Two years ago, I gotten bite by this funky spider at my dad’s lab in Alchemax and I gained these awesome super powers. It was honestly the best thing to ever happen to me. I got to swing around and stop bad guys all before fourth period. The only person who knew was my best friend Javi-

“Maria!” A deep voice booms as Maria gritted her teeth. “¡Tu madre ya te llamó dos veces! ¡Baja y come!”

“Shit!” The teenager curses as she rushes to collect her stuff into her bag. The white and blue fabric of her spider suit shines at the bottom of the bag before her necessities get piled on top of it.

“¡¿Qué diablos dijiste?!” Her father yells as she can hear her mother yell at him. 

“¡¡Miguel, no te atrevas a maldecir en la mesa de mi comedor!!”

Maria hurries down the stairs as she listens to her family interact at the table.

A muffled voice that she figured was her mother scolds the angry man while a soft more masculine mutter apologizes. A couple of giggles can be heard before a stern voice scolds them as well for what Maria can hear, “Chicos, no le faltéis al respeto a vuestro padre. La única razón por la que tu madre puede hacerlo es porque me echará de la cama.”

As Maria makes it into the dining room, she laughs along with her brothers as their mom playfully slaps their dad’s arm. The tall dark haired man chuckles at his adorable wife before catching her hand and kisses it, causing the woman to smile with a love sick look in her eyes. 

“Eww!” Ben cries as he tries to block his vision with his toast causing the couple to roll their eyes.

Maria sits down beside her father Miguel and Gabriel as she starts to fill her plate. All of the children looked exactly like their father with only slight changes in hair textures and certain facial features. Ben, the youngest of the trio, looked the most like their mother with his eye shape and nose matching hers while the middle child, Gabriel, was a copy and paste verison of their father with only his mother’s smile indicating that they were related. Maria was a better mixture of the two with her mother’s height and face shape making her her mother’s “clone”, Miguel’s words not their’s. 

All the siblings would disagree as their matching dark brown eyes and their dark hair. They also had his temper. There wasn’t a single day that didn’t end without a fight. But they all loved each other despite the stress they put on their poor sweet mother’s heart.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Yahooo!” The web crusader swings around the city with a laugh bubbling through her being as the adrenaline pumps through her veins. Today wasn’t that bad today when it came to crime. No cat burgalurs, no bank robberies, No super mutants, No robots, and No…

A shrilling laugh fills the sky as Maria lands on top of a building. As she looks around for the source of the noise, a figure flies over her. Several flashes of gold falls down onto the streets below and a series of explosions go off at the chilling sound of a woman’s laugh among the symphony of screams. The woman was flying on a golden glider looking device with a skin tight blue holographic suit with an orange cloak wrapping around her features with a devilish jackolatern mask on.

“Who the hell is that?” She asks to no one as she swung up to catch up to the maniac, “Hey Spooky!”

Maria sticks a web onto the glider and propels herself into the air before slamming down on top of the villain. The woman shrieks as she falls off her glider with the spider until the glider follows them down. The villainess throws a purple bomb at the girl before her glider catches her. The teenager shoots a web onto a near by building and catches the bomb. 

“No thanks, I’m not on interested in what you’re cooking.” She throws the bomb into the air before it explodes. However, instead of smoke, an orange portal appears as a strong suction causes the spider’s grip to slip and fly into the air. “Hey!” She yells as she gets pulled into the portal.

~~~~~~~

A scream echos through the Lobby as a flaying spider falls down from a portal. Hobie rolls his eyes while Jessica looks up unimpress. 

“Another newbie?” She asks as the spider girl catches herself on a walk way above the duo. 

“I don’t know.” The rocker mumbles as he tunes his guitar. “You know that they normally end up in some alternate dimension where the floor is lave or some shite.”

The spider girl looks around her in shock as she sees millions of other spider people walking around her and she begins to hyperventilates. “No no no no. Please Please don’t tell me I’m dead……”  

Jessica frowns hearing a young voice panicking and she whistles up at the girl. 

“Hey, Newbie! Come here for a minute.”

Maria swings down as the older woman takes off her googles, her warm eyes brings the younger girl to ease enough to ask,

“W-where am I?”

Hobie chuckles, thinking that the girl was confused after failing to jump. “You’re in the Lobby, remember? Didn’t Sunny give you a tour?” 

“Sunny? Whose that?” Maria looks at the duo confused as Hobie takes off his mask to look at the girl more closely. 

Jessica looks at the girl suspiciously as Hobie examines the masked girl. “Your suit is certainly different. It kinda looks like O’ Hara’s.”

Maria jumps at the mention of her last name and faces Hobie as her patience snaps. “How did you know that? And who are you guys and why are you guys dresssed lik-”

The manic girl halts as she hears a familiar voice call out from above. 

“Hey,guys!” The gentle voice calls out as she swings down from several platforms above with a friendly smile plastered on her unmasked face. Hobie and Jessica return her smile as she lands infront of them. Maria stares in horror as the duo greets the cheery spider.

“Oi, Sunny, whatcha swing up to,love?” Hobie jokes as he hugs the woman he viewed as his friend and sister figure. 

“Boss man sent me out to look at what fell through the portal while Lyla was rebooting.” She says calmly as Jessica scoffs. Miguel sending Sunny out to check something out? Nope, thats not how he ran things. He would rather send out everyone else before he would dare risk his sol getting injured.

“Boss sent you to check out a portal?” The beautiful woman asks as Sunny rubs the back of her neck, clearly leaving out some details.

“Well, an anomalous Hobgoblin managed to hack into Lyla’s systems and shut her down so it can escape…Our comms are down too..He said to get Hobie and Ben so they can investigate the scene actually…” The jumping spider admits as she feels her cheeks warm in embarrassment. 

Jessica chuckles at her friend’s confession as she remembers the new spider who was silent the whole time they were speaking.

“Oh yeah, well this new recruit came out of the portal.”She shrugs as she directed Sunny to the small blue spider woman. “You really need to give these new guys better directions for portal jumping.”

The now confused woman shakes her head as she looks at Maria before looking back at Jessica. 

“There aren’t any new recruits.” She states as she frowns at the still masked girl as she walks up to her. “Hey, whats your name, honey?” She asks in her familiar concerned voice that Maria just heard this morning.

It was her mother…well at least someone who looks like her mother. She was several years younger than her mom, clearly in her mid to late twenties. Other than that, she was her. Even down to the same facial markers and the always warm edge of her voice. What really drawn her back was the fact her mom, or this woman that looked like her was wearing a black spider suit like her own with white along her chest and inner lining of her limbs. 

“Holy shit…” The girl gasps at the woman before she slowly reaches up and removes her mask. Her dark eyes peers back at her ‘mother’s’ in shock before mumbling, “Mama?”

“Mama!?” Jessica screams in surprise before she quickly studies the now unmasked girl and the paling spiderwoman. The similar way their wide eyes meet each other while their matching jawlines stuck in an a gasps expression. They definitely looked the part…

(Y/N) was the first one to move as she slowly lifts her trembling hands up to the girl’s face and cups it in a gentle grasp. She carefully traces her features with a haunted look on her face, almost like she was looking for something in her face, or maybe someone. As realization forms in her face that this was in fact her child, tears began to bubble in her waterline as her lips trembled.

“You’re my baby?...I have a daughter…” She says outloud before gently tracing under Maria’s eye with a look of disbelief and love. Maria’s own eyes burn as she sees her mother’s face in her clone as she nods. “Yea…My name is Maria…Maria O’Hara.”

And with that new revelation, the cheery spider faints due to the shock while Jessica yells out for help while Hobie was frozen due to the fact that not only that Miguel O’Hara and his delightful sidekick have a child from a different dimension, but that she was actually hot.

~~~~~~~

Safe to say, Miguel was not happy. 

After Lyla successfully rebooted and came back online, Miguel went to dimension 1784-B and recaptured the Hobgoblin. He never felt such satisfaction than when he tackled the flying witch out of the sky and tore apart her glider with his bare hands. He wasn’t very pleased that the villain easily gotten her hands on one of the gizmos and some prototype traps he was working on, so he made sure that the femal hobgoblin would never dare attempt to do anything like that again.

.After he returned to the surveillance platform, his annoyance grew as he hears that not only did some spider woman he had no idea about came into the Lobby, but that some incident caused his sunshine to be taken to the infirmary. 

“Lyla,” The annoyed man calls to the AI as he walks towards the infirmary. A tiny version of his fur coat wearing digital assistant appears on his shoulder as he focuses ahead of him with a glare. He can practically feel all the blood vessels in his hand pop as clenched his fist as he thought about all the ways he was going to say to the woman who had the nerve to injure his amor. “Give me all the information on this spider.”

“Yes ‘Miggy’” Lyla teases as she pulls up the file. “Spiderwoman 1784-B aka Maria O’Hara. 18 years old and has been spiderwoman for 2 years. A student at NYU with an undecided major and lives with her two younger brothers, Gabriel and Ben O’ Hara and her parents…Oh Shit!” 

The miniature AI starts laughing as she clenches her stomach. Miguel growls at Lyla’s outburst and seethes. “What is it?”

As she recovers, she throws up a projection infront of him with a smirk. “Check this out. You and Sunny do get a happy ending!” 

Miguel freezes as his wide eyes look at the image infront of him with a tremble in his form. The image displayed was a family picture that was clearly taken at a high school graduation with a family of five huddled together with wide grins splitting their loving faces. The first to catch his attention was the vision of him standing beside a teenage girl with a boy no older than seven on his shoulders with a look of happiness and pride in his gaze as one arm was slung across the girl’s shoulder. He was clearly older than he was now, but the lack of red eyes and fangs made Miguel nearly not recognize him. Its been so long since he’s seen himself before becoming spiderman… The next thing that caught his attention was an older version of his beloved also smiling at the camera with a teenage boy on your side a gentle hand placed on his shoulder as the woman’s attention was focus gazing a her daughter with such joy.

The children were a perfect mixture of you both despite the obvious favour in appearance being on his side. He carefully examines each child and their features as he releases a shaky breath as a single tear escapes his eye. 

This was impossible…How can you two have a family somewhere in the spiderverse and he didn’t know? the two have a family…they got married…she gave him the most beautiful children he could ever dream of and they both weren’t spidermen…they met and fell in love with out the worry of the universe on their shoulders…But their daughter…Their girl has this…burden instead…

“Miguel?” The unease in the AI’s voice brings him back to reality as he rubs his eyes. 

“I’m fine.” He snaps as he materializes his mask back onto his face. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So we are all connected by this weird multiverse of spidermen?” Maria questions as she quips an eyebrow as she looks at the other teen.

“Yep.” Gwen nods as she leans back in the chair. 

The group were huddled around the hospital bed as their cheerful friend laid in bed unconscious. Upon pouncing the new spider about her life and what life was like on her dimension, Gwen took the initiative and began explaining about the Spiderverse, careful to avoid talking about the girl’s variant spider parents.

“And this is a team of Spiderpeople that goes around and makes sure that the events of their life goes on course? Like the time police? Does that mean theres other versions of me? “ She rapidly askes the punk. The blonde chuckles as she can definitely see how much of Sunny was actually in this girl. 

“Yep and kinda like that. We make sure the canon goes as planned so your universe doesn’t collapse. And when it comes to the other versions of you…” Gwen looks towards the unconscious spider before meet her ‘daughter’s’ curious gaze. “If theres other versions of Sunny and Miguel, then there is other versions of you.”

“Wait. Is there a spiderman version of my dad?” She asks as the door opens.

Jessica looks up from watching her phone and smiles at Miguel while Hobie curses. Miguel’s mask fades away as Hobie begins to speak.

“Look boss, the kid didn’t mean to…”

“Are you alright, Maria?” Miguel’s uncharacteristicially soft voice interrupts Hobie’s defense as his ruby eyes locked on the girl.

His rapid heart flooded his senses as he looked over his ‘daughter’. She didn’t look like Gabriella like he thought he would, even though he already seen her face. She looked like his sunshine despite her having a majority of his features. She was his girl, his beloved’s child…

“Um yea…”The starstruck girl mumbles as she looks at the variant of her father. Unlike the unconscious variant of her mom, the age wasn’t the biggest indicate that he was different from her dad, it was the gentle red eyes and the fangs peeking out from his lips. “Holy shit, you’re cool…” She accidentially admits out loud which causes the man to chuckle.

“Oye, no maldigas delante de tus padres, pequeña araña.” He playfully scolds before he starts fiddling with his gizmo. “I think its time you head home now. Its almost time for dinner and I’m sure ‘I’ wouldn’t like for you to be late.”

A portal opens beside them as Maria smiles at Miguel. “Cool…can I have one of those?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Well it was worth a try.” Maria giggles as she walks up to the portal before looking at Miguel concerned. “What about that Hobgoblin? And about…” The teenager looks towards her sleeping ‘mom’.

“I took care of it for you and don’t worry about her.” Miguel chuckles as he gazes lovingly at his love. “Yo siempre cuido de tu madre, ¿no?”

Maria grins as she feels giddy over the idea that no matter what dimension, her parents will always love each other.

“Yep and word of advice, stop having kids after one!” She jokes as she steps into the portal and goes home.

~~~~~~~

A soft groan emits from the bed as Miguel looks up from his book. The sleepy eyes of his love meets his as he leans over and caresses his cheek. 

“Good morning, mi amor…you had a good rest?” He coos as he pushes the hair away from her face. 

Tears prickle in her sleepy gaze as the memory of her new friend came back. In a horse whisper, she tearfully asks, “Did you see her? Did you meet our girl?” A smile forms on her face as Miguel nods and rests his forehead against hers.

“Sí, mi amor. Y ella era perfecta.”

~~~~~~

As the portal closes behind her, Maria looks around with a breath of relief as she sees shes in her bedroom back home. 

“Thank god that’s over-!”

Before the stress could finally leave her chest, a shattering sound of a phone screen snaps her attention to her brother Gabriel looking at her in shock. Maria looks horrified as she realizes she is in the middle of her bedroom in her spidersuit and unmasked infront of her little brother…

“SHIT!!!”

~~~~~~~~

Translations:

¡Tu madre ya te llamó dos veces! ¡Baja y come!- Your mother already called you twice! Come down and eat!

Chicos, no le faltéis al respeto a vuestro padre. La única razón por la que tu madre puede hacerlo es porque me echará de la cama.-You boys don't disrespect your father. The only reason your mother can is because she'll kick me out of bed.

¡¿Qué diablos dijiste?!- What the hell did you say?!

¡¡Miguel, no te atrevas a maldecir en la mesa de mi comedor!!- Miguel, don't you dare curse at my dining room table!!

Oye, no maldigas delante de tus padres, pequeña araña.- Hey, don't curse in front of your parents, little spider.

Yo siempre cuido de tu madre, ¿no?-I always take care of your mother, don't I?

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[kandlewick]

In the Queendom of Roses, where such things as seven-league boots and cloaks of invisibility really exist, it is quite a misfortune to be born the eldest of three. Everyone knows you are the one who will fail first, and worst, if the three of you set out to seek your fortunes. gn reader x rook, a howl's moving castle au pt. 1 2

You, being born the eldest of three, always knew you wouldn't make it far in life. It was to be expected after all. You were fated to fail first and worst out of your siblings. When your siblings both were able to conjure magic from a young age, you could hardly blow a breeze. It would have been embarrassing if you hadn't already humbled yourself as a child. Of course you weren't anything special. The world needed normal, ordinary people too after all. So what if you weren't able to attend fancy colleges and gain the attention of the headmage Ambrose like your sibling had. There was nothing for you to be jealous of because you never aimed higher then what you could reach.

And so, here you were, employed — stuck — at your family's prized hat shop, sitting alone in your little alcove with only your hats as company. It was quiet, some might think too quiet, but it was where you were most comfortable. No expectations, no commentary, just you, your utensils, and your craftsmanship.

You handled your hats with care, quietly whispering blessings with each stitch. They were your creations after all. You might not amount to much but your hats would. They would settled themselves on to the heads of the busy housewives, the men of the army, and the young lovers, each with their own story to tell. You would flatter the hats, just as you would your customers.

"You," handling a small cap adorned with a veil and knot, "will surely be given to someone of glamor and beauty. They won't be able to keep their eyes off of you" You set it out amongst your most prized hats, quietly adjusting it atop the display. This one was made using expensive but durable material. It wouldn't do to have it placed sloppily. It deserved the best.

"And you," you smiled with a small chuckle, picking up a white fedora with a gaudy ribbon tied around it, "will go to a wonderfully handsome man with a good heart, I'm sure of it." It was a rather silly hat, made last minute with some left over materials, but it was sturdy all the same. The colors were also popular in the Queendom of Roses, especially amongst the card soldiers employed at the castle. Maybe one of them might stumble upon your little hat shop and spy this hat in the window.

You talked to your hats more and more as the weeks went by. You were good at selling them so it wasn't hard keeping yourself afloat. Just the other day, one of the Queen's card soldiers had come in to your shop, a man with hair the color of clovers, and sheepishly asked if he could see that one white fedora in the window. He claimed that for some reason, he couldn't stop thinking about it when he had gone off shift and needed to know if it was still available. It was a good sale and you're glad your hat went off to a good owner.

But then one day, on a particularly strenuous and busy day, you found yourself stuck wit horrible artist block. No matter how much you tried, you couldn't find any sort of inspiration for a new hat. Hours were wasted while you wiled away at your desk. Nothing worked and you found yourself teary eyed, sniffling loudly as you rubbed at your burning eyes, spools of ribbon and fabric lying all around you.

"Truly," you sobbed, heart aching, "being the oldest child is the worst curse you can be given."

What good were you if you couldn't even do the one thing you had some modicum of talent for? So what if your shop was popular?Surely this is where you peaked, alone with only the company of your hats. While your siblings were off making their fortune, surrounded by friends and loved ones, you sat here alone in an empty shop. You had no friends to speak of, the only time you ever talked was when your customers gossiped at you and finally it seemed the dam you had tried so hard to ignore had finally broke. The waves of your bottled up emotions drained out of you in waves and you could hardly stand it. What was the point of youth? Compared to others your age, you felt so old, so decrepit. Your bones ached from your poor posture, your hair thinning from the stress, and your eyes were circled with what could be mistaken for charcoal. You have never felt more unfit of your young age in your life.

In your sorrow, you spotted a purple hunter's hat — an incredibly gaudy thing you had made in an attempt to create something, anything of worth — and for the first time in your life, you cursed one of your creations.

"Surely only someone who finds beauty in anything will find any use of you!"

But the days go on whether you liked them to or not. You opened your store once again and quietly pushed down your feelings. You sat in your little alcove again today, quietly and mindlessly stitching something on to another, when you heard the tall tale sign of someone entering your shop. A small jingle followed the stranger as they ducked in almost silently. You inwardly sighed, slouching against your seat, but got up all the same. It wouldn't do not to be polite. You didn't have the fortune to afford it.

"Good evening," You plastered on a small smile at the stranger, a man, before you stopped and actually got a good look of him. He was quite tall, casting a lovely slender figure with his elaborate blonde hair, and was garbed in a bright and obviously expensive purple. His sleeves trailed longer than any you've seen before, all delicate trim and golden weaves. He even wore perfume too. The subtle smell of hyacinths followed him as he turned and smiled, his bright emerald eyes crinkling with delight.

"Bonne soirée!" He eagerly returned your greeting, with a bob of his head, his hand to his chest. You blinked up at him, mildly surprised at his mannerisms but chose not to acknowledge it, instead choosing to respond in kind.

"I've never seen you before," You admitted softly, watching as he slowly turned to admire your work. It wasn't too uncommon for customers to want to see everything but there was something different about this man. The way his eyes never glazed over as he looked, almost as if he was inspecting each one in great detail, almost made you embarrassed. Most people would just mindlessly look for something to catch their fancy but this man seemed almost entranced, as if each piece was a work of art. You both stood there in silence until the strange man seemed to snap out of his trance, his long eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. Were those tears in his eyes?!

"Ah, forgive me," He apologized, "I was simply admiring them. Is this all your work?" He appeared almost eager for a response, his head bobbed to the side.

You nodded sheepishly, "Yes, these are all my work. It's my job. When I'm not up front with the customers, I'm in my workshop creating them."

His smile, once subdued and quiet, widened. He took your calloused hands in his own and squeezed them. You flushed and scrambled away but his grip was too tight, not uncomfortably so, but enough that it felt too rude to rip your hands away...

"You're incredibly talented, mon ami!" He spoke with such reverence, "All of these hats, each more enchanting then the next, were obviously created from the hands of an artist!" The strange man spoke with such conviction, he almost had you believing him. You could smell the hyacinth even clearer now from your close proximity to him and it nearly made your head spin. What a courtly person!

The stranger, his hands still firmly clasped around your own, turned back to admire your hats. "Each stitch is full of magic, I've never seen anything quiet like it before."

"I - sir, I appreciate your words but I fear they're wasted on me," You let out a nervous laugh as your heart thumped in your chest, its excited beating feeling like it was about to jump straight out or your chest, "They're just hats."

The blonde man was quick to deny this, his hair rolling down his shoulders in waves, "I beg to differ, mon petite souris! Even someone such as I can see all the hard work you've put in to these! There's no need to be so humble!"

Humble! Hardly! If only he knew how you've been the past few days, stuck in your artist block, unable to dig your way out of it. He was wrong! So, so so wrong! You were nothing! This wasn't talent, this was just you using up all the luck left that had been given to you. With an almost annoyed huff, you were quick to free your hands from the strangers embrace and hid them away in your aprons front pocket. Your fingers were shaking.

"I... appreciate your kind words but I do have a business to run," You put on your best customer service voice you could muster and looked away from the man, not seeing the soft crestfallen expression forming on his face. His eyes narrowed but he made no move to reach back out and instead, his voice lowered in to an apologetic tone.

"You're right, mon petite souris. Perhaps in my admiration, I got a bit too excited." The blonde man's gloved hand came to rest against his chest and he gave a small nod of his head towards you, trying to catch your eye, "My apologies."

Well, now on top of your horrible mood, you felt bad. You let out an equally remorseful sigh, and turned back to him but he wasn't looking at you anymore. Instead, his gaze was over your shoulder, looking past you to the lone purple hunter's cap hidden away in the back. The very hat you had cursed.

"If I may be forward," He began slowly while his eyes reluctantly looked away to meet your own, "As an apology, I'd like to purchase that hat from you. Name your price."

You gave him a look but turned to grab it. The feather tucked inside of the red around the brim bobbed as you picked it up.

"This thing?" You asked, "I don't think it's any good. I made it on a whim and —"

Rook slowly plucked it from your hand and admired it for himself, turning it this way and that. His smile was sad but he accepted it all the same, "I think it is a lovely hat," he lowered his head and slid in on top of his blonde hair. It was strange, the hat seemed to... belong with him. While the hat itself was hardly anything to look at on its own, it matched his whole ensemble, like it was a piece of the puzzle that had been missing the whole time.

"How much?" He asked, utterly enamored by his reflection.

You watched from beside him, eyes avoiding your own form, but you offered his reflection a small smile and a shake of your head, "It's free. I couldn't charge you after I was so rude to you."

The stranger's eyes widened for a fraction of a second, his bright green eyes meeting your own, but they were quick to narrow in delight. His lips curled into a smile.

"Thank you, mon petite souris, I will treasure it."

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" As much as you wanted to get back to your work, you couldn't help but silently wish for a few more moments with this stranger. He was so oddly charming.

"Non, non, you've done more then enough for me today." He bowed his head, the feather on his hat bobbing with the movement, and quietly made his way to the door. His steps were silent all the way. "I have much I need to do an I have left two others waiting for my company long enough." And with a final wave of his hand, the strange man exited the shop.

You stood there longer then you should've, staring at the door, his words quietly echoing in your mind.

"All of these hats, each more enchanting then the next, were obviously created from the hands of an artist!"

You scoffed but smiled all the same. Courtly men like that just say things to gain favors. He must've been just trying to butter you up. You shook your head. It was almost a shame you'd never see the man again.

The quiet was soon shattered by a bustle of women worriedly entering the shop, each one calling out for you in worried tones. One of your regulars, an elderly woman was quick to push past the others and hurry her way to you. Her arms wrapped themselves around your shoulders and pulled you down to her height, "Oh, you poor thing!"

"Huh?" You blinked as she pulled away to look you over. Why was everyone so worried about you? "Whats gotten in to you all?"

"Whats gotten in to us?" She shrieked, her feet stomping into your worn floor, "What's gotten in to you! Do you know just who that man was?"

The man? The blonde, courtly man?

"Yes! That man!" She hollered, "That's the wizard Rook! Rook Hunt! The man who eats the hearts of those he sets his sights on! The one with the moving castle!!"

Oh? Oh! Oh.

You just gave the great wizard Rook Hunt an ugly hat.

[roachspeaks]

King!Sukuna x Princess!Gojo!Reader

Part 1 to a possible series? If it’s something the people would like to see. Ideas and feedback are very appreciated. MDNI

Warnings: smut, Sukuna doing another woman, brother Gojo, young child Choso(it will come together later trust me), mentions of Sukuna cumming in another woman(nameless faceless concubine), Sukuna being a little bit of a dick, fluffy material?, uraume being possibly ooc?, Sukuna being slightly sexist(i think), cursing,(let me know if i missed anything)

MDNI

Arranged.

You’d always hated the word. Your soon to be marriage wasn't arranged. It was just seen as a fact. Something you’d endure for the sake of your kingdom, the survival of your family and people. You had no choice in the matter and you hated it. One of the downsides of being a princess in a falling kingdom. An enemy kingdom, ruled over by the infamous king, Sukuna. Threatened siege if there wasn’t an agreement. A compromise. He wanted heirs, and trade from your family. But you suppose that was just a perk of being a Gojo. Always highly desired, and yet making enemies everywhere. Your brother, Satoru, wanted to fight it. But that was what he always wanted to do. Fight against the inevitable. Your family saw it easier to just hand you over. That way there would be no war, and they’d gain an ally. As well as more heirs to both the Gojo line, and partially the Sukuna one as well. The elders in your family viewing the arrangement as beneficial on all accounts, send you off as soon as they can. Satoru, your precious baby brother, insists on accompanying you to make sure you’re safe on your journey. You want to refuse his offer, you want to keep him safe within the walls of your childhood home, but he’s stubborn. 

So now, you sit in a puffy white dress your parents, the king and queen, had practically forced you into. Claiming it would make you look like more of a presentable bride. You ride on your horse, a cloudy white stallion contrasting Satoru’s jet black mare. You’d always had a habit of doing the opposite of one another. Opposite temperaments, opposite passions, opposite opinions. Most notably opposite opinions. He adores his freedom. Sure he has his responsibilities as crown prince, but he has gotten extremely talented at avoiding those things. You however, do not have that luxury. You're the eldest, the most responsible, dependable, the one your family knows they can put pressure on. You love your family, more than the silly freedoms and indulgences that Satoru chases. 

“You look ridiculous.” He smiles teasingly, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. There’s a sadness in his piercing blues. You can’t even imagine Satoru admitting to the fact that he’s gonna miss you, but you know. He hopes you know.

“What? You don’t like my bridal attire?” You chide back. Raising your nose at him in a sort of mock offense. 

“You look like a cream puff.” He bursts out into laughter, and you can’t help but giggle(more modestly than his loud, obnoxious hysterics). You were gonna miss his laugh. 

“Oh please. You couldn’t pull this off.” You roll your eyes jokingly. He snorts, but then his face falls a fraction. He’s not smiling, his mouth in a tight, tense line. His eyes drift to where he holds his leather reins. The edges digging into the pale flesh of his hands. 

“If you ever need me…” He starts, glancing between his hands and you. 

“I’ll write you, I promise.” You smile that kind signature that he’d grown to both love and hate. He hated that your kindness made you a target for your families agenda. He recognized a long time ago that the only reason either of you existed was for the benefit of the Gojo line, and he refused to fall in line with what they wanted. He just wished you’d fight with him…

“If that Sukuna bastard lays a hand on you,” If he got any angrier at the thought, there’d be steam leaking out from his ears. “I’ll kill him.” He finishes confidently. As if there was no way he could lose. And you believe in him. In the dedication and loyalty carved into his features. 

“You think you’d win in a fight against the cursed king?” She chuckles slightly. 

“Oh yeah, I’d win.” He grins proudly. So incredibly sure of himself. But that was just Satoru, and you loved him for it. 

The rest of the ride is quiet, uneventful. Then you notice as the environment around you starts to change. As you loom closer to Sukuna’s kingdom, the sounds of birds and life fade into silence, and dark clouds roll into the sky seemingly out of nowhere. Both you and Satoru pull on your hooded cloaks as it starts raining heavily. Your loyal steeds not appreciative of the sudden change in scenery, but they press on. It doesn’t take long until you’re at the gates. The walls are tall, made of dark coloured stone. Sharp wooden spikes lining the top of the wall where guards notably patrol. It’s an intimidating sight. 

You are quickly recognized by the guards, just by the look of you and Satoru it’s clear what family you belong to. The large, heavy looking gate is opened, and you both ride slowly into the large open space. Houses stretching far, shops can be seen down one road, while stables can be seen lining another. But the thing that catches your attention is the castle. It’s tall and every part is so…intimidating. Is that truly where you’d be living? This place seems so..devoid of life. Of color and sunlight and joy…

You dismount your horse, thankful that though you may look like a cream puff, your dress reaches just high enough that it doesn't drag on the muddy ground. There is a short, fat, angry looking man that shouts at a small boy to fetch your things from your horses. The boy in question couldn't be older than 12. With a dark brunette head of longer hair, tied up in spiky pigtails, and notable redness under his eyes. Like he’d been recently and frequently crying. As well as a scarred line running from his cheek, across the bridge of his nose, to his other cheek. He scrambles to do as the man instructs. But the bags are heavy, so you go to help him. 

“Hey, I’ve got these two. Okay?” You speak softly and sweetly. Helping him with the heavier bags. “What’s your name hun?” You smile.

The boy stares awe struck at you for a couple seconds. His mouth hung open as he stares. Like he was staring at an angel. 

“Choso…I’m Choso, Kamo.” He fumbles over his words. Clearly anxious.

“Well Choso, would you mind helping me bring my things inside.” You Nod to the castle. He seems to squirm at the thought. 

“That’s king Sukuna’s domain, I don’t want to get into trouble..” He speaks quietly.

“I won’t let anything bad happen to you, I promise.” You raise an eyebrow to him, and he cracks a little smile. Practically beaming as he helps you with your things. 

You turn to Satoru, drawing him into a tight hug. This could be the last time you ever see your baby brother, and damn if you’d let him get away without one hug.

“Stay out of trouble.” You whisper. “And tell Suguru and Shoko they have my thanks for keeping you safe.” You give him a light squeeze. He returns it silently. 

Then, with a guilt ridden look, he rides off. And you’re left to carry your things into the throne room of the castle. Little Choso at your side. Well really behind you, glancing around nervously at every movement or flicker of candlelight. 

You find the throne room easily, it’s in the center of the castle. But when you arrive at the entrance, the big dark doors. There’s a girl, an advisor from her attire. Long white and black robes, she seemingly guards the entrance. Looking slightly irritated, but mostly just stoic. Her hair is white, with unique red splotches. Cut short, with bangs just almost covering her eyes. When she catches sight of you, she stands up a little straighter(if that was even possible). 

“You’re the Gojo princess, correct?” She speaks respectfully, no malice or ill intention in her words. 

“I am, I was hoping to see lord Sukuna, before anything else.” You speak slowly, and she nods in understanding. 

“He is…occupied. But I'm sure he won't mind your interruption. Too much…” She murmurs the last bit. “ Though I will warn you, the…business he is attending to is not for the eyes of a young boy.” She warns, waiting for your reaction. 

Slightly puzzled, you respond. “Well…would you take Choso here, to where I’ll be staying? To deliver my things.” You glance at Choso, who still looks determined to finish his task in the big scary castle.

“I’d be happy too.” She replies, seemingly relieved to get to leave her place at the door. “Come along then.” She holds her arm out for Choso to walk ahead of her. “Good luck…” She sighs quietly.

You push open the throne room doors, using minimal force that doesn’t get you very far. Stepping through, to a rather shocking and…crude, sight. Your future husband, the king of a kingdom, with a…concubine, in his lap. His cock inside of her as she raises herself up and sinks back down onto him. You seemed to arrive at the most inconvenient moment(for you) because he glances at you, making direct eye contact as he grabs her hips, slamming her back down as he fills her up. Spurts of white dripping out of her gaping hole down her thighs as he unhooks her leg from his own thigh. Pulling out of her harshly. Shoving her off of him as if she was an animal. An object for his use. The woman doesn’t say a word, actually she only says four. Murmuring something about ‘thank you my lord’ as she scurries out of the throne room. Her shawl wrapped around her bare upper half. You take not that her other clothing(what little of it there had been to begin with) had been torn, 

Sukuna looks upon you, with a rather bored expression etched into his face. Resting his head against his hand, his elbow perched on the arm of his throne. He doesn’t bother putting his cock away, still covered in various juices, still standing rock hard.

“Lord Sukuna…” You address him, breaking the weird silence that suffocated the room. 

“Princess.” He looks you slowly up and down. “I’d apologize for the…mess. And the filth..” he glances toward where the woman had scurried off to. “But I don’t care.” He finishes crudely.

“My lord, excuse my bluntness, but why am I here? You’re clearly making an effort to get an heir in…other places.” You speak with a sort of frustration. You’d been dragged to a whole different kingdom, a dreadful one, to find the man who claimed he wanted heirs, spilling himself into another random woman. 

“She cannot give children. Neither can any of the concubines in this castle. They are infertile, deemed undesirable by others in society. But they get their use serving here.” He explains it with such..simplicity. Like it’s the most basic of concepts you don’t understand. 

“And you intend to continue…this, throughout our entire marriage?” You question, growing more irritated at the circumstances.

“If my desires are not satiated.” He rolls his eyes. As if this is boring him further, as if you don’t entertain him. But you aren’t here to entertain him, you’re here to keep your kingdom from war. “Well? Come here.” He orders.

You slowly, begrudgingly make your way over to him. Standing before his throne. Up close, he’s very handsome you have to admit. Pink hair and those intense red eyes…

“Sit.” He pats his thigh. And your eyes widen. You would not sit. Not when he was still dripping in the essence of another woman. Sure, he may be handsome. But your self respect, your dignity, would not allow this. 

“I will do no such thing.” You scoff. Glaring at him with a fury he’d never seen in any woman before. It almost surprises him. Almost. He could play chase, usually he’d bore quickly of cat and mouse, but for a pretty, stubborn little thing like you? This would be fun.

He watches as you storm off, and only when you exit the throne room, does he let his grin spread across his face. He’d have you begging for his cock before the official wedding ceremony, he was sure of it.

Meanwhile, you slowly make your way through the castles halls, eventually finding Choso sat on a decently sized bed. In a room with large windows. At least it didn’t feel like a prison. 

“You’re still here?” You ask carefully, still recovering from her previous interaction with the cursed king.

“I thought I’d wait for you to find your things, in case you got lost.” He stands from the bed. Looking stiff, like he’d been caught doing something bad.

“Won’t your mom be wanting you home?” You inquire, not meaning anything by it. But Choso’s face sinks. Looking visibly sad. 

“I don’t have a mom, I had my brothers…but they’re gone now.” He mumbles. His eyes drifting to the floor. This poor thing…

After barely a moment, an idea pops into you’re head. You could invite him to stay here with you. Surely Sukuna wouldn’t care(it didn’t seem to you like he cared about much of anything). 

“Choso, would you like to stay here with me? For the night, and if you wanna return to town in the morning, you’re more than welcome.” You offer the same sweet, kind and inviting smile you had when you’d first arrived. He’s practically tearing up as he hops around, excitedly chanting. ‘Yes yes yes yes’. 

That night Choso sleeps beneath the moonlight couch that sights by the window. A couple blankets wrapped around his sleeping form. You lay restless longer than you should. Just staring up at the ceiling. Wanting to be almost anywhere else. You’re grateful for the seperate sleeping arrangements, even if it’s probably only until the wedding. Tomorrow would be better, you’d just avoid Sukuna with his rude, vulgar tendencies. And he could fuck all the concubines he wished. Hopefully when you consummated you’re union, it would just take. Then you’d hopefully never have to do it again. He’d get his heir, and that would be the end of it. Though it’s an unrealistic sentiment, you hope for it to be possible. As you slowly drift off. Plagued with nightmares of some dark creature, four arms, covered in familiar black markings. The ones you’d noticed on Sukuna…

I do not give permission for my writing to be copied, republished, put through ai simulations, or anything of the sort.

If you’d like to add to this, or submit asks and feedback you can and are encouraged to do so through reblogs, comments, and asks. I’d love to interact.

[103rafes]

TAPE 007 ᯓ★

"Woah, you're at my game sober?"

in which varsityboy!pogue!reader is playing against a rival University, and frat!rafe is actually there; weird.

-

FRAT!RAFE and VARSITYBOY!POGUE!reader

Nothing could be louder than a Varsity hockey game between both Harvard and Michigan University, the echoes of people scrambling at the fierce competition that took place on the ice of Bright Landry hockey center. Both teams were out for blood, slamming eachother into the boards, skates faintly scraping from how much pressure they were putting on the ice, and inhumane speed of the puck being passed back and forth.

It was crazy alright, but then again it was the norm. No.

This was your norm.

The sweat that was surely sticking to your hair from the compact space of your helmet, the mouthguard you were suddenly hyper aware was practically glued to your pearly whites, and of course, the strain your legs muscle had from all the rushing and speeding you were doing.

They never said hockey was easy, you knew that and yet that had never stopped you even as a child. Now here you were, fully supported on a sports scholarship and the C of Harvard's Crimsons. You were the best out there, you knew that. You proved it time and time again, and as you dribbled the puck, swerving past a Michigan player and towards the net, you reeled your arm back and slapped the puck towards the net with a force that would've hurt in the form of an actual slap.

The buzzer above the opposing net blew, and you raised your stick up while you skated behind the neck and out. Goal.

Your team was now 4-0.

You grinned as your teammates rushed up to you, mitts colliding with the top of your helmet in a congratulatory sense, some hard smacks to your back while your team yelled praises right into your brain.

It felt good, it would always feel good.

Within a few minutes, it was already half time and intermission had stopped the game temporarily for a well deserved break. You walked back on your skates to your team's bench, both Michigan's and Harvard's teams exchanging cusses and insults between one another and promises to destroy eachother.

Quickly, you were sat down with your stick between your legs and hands, slowly zoning out while your coach spoke to the majority representing; though, it's not like you were listening.

Especially when your eyes saw the last man you'd ever expect to show up to a varsity game, let alone a hockey one.

Rafe Cameron. The leader of probably the biggest fraternity on the Campus.

You blinked, eyes slightly wide and brows furrowed dumbly.

..Huh?

You hadn't realized you'd been staring for long until your coach practically screamed into your ear, causing you to flinch.

"Number 78! Is your head here or elsewhere?" Your coach barked, and you stared at him dazed, before nodding, "Yup yup, I'm here, I'm here," You hastily answered, doing a mini salute. The coach seemed unconvinced, eyes narrowing as he studied you before he gruffed out, "k, keep up the work out there, you boys are killing it; just keep your head in the game."

With those words travelling through your mind in a loud loop, halftime seemed to fly by.

Skates slid smoothly against the ice as you chased down the other Captain on Michigan's team, the two of you on a head on duel to gain control for the puck. You were trying to steal the puck right from the other guy's stick, breath baited as you almost managed a few times. You had just went infront of the guy in an attempt to block him, before he suddenly turned around and shot the puck across the ice.

Icing.

You grimaced, some muttered curses as you skated to replay the puck. A little irritated by that cheap move the opposing captain had pulled, you skated slowly before a bang to the tempered glass made your head whip up to attention.

It was none other than Rafe Cameron. You didn't know why, but amusement filled you and you snickered, "What're you doing here?" You asked, your voice somehow getting to him over the crowd.

Rafe had that smug smirk, the one you wanted to wipe off so bad, resting on his features, before answering, "Thought I'd see y'gettin' your ass kicked, seems I was wrong," he shrugged, and you slightly rolled your eyes, "Oh, cause you would've fuckin' loved that," You snorted.

The one Kook you'd bury alive, yet the only one who could manage a conversation with you, even if it was one filled with distaste.

Rafe rasied his eyebrows mockingly, "Might've even jerked off to it."

Your eyes narrow at that, and you're about to skate off before Rafe spoke, "Woah woah, a'ight, m'just kidding!" He quickly spoke up, and you turned your head slightly to the side, not willing to sell his game cause Mr. Pussy frat eater wants to tease his balls off.

Rafe scratched the back of his head, adjusting the snapback he wore backwards, "Sooo..uh, got a party this weekend 'n uh..was wondering if you'd show," He muttered, and you stared in disbelief, before a laugh escaped you, "Bro? Look, I have practice this weeke-"

"S'on a Sunday, relax," Rafe interrupted, and you could already hear your coach's voice piercing your hearing, though you didn't care; that's weird, why didn't you care?

You hummed lowly, "Hm..no." You denied, and Rafe's nose scrunched in annoyance, "Oh c'mon-"

"Why? You're gonna be kissin' your frat sweetheart's face off, what's her name..Sofia? Yeah, I don't wanna see that shit buddy," He snickered, and Rafe's gaze darkened in obvious irritation, "Hey, I was drunk," he argued half assedly, and you groaned, "Yeah, like cause fuck! When are you not drunk, riddle me this-" You joked before Rafe cut you off once more.

"Just! Come, okay? Yes or no question, dipshit, don't fuckin' uh, do your teasing shit. You comin' or no?" Rafe asked firmly, and you realized that oh, you had to give an actual well thought answer; you were already on thin ice, testing both your limits and your coach's with how long you were stalling the replay.

After a bit of thought and panic beginning to settle into your skin for not getting back into the game any longer,you groaned in annoyance, "Fuck..fine, I'll come. Ya need my number?" You asked, venom in your voice as you silently stressed, hearing your coach's yells grow louder and angrier.

Rafe nodded, "Uh..pshh, yeah I do." He concurred. You considered your options for a bit, before you leaned your mouth towards the tempered glass, and let your breath create a fog against it. You quickly took one of your gloves off, a slender finger tracing letters into the foggy surface.

Rafe watched you with a focused gaze, the sentence forming before his eyes, and no doubt a number.

647 087 8895 better have coors light, or twisted tea if you're weak LMAO

You put your glove back, before you skated off to the face off with a snicker and no prior word.

By the end of the game, you'd gotten a huge earful from your coach about how long you'd stalled the replay faceoff (despite winning 6-2 by the end of the game), but again - it flew through one ear and out the other.

You were heading back to Campus now in your car, your best friend talking to you about something while you absent mindedly hummed, before your phone buzzed in your pocket. You glanced at the screen of your car, waiting for the notification.

Maybe: Rafe Cameron

yo [10:18PM]

2 attachments

[10:18PM]

topper approves kign0re the mass [10:18PM]

ignore* mess* lmfao holy shit i'm a sbit durnk [10:19PM]

so you down? [10:19PM]

You stared at the messages in disbelief. Well, shit. Now you had to come to this party, and try your damn hardest to avoid everyone who tried to lay you.

Now at a red light, you could think over what you wanted to. You murmured some words to your best friend, and he gave you advice. Some really bad advice.

"You should go, I'll come with you if you want." He told you, and you were quiet, nodding as you pursed your lip.

After a hot minute of contemplating between bad probably fun decision and safe boring decision, you sighed loudly as your one hand quickly typed out a short response, while you pressed the gas lightly at the bright colour of a green light against your face.

LMAOO damn [10:22PM]

ight fine i'll come [10:22PM]

-

note: zest fest fr. This is short, I just wanted to pull something out of my ass real quick for this. I'm missing AA, missing hockey over an injury is the worst. Hope this is good, and uh..yeah, have a good day, thank ya kindly.

also, this shit isn't proofread. Maybe later.

[mountswhore]

Hey if it's okay then I want to request a pregnancy fic where y/n has been having a hard time dealing with the changes during pregnancy and Mason is helping her out in every way he can. Thank you x

my beautiful girl — mason mount

summary: you were four months along, finally starting to show and yet you were still struggling with the changes you were going through. mason decides to help in any way he can.

After the hell that was the first trimester, you thought you were in the clear. With morning sickness subsiding, you realised it was just making way for more pesky symptoms.

You were four months along now, Mason still elated his beloved child was on the way. As were you, but Mason doesn't need to carry the child for nine months, nor does he need to experience anything you were currently experiencing.

It was still hell on Earth.

Mason's arm slid around your stomach, finally resting below the forming bump. You could practically hear his smile as he pulled you into him, his warm breath coating the revealed skin on your shoulder. Today was the day you were finding out the sex of your baby, and you couldn't wait.

"How did you sleep?" Mason asked quietly, the question was a frequent one, considering you couldn't sleep much over the past three months of pregnancy.

You hummed in response. "It was okay."

Mason was downstairs making you a peppermint tea and himself some breakfast, whilst you took to showering. The hot water felt good, too good, so the shower wasn't long. Unfortunately, Mason's massive bathroom mirror was a curse to you. Even whilst steamed up, you could see yourself and your body.

You tried to be grateful, to be so glad you were able to carry this child, as a lot of women struggle to do so and would kill to be in your position. But your body was changing, and you had terrible self esteem since gaining the stretch marks. You felt so unlike yourself, the feeling mostly being down to how different life had been since becoming pregnant.

The baby wasn't planned, is any child planned? You'd spoken about children in the past with Mason, and you'd both agreed you felt ready for whenever it was going to happen. And a year or so later, here you were.

"Hey." Mason appeared in the bathroom, mug in hand and a concerned look on his face. "What're you thinking about?"

You grabbed the mug and passed him to put it onto your dresser. "Nothing."

Mason knew that was a lie. Instead of saying anything, he sat you down on the bed and crouched between your legs. Still adorned in only a towel, you pulled it over as much skin as you could. Mason knew exactly what this was about, as you'd discussed it at the start of the first trimester. You were crying, you didn't know whether it was good or bad, so Mason calmed you down with making a list. Eventually, you had decided the baby was a good thing, the only cons being about how you'd look and how your body would react to carrying and birthing a child, which you seemed hesitant over.

"You," he spoke, kissing your lips firmly with his hands either side of your head, "are beautiful. I know what's going on in your brain, and I'm telling you it's okay to feel that way. Everyone struggles with their body, but you need to remember you're doing something amazing. You're carrying our child, you're making sure she grows like she should and you're looking after her until she's ready for us."

"She?" You giggled, tears sliding down your face.

"I'm hoping for a girl," he responded, "but anyway, you look amazing. You're doing amazing. I know I'd struggle doing what you're doing, but I'm so thankful every day I wake up and see that bump. It will all be worth it when the baby is born."

He was right, you knew he was. All you needed was that reassurance that you haven't lost your life to pregnancy. You're still the same person before, but you're growing a baby, too.

"You will always be my beautiful girl, nothing and nobody will ever compare to you." Mason spoke, his voice quiet as he held your gaze. You smiled, grateful for the kind words he'd said.

"Let's find out what we're having then," you breathed out, standing from your position on the bed and strolling towards your closet. "I hope it's a girl, too." You admitted, peering from around the door at Mason.

His cheeks turned pink, reaching out to stroke your arm before he left you to dress.

You were sat in the waiting room, surrounded by mothers to be. All at different stages in their pregnancy. You were grateful to have Mason come with you today, his arm wrapped firmly around your shoulders. He was scrolling on his phone, and you occasionally looked down to see what he was laughing at, but for the most pat you were looking around and hoping the doctor would call your name.

Finally, you thought, as you'd heard your name and stood up with Mason's support.

The appointment was a blur, it was mainly just telling the doctor how you were coming along and you were in your head for most of it, Mason taking control of the social side of today.

You were abruptly pulled from your thoughts once the cold gel had hit your stomach, a sharp gasp falling from your lips. Mason chuckled and squeezed your hand, and you couldn't help but return the smile. He was so excited, he'd been looking forward to this for so long.

"Did you want to find out the sex today? Or were you wanting it to be sent to a member of family?" The doctor questioned, and you looked at Mason. Neither of you wanted a gender reveal, it wasn't appealing to you at all. You just wanted to know, so you could tell family the good news.

"We just want to find out today, if that's okay." You answered.

The doctor rotated the screen so both you and Mason could see. It was just a blur to the both of you, you had no clue what you were looking at.

"So," the doctor pointed at certain parts of the screen, "it's a very healthy baby girl."

Mason cheered, kissing your cheek and thanking the doctor for the confirmation. You were both ecstatic to be having the baby girl you'd hoped for. You were mainly glad for the healthy part, you weren't as biased as Mason was. You felt like you were doing something right, your body was handling it well, and in the end it felt worth it. It wasn't long until you'd be holding that healthy baby girl in your arms, and even if it was long, painful hours or labour, it would all be worth it.