#he needs to not be forgiven so easily

[cambrioleur]

[lymtw]

All Is Forgiven

Thinking of an argument with Toji that leaves you mute by choice towards him. He still talks to you and asks you questions, and while you don't turn away from him, you don't respond to him either. He ends up having to figure out whatever he needs on his own because after a minute or so you huff and walk away from the conversation.

"Mama," Toji calls from the bedroom, rummaging through his clothing drawers. "Have you seen my gym shorts?"

If he was able to get a word out of you, he would know that you washed them for him. Though you were still sizzling with anger towards him, you pulled them out of the dryer and walked them over to the room. He could hear your little footsteps as you approached the room, and when he turned to look at you, he noticed you were holding his shorts in your hand.

Your eyes were vacant towards him. You didn't want them to be because it sucks when you can't look at him with the endless amount of love you have in store for him. It's still there, but it's being masked by a poker face.

You toss the shorts onto the bed and leave. Toji sighs, irked by the fact that it's actually starting to sting now. Your disregard for him because you're ruled by your emotions and he lets things go too easily because he can't hold a grudge towards you, even if he feels you're in the wrong.

Toji never knew how much he depended on your voice until you wouldn't let him hear it. He depends on you to tell him where things are because without you they would be scattered all over the place. He doesn't know your method of organization, but somehow when he needs something and looks to you in order to find it, you pull it out from right under his nose. He depends on you to tell him he's doing a good job, and to tell him you love him, and just reassure him in general. It makes him feel good to know that someone thinks he's good enough, but recently the one person who feeds him affection like it's as important as food and water, has left him to starve. You haven't said a word to him in almost two days, and he feels like he's starting to go crazy. The sound of his own voice is driving him insane. It's gotten so bad that he had to make a mental note of how he's going to get you back that same night.

Toji leaves for the gym and texts you during his time there. He includes some images because it's now an unspoken rule that he always has to send you gym pics.

[ Attachment: 3 Images]

... 😳🤐

Yeah, I know you like those. I'll be home soon.

You take the time to doll yourself up while he's still out. It's for him, but you won't tell him that until you come back from your "night out". Really, you're just gonna go get dinner for both of you from his favorite little restaurant. You just want to see how far he's willing to let this go, because you're caving. You're ready to apologize even when you know he's not upset at all. You're ready to spoil him in order to make up for those severe feelings you held towards him. You're ready to hear about how stubborn and unbelievable you are for this little act you pulled.

You spray on some perfume and walk out of the bathroom, just in time to catch Toji walking through the door.

"Woof, where're you going, ma?" He asks, setting down his gym bag before absorbing everything you were gracing him with. His eyes flit up and down your body, lingering on the very bare skin of the legs that come out from under your skirt. He can smell your perfume from where he stands, its elegant scent masking even the smell of his own potent sweat.

You didn't answer his question, and left him to wonder why you're all dressed up at seven o'clock at night. Was it a girl's night or were you openly showing him that you have options? Did he miss a message or a call from you?

You grabbed your wallet and scooted past him. You walked halfway down the corridor of your apartment building before realizing that maybe this was a bit much. You would make him worry over you going on a five minute walk to grab some food? All so you can show him you're mad? You cracked.

🥟🥡🍜.

Toji was staring at his screen, waiting for anything from you. The screen flashes like some sort of miracle and your message is seen by him. He chuckles, feeling a sense of relief wash over him at the sight of your little emoticons.

You came back home as fast as possible, bags of food in hand as you patiently waited for the elevator to bring you up to your floor. You took your time walking through the corridor, this time, not knowing how you would react once you saw Toji or if you would immediately say something to him. You're ready to talk to him, you want to talk to him. You miss him, you love him, and you hate the passiveness you threw yourself into around him as an act of retaliation.

There you were, standing in front of the door, nervous beyond belief for what was behind it. You collected yourself and twisted the doorknob, ready to face anything that came to you.

Toji stood from the couch and walked over to you to take the bags from your hands. The smell of his body wash wafted into your nose. There was an imaginary white flag hanging out of your pocket, and it was about to fall out to signal your surrender to Toji.

He pecks your cheek and watches in real time as get all flustered. It's one of the most adorable things he's ever seen—you standing there so rigidly afterwards. He gives you a soft smile and resists the urge to coo at you for being so cute. Instead, he heads to the table to put the bags of food down.

You shut the door, and within a split second, Toji was in front of you again. "Ma," he says, sounding a little more desperate than he thought he would. "Say something." You stand there like a statue—unmoving, but unlike a statue, you are easily moveable. Especially, by Toji. "Anything, mama, please." He crouches down at your feet, his warm hands resting on the backs of your knees and his cheek resting on one of your thighs. This position made it look like you were being worshipped by him, and anyone who ever saw him do this would know that it was true, because he worshipped everything about you. From the top of your head, to the ground your feet stood on.

"Don't you miss having my hands on you?" They glide up and down the backs of your thighs. He looks up at your stunned expression. You won't look down at him, so he gets to see the way you swallow the words dying to leave your mouth, and the slight widening of your eyes as he lets his hands roam your lower body. "I know I do. I've been in hell these past couple days." He presses a soft kiss to your knee, then one more on your thigh. "I didn't mean what I said. I don't think you're selfish, baby. Maybe i'm just a greedy asshole," he says, rekindling the subject of what led to your silence towards him. His hand maneuvers around your leg so that his palm is on your thigh, making its way up towards the inner part of it. "But, I know something," his lips trail further up your thigh, softly kissing your skin. "I'm greedy about you. That can't and won't be changed, even when we argue like idiots."

You put your hand on his head as he starts kissing up your inner thighs, making his way even further up beneath your skirt.

"Come on, my sweet girl," he murmurs, his lips meeting the front of your underwear. "Tell me you want me to stop. Tell me you hate that my filthy paws are on you, right now."

Your legs tremble at the lightness of his touch, and you internally cringe at how sensitive you've always been for him.

"Toji..." you gasp. You feel his warm tongue flatten between your legs, a slow upwards drag of the muscle makes your thighs quiver before him. You whimper at the damp warmth his saliva leaves on your panties. "Fuck..." you moan, breathily. "Don't stop. Stay there, please."

The first word you reintroduced yourself with being a moaned out rendition of his name was heaven reaching down to pat him on the back for knowing exactly what to do to get you to talk again.

"Open wider for me, baby. Let me see," Toji says, your skirt still veiled over his head. You take a step back so that your back is against the door and widen your stance a little more. He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder and you shudder when his tongue returns to slide through your clothed folds. He doesn't even need to produce that much saliva to drench the fabric of your underwear because you've done that for him already with your leaking arousal.

You shut your eyes and rest your head against the door as Toji continues his act of filth between your thighs. You can hear him panting below you, your taste pleasantly coating his tongue every time he sucks on the garment that clings to you.

You cry out his name with sharp breaths following, your fingers tangling into his locks, gripping and tugging as his lips catch onto your cunt. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," you grit out, whimpering at the contrast between his mouth and his hands. His hands offer a gentle massage to your thighs, softly kneading the plush between his fingers. His mouth moves purposefully because he knows exactly what it takes to make you fall apart with it. He coats his tongue with your essence every time he laps at the wet patch on your underwear, sticky webs of arousal connecting him to you.

"T-Toji!" You squeal, your cunt throbbing with every brush of his tongue. "I'm gonna cum... Fuck, i'm gonna cum..." you whine.

Toji pushes your underwear to the side, and glides his tongue through your generously slicked folds once and you're instantly arching your back off the door, squirming in his hold and moaning carelessly as he sloppily makes out with your cunt. He desperately chases the sound of your pleasure-ridden voice, wanting to hear the way it raises in pitch when he strokes you just right. He doesn't want it to stop, it's been too long. Two days way too long. You tug at his hair with one hand, dragging the nails of your other hand down the door. You breathe heavily as Toji manipulates your pleasure until your thighs are trembling.

Toji pulls away and lifts your skirt off his head. He lowers your leg back down and stands up from his crouched position. He faces you with glossy lips that shine with all the juices he collected from you, some of it drooling down his chin to give him an even more messy appearance. He presses his lips to yours, making slow movements to allow you to realize what is happening while your eyes are closed. You can taste yourself on his lips as you catch the rhythm.

There's a loud smack in the last kiss before he releases you, a feral look in his green eyes as he dotes on your blissed out appearance. You look too pure for someone who's just experienced something so sinful. "Hey, look at me," he coos, cupping your cheeks in his hands. "Look at me," he repeats, staring at you as you try to catch your breath with closed eyes.

You hum, rolling your eyes open to lazily stare back at him. Your eyelids felt so heavy as you looked at him, but you liked how vigilant he was being. It made you crack a grin, a small gesture that had Toji's heart thudding a little quicker, now.

"I wanna fuck you so bad, ma." His eyes trail yours as they look away from his gaze. "If this is your reaction to my mouth, I don't even know what to expect for when I'm inside you."

You look down to see what's been poking your thigh for the past minute or so, and it's the monster in his pants, outlined for your eyes to quickly spot and everything.

"Come on," you say, reaching your hand out to him. He takes it and allows you to lead him to the bedroom.

Toji shuts the door and locks it to give the situation a deeper level of intimacy. There's no one there but the two of you and yet you feel even more secluded by the gesture.

He wasn't aggressive in the way he bared you for his eyes. He pulled you close to him by the waist, your body against his as he peeled your layers of clothes off.

"Stay," he says, when you take a step back. He takes that step towards you again, placing his hands on your hips, and snaking them around to your back to locate the zipper for your skirt. He exhales through his nose, lidded eyes watching the longing expression on your face closely as he pulls down the zipper and allows the article to fall on the floor. His fingers fiddle with the hem of your shirt before he fully slides his hands beneath it, and raises it up your torso higher and higher. You put your arms up and allow him to slip it off your head.

He makes haste of getting his own clothes off, a sly smirk decorating his face when he sees you admiring him from where you sit on the end of the bed as you take off your bra and underwear. You're forced further up the bed by Toji as he inches closer and closer to you. You reach a dead end and welcome the suffocating warmth of his body as he cages you onto the bed.

"Don't do that to me again, mama," he murmurs, before leaning down to peck your lips. "Don't let me talk to myself for that long when you have such a pretty voice to respond with."

You laugh, pulling a small grin from him. "I didn't think you'd care, to be honest. I thought you'd tell me i'm being childish or ridiculous."

"Nah, princess. I thought I was gonna die."

You giggle, pulling him close again. "You're exaggerating."

"You wouldn't let me touch you. Not even when we went to bed, so it was like we were friends instead of lovers sleeping together. Especially with how far on your side you slept."

"Oh, baby," you coo, pressing multiple quick apologetic kisses to his lips. He chuckles at the affection, and his eyes close instinctively as your kisses become more widespread on his face. He missed this more than anything. "What can I do for your forgiveness, my love?"

"Just let me fuck you, ma. That's all. Give me my privilege to all of this, again." His hand slowly trails from your chest to your stomach, a touch you longed for dearly during those two days that you verbally ignored him.

"It's yours," you whisper to him. You peer up at him with your constellation eyes, silently begging him to realize how much you need him. "I'm yours, so show me the use you have for the privilege over my body, baby."

He leans down to kiss you, softly. He's desperate for you, but his lips don't falter their delicate synchrony because of it. He guides the tip of his cock through your folds, rubbing up and down the slickness a couple times before slowly sinking into you. Your ability to tangle with Toji's lips slowly deteriorates, and your focus strays to the stretching happening lower down your body, so Toji picks up the slack and feeds you his kisses.

"Come on," he groans out. Not even he is immune to the rebirth of sex with you. You're warm and inviting, and you embrace the pain and comfort he offers every time he craves you or you crave him. This time is no exception. "Kiss me back, sweetheart. Give them all to me," he mutters, before attempting to connect his lips to yours again. You dig your heels into the mattress and your toes curl as you feel his girth continue to submerge inside you.

Toji cups your chin and uses his fingers to squish your cheeks together into a makeshift pout for him to kiss. He can hear your hummed little whimpers in response to him sheathing himself further into you. He was being gentle, because hurting you is a crime in his world.

"Fuck, I missed this, mama," he says, goosebumps rising on his torso as he drags himself out of you halfway and pushes himself back in again. "So warm..." he says over the sound of your pleasured moan. He sighs, a grunt following as he starts a careful rocking rhythm into you. "I could stay inside you forever."

"I could keep you here forever," you rephrase, gazing up at him with those eyes he unequivocally loves. They've reverted back to the default loving expression you hold for him, the vacancy of your previous gaze now filled with love, excitement, lust, and overall enchantment. It's a beautiful thing to see your hurricanes subside.

He leans down to kiss you again, distributing the kisses on your face and leading them towards your neck. You could feel his abs dragging up and down your stomach with every roll of his hips against yours.

"Mmm... Toji," you moan, bringing your hands to his back. One of them moves up to the nape of his neck, threading through the dampened locks of his hair, the other traces his spine to distract you from how badly you want to dig your nails into him.

"I know," he coos, kissing the spot beneath your ear. "I know, doll. It's always this good with you."

You gasp at the feeling of his cock prodding the more sensitive area within you. "Right there, right there... Oh..." you moan out, inevitably digging your nails into his shoulder blades while Toji directs his kisses back up your neck and towards your face again so he can see the honest expression on it. You're lost in pleasure, vibrating as another orgasm rushes through you.

"Fuck, mama.. let me-" he groans, outwardly losing it at the overflow of your juices. "Let me see those pretty eyes," he pants, gripping your waist a little more harshly as he feels his cock on the brink of expelling into you. "Need you to watch me," he says, taking in the way your lips part to release your sounds of utter satisfaction. Your eyes flutter open to center on his greedy eyes. You mirror his lustful, lidded gaze, the look enough to make him spill inside you, making your cunt even sloppier. "You're gorgeous, ma," he says, mindlessly, as he fucks into you with a little more fervor. "Fucking stunning," he mutters through pants, to which you respond with a sly smirk. The gesture lured a groan out of him and made his cock twitch as he finished releasing into you.

You giggle when he stills his hips. Your combined attempts to regulate your breathing fills the silence that follows. "What're you laughing at?" He asks, massaging your hip with his thumb.

"You tell me that all the time like you're obsessed with me or something."

"And if I am?" he says with a voice so deep you have to blink to see that it's still your gentle giant of a man. "Is it too much for you? Can you handle it? Am I suffocating you, baby?" he purrs, cupping your cheeks while leaning in close to emphasize his points. All it does is allow you to closely admire how handsome he is and really think about what's happening in this moment. This green-eyed, raven-haired man, with the prettiest pointed nose and the most attractive scarred lips, is bedding you, and doing it so well.

"Never. Come closer and bite," you murmur.

He takes your lips in his again, a little more aggressive than before. You asked him to bite, and that's exactly what he's doing. The make out has him rocking both of you a little faster, working you towards yet another orgasm. You nip at his bottom lip and run your tongue over it when hisses. You hum out a little giggle, and moan into his mouth when he jolts into you.

"God, i'll bust again if you keep doing that. I'm serious, mama" he groans, swiping his tongue over his stinging bottom lip. You think he's being dramatic so when he leans down to kiss you again, you bite his bottom lip and suck on it. You gasp, releasing his lip and stare at him with wide eyes as his excessive warmth spurts into your cunt, filling it to the brim and beyond, to the point of leakage.

"F-Fuck... you're terrible," he groans, shuddering with tense abdominal muscles as he lures the entirety of his orgasm out. "Cum," he says, panting as he picks up the pace of his rutting to get you to follow his orgasm. "I can feel you clenching around me like hell. I know you want to," he says, reaching a hand between you and him to stimulate your clit.

Your already labored breathing picks up and your heart is pounding in your ears aggressively as you roll your hips back against his. You whimper as you feel your peak get closer and closer, a cried out and breathy "fuck!" leaving you when it arrives, followed by high pitched moans that make Toji's heart race. You arched your back off the mattress as you reached the zenith of your orgasm with the help of Toji's finger rapidly rubbing your clit while he maintained his satisfying pace inside you.

You whimper, slapping a hand onto Toji's wrist to stop his movements on you. He smirks at the sight of your trembling thighs, your heaving chest, and the sound of your dazed hums. You always were such a delicate thing. So fragile that even with just enough of his attention, he could break you.

"Tired yet?" He asks, admiring your relaxed facial features. You nod with your eyes closed, your lips parted to release little puffs of air. "Thought you'd be. I'll go grab some towels for us to shower." He pulls out of you, taking a moment to admire your collaborative masterpiece.

"Baby..." you whine, sitting up when you feel his weight lift off the bed. "I can't get up." You dramatically let yourself fall back on the bed and stick your tongue out to portray your exhaustion.

"Get up, you faker. That's all you have to do and i'll take care of the rest."

"Too tired to wash myself right now..." you say, waking up for a second before closing your eyes again. Toji can see the sly grin on your face and the little shake of your stomach as you stifle your giggles.

"Guess you're too tired to eat, too, huh? You know i've got a huge appetite, and I could eat all that food you brought by myself."

"You wouldn't," you say, abruptly sitting up on the bed and squinting at him. "There's enough to feed three people in those bags."

"I've got the stomach of three people in one, so you better catch up before you're left with my seconds."

You sigh, too tired to move, but you get up anyway and trail behind Toji. "Baby, can you pleeease clean me up? I'm beat."

He puts his hands on your shoulders as he now walks behind you. "Sure, but don't complain when I take longer on certain areas."

[atlntiic]

❛ Babysitting ❜ ─── ✦

Leon S. Kennedy x Fem!reader

Summary:: Your dad asks his most loyal friend to look out for you on a Friday night, but being the little brat you are, Leon decides to teach you a lesson.

CW:  18+, mdni!, smut, oral sex (m receiving), vaginal fingering, p in v, degrading, swearing, age gap, dad's friend!leon, and squirt.

3.3k words

a/n I tried.

“I really don’t see why it’s such a big deal to be alone for one night,” you say, crossing your arms and glaring at your dad with annoyance in your voice.

It’s Friday night. Your dad has plans to have dinner with his new girlfriend, and you thought it would be the perfect opportunity to sneak out and party with your friends.

But, of course, the man standing in front of you knows you too well. As punishment, he’s decided to call a backup, his friend, to babysit you for the night.

“I know you’re up to something,” your dad says, putting on his coat as he gets ready to leave. “Leon will be here soon, so behave.” Shooting you a harsh look.

“What?! Leon? Why him?” you blurt out, your voice rising in to protest.

your dad raises an eyebrow, “Because I trust him to keep an eye on you. And don’t start with the attitude. I’ve already had enough of that this week,” he replies firmly, adjusting his coat and looking in the mirror.

You flop onto the couch, arms crossed tightly. You couldn’t stand Leon. He was awkward, bossy, and way too strict about rules. He acted like he was in charge of everything and always treated you like you didn’t have a brain, making teasing comments every time he was around and making you sound like a child.

And the worst part? That one time he caught you kissing a guy and immediately told your dad. You still hadn’t forgiven him for embarrassing you like that.

You disliked him—no, you hated him. Every time with him felt like a war for you, never missing an opportunity to snap back at him, making sure he understood just how much you’d rather jump off a cliff than spend even a single second in his presence.

The sound of the front door closing snaps you back to reality. Great. Leon was on his way, and your night was officially ruined.

You groan in frustration and sigh heavily.

After your dad left, you paced around the room, running your hands through your hair, messing it up as you tried to think of a plan. There had to be a way to get out of this situation.

Escaping was impossible. With Leon around, he’d notice you were gone in a blink, and you weren’t in the mood for another lecture or punishment from your dad.

So...what could you do?

The doorbell rings, snapping you out of your thoughts. You pause for a moment, sighing before walking toward the door. Taking a deep breath, you grip the handle and pull it open.

Leon’s tall figure fills the doorway, and your eyes, for a moment, trail over him. He’s wearing grey sweatpants and a tight black compression shirt that clings to his big chest and arms, making his biceps look even bigger than you remembered.

Not that you ever noticed his big figure so often...right?

Your eyes finally meet his. His sharp blue eyes are already fixed on you, filled with annoyance. “Took you long enough,” he says, his tone serious.

You roll your eyes at him, feeling the irritation rising up from his stupid comment. Not even thirty seconds in, and he’s already managed to get under your skin. Guess that’s a special talent of his.

“Sorry, old hag,” you shoot back, your voice full of sarcasm.

He laughs, a low sound, and a smirk forms at the corner of his lips. “Eighteen-year-old girls don’t usually need babysitters. Guess you’re a special case.”

Your cheeks flush with heat. Embarrassment surges through you as you turn away, quickly walking back to the living room and leaving him standing at the door.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid Leon,” you think to yourself, mentally kicking yourself for letting him get to you so easily. He closes the door behind him and follows you, setting his things down on the table.

You turn to him again as he settles onto the couch. You clear your throat before speaking, “Why did you even agree to this shit?"

Leon didn’t seem like the type to do favors like this—babysitting? Really?

He doesn’t respond right away, pausing as if considering his words. Finally, he shrugs. “Your father asked me to. I couldn’t say no.”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with the answer. “Why not? You could’ve easily said no.”

“Yeah,” he says, pausing for a moment before adding, “I owed him, so to clear the debt, I’m taking care of you.”

He turns his eyes to you, looking you up and down

You scoff, “I don’t need you to take care of me, Kennedy. I'm big enough already.” You cross your arms tightly over your chest, the movement making your boobs shift slightly.

His eyes fell on them for a split second, the silence thick between you. After a moment, his lips curl into a slight smirk. “Well, that’s not what your daddy thinks,” he says, voice low and a little too smug. “And honestly, I agree with him.”

You scoff, raising an eyebrow at him. “You can’t agree with him—you don’t even know me.”

“Let’s be honest—you’re irresponsible. It’s your fault your dad doesn’t trust you,” Leon shoots back, his tone sharp. “And I’ve been around long enough to see it.”

You rolled your eyes and without another word, you turn and storm upstairs to your room, footsteps heavy and quick. He’s impossible to deal with, and the anger surges in you.

You hear his chuckle echo behind you. It’s the kind of laugh that only makes you want to scream, but you bite your tongue, holding yourself.

You slam the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment to catch your breath. Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, you walk toward your bed, grabbing the towel that had been resting there. A shower might help calm your nerves down.

As you start to undress, the cold air hits your skin, sending a chill through your body, but you don’t mind. You pause in front of the mirror for a moment, your reflection staring back at you with eyes full of frustration. 

With a sigh, you step into the shower, letting the hot water run over you, the steam filling the room and helping you calm down, even if just a little.

As you wash yourself, your mind starts to trace ideas on how to get Kennedy to leave. But nothing really sticks, he’s too stubborn, too... present.

You turn off the shower, step out, grab the towel and begin drying yourself off, your mind still working through different ways to get rid of him. Maybe if you’re annoying enough, he gets frustrated and leaves, provoking him sounds like a good idea right now, especially since you'll get a bit of pleasure doing so.

You slip into an oversized shirt and panties. As you brush your hair, the sound of your stomach growling interrupts your thoughts. You pause for a second, hunger hitting you. Attending to your stomach needs, you make your way downstairs to the kitchen.

As you pass the living room, you spot Leon’s head over the back of the couch, his attention fixed on the TV as he sprawls lazily. You roll your eyes, ignoring him as you continue on your way to the kitchen.

Opening the fridge, you scan the shelves, looking for something to quiet the growl in your stomach.

The fridge was practically empty—just milk, eggs, and a few random items that wouldn’t make a proper meal. You stared at the shelves in disappointment, your stomach growling in protest.

Suddenly, you hear his voice behind you, making you jump. “Hungry?”

You jump and hit your head on the fridge door, letting out a small hiss and rubbing the spot on your forehead.

"What does it look like?” you snap, closing the fridge door and moving to the shelves to see if there’s anything worth it, only finding a ceral box. You grabbed whithout hesitation.

You hear him sigh from behind you. “Choose something. I’ll order it,” he says, clearly getting a little annoyed.

"Anything?" You asked, taking a spoon, but it fell from your hand under the counter. You curse in your mind as you bend down to take it.

Leon's response took a long moment as he watched you "Mhm."

You get up from the floor and turn to face him, a sly smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “Can I order... fucking leave my house?” The words come out sharp.

He raises an eyebrow, surprised by your tone. “You’ve got a pretty nasty attitude,” he observes, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, so what?” you scoff.

He pauses for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes you in. Then, he simply says..."I might have to make you gag on my dick to clean it off."

Your whole body freezes, eyes widening in shock as your breath catches in your throat. “Y-you?!” The words die in your mouth, your mind racing to process what’s happening.

Before you can react, he approaches you quickly, his figure crowding over yours until your back hits the counter, trapping you in place.

His eyes lock onto yours with sharpness. “I’m tired of your little shits, this fucking brat attitude of yours every time,” he says, his voice low. With a quick motion, his hand moves to cup your face roughly, his grip hard, making you yelp.

"You need to learn your place and how to behave," he growls, his fingers digging into your cheeks as he forcefully grips your face. With his other hand, he grabs hold of your ass, letting a small gasp from you as he pulls you closer to him. His nose lightly brushed against yours, teasing you, feeling his warm breath against your lips, and then he kissed you hard, catching you off guard.

Kissing you with hunger, his hand running over your body as he tightens his grip and pulls you closer, feeling his whole body, eyes fluttering shut, you wrap your arms around his neck. A small groan escapes his lips, letting out a mumbling between the kiss, “Fucking slut.” sending shivers down your spine and making you let out a soft moan in response. 

A sudden wetness forms down your panties, a wave of need washing over you. Without warning, Leon lifts you up and carries you across the room, placing you on the couch before crawling over you.

With a devilish smirk, his hand slides down to your clothed pussy causing you to let out a yelp as he teasingly rubs at the wet spot sending shivers down your spine

A deep chuckle echoes from him, and with a mocking tone, "Wet already?" He teases, a smirk playing on his lips as he observes your flushed cheeks.

"Shut up." You hiss at him, the embarrassment creeping you.

He presses his thumb against your clit, rubbing with more pressure as a punishment from your snarky response, pushing another moan from your lips.

“Say it again,” he growls daring you.

As you opened your mouth, ready to shoot back at him, he cuts you off by rubbing your clit faster. 

You shut your eyes, biting your lip to keep the moans from escaping your lips not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing you.

Without any warning, he yanks your panties off, throwing them behind his shoulders somewhere on the floor. He spreads your legs apart, exposing your wet pussy to him. His finger slides through your dripping folds, causing you to twitch under the touch.

"Look at this," He holds his finger up to you, with your juices all over it in front of your face, and you feel a flush spread across your cheeks. He was taking pleasure in exposing how easily he made you wet.

"You're such a needy little slut," he whispers to you as he sucks on his finger, savouring your taste. His eyes close, and he lets out a quiet moan, feeling the sweet taste spreading to his mouth.

You whimper at the sight, driving you wild, craving for more of his touch. He turns you over onto your stomach, causing your back to arch, making your ass stick up in the air. His finger slides through your wetness, slipping between your folds and entering you.

A loud moan escapes your lips as you feel his finger moving in and out of you with a fierce speed. You try to squirm away from it but he keeps you still. He quickens his pace, adding yet another finger while using his thumb to rub your swollen clit.

“Don’t-ngh- like that” You cried out, as your body twisted with pleasure.

Leon's hand lands with a loud smack on your ass, leaving a red mark. You let out a cry of both pain and pleasure, squeezing your eyes shut to hold back a tear. “Shut the fuck up and take it. Aren't you the big girl you claim to be?" He snaps at you, mocking your “big girl” posture from a while ago.

As his fingers continue to thrust inside you, your juices begin to drip, and a tight coil starts to form in your stomach, causing your walls to clench around his fingers.

“Shit- Leon!” You cry out his name, “I’m gonna-” As you are about to come, he stops.

Your eyes fly open, whining, looking back at him, confused about why he stopped, before you can say anything, he smacks your ass, causing you to hiss at the pain, “Little nasty girls like you don't get to cum.'' He says sharply.

"What?! Why-" You try to argue, but before you can finish your sentence, Leon gets up from the couch and stands in front of you and pulling his cock free from his pants. 

You exhale sharply in surprise at his size, you didn't expect it to be so.. large, so ..thick. Being honest with yourself, you had imagined it would be small based on his personality and how much you disliked him. But this? How could it possibly fit inside you?

You opened your lips to say something to him, but he just plopped his cock right into your mouth and grabbing your hair. 

“Mmmm..Le-” You tried to back away, but he didn’t care, pushing your head down, forcing you to take him in your mouth and beginning to thrust in and out. Your saliva starts dripping down on his length.

He fucks your throat, his eyes fixed on you as you choke and gag around him. He groans in pleasure, admiring how swollen your lips are becoming as he trusts your mouth without mercy.

You groan as his cock reaches the back of your throat, "You're so much more enjoyable when you like this," he murmurs. You glance up and meet his gaze as he continues, “Not talking at all.”

Your expression turns angry, and he chuckles at you.

You use your tongue to swirl over his cock, sucking it as you move your head up and down, causing him to tilt his head back and release soft groans.

With one final thrust, he removes his cock from your mouth and playfully taps it against your lips.

You lean back on the couch as he reaches for your tights, pulling you closer to him. His tip slides through your slick folds, teasing your sensitive clit., “‘s too big Leon.." you whimper, unsure if it will even fit inside of you, “I don't-”.

He roughly thrusts into you without warning, a loud moan fell out, your eyes squeezing shut as the mixture of pain and pleasure wash over you, clenching around him tightly. He lets out a curse under his breath as he feels the tightness of your walls. "Fuck-, you're so tight," he hisses through gritted teeth.

He didn’t start slow, oh no, no, no, totally the opposite of that. Instead, he roughly thrusts himself inside of you, not even giving you time to adjust yourself.

Pulling your thighs apart to go even deeper, hips rolling with a high-speed, you couldn't help but let out loud moans, eyes rolling back in pleasure each time he hit that special spot inside of you.

“Leon, Leon, Leon..!” As you moan out his name, juices dripping down your inner tight, and Leon lets out a groan in response. He grabs your shirt with one hand, pulling it up to expose your breasts.

He hums as he grasps one of them harder, pinching your nipples and giving them the attention they deserve.

"Open your mouth," he commands, and you do it without hesitation.

He slides his fingers inside and orders you to suck on them, making sure they are wet with your spit before sliding them down to your clit. The pressure and pleasure become too intense for you to handle, and your body starts trembling as a wave of electricity runs through you. Your walls clench harder than before, and a tight coil forms in your stomach once again, more intense this time.

"Please," you beg him, meeting his eyes with pleading ones.

"Please what?" he asks with a smirk, knowing exactly what you want but wanting to play with you.

"I want to cum, Leon…please," you whine, but he stops his movements, thrusting into you slower as you cry out in frustration.

"I don't know…you don't deserve it." His hips continue to move slowly, torturing you once again. You grasp onto his arms desperately.

"Are you going to behave from now on?" he asks sternly. You nod your head in agreement, desperate for release. In response, he increases his speed slightly while continuing to rub your clit.

“Stop with the attitude?”

"Oh God, yes! Anything, just please…" You couldn't take it anymore. Satisfied with your answer, he goes back to thrusting roughly and fast, hitting perfectly your G-spot.

He leans against you, kissing your lips. "I wonder what your dad would think of this," he teases, mocking your messy self. "Seeing his little princess being fucked like the slut she is."

You whimper and shake your head. He plants soft kisses on your neck before leaning back to admire how your pussy swallows his cock completely, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "This pretty pussy of yours," he grunts as he thrusts into you.

Your body trembles and drool escapes from your mouth as your cunt clenches at the intense sensation, an unfamiliar feeling washing over you.

"W-wha-?" Your eyes roll back as you squirt all over him, the liquid dripping and spreading everywhere.

Leon lets out a low moan, his cock twitch inside you as your orgasm tightens around him. Your cunt clenches, milking him for every last drop of hot cum.

You bite your lip to stifle your moans as he pulls out, seeing his thick seed dribbling down from you.

Your eyes meet his, and your mind clears as you take in the moment. He reaches out and touches your cheek, caressing and planting a gentle kiss there. "Good girl."

“So, how was last night?” your dad asks casually, setting a plate of breakfast in front of you. You hesitate, your fork hovering over the eggs. The memories of the night flash through your mind, making your cheeks heat up slightly.

When you don’t respond, your dad turns his attention to Leon, who’s sitting across from you at the table. He’d stayed over since your dad didn’t get back until morning.

“Did she behave, Leon?” your dad asks with a curious smile.

Leon leans back in his chair, calm as ever, his blue eyes hovering over you. “Oh, yeah,” he says smoothly. “She behaved quite well. Didn’t you?”

Your face flushes instantly, the blush spreading across your cheeks as you quickly avert your gaze. You can only nod, avoiding his sly smirk

Your dad laughs, clearly interpreting the situation as innocent. “Well, I might have to call you more often, then.”

Leon chuckles, his tone soft but carrying a teasing hint. “ I'll be glad to help.”

[leilawanderingaround]

Just played 3.0 today and I have a lot of thoughts about Phainon...

Imagine Phainon finding out you were hurt because of his carelessness and him making up to you...

"You should keep your man on a leash. Let him hurt himself begging for your forgiveness" You already know that Mydei- one of the Chrysos Heirs- the crown prince of Kremnos and your brother have a bit of a temper but never this much.

"I'm sorry but I don't understand what you mean, Lord Mydei" you shake your head, wanting to deny his view of yourself and Phainon. You look down at your bandaged arm and frown, the attack on the city left you wounded alongside many others. Still, you doubt he has his mind on anything beside yourself at the moment. That is why you are hiding from him, nestled in a corner of the public bath house, away from people's gaze. Yet, Mydei found you easily like he always does" We are merely... acquaintances"

The crown prince chuckle before raising his cup, pouring the pomegranate juice down the water, dying it red like blood. "Still in denial? You are gonna regret saying that"

His gaze now on you, his smile remains yet it waver. "Dear sister, he's gonna ask for forgiveness, be it killing himself or covering your house in the ashes of our enemies"

"Phainon... enough. This i..is enough." You try to push the man in front of you away yet he remains the same. You can't see anything anymore, and you feel like you are gonna get sick.

"Calm now, my dear. I'm still not satisfied. You must have been so scared. Let me comfort you." Using his own body, he pinned yours against the wall with his arm raised above you. The wound on his arm- the same as yours is still freshly bleeding, torn apart by his own hand. The blood falls from it, drenching your head, face and shirt in red. The smell, the wetness drives you mad with fear.

"Mydei told me that in Kremnos, when someone faults their partner and wants to ask for forgiveness, they need to inflict a certain amount of pain on themselves before being forgiven by their love."

Phainon then gazes down at you, eyes full of devotion and madness in his eyes. "But my dear, you are too forgiven. I let you get hurt despite the strength I carry, despite being by your side."

"So until I drench you red from head to toes, I am not forgiven."

Mydei doesn't look really surprised, seeing Phainon after that day, wearing a collar.

"Not much of a leash, but this will do for now" Phainon smirks, passing Mydei. The wound on his arm is half heartedly wrapped, still drenched in blood.

[sharoo]

Self-knowledge as a theme in STP messes me up so bad, bros.

This all starts with how little the Princess can tell you if you ask her about herself. How little you can say about yourself, more often than not. Most of the time Quiet doesn't even know what they look like!

The Narrator makes it a point to make the Princess' cluelessness, her lack of self-knowledge, into deception, but really, both the protagonists don't know themselves. How could they?

The concepts of bounds, of something that isn't you, the distinction of "self" and "other", "you" and "I", the concept of something being not like yourself... this is the first time this deity which is now two has ever experienced it.

The Shifting Mound and the Long Quiet did not exist until the Narrator tore a whole into parts.

Now, this deity in twain has to reorient. It has only begun existing, it's not yet known itself. A toddler has to develop a self-concept, and the concepts of others.

Now imagine, for the first time in your solitary existence, that there is something that you are not. Unknowable, foreign.

What are they like, you think? Are they a friend? Should I get to know them? Are they a foe? I do not know them, I cannot trust them... Or can I?

This brings to mind, of all things, Contrapoints' video on Twilight, where she speaks about the concepts of Union and Division in relation to love. And while she speaks of it in terms of eros, it can apply here just as easily, romantically and platonically.

Love is the union of two beings. We love because something outside of us allows us to be more than ourself. In others, many seek that which they lack. We seek out people so that we may develop through our similarities and contrasts with them, to change an be changed.

We seek out people because there can be no I without a You. To exist in a void is not a fulfilling experience.

We cannot discover ourself if he have nothing that allows us to compare ourself. The mirrors elude us throughout the game, always leading to the princess - she is the only way we may know ourselves, the mirrors tease as they disappear. And at the end of the route, only then, can you see yourself, now that you have a complete knowledge of yourself in a given scenario, with a given persona.

Was the princess someone you decided to trust? Or to betray? Was she a foe? A friend? A nightmare? A victim?

You both try to find out who you are through your relationship.

The princess assumes many faces and attitudes in response to you, you assume voices and attitudes in response to her. You're two batches of clay shaping each other at the same time. It's almost like knowing someone your entire life, seeing them go through different phases as they try to find out their identity in the world, their place. The 5 routes, whatever they be, are your "adolescence".

And growing means you will hurt each other, intentionally or not. There will be fights, disagreements, there will be heartache, and comfort and love.

And everything will pass.

Shifty, before she's complete, before she discovers her godhood, makes this point so clear.

How could she not be kind to you? You are the only thing in this place that is not her. What reason could she have to hate you? To make the only friend she could have into an enemy?

That's why, at the end of every route, all hurts are forgiven. All the heartache is acknowledged, understood, and then she moves on. So that you may continue being together, so that she may see what else you do.

Even godhood can become a phase. The Shifting Mound recognises what you both were, but it need not be you unless you accept it. Because self-knowledge is unending. You are always changing, and you can always change.

You can accept being a god, and that becomes you.

You can reject being a god, and that becomes you.

You are by that point an "adult". The figure trying to dictate who both of you are is gone, and you can decide for yourself.

I think this is partially why I love the Leave with Stranger ending the best of all the endings. You begin it by avoiding knowledge of yourself and of another. The self can only exist as far as it is not like the others.

And you meet the Stranger, this being who knows so little about herself, because she too has been deprived of another. The route is quick. It really cannot amount to much, because if you don't know yourself, it's so hard to build a relationship.

But at the end, they've matured. You gave each other time to become fuller beings. You met this person again and they seem so much happier with themself than they were in youth.

I love how they say "We're just a stranger.", and the voices point out how it needn't be sad that you don't know her, unless you make it out to be. You can get to know them, the real them, and they can do that with you.

The way the Stranger speaks if the position of a God only underlines how much the heart of the Shifting Mound can understand self-knowledge.

They speak of how they feel themself be pulled towards taking the position of godhood, of being everything, yet find it confining. Restricting.

"We want more. We want whatever might be on the other side of this door. Something new, that we'll experience together. With someone who exists outside of us. Someone who can see us in a way we can never see ourself."

Self-knowledge through relationships and reflection on how you impact other people.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

The Facade of You

I wanted to write him off putting and cocky at the same time, but that sure is a fine line. Reader is a bit of a spitfire when they probably should keep their mouth shut. (And I love that) ~2.3k words

When the Arkham Knight wants something, he gets it. Driven. Focused. Torrent in his mission and desires. You knew it from the moment you met him. Knew it the second you swung the aluminum baseball bat at his head, and he stopped your swing without even a flinch.

This was going to be a problem. Well, more of a problem than it already was.

Most of Gotham had evacuated because of whatever insane plan Scarecrow had crafted. Most, but not all. You had shored yourself up in your apartment, ready to ride out whatever happens from the comfort of your own home.

Was it the smartest decision? Maybe not. But you had survived blizzards in July, streets lined with living plants, and some guy who liked to run around hosting tea parties while wearing a top hat. So, you think you could be forgiven if you thought you could handle some threats of fear gas and anarchy.

And honestly, you probably could have. If not for the figure wearing armor worth more than your whole apartment breaking through your window.

On any other day, you probably would have screamed at the sight of the stranger standing in your living room. But tonight, there's no neighbors to call the cops, no vigilantes with time to spare patrolling the streets to hear you cry for help.

So you swung. Swung your bat right for his weird, glowing helmet with all your strength.

His fingers caught and curled around the metal before you even registered him moving. Everything seemed to go still, your instincts practically screaming at you to flee. You didn't need to see his face to know that he's smirking at you, head tilting like what you did was interesting, but pointless.

The silence stretches as you try to tug the bat from his hold, but the man doesn't even seem to move. No, he only starts to laugh at you, laughs like this is the last he expected, like the entire situation is ridiculous.

It draws a scowl to your face. So what if he's covered head to toe in armor and weapons? He broke into your apartment to what? Revel in your misery? Make fun of you? And you're just supposed to take that?

You open your mouth to confront him, to demand answers, when he laughs again, low and still full of disbelief, "Of course, of course you're still in this damned city. I shouldn't be surprised. Always in places you shouldn't be, aren't you."

He punctuates his words with a low, long drawl of your name, the letters falling off his tongue and through the modulator of his helmet as if he's said them a million times.

He drops his hold on the bat, but it hardly matters when your own grip starts to slack at the sound of your name, "Who are you," You demand, every hair on edge as the stranger starts to pace your apartment, almost as if he's looking for something to occupy himself with.

"You aren't supposed to be here, you know," he murmurs, picking up a framed photo, "It's not part of the plan. But I suppose I'm to blame for not expecting this of you."

You step forward, anger clouding your better judgment at the sight of him picking over your things like they're his own, "Put that down."

He turns his head towards you, lifting the photo to your field of vision, "This? It's hardly important."

You grit your teeth at the sight. It is important. More than he could possibly understand. Yours and Jason's smiling face shines from the picture behind the glass, your figures illuminated by the rare summer sun Gotham gets. It's one of the only pictures you have of him, some of the only evidence he was ever in your life.

You lunge forward without warning, dropping your bat in a bid to grab the frame. He easily side steps your desperate attempts. Something seems to shift in the air as he practically purrs, "whoops," and drops the photo from between his fingers.

The breath leaves your lungs as the glass shatters, leaving the photo in a pile of shards and broken wood. Your gaze snaps back to him, outraged, "Who do you think you are? How dare–"

"You can call me The Arkham Knight," he cuts in simply, stepping on the shards– on the photo of Jason– like it's less than nothing.

"What do you want," You hiss, biting back insults over how insane you think he sounds. You match his step forward with your own backward motion, keeping space between you.

"To make Batman pay," he drawls, honest and never slowing his steps towards you, even as you rapidly run out of space between you and the wall.

You shift your free hand to your pocket, trying to fumble for your phone without him noticing, "Then why are you here? I'm not Batman."

He finally stops stalking your every step as your back hits the wall, lingering only an arms length away from you, "No," he relents, "You're not Batman. But he does feel responsible for you."

"He feels responsible for everyone," You protest, fingers tapping blindly across your phone. Your voice shakes, even as you try to hide it. But it's hard not to be intimidated by the man towering over you, by the unblinking whites of his mask shining on your face.

He sighs, like whatever game he's playing suddenly went dull, "It's a shame you were here. Really. It would have been better if you'd left the city."

You press send on your phone. At least, you hope the (ideally) coherent message you're trying to get to Babs without seeing is sending, "Are you going to kill me?"

He recoils like the idea repulses him. It's the first bit of proof you've gotten that he even has feelings outside of whatever front he's been putting up. But he settles back into that lazy, uncaring pose, nodding towards your pocket, "Go ahead, sweet thing. Call Barabra. Call Dick. Call Bruce, even. They won't help you. Even if it wasn't such a busy night, you've never been their priority."

You tense, frozen under his unwavering gaze and the revelation of his words. His jabs don't bother you. He's clearly trying to get under your skin. But, he– The Arkham Knight– knows. Your mind races as your breathing shallows. He knows about Batman– everyone. But how much does he know? How much could he know? Their identities, that secret, it always felt untouchable.

It nearly makes you tremble. Is that why he's here? To get back at them somehow through you? It hardly makes sense if it's true. Jason's the one that cared about you– that wanted you to be okay.

His words feel like a trap. The idea that he wants you to call for help is just another game he's letting you play. But you pull out your phone anyway, your eyes never really leaving him even as you dial a number with trembling fingers.

The line rings. And rings. Then, "Hi, it's Barbara–"

"Babs, I need–" You start, only to be cut off by the continued message.

"I can't answer the phone right now, but leave a message after the tone, and I'll be sure to get back to you!"

Your heart drops, and you don't get the chance to consider your options before the Arkham Knight is plucking your phone out of your hands to end the call. He tosses your only hope of getting help towards your couch.

His voice is mocking, when he speaks again, "See? They can't even save themselves. How could you think they'd bother with you?"

"Why are you here," You ask instead, desperate to ignore the growing pit in your stomach, the fear creeping up your spine.

He hums, and reaches up to grab your chin, turning your face this way and that to study you. "A lapse in judgment. Curiosity. A weakness for the past. It hardly matters," he mutters, more for himself than you, "What matters is what to do with you."

"You could leave me here," you suggest quickly, grabbing at his wrist to keep him still, "Pretend you never saw me. I won't get in the way. I'm– I'm no vigilante. I won't be any trouble."

He scoffs, dropping his hand from your face, "This city would eat you alive. You can't handle what's coming."

"And what's it to you," You snarl, sounding braver that you feel and driven by the annoyance course through your veins. You're more than capable of taking care of yourself. (Just not necessarily against military trained rouges)

That seems to snap him to attention, and you regret your words immediately. You've essentially given him a reminder that you mean as much to him as the photo he left broken on the floor. And if he wanted to send a message to Batman, it would be easy to start with you.

"It's nothing to me," he hisses back, but even the modulator in his helmet doesn't hide the tightness– the near lie– of his voice, "You're in over your head, doll. If anything, you should be grateful I'm showing you the truth."

Your blood runs cold, your tone sharpens, and your eyes narrow. He doesn't have the right. Jason's the only one that's ever nicknamed you doll. His eyes always seemed to shine when he said it. "Don't call me that," You warn, words dripping with malice.

He honestly snorts at you, unimpressed by your threat, "What's wrong, doll? Hit a sore spot?"

You throw yourself at him, aiming a fist for his dumb helmet as your heart pounds in your ears. If he's going to make an example of you, use you against Batman, you're not going to lay back and just let him pick at your wounds.

He catches you like he expected it, hauling you into the air as you scream obscenities and curses, kicking and hitting your fists against his armor until he dumps you unceremoniously onto the couch. You scramble for your discarded phone, and he's quick to pin you down, his knee braced to your stomach to keep you from moving as he knocks your phone out of reach.

He huffs as if this is just a minor setback, reaching down to fix the wrinkles forming in your clothes every time you struggle, "And here I thought you liked being called doll."

"Not by you," You practically spit, all rationally thrown out the window as you continue to squirm. You bring your nails up to his arm, trying to dig into any weak spots in his armor for a chance to escape, to make him hurt.

"Only by me, sweet thing," he coos, and your world stills to a halt as he clicks the faceplate of his helmet back.

Jason Todd is grinning at you. It's not quite right. His eyes are wilder than you remember, his smile too forced, too tense. There's more scars across his skin than you recall there being. A stark white brand stands out on his cheek. But it's him. Undeniably him.

"Now where'd all your fight go," he questions, fingers trails up to rest on your throat, "no need to look all surprised, doll."

All you can offer is his name falling from your lips, eyes wide, and face shell-shocked.

He tuts, fingers flexing ever so slightly against your pulse, "Is that really all you have to say?"

"They told me you were dead," you choke out, unable to fight the tears threatening to well in your vision.

"They lied," he says simply, as if that answers anything. He lifts his hand from your throat to press his thumb against your lower eyelid, the light pressure forcing your tears to spill onto the fabric of his glove.

"Jason–" You try again, wanting answers, comfort, anything you can latch onto.

He only shushes you, "I don't blame you, sweet thing, for falling for it. That's just what they do. They lie. Change the narrative to fit their twisted perceptions. But I'll help you. I'll tell you everything you need to know. All you need to do, is come with me."

It's a bad idea. You feel it down to your bones. Jason, your Jason, isn't the one digging his knee into your stomach, isn't the one collecting your tears on his glove like they're a trophy. But he is Jason, and he's only ever done what's best for you. So going with him has to be right, has to be what you're supposed to do.

You nod. What else could you do? How could you even think to deny him when his face lights up in the shadow of how he used to smile at you?

He stands, and it takes every bit of strength you have not to surge forward and beg him not to when he clicks his helmet back shut. The Arkham Knight– Jason– offers you a hand, and you don't need a second thought to take it.

You shouldn't. You really shouldn't. He said it himself, he didn't plan for you to even be here. But his grip is steady in yours, and he keeps turning his head to check on you as he leads you across your apartment and to the window.

Relief clouds your mind, the idea that everything could be okay as long as he's back. So you follow him, don't ask questions even as he leads you down the fire escape and towards a suspiciously armored truck.

You don't press, even as he barks orders at the driver that's dressed more like a soldier than a chauffeur.

You let him tell you that you made the right choice. That he's going to fix all of this, that you being here will help in the end. You let him guide you through Gothams ruined streets, far away from your home, from where the memory of him is shattered on the floor.

And if you left your phone ringing over and over again on your couch in a frantic attempt to reach you, you're far too blinded by the echo of the boy you're chasing to care.

[lipringlrh]

HE DOESN’T WANT ME WHEN HE’S SOBER PART 2 (LANDO ENDING)

read: part one | logan ending

summary: lando’s your best friend but seems to like you when he’s drunk. but then again, he seems to like everyone when he’s drunk.

pairing: lando norris x gn!reader

wc: 1.8k

Lando wouldn’t admit it to anyone but that night was the worst sleep he’d ever had. He left as soon as he found out you’d left with Lily and Alex, and made his way to your house just to find out you weren’t there. He messaged Alex to get no response and contemplated waiting outside your door until you came back, whether it be days or months, he’d wait for you. But, after almost falling asleep numerous times and getting laughed at by a group of teenagers, he made his way back to his apartment, knowing you’d be looked after.

He was awake almost all night, messaging and calling you and regretting everything in its entirety. He didn’t fully know if you had even seen him kiss the person that resembled you, he only felt it deep down, but even if you hadn’t, he shouldn’t have done it, and he could never apologise enough. He thought of how to explain his thoughts but nothing would suffice; nothing would ever be able to explain how he felt.

At some point in the early hours, he finally drifted off, but awoke not much later to an aggressive banging on his door and a voice screaming at him to hurry up. He wished the voice was you but it wasn’t and he hated it. He rushed to his door, barely having time to pull on some grey joggers before opening it to an angry Alex, very close to breaking the door down.

“Are you stupid?” Alex questioned, fuming, pushing his way into Lando’s house, “I know that you’re in love with her so what are you doing?”

Lando looked like a deer in headlights. He couldn’t explain his actions, he didn’t even want to think about them. All he remembered feeling was grief at watching you walk away, so when he found someone that looked eerily similar, he took the chance to kiss them and create the image in his mind of kissing you. It didn’t last long. He realised too quickly that they didn’t smell like you and the way they kissed wasn’t the same. He hated it, he didn’t want to kiss anyone but you.

“I know, I didn’t mean to-”

“What, you just tripped into her mouth then?” Alex questioned, pushing a finger against Lando’s chest.

“No- no. I don’t know why I did, I really love them I promise. We almost kissed but then they walked away, I was hurt, I didn’t think they wanted me,” Lando almost cried, his voice cracking.

“You do this every time you go out. You kiss her every time you go out and she follows, you don’t get to pull that card. You might be upset but I promise you’re not even feeling half of it,” Alex spat, not caring if he hurt Lando because he hurt you much more.

“Help me apologise. I need to apologise, please Alex, please help,” Lando begged, wanting you to more than anything, “Please Alex, I’ll do anything.”

Alex sighed. At that moment, he hated Lando for what he did, but he’d been wishing for you both to get together since he first saw you both together, making heart eyes at each other. He contemplated in his head whether to help or not. He always envisioned you together but always wanted what's best for you and right now he couldn’t tell if that was Lando or not. But looking at the state of him, red, wet eyes, begging for his help, he wanted to believe Lando regretted everything and would do anything to prove he loved you.

“Okay, but I’m not letting you be forgiven easily, I want you to prove it,” Alex sighed, running his hands over his face. A feeling of simultaneous relief and guilt eating him alive.

Lando promised Alex over and over again, and in between each syllable, promising himself also that he would give you the world in apologies, and whatever happened he deserved it, but even if there was the slimmest chance you could forgive him, Lando would take it and cherish it.

Alex messaged you and you told him it was fine to bring Lando over, as long as he didn’t expect much, and so they turned up less than five minutes later. Alex left you both alone in the kitchen to sit with Lily in the living room after repeating countless times he was a shout away.

You almost broke down just seeing him but managed to keep it in. You didn’t want him to explain, you didn’t care to hear it at the moment, but as soon as Alex left he began spilling out apologies and trying to explain himself, which you quickly shut up.

“I want some space,” you sighed. You wanted Lando close but you wanted everything you felt for him gone first. You couldn’t believe he ever felt the same, not after that.

“Of course, I understand,” his voice broke as he stepped back, trying to show you he would do anything you said.

“Not like that, Lando. I mean it, I don’t think I can see you for a while.”

“Oh-” he said, “When can I see you again?”

“I’m not sure, I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be, this is my fault,” he sighed, clearly upset and looking at the ground, “I’ll go, I’ll see you soon.”

After he left, you broke down crying, debating your decision on if you handled it right. You already missed him, and still loved him, but you also didn’t want to see him. Alex explained the whole morning, and his perspective, giving you hope you could fix it with Lando, especially after Alex’s approval, which you trusted more than anything.

The next few times you saw him were at hangouts with your shared friends. You knew he’d be there as none of your friends would invite him unless you were completely sure you didn’t mind him there. He stayed away, but didn’t make it awkward to the people around you, and always gave you a shy smile when you caught his eye.

He didn’t try to text or call again, despite wanting to more than anything, and instead waited for you to make the first move whenever you were ready. You had missed him more than anything, in both an “I love him” and “he’s my best friend” way, and it was killing you from being away from him, especially after how well he listened to your instructions.

You were at a mutual friend's get-together, a small barbecue in a back garden when you decided it was time. You had been debating texting him but after seeing him, you decided you couldn’t wait.

He was standing alone in a corner beside a flower patch and some grass, drink in hand, and surveying everyone that was there when you walked over. He didn’t know how to greet you and so awkwardly moved his hands between going for a hug or a handshake. You laughed and hugged him, both of you holding on tightly, unhappy to let go.

“I’ve missed you,” you whispered gently, looking down and playing with your fingers, slightly nervous to admit it to him after all this time.

“I’ve missed you too,” he grins, adding on, “So much,” with a quiet whisper.

“How’ve you been?” you asked, trying to make small talk before delving right in.

“Okay, I’ve not really done much. Races have been okay.”

“I saw,” you smiled, “You’ve done really well.”

“You watched?” he questioned, a little surprised. You met his eyes and nodded, explaining how you could never miss one.

“Do you want to talk inside?” you asked, heart pounding as you said it. He nodded immediately, without hesitation, and followed you in through the double glass doors into the kitchen, but only after picking out a daisy from the grass next to him and offering it out to you, causing both of you to grin.

He closed the doors behind you both, blocking out as much other noise as possible, ready for you to begin. “I want to know how you feel about this and about me,” you started, voice shaky.

“I’m sorry, I’m still so sorry. I love you and I want what’s best for you and I can’t even find an excuse, I was being stupid and thinking how you’d never want me. It was all nothing, you’re the only person that’s ever meant anything, I’m so sorry. I will do anything to fix this- anything.”

“Lan,” you let out a breath, “You still want me?”

“More than anything,” he grinned and you stepped forward to reach him, locking your arms around his neck.

Your fingers tangled themselves in his hair as you pull his face down until his lips are almost touching yours. He was smiling so much you thought it might be impossible to kiss him but you pulled him into you anyway, finally kissing him again.

“Stop smiling,” you laughed, pulling away to say it before immediately kissing him again.

“What? Can I not be happy? I’m getting my girl back,” he pulled away, grinning harder, then trying to drag you back in, which was almost successful until you pulled away at the last second.

“I can barely kiss you like this and I’d really, really like to,” you giggled, tugging him back again to enjoy another impatient kiss.

Your hands were running all over his head, completely ruining his hair, but he didn’t care. His hands were wrapped around your waist, holding you impossibly close. When you finally parted he still kept you close, resting his forehead on yours.

“Are you sure you want this?” he questioned, his breath still heavy.

You kissed his cheek and looked straight into his eyes, “More than anything, I promise,” you paused for a moment, “But you’re going to have to grovel to repay all the lost time we’ve had.”

“I’m going to prove to you that I’m all in, that I want this more than I could possibly explain,” Lando promised, meaning every word. He was already planning out exactly what he wanted to do - he knew he had to work to become your official boyfriend, but he would do everything possible for you.

You just stared at him, showcasing the biggest smile you’ve ever had, eyes full of love, knowing you weren’t ever going to let each other go or even risk it again.

“God I love you,” he grinned, ignoring the fact he still hadn’t caught his breath and pulling you into another, more intimate, kiss.

taglist in reblogs

[seresinhangmanjake]

His Boy

Feyd-Rautha x wife!reader

Summary: Feyd is worried his son is too much like him.

Notes/Warnings: Part of the His series, but you don't need to read it prior to this. Typos, maybe, idk.

Words: 1325

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

Sometimes, Feyd has dreams—nightmares, really—where the son you share, who looks so much like him, is too much like him. Nightmares where your kindness and heart did not reach the boy you birthed, and so to replace the emptiness, the infant was filled with the hatred harbored within his father. Hatred that Feyd would like to say was born, not made, because were it born, he would have a better understanding of it. He would know that a man born with that curse can control himself around those he loves. But he wasn’t born with it; at least, he doesn’t think he was. 

That’s something he will never know for sure. The years that led to his mother’s death were full of harm and pain. He took her life because of what she turned him into. She sealed her own fate with his hatred, which did not disappear with time, not entirely, and he’s often wondered if tendrils of it have lingered too long; if hatred has wrapped around his soul so the two may never be cleaved apart. And if it is soldered to his soul, could it not have been passed down to the piece of himself that he shares with his child? 

He doesn’t know.

If his son came into the world with a blackness inside of him, will he be compelled to hurt those closest to him? 

He doesn’t know that, either.

It doesn’t mean he doesn’t love his son, he does. He’d protect him with everything he has. But he cannot trust something that almost took you from him once already. He cannot turn his back for fear the boy will instinctually bare his budding teeth and gnaw at your soft, fleshy spots when he’s not looking. He cannot let it be that whenever you are cradling your child in your arms, you are at the same time nurturing the means to your end. 

—

“You’ve stopped spending time with him,” you say, cuddling your son to your chest. The boy reaches up to play with the ends of your hair, his puffy lips spreading in a smile. 

Feyd blinks from his chair on the other side of your bedroom. His finger ceases its tapping on the dark leather armrest as his hard stare darts from the baby to you. “I’m spending time with him now,” he says plainly. 

You roll your eyes. “I mean alone. You’ve stopped trying to bond with him. You only see him if I’m here as well, and when you sit with us, all you do is stare at him with that—that—I don’t know,” you huff. “That weird look in your eye.”

Feyd scoffs and shakes his head as he pushes up from his chair. “You’re imagining things. I don’t have a look.”

“Liar. You look at him like you’re studying him,” you say, and enough beats pass that’s Feyd’s lack of words are a certain agreement. He begins pacing slowly in front of you. His hand runs down his face. “You swore to me that you loved him.”

“I do love him.”

“But you haven’t forgiven him,” you deduce. 

There’s an edge to your voice that makes Feyd wince. But how can he so easily forgive? The child nearly ripped you in two on his way into the world. You nearly bled out in front of him. He still has nightmares that only finding your warm body beside him can soothe. 

“How can that be?” you continue. “It wasn’t his fault, and I’m fine.”

“I know.”

“Then what is this?”

He debates not saying it; being the liar you've already called him out for being. But you’re too smart. Too intuitive. Too observant. You’ll figure it out eventually. It’s only a matter of time, and how much time, and if it’s so much time that you come to resent him for his prolonged dishonesty. 

Feyd stops pacing. His hands find his hips. “I don't trust that he's not like me,” he finally says. 

Your brow knits. “Like you…?”

“I killed my mother.”

Your mouth parts, then closes, unsure what to say. “Feyd–”

“It was so easy,” he tells you. Too easy—the way the blade slid across his mother’s throat as she slept. He was so young that he barely remembers, but he remembers that. He remembers the pain that solidified inside of him, even if his brain did not allow him to retain every instance of its infliction. He remembers the relief, brief as it was, considering it led to him living with his uncle—who only doled out more but happened to be more important and heavier guarded than his mother—but he never regretted his decision. He never hated the hatred. “And it felt good.”

Sighing, you stand and walk over to your son’s crib. You gently place your baby down and kiss his soft forehead. His eyelids are already closing with their heaviness when you walk over to your husband, and placing you hands on his cheeks, you say, “Your mother was horrible. You were justified.”

His hands fall to rest on your waist as your thumbs stroke sharp cheekbones. “Most boys would not have been able to kill their mother regardless of what she'd done. Especially not at the age I did,” he says. “I watch him because I'm looking for it.”

“It—what's it?”

“That capability. What I've got in me. I'm trying to see if it's in him.”

Your chin dips down. You swallow, then look back up at him. “Feyd, our son is not going to harm me, because I'm not going to harm him.”

“But what if you don’t have to?” he says. “What if it’s just there?”

“It’s not there,” you tell him. “And it’s not just there in you. If it was, you would hurt me, not love me. And you’ve never hurt me. Not once.”

“You don’t understand,” he says, removing your hands from his face and grasping them tightly in his. “You were—are—an exception. When we met, I wanted to want to hurt you. So badly. I would dream about it, and the dreams always started exactly as they should, but then you would cry and I would lose my mind.”

A look of realization settles on your face. “You used to wake up sweating.”

He nods. “I’ve had more lately,” he says. “He kills you.”

“He’s not going to kill me.” 

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.” You squeeze his hand and start to pull him toward the crib. He follows—albeit somewhat relectuantly. “Look at him,” you say. “Feyd, look at our son.” His gaze eases down to the baby, and, almost imperceptively so, his face softens. “Look at what we made.”

He does. He really looks at the sleeping boy with the gentle breaths that inflate and deflate his little chest. He looks at the parted lips, a matching set to his father’s. The lashes, the same length as yours. 

There’s innocence there. Innocence in his defenselessness. Innocence is corruptible, he thinks.

“Feyd, he's ours,” you say. “We will raise him how we want, and we will raise him to be good. Well-trained and deadly when necessary, but good at heart.”

Good at heart has never been a Harkonnen trait. Not even he can be described as such. His heart is mostly black; you just happen to have made a small portion of that blackness dissipate. You and his boy. 

Feyd sighs and finds himself instinctualy reaching into the crib to run his fingers over the baby's smooth head. The skin is delicate in a way it never will be again and when the boy unconsciously nuzzles against the palm of his hand, a little jolt goes through Feyd’s system. 

“You have to trust me on this,” you tell him.

Tiny eyelids sleepily blink until they are open and blue stares into blue. And in that moment, Feyd thinks he can do it. He can trust you.

So he says, “Ok," and hopes that you're right.

---

A/N: this is not a clue into their future with their son. Feyd is just paranoid.

[screeching-bunny]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do the yandre!game show host with a himbo/bimbo reader

Yandere! Game Show Host x Bimbo/Himbo Reader Asks 1

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

Yandere! Game Show Host would absolutely adore you. He absolutely enjoys how there's absolutely not a single thought behind your eyes. He could literally be nonchalantly pulling up your clothes and you would be too dumb or preoccupied to notice him doing it. Would definitely make you wear provocative clothes all under the pretense of how it would be good for the viewer ratings and that this is just the policy of the company. Now get your ass in those tight little outfits before he explodes due to anticipation.

Yandere! Game Show Host likes how you are basically almost always dolled and glammed up no matter the time of day. He’d definitely feed into your shopaholic habits if you had any and would only allow you to get the skimpiest of clothes. There is probably a one hundred percent chance of you getting every single question wrong on the quizzes so he has to alter your answers for you.

Yandere! Game Show Host: “Okay now sweetie, what does blue and red make?”

You: “Uhhhhhh orange?”

Yandere! Game Show Host: “..... what's that you say? Purple? Why, that’s correct!!!”

You: “No I said–”

Yandere! Game Show Host: “Yep and I heard you say purple!!!!”

Other Contestants: Side-eying him

Viewers: *Too stunned to speak*

Yandere! Game Show Host is shoving his tongue down your throat the fastest chance he gets. Out of all of the yanderes he is definitely the most horniest. If you ever tell him that you want to pay him back for all he’s done for you, he’s immediately whipping his cock out, no questions asked. Just put those glossy lips right on there and all of your debt is immediately forgiven. He definitely makes sure to emphasize how sexually frustrated he is and how he would just loveeee it if someone were to give him the best sloppy toppy ever. Tries to convince you that if you don’t do it he might actually die.

Yandere! Game Show Host enjoys how easily distracted you get and how you have a hard time focusing on multiple things at once. If you ever tried to escape from him all he has to do is talk about how female hyenas have penises and you’d immediately forget what you were about to do. If he ever needed to fall asleep all he'd have to do is talk about the fall of Rome and you’d be out like a light.

Yandere! Game Show Host takes advantage of how you never fully process the dangerous situations you put yourself in. For example when it comes to the sleeping arrangement, contestants are put strictly in one room to be monitored 24/7 but you’d probably complain how you don’t want to sleep in a room with so many people in it. Yandere! Game Show Host would happily decide to offer for you to sleep with him in his bed which you would readily agree to. Next thing you know you’re stuck in bed with a creep who’s busy fondling you to sleep properly. He’d probably try to make this a regular thing and just force you to stay there every night from then on there.

—

You: “It was so nice of you to let me sleep in your bed that was so nice of you. It’s really weird though, you have such a big house but only one bedroom with one bed. You should probably start decorating your house better.”

Yandere! Game Show Host: “Yeah silly me I should really do better.”

You: “Wait a sec–” Notices how there's a piece of underwear that you lost a week ago peeking out of his drawer. “OH MY GOSH YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE!! YOU NOTICED HOW MY UNDERWEAR HAS GONE MISSING SO YOU GOT ME NEW PAIRS!!! HOW THOUGHTFUL OF YOU!!!”

Yandere! Game Show Host: sweating nervously. “... Yeah I noticed that too. You might not want to touch those though. They’re a little dirty because I haven’t washed them yet and accidentally spilled something on them yesterday–”

[orimuraa]

˚˖𓍢ִ໋`🌿:✧ I like the view right now - OT7

(synopsis) 🀨 enhypen when you’re shorter than them ✧

ot7 enhypen x short fem!reader 🀨 fluff, crack 🀨 reader is shorter than enha 🀨 teasing, kisses, petnames 🀨 wc 751

𝑳𝒆𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈 - 이희승

"babe where'd you go?" heeseung asked, scratching his head. the audacity of this man!! you jumped up from in front of him, making yourself now visible to the freakishly tall man. "oh there you are!! i've been looking everywhere for you!" he teased, a wide smile adorning his face while a playful scowl adorned yours. "hmph!" you pouted, crossing your arms and turning away, knowing exactly what heeseung's reaction would be. "no baby! i was just joking!" he giggled, turning you back towards him and crouching down to kiss you. "i love you my shortie."

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑱𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 - 박종성

you were currently in the kitchen, struggling to get something from one of your higher up pantries when jay walked in. "woah there princess, what're you doing there?" he smirked, knowing exactly what your issue was. "ugh- i can't get this- thing!" with one big jump, you failed to knock down the bowl you were trying to grab, causing jay to walk over and grab it with ease. "jeez! why would anyone ever want such high up cabinets!? who even owns this house?" you questioned, turning to jay with a hand on your hip. "uhh baby? this is your house?..." he stated, laughing at your sulkiness. darn, you needed new cabinets.

𝑺𝒊𝒎 𝑱𝒂𝒆𝒚𝒖𝒏 - 심재윤

you and jake were waiting in line for a store when you suddenly felt a wait on the top of your head. "wha-?" looking up, you were silenced by the sight of your boyfriend resting his arm on top of your head. he was even leaning a bit!! "hey mister! i didn't consent you to use my head as an arm rest!" you pout, pushing off his arm. "oh, hehe, sorry sweets! you're just the perfect height for it.." he chuckles, planting a kiss to your head but not without bending down. "ah! i'm not that short! am i?" you shoot back, scrunching together your eyebrows. "well...ummm...oh! i think our order's ready!" "yah! sim jaeyun!"

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒏 - 박성훈

"hey hoonie? i need help getting something please!" you call out to your extremely tall boyfriend. soon enough, he walks in, a small smirk already on his face from knowing exactly what the problem was. "top shelf?" is all he asks, his smirk getting bigger. you hate to boost his ego, but you nod. "the medium plates please.." the last bit is mumbled. he quickly yet easily grabs the plates, handing them to you. he then crouches down to meet you eye level, confusing you a bit. "damn, this height can't see anything!" he laughs, straightening his legs out. "yah!!" how rude...(jk all is forgiven cuz he's park sunghoon)

𝑲𝒊𝒎 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒐𝒐 - 김선우

"baby- oh! you're so short!" sunoo was looking for you when he bumped into you in the hallway. whenever you two would stand side by side, he would always make it a point to tease you for it. he had just caught you, making sure you didn't fall back from the collision when he pulled you forward, noticing how his eyes met a couple inches from the top of your head. "i'm just kidding!" he smiles. "you're only a bit short.." he teased, kissing your forehead before running away. aish, that guy..he wasn't even that tall compared to his other members!! one day you would get him back...maybe with the help of ni-ki...

𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒘𝒐𝒏 - 양정원

jungwon and you would be walking downtown and he would see a small plushie of your favorite animal, that was a very small and short one. "jagi look! it's you! the height is literally so accurate!" he laughed, holding up the short plush to you. "yah! yang jungwon!!" you shouted, catching the attention of a few passing customers. "ok i'm sorry! you're not that short..but you're still my shortie!" he laughed again, his dimples showing even more. he then crouched down to your eye level, kissing your lips before laughing once again. this kid..

𝑵𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒖𝒓𝒂 𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒊 - 西村 力

"how's the view from down there?" "i- what?" you were so flustered and taken aback by ni-ki's sudden question, but also knowing exactly what he was doing. he was teasing you again of your guys's height difference. "hey! it's not my fault i didn't grow up to like, 6'3!" you forwned, making a pouty face at ni-ki. "and it's not my fault you're like, 2'4," he smirked back, laughing at your scowl. "take that back!!" "make me shortie!" he laughed, ruffling your hair. "nah, but don't worry, you're so cute at this height," (SOFT RIKI OMFG AJHSDB) he smiled, slowly rising onto his tip toes to become EVEN taller. "hey!! get back down here!"

hahah this was so funny cuz i'm so much shorter than all of enha and even tho jake, sunoo, and jungwon seem so short since they're the shortest ones in enha, they literally tower over me...

anyway! if you enjoyed, please reblog and like! feedback is also appreciated very much!

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬: @en-diaries, @k-films, @k-nets

⚘. Perm taglist: @vmpivory, @yuvany, @seozii, @pinknjm, @greentulip, @jongbean

[youraverageaemondsimp]

“Seven Above.” // Highly Religious Dark!Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Reader

DD:DNE ;; Reader discretion is heavily advised.

WARNINGS: noncon & dubcon, forced breeding, forced beliefs, breeding kink, religious themes and psychopathic aemond, dark!aemond, misogynistic views, pressure to fit into the gender norms, forced pregnancy, multiple orgasms, brainwashing(?), mindfucking, + not proofread. PLEASE BE EXTREMELY MINDFUL OF THE CONTENT WARNINGS

Block the tag #MAE:DARK!CONTENT to refrain from seeing my dark works.

WC: 2.1k

A/N: fic contains dark content, do not proceed to read if you are easily triggered or find the topics mentioned above triggering. // dividers by @cafekitsune

Aemond was a man of the faith of the seven

He was extremely religious, his mother’s belief in the faith has also made him follow it, though he studied about dragons and old gods of Valyria, he didn't particularly follow them. His need for impressing his own mother, followed by his grandfather made him follow this faith more.

The only problem? He was way too religious and strict, but also hypocritical, he had shamed Aegon for being married to Helaena, but also desired her for himself, he would taunt his nephews for being bastards, yet also had one for himself with a common whore he could not remember the name of. He doesn't acknowledge them as sins however, saying that they are forgiven by the gods as he visits the sept daily.

Alicent did not know what to say, for when she would speak to him about what he's doing and points out his wrongdoings, he simply ignores her and tells her that her job as a woman isn't to judge, but rather understand and nurture, to which she couldn't argue against. So she remained silent.

Everything was going the same as usual, until Aemond was summoned by his grandfather, who had selected a proposal for him.

“The woman is Y/N of the L/N house, a woman loved by many, it will benefit us if we formed an alliance with her family, what do you think of it Aemond?” His grandfather questioned, to which Aemond nodded, saying it isn't too much of a bad match considering they had more to gain than lose, and so the proposal was quickly made.

Aemond only saw you on the day of the wedding, when your house arrived in the throne room, where Aegon sat in the middle, handling the matters. You had not shied away from looking in his eye, to which he was caught off guard by, his mind quickly realising how you are the feisty type.

The ceremony went well, Aemond refused the bedding ceremony and took you to your martial chambers before bedding you. He was gentle of course, he didn't do anything that was too painful.

One thing about Aemond is that, you should never get on his bad side, he is cruel just as he is lenient, you heard of what he had done to his own nephew, to riverrun, to the strong house, leaving absolutely no one alive from that bloodline, no woman or bastard was spared.

The first month flew by quickly, Aemond had gotten to know you better, and he quickly realised that you both don't share the same ideologies on most of the stuff, you even dared to speak back to him, to which he excused you of. Arguments with him on small things have started to happen, his opinion contradicting yours, and his refusal to understand your point of view made you extremely unaccepted, yet you still tried to convey your feelings to him, hoping somewhere deep down in your heart that he'd understand. After all, you had grown to love him a little. He was far better than any husband, most of them didn't even let their wife speak to them.

That was until the topic of children had come when you were dining together.

“Wife, Have you gotten your moon's blood yet?” He asked and you nodded, “Yes, husband, it passed a few days ago and it is regular.” you tell him confused as to why he is asking this, “Are you perhaps barren?” He asks, which makes you feel shocked, and quite offended, “No! Why would you ask such a thing like that?” You ask, eyes slightly wide with shock. “Then why aren't you with child yet?” He questions as if you had any control over anything that happens after intercouse.

“It is only the second month, and besides….” You bite your lip and he raises an eyebrow, “What is it?” You sigh heavily, “I do not know how to ask of you this.” You tell him honestly, “What is it that you need wife? Dresses? Jewellery, do not be shy to ask, I am your husband after all. It is my duty to provide.” He rests his hand on yours, squeezing it in a reassuring way.

“I–” you take a deep breath, “I do not want children, at least, not yet.” you spit out.

It's almost as if everything had frozen in place, the air becomes silent with only the crackling sounds of the fireplace being heard. The tension becomes more imminent in the air as the Aemond continues to remain silent and not do anything, except directly stare at you.

His grip on your hand suddenly tightens, making you wince and you look at him pleadingly, “Have you gone mad?” He stands up, forcing you to stand up as well and you grip his arm tightly, not wanting to fall before balancing yourself, “Please- I am not yet ready, let me prepare myself mentally first.” You beg him and his other hand grabs you by your throat and pulls you closer to him, his grip on your throat begins to tighten, causing you to lose bloodflow to your head.

“I have done nothing except do my duty, be the ideal husband, provide for you, all while allowing you to express yourself yet it seems I was too lenient on you.” He growls, “Because here you are, asking me, to allow you to not have children. It is your sole duty as a wife and a woman, and you could not even provide such a thing?” He let goes of your throat, making you engulf a huge amount of air as you tried to calm down.

“Every woman is the image of the mother, she should have a natural nurturing personality towards anyone, especially to their own children, yet here you are refusing to be a mother to your own child or rather having one of yours, it is disgusting.” He says meanly and you glare at him, “I never said that I never wanted to be a mother, I asked you to give me time to which you are– hmmgh!” You are dragged by Aemond to the bed and thrown on it, you quickly lean on your elbows, fear gnawing in your stomach as you look at Aemond who seemed so furious at you, your heartbeat accelerated as he just stared down at you, like a predator staring at its prey.

“Your sin is forgiven, wife, I remembered how some women think they do not want children until they do, and then they become the best mothers and perfect wives known to man, maybe you are of that same category.” He keeps on talking, and you stare at him, confused and in fear, what in the seven hell was he talking about?

“It is no surprise if that is the case, luckily, there is a cure for that, and that is to get you pregnant, and I shall do just that, simultaneously fulfilling the duties as your husband.” He leans down and caresses your cheek. Your eyes widen when you catch his expression in the illuminating moonlight. He was smiling, yet the smile did not reach his eyes, Your stomach began to churn as goosebumps arose on your skin, he doesn't seem like the man you married anymore.

Before you could make an escape, Aemond pounces you and pushes you down onto the bed, you thrash in his hold trying to push him off but he holds your hands together and pins them up before grabbing your cheeks harshly and spitting on your face, “Behave, I'm treating you.” You began to tremble knowing he had gone completely mad.

“Let go of me! Aemond!” You scream and he pushes his hand over your mouth, “Shut the fuck up.” He tells you before grabbing your dress and tearing it off your body, the bodice coming along with it, causing your tits to spill out. He gropes and squeezes them, “I wonder how nice they'd look when they swell with milk hm?” He coos, before descending his lips onto your nipple, you use your now free hands to push him away but he doesn't budge, you try to pull him by his hair but he bites harshly onto your nipple causing you to let go of his hair in pain, he pulls away and looks at you angrily.

“Behave.” He says sternly and you flinch, never having heard Aemond use that specific tone before, it was extremely scary. “Aemond, please.” You plead him but he doesn't care, simply ripping off the remains and pushing you up the bed and prying your legs open. “You'd look so beautiful, all round with my child in your belly, I pray to the mother to bless us with a child.” He undos his breeches and your eyes widen in horror, knowing what is about to come.

You watched in silence as he lined himself against your entrance, prodding the tip at the very beginning of your hole and began to push inside, you shut your eyes tightly and clenched the sheets below you, a pained cry leaving your mouth at the stretch of your cunt by his cock, unprepared.

He soon fully sheathed himself inside you, and wastes no time before beginning to thrust, whines and gasps leave your mouth at his actions, you grip onto his shoulders as he jerks you up and down, you felt ashamed when it started to begin to feel good, your body in dilemma where you push him or pull him closer.

However that sense of choice is taken away from you when he grabs your hands and pins them above you, all while pistoning his hips into yours, “Seven above, I pray that the mother blesses my dear wife with a child in her womb so she may be cured of her sinfulness, I pray that the maiden guides her into realising how she should truly perform her duty as a woman, and may the crone remove useless thoughts and guide her to the correct path.” He prays closing his eyes and your eyes widen in pure shock, shocked by the fact on how he can pray in a situation like this?

His thrusts feel so sinful, and you're convinced you've lost your mind because of the fact that you are getting pleasure from this, his lips find yours in a passionate kiss as he ends the prayer, kissing your forehead afterwards and pulls back, “You'll make a good mother, I'm sure of it.” He coos in your ear before pressing a kiss to it as well.

You soon began to recognize the familiar feeling of a rope tightening in your abdomen, the telltale sign that your peak was nearing, Aemond's hand groped your tits, pinching your nipples and rubbing his thumb over them, providing you with additional pleasure, and before you know it, you are toppling over the edge as your peak hits you, arching your back and moaning out his name loudly.

He too finishes inside you, filling your hole with his seed, before pulling out, his face hovers over your stomach and you watch as he presses a kiss on the location of where your womb would be located, “May the mother bless us.” He mutters.

You thought that would be the end, yet you were wrong, you gasp when you feel his finger scooping up his seed which leaked out and push it back into you, essentially beginning to finger you, he takes you by surprise again when you feel his warm tongue on your clit, causing your hands to fly out and grip his hair as you breathed heavily.

His tongue and finger worked simultaneously, introducing you to a sensation of a new type of overstimulation, making you peak once again.

Time blurred together and yet Aemond did not stop, you've lost count of how many times he made you peak and how many times he finished inside you, but at the end of it, you surely felt full and fucked out, your mind filled with nothing but the thought of having his children, which he kept muttering over and over again, causing you to pick up on it.

“You'll be a great mother.” He pulls you into his arms as scoot closer, burying your face in his chest, “Yes, Husband, I'll give you as many children you want.” You mutter before finally drifting off to sleep.

Aemond smirks, knowing that he has now achieved his goal, now he can slowly start shifting you into the type of wife he wanted in the first place.

It was no surprise when you found out that you were pregnant with a child, only for you to give birth to triplets.

“A blessing from the mother.” Alicent beamed, yet that sentence only made you flinch.

— !  ݈݇- thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated greatly ♡

[fvsm4x]

𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 - 𝟓

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. ex! gojo s. x fem. reader

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭. Your boyfriend, who you loved more than anything, who was your will to live, broke up with you.

𝐜𝐰. angst / happy ending for reader but not gojo / wc. 4.1k / last chapter / kinda rushed

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5

But it wouldn‘t hurt to give him a second chance, right.?

But as much as you wanted to believe that a second chance could heal the wounds between you, doubt gnawed at the edges of your resolve. The pain he had caused was not something easily forgotten, and the memories of the betrayal still stung like fresh wounds. You had to consider what giving him another chance would mean—not just for your relationship with him, but for your own self-worth, your own sense of dignity.

"Gojo," you began, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside, "you say you want another chance, but can you honestly tell me why? Is it because you've realized what you lost, or because you're afraid of being alone now that she's gone?"

His eyes widened, as if the question had struck a chord deep within him. He struggled to find the right words, his expression a mix of desperation and confusion. "I... I just know that I don't want to lose you. I made a mistake, I see that now. I was stupid, selfish, but I swear, I’ve changed."

"You’ve changed?" you echoed, the skepticism clear in your tone. "How can I trust that? Last time, you promised me the world, only to break me apart when it suited you. How do I know this time won’t be the same?"

Gojo remained silent for a moment, the weight of your words sinking in. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between his desire to make things right and the reality of the pain he had caused.

"I don’t know how to prove it to you," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I want to try. I want to be the person you deserve, the one who won’t hurt you again."

You let out a soft sigh, the tension in your chest making it hard to breathe. His sincerity tugged at your heart, but the scars he had left made it difficult to simply accept his words at face value. You had to think about what was best for you, not just what he wanted.

"Gojo," you said slowly, choosing your words carefully, "I need to understand something. What would be different this time? How do you expect me to believe that you're not just saying these things because you're hurt and vulnerable right now? That you won't just fall back into old habits the moment things get tough?"

He looked down, his hands trembling slightly as they gripped yours tighter. "I’ve learned from my mistakes," he said, his voice laced with determination. "I know I hurt you, and I regret it more than anything. I took you for granted, and I was wrong. I can’t take back what I did, but I want to show you that I can be better—that I can love you the way you deserve to be loved."

The sincerity in his voice was almost enough to break down your defenses. Almost. But the reality of the situation loomed large in your mind. You had been here before, heard these promises before, only to be left shattered in the end.

"Do you really understand what you're asking of me?" you asked, your voice soft but firm. "You're asking me to put my heart on the line again, to risk everything for the chance that you might actually change this time. But what if you don't? What if I let you back in, only to find myself back in this same place a few months from now?"

Gojo's expression faltered, the weight of your words sinking in. He knew you were right—he was asking for a lot, maybe too much. But still, he refused to give up.

"I can't promise that everything will be perfect," he said, his voice raw with emotion. "But I can promise that I’ll fight for us, that I won’t make the same mistakes again. I’ll prove to you that I’m serious this time. Just... please, give me a chance to show you."

Your heart ached at the sight of him, so vulnerable and desperate for your forgiveness. You wanted to believe him, to believe that he could change, that he could become the man you needed him to be. But the fear of getting hurt again was a powerful force, one that you couldn't simply ignore.

"I don't know if I can do this, Gojo," you said, your voice trembling with the weight of the decision before you. "I don't know if I can put myself through this again, not after everything that's happened."

He looked at you with a mix of hope and despair, as if he knew he was teetering on the edge of losing you forever. "Please," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Just one more chance. Let me show you that I can be better."

You closed your eyes, the tears finally spilling over as the emotions you had been holding back crashed over you like a tidal wave. The love you had for him was still there, buried beneath the pain and betrayal, but it was overshadowed by the fear of being hurt again.

Finally, you opened your eyes and met his gaze, your heart heavy with the weight of your decision. "Gojo, I need time," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I can't just jump back into this like nothing happened. I need time to think, to figure out what's best for me."

His face fell, but he nodded, understanding that this was as much as you could give him right now. "I’ll wait," he said, his voice filled with a mix of sadness and determination. "I’ll wait as long as it takes."

With that, you slowly pulled your hand away from his, the warmth of his touch lingering even as you stepped back. The distance between you felt like a chasm, one that might never be bridged again. But for now, it was what you needed—to find your own path, to heal in your own time.

As you turned to walk away, leaving him kneeling there in the cold, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had made the right choice. The future was uncertain, the path ahead filled with doubts and unanswered questions. But one thing was clear: you had to choose yourself this time, even if it meant walking away from the man you once loved.

As you walked away, the echoes of your footsteps reverberating through the quiet night, the weight of your decision settled heavily on your shoulders. Each step felt like an eternity, as if the very air around you was thick with the tension of what had just transpired. The distance between you and Gojo grew, but the connection, the history, and the unresolved emotions hung in the air, clinging to you like a shadow.

You couldn’t help but replay his words over and over in your mind. The desperation in his voice, the sincerity in his eyes—were they enough? Could a person truly change, or was it just wishful thinking? The memories of your time together flooded your mind, both the good and the bad, each moment tinged with the bittersweetness of what once was and what might never be again.

But as you walked further, a different voice began to whisper in the back of your mind, a voice that questioned your own choices, your own feelings. You had been hurt, yes, but was there a part of you that still longed for the love you once shared? Was there still a flicker of hope that things could be different this time, that the man you had loved was still in there, waiting to be rediscovered?

You stopped walking, standing there in the dim light of the streetlamp, your breath visible in the cold night air. The silence was deafening, your thoughts swirling like a storm inside your head. You had asked for time, but the truth was, you didn’t know how much time you would need. The wound was still fresh, the trust still shattered, and yet, beneath all that pain, there was a part of you that wanted to believe in second chances.

What if you were being too harsh? What if, in pushing him away, you were closing the door on something that could be beautiful again? The questions gnawed at you, each one more persistent than the last. Could you really walk away from him, from everything you had built together, without giving him the chance to prove himself? Was it fair to judge him solely on his past mistakes, without considering the possibility that he had learned from them?

As you stood there, lost in thought, the memories of the love you once shared began to resurface. The way he used to look at you, the way his laughter would fill the room, the warmth of his embrace on a cold night—it all felt so distant now, yet so painfully close. You remembered the moments of joy, the times when it felt like nothing in the world could come between you. Those memories were precious, and they weren’t so easily erased by the pain he had caused.

But then, there were the darker memories, the ones that cut deep into your soul. The lies, the betrayal, the feeling of being second best—those wounds were still raw, still bleeding, and the thought of reopening them was terrifying. You had worked so hard to rebuild yourself, to find strength in your own company, to remember who you were without him. Letting him back in meant risking all of that, risking everything you had fought so hard to regain.

A small voice inside you, however, urged you to reconsider. People could change, couldn’t they? Life wasn’t black and white, and relationships were messy, complicated. What if Gojo truly had realized the error of his ways? What if he was genuinely remorseful, ready to make amends and to be the partner you needed him to be?

You shook your head, trying to clear the confusion. You had to be sure, had to know that whatever decision you made, it was the right one for you. Turning around, you saw Gojo still kneeling where you had left him, his form barely visible in the distance. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t given up, even though you had walked away.

Was it really fair to expect him to change? Could you risk your heart again on the mere possibility that things might be different this time?

The truth was, you weren’t ready to forgive him. Not yet, and maybe not ever. The wounds were still too fresh, the scars too deep. Giving him another chance felt like inviting more pain into your life, a pain you weren’t sure you could endure again.

You took a deep breath and forced your feet to move, each step taking you further away from the man you once loved. The night was silent, the only sound was the soft crunch of gravel under your shoes as you walked down the empty street. The distance between you and Gojo grew, but so did the clarity in your mind. You deserved more than empty promises and second chances. You deserved someone who wouldn’t make you question your worth, someone who wouldn’t break your heart over and over again.

.

Gojo remained on his knees long after you had walked away, the chill of the night air seeping into his bones. He stared at the spot where you had stood just moments ago, as if by sheer force of will he could bring you back. But the empty space before him was a harsh reminder that you were gone, that he had lost you once again.

A dull ache settled in his chest, spreading through his entire body as he tried to process what had just happened. He had begged, pleaded, laid his heart bare before you, and yet it hadn’t been enough. You had looked at him with such pain in your eyes, a pain he knew he had caused, and that knowledge cut deeper than any rejection.

He slowly rose to his feet, his legs unsteady beneath him as he tried to regain his composure. The night felt colder now, the darkness more oppressive as he realized how truly alone he was. He had gambled everything on the hope that you might still care, that you might still see the man he was trying to become, but the truth was undeniable—you were done with him. And maybe you were right to be.

As he started walking, his mind replayed every word you had said, every look you had given him. Your voice, so full of hurt and doubt, echoed in his ears, a constant reminder of the mistakes he had made. He had taken you for granted, convinced himself that you would always be there, waiting for him to get his act together. But now, standing in the aftermath of his own selfishness, he realized just how badly he had miscalculated.

Gojo’s footsteps were heavy as he walked back to his own place, the streets eerily quiet. For the first time, he felt the full weight of his actions, the depth of the hurt he had caused not only to you but to himself. He had ruined something beautiful, something that might never be repaired, and the regret was almost too much to bear.

He reached his apartment and fumbled with his keys, his hands shaking slightly as he unlocked the door. The silence inside was deafening, the emptiness of the space mirroring the emptiness he felt within. He collapsed onto the couch, burying his face in his hands as the reality of the situation washed over him.

He had wanted so desperately to make things right, to prove to you that he had changed, but deep down, he knew it wasn’t that simple. Change wasn’t just about saying the right words or making promises—it was about action, about becoming a better person, and that was something he hadn’t truly grasped until now. He had hurt you, deeply, and no amount of pleading could erase that.

The truth settled heavily on his shoulders: he had lost you, maybe for good this time. And the worst part was, he had no one to blame but himself. He had played with your heart, made you question your worth, and now he was paying the price. The realization that he might never have another chance with you, that you might move on and find someone who would treat you the way you deserved, was almost too painful to bear.

But as he sat there in the darkness, Gojo knew that this was his moment of reckoning. He could no longer hide from the consequences of his actions. If he truly wanted to change, it had to start now—with or without you. He had to learn to be a better person, not just for you, but for himself. And if that meant letting you go, if that meant accepting that you might never forgive him, then so be it.

.

Weeks had passed since that night, but for Gojo, it felt like a lifetime. The days blurred together, a monotonous cycle of work, training, and sleepless nights. He threw himself into his duties, trying to drown out the memories of you, but nothing seemed to work. Every quiet moment was filled with thoughts of you—your laughter, your smile, the way your eyes had softened when you looked at him, before everything had fallen apart.

He hadn’t tried to contact you since that night. He knew better than to push, to force himself back into your life when you had made it clear that you needed space. Instead, he focused on himself, trying to understand where he had gone wrong, trying to become the man he had promised he would be. But no matter how much he tried to move forward, the emptiness where you used to be haunted him.

One chilly afternoon, Gojo found himself wandering aimlessly through the city streets, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he watched the world go by. It was one of those rare days when he had no obligations, no missions or responsibilities to distract him from his thoughts. The city was bustling with life, people rushing past him with purpose, but he felt disconnected from it all, as if he were watching from a distance.

As he walked, he turned a corner and stopped in his tracks. There you were, just a few steps ahead, standing at the entrance of a cozy little café. For a moment, his heart leapt at the sight of you, his mind racing with the possibility of speaking to you, of seeing how you were doing after all this time. But before he could take a step, he noticed that you weren’t alone.

Standing beside you was a man—tall, with dark hair and a warm smile that reached his eyes. He was holding your hand, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles as you both laughed at something he had said. The sound of your laughter, so light and carefree, pierced through Gojo’s chest like a dagger. It was the same laugh he had fallen in love with, the one he had thought he might never hear again.

Gojo’s breath caught in his throat as he watched the two of you. There was an ease between you and the man, a comfort that spoke of familiarity, of something more than just a passing connection. The man leaned in closer, and you responded with a soft smile, one that Gojo knew all too well. It was the kind of smile that came from genuine happiness, from feeling safe and cherished.

He felt his heart constrict, a mix of emotions swirling inside him—regret, jealousy, sadness. But most of all, there was a deep, aching sense of loss. He had known this day might come, that you would eventually move on and find someone who could give you the love and security you deserved. But knowing it and seeing it were two different things, and the reality of it hit him harder than he had expected.

Gojo stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to tear his eyes away from you. He knew he should leave, walk away before you noticed him, but something kept him there, some part of him that needed to see this, to accept that you were no longer his.

As you and the man turned to enter the café, Gojo’s eyes met yours for the briefest of moments. Time seemed to freeze as recognition flickered in your gaze. There was a flash of surprise, quickly followed by something else—something softer, perhaps understanding or even sympathy. But you didn’t stop, didn’t call out to him. You simply gave him a small, polite nod before turning away,

As the door of the café closed behind you, Gojo hesitated for a moment, debating whether to follow you inside. He knew he should just walk away, let you enjoy your time with the man who clearly made you happy. But something stronger than reason pushed him forward. The unresolved tension between you gnawed at him, a silent torment that demanded closure.

With a deep breath, Gojo pushed open the door to the café, the small bell above it chiming softly as he stepped inside. The warm scent of coffee and baked goods filled the air, and the soft hum of conversation surrounded him. He quickly scanned the room, spotting you at a table near the window, the man still by your side.

You noticed him immediately, your eyes widening slightly in surprise as he approached. The man beside you looked up, clearly sensing the change in your demeanor, but remained silent, his expression polite but questioning.

Gojo stopped a few feet from your table, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he struggled to find the right words. He felt the weight of the moment pressing down on him, the significance of what he was about to say looming large in his mind.

"Can we talk for a minute?" he asked, his voice low and tentative, trying not to intrude too much on your moment with the other man.

You hesitated, glancing at the man beside you. He gave you a small, understanding nod, standing up to give you space. "I'll be right over there," he said softly, before stepping away to another part of the café.

Once he was out of earshot, you turned your attention back to Gojo, your expression guarded but not unkind. "Gojo, what do you want?" you asked quietly, your tone not accusatory but rather cautious, as if you were bracing yourself for whatever he might say.

He took a deep breath, struggling to meet your eyes. "I just... I just wanted to say I'm sorry. For everything. For the way I treated you, for the way I made you feel. I know I can’t undo the past, but I need you to know that I regret it all, deeply."

You looked at him, your expression softening slightly at his words, but there was still a distance in your gaze, a wall that hadn’t been there before. "Gojo," you began, your voice gentle but firm, "I appreciate you saying that. I really do. But what’s done is done. We can’t go back and change what happened. We both know that."

He nodded, swallowing hard against the lump forming in his throat. "I know," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "I just… I wish things could have been different. That I could’ve been better for you."

A small, sad smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Maybe in another life," you said softly, your words like a bittersweet melody that hung in the air between you. "Maybe in another life, we were meant to be. But in this one…"

You trailed off, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The unspoken truth between you was palpable—no matter how much either of you wished it could be different, the damage had been done. The love you once shared was irreparably broken, and no amount of apologies could fix it.

Gojo felt a sharp pain in his chest, the finality of your words cutting through him like a blade. He had known, deep down, that this was how it would end, but hearing it from you made it all the more real.

"I understand," he murmured, his voice barely audible as he looked down at the floor. "I just… I hope you find the happiness you deserve."

You reached out then, gently touching his arm, the gesture both comforting and heartbreaking. "I hope you do too, Gojo," you whispered, your voice filled with a kind of tenderness that he hadn’t heard from you in a long time. "Take care of yourself."

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and acceptance. He knew this was goodbye—not just for now, but for the life you might have had together. It was the kind of parting that left an indelible mark on his soul, a reminder of what could have been.

With a heavy heart, Gojo nodded, turning to leave the café. As he walked away, he didn’t look back, knowing that doing so would only make it harder to let go. The door closed behind him, the cool air outside hitting him like a wake-up call. He stood there for a moment, trying to steady his breathing, trying to process the finality of what had just happened.

Inside, you watched him leave, your heart heavy but resolute. There was a part of you that would always care for Gojo, that would always wonder what might have been. But you knew, deep down, that you had made the right choice. Sometimes, love wasn’t enough to bridge the gap that had grown between two people. Sometimes, the kindest thing you could do was let go.

As you turned back to your table, the man who had been with you returned, concern etched on his face. He didn’t ask what had happened—he didn’t need to. He simply took your hand in his, offering silent support as you both sat down together.

Gojo walked down the street, the sun beginning to set, casting long shadows on the pavement. The ache in his chest was still there, but so was a strange sense of peace. You had found your path, and now, he had to find his own. And maybe, just maybe, in another life, things would have been different. But in this one, it was time to move on.

End

© fvsm4x 2023/4 : do not translate, plagiarise or steal my work.

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THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR STICKING WITH THIS STORY\(^ヮ^)/ new gojo series soon<33

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also Preserved in our archive (Daily updates!)

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What if when Joe Biden came into office in 2021, the Covid-19 safety net he was handed had become a new floor?

What if that was his baseline—and the newly elected Democratic president, sold by his most ardent supporters as FDR 2.0, had used our Covid-19 response as the bare minimum of a new social contract with Americans?

What if the caring nature of the best aspects of the US Covid response became the map for international relations—leading not just to international cooperation on infectious disease, but on matters of war, climate and genocide?

What if, instead of dismantling the vaccine-delivery infrastructure—which, at its height, delivered some four million shots in a single day—the Biden administration built upon and made some version of it permanent, so that everyone could easily get annual Covid boosters, annual flu vaccines, or get specialty vaccinations during outbreaks of unusual viruses (such as for mpox during the 2022 summer outbreak among queer men) whenever they needed it?

What if the viral surveillance and communication mechanisms utilized for learning about SARS-CoV-2, treating it and telling the public about it were being used to address H5N1—a virus which has been moving from birds to farm mammals to humans with so little notice that dead cows were killed by the “avian flu” and left on the side of a road in California’s Central Valley, as “Thick swarms of black flies hummed and knocked against the windows of an idling car, while crows and vultures waited nearby—eyeballing the taut and bloated carcasses roasting in the October heat”?What if the leaders of the Democratic party had used Covid as a blueprint to make a national platform based on care?

What if all the ways Covid had made clear how farmers, industrial butchers, kitchen staff and other food workers are the most at risk people amongst us to viral infection led to meaningful, permanent protections, such that they were much less likely to contract not just SARS-CoV-2 but H1N1, H5N1, influenza, or any other existing or novel pathogens?

What if all the all the ways Covid exposed how unsafe industrial food production is (for the workers who make it and the people who eat it alike) had triggered safety reforms, instead of having these warnings ignored and leading towards record numbers of safety recalls for e-coli, Salmonella, and Listeria?

What if an airborne pandemic had led to indoor air being as filtered, treated and regulated as drinking water?

What if everyone with a child was still getting a $300 check from the US treasury, so that having a child was not a gambling-style risk, but a responsibility shared with all of society?

What if the paused-for-years student debts were forgiven, so that young people could actually begin their lives?

What if Biden built on Americans’ experience of just showing up somewhere to get the medical care they needed to create a universal healthcare system?

(What if Kamala Harris built upon Americans’ taste of not getting charged at the point of such service—and campaigned on Medicare for All?)

What if once the link between Covid and homelessness was established, the Democrats had pushed infectious disease as just one reason for an end to evictions and a robust, public-health-backed campaign to end homelessness and stop the United States from having more people living on the streets than any other country?

What if after the link between Covid and incarceration was established, the Democrats had pursued decarceration as a public health measure and—instead of throwing weed and cryptocurrency at us—had made reducing incarceration a centerpiece of the Harris campaign to earn the votes of Black men?

(What if after 100,000 Californians died of Covid and the links between Covid, homelessness and incarceration were clear, residents of the Golden State chose to allow rent control and to abolish legal slavery in prisons—instead of voting to ban rent control and to continue prison slavery?)

What if the leaders of the Democratic party had used Covid as a blueprint to make a national platform based on care?

Would we be in the lethal position we are now—with a genocide raging abroad, Covid deaths in the hundreds every week at home, a poisoned food supply, $17 trillion in household debt, oligarch goons ready to dismantle government regulations, and a sociopath heading back into the White House—if Covid had been the floor?

[smallestapplin]

A kiss for the road

Arthur Morgan x traveling doctor!Reader

Warnings : no TB au, fluff, talks of some minor injuries, playful banter, established relationship.

This was commissioned by @yanban-san !

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The outlaw groans as he slowly rides into town, his horse taking a leisurely pace just so their rider doesn’t get jostled too much. Entering a familiar town was just what Arthur needed, he knew the right places to avoid attention. His shoulder aches, the cut on his cheek stopped oozing blood a while back, no doubt you’re going to be upset with him over that.

But you’re better than trying to patch it up at camp by himself.

Arthur told himself he wouldn’t fall, he’s not a good man, you deserve better than an outlaw like him, you deserve someone you could show off, someone you can go shopping with. He tsks at himself, so much for that plan. Snapping from his thoughts once his horse stopped moving, he found himself in front of a familiar little shop.

A traveling doctor, going from small town to small town to help people.

You’re too good for him. His blue eyes linger over your open sign showing him you must still be in your little traveling cart. The cowboy can’t stop the small smile from appearing on his face, knowing you aren’t going to be very pleased with him getting into more trouble, especially after you told him just a week ago to take it easy.

Well, he supposes it has its upsides.

Hopping off his horse, he ties her reins to the post near your open sign before he picks up the sign and flips it to ‘closed’, and just walks right in with no knocking. He spots you on the other side of the cart back turned to the door, fiddling around with tools he doesn’t quite remember the names of.

“Sorry, just one moment please. Terribly sorry about that, how can I-“ you pause mid sentence as your eyes lock onto your favorite cowboy, taking in the bruises over his cheeks, some hidden just beneath his shirt, he looks like a mess.

Arthur grabs his hat, taking it off and placing it over his chest.

“Sorry darlin’, it seems I got a few new wounds. Care to treat me, doc?”

Like his words snapped you from your thoughts as you rushed to him, gently grabbing his arms and moving him to take a seat. Oh Arthur knows he should feel bad about worrying, and he’d hate to admit it, but he finds himself enjoying your fretting, how you rush around grabbing things to clean and patch him up.

“Oh my god, Arthur! How many times do I have to tell you to be careful? Heaven and stars above you’re lucky you haven’t gotten any infections.”

He hisses under his breath, feeling you press antibacterial cleaner to his cheek. But he never takes his eyes off you, taking in your focused expression as you easily patch up his cheek.

You go to scold him more after you’re finished placing the bandage on his cheek, just for him to grab your wrist, carefully pulling you closer until your face is mere inches from his. Your cheeks burn at how close he is, but you can’t help but lean into him. Your hands on his shoulders balancing yourself as your lips finally meet his chapped ones, his hands move placing one on your lower back, and the other on your hip holding you close to him.

you’re surrounded by him, his warmth, his scent, god how you’ve missed him. your mind muddled even as he pulls his lips off yours, resting his forehead to yours.

“Am I forgiven, Doc?”

you blink once, twice, then several more times as you collect yourself, finally moving away from him to properly stand.

“I…suppose, but that depends if you have any more injuries.” You give him a pointed look with your hands on your hips.

“Now, why would you think I got any more wounds?” He feigns ignorance, a playful grin on his face as he watches you narrow your eyes at him in a playful return.

“Cause this is you we are talking about, Mr.Morgan. The second I let you leave this cart, you’ll have a new injury from lord knows where.”

He raises his hands up in mock surrender before he moves around, making sure his bad shoulder was the one facing you, his back now towards you while he places his hat next to him and unbuttoning his shirt, just enough to free his shoulder to show you. You want to scold him more as you take in the new injury, looking at how bruised his flesh is around the gash.

“How the hell did you manage that?”

Arthur tenses for a moment only to relax under your gentle touch, leaning against the warmth of your hand.

“Dumbest way possible, surely.”

You chuckle at his words as you begin to ready to clean the area.

“Oh, and how's that?”

“Finished a bounty, nice reward out of it too I can treat you after this. But, on the way back to camp some crazy jumped from the tree line and spooked my horse, threw me right off and well…there was a well placed rock right there.”

He can’t even see your face but he can hear you biting back your laughter. Arthur rolls his eyes.

“Yeah yeah laugh it up, infamous gunslinger lost a fight to a rock.”

You finally can’t hold back your snickers, trying not to laugh too hard so you can see what you’re doing. Arthur grits his teeth, feeling your gloved hands brushing across the gash, listening to you hum.

“Well, luckily for you this cut isn’t too bad, you’re free from needing stitches, but I need you to tak it easy, it won’t heal right if you lift too much or go on crazy missions, alright?”

“Oh darlin’ you worry too much.”

“Arthur, I’m serious, you could risk infection and the area getting worse.” You get some gauze, wrapping it around his shoulder to make sure it’s secure, “You’ll need to come back everyday until it’s closed so I can monitor it, okay?”

Arthur looks back to you, his eyes meeting your worried filled ones, how did he get so lucky? What did he do to deserve another chance at love? He didn’t know, but he knows he’s not going to let you slip away from him.

“Sweetheart, you know I’ll always come back to you, all that worryin’ ain’t good for ya.”

“I can’t help it, I love you too much, I alway worry about you.” You rest your head on his good shoulder, hands clinging to his shirt as if you’re afraid he’ll disappear.

“I love you too, sugar, now come ‘ere, how much do I owe ya?” He swivels around to face you while he fixes up his shirt.

“Really? Something tells me you just like getting kisses.” You chuckle, a bashful smile crossing your lips.

He’s such a gentleman for an outlaw, and ever the giving lover, how did you get so lucky?

“If it helps you stop worryin’ I’ll give you as many as you need.”

Can you blame him though? His sweetheart is his doctor, a damn good one too, all patchin’ him up and fretting over him? He’s surprised you can’t hear his heart racing with what you do to him.

[andy-15-07]

A Thanksgiving to Remember

PAIRING:Pedro Pascal x reader

WORD COUNT: 1186| requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The aroma of roasting turkey, sage, and cinnamon hung heavy in the air, a comforting blanket woven with the promise of Thanksgiving. Y/N, perched precariously on a kitchen stool, stretched to reach the top shelf of the pantry. “Do we have enough dried cranberries?” she called down to Pedro, who was wrestling a particularly stubborn butternut squash on the counter.

“I think so,” Pedro grunted, finally managing to halve the squash with a satisfying thwack. “But maybe grab another bag just in case. You know how my family is about their cranberry sauce.”

Y/N chuckled, grabbing a step stool and peering into the depths of the pantry. “Tell me about it. Remember last year when Aunt Maria almost started a brawl over the last spoonful?”

Pedro grinned, the memory clearly amusing him. “Oh, she’s a force of nature. But her cranberry sauce is legendary, I’ll give her that.”

Y/N found the cranberries and hopped down, placing the bag on the counter. “Right, cranberries secured. What’s next on the culinary agenda?”

“Mashed potatoes,” Pedro declared, brandishing the now-halved squash like a trophy. “And you know my rule – no lumps allowed.”

“Your rules are legendary too,” Y/N teased, bumping his shoulder playfully. “But I have to admit, your mashed potatoes are pretty spectacular.”

“Years of practice,” Pedro said with a wink. “Now, are you peeling or mashing?”

“Peeling,” Y/N replied, grabbing a peeler and a bowl of potatoes. “But you’re on gravy duty. Your mom’s recipe is a closely guarded secret, and I’m not about to mess with tradition.”

“Deal,” Pedro said, already gathering the ingredients for the gravy. “But you’re in charge of the stuffing. I still haven’t forgiven you for that oyster incident a few years back.”

Y/N shuddered dramatically. “Let’s never speak of that again. This year, it’s a purely vegetarian affair. No surprises.”

The kitchen filled with the comfortable rhythm of chopping, stirring, and the gentle hum of conversation. They worked side-by-side, a well-oiled machine honed by years of shared Thanksgivings.

“So,” Y/N said, breaking the comfortable silence, “are you excited for everyone to get here?”

Pedro paused, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Of course. It’s always chaos, but it wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without it. Although,” he added with a mischievous glint in his eye, “I’m a little worried about Uncle Carlos and his political opinions. He and your dad are going to clash again, I just know it.”

Y/N sighed. “Tell me about it. I’ve already warned Dad, but you know how he is. He can’t resist a good debate.”

“Which usually ends with everyone shouting and someone storming off to the living room,” Pedro finished. “Ah, family.”

“The best kind of chaos,” Y/N said, smiling. “But seriously, I’m looking forward to it. It’s been a while since we’ve all been together.”

“Me too,” Pedro agreed. “It’s nice to have everyone under one roof, even if it’s just for a few days.”

They continued working, the conversation flowing easily between them. They talked about their families, their work, their plans for the future. They laughed, they teased, they shared quiet moments of comfortable silence.

As the afternoon wore on, the kitchen transformed into a symphony of delicious smells. The turkey was browning beautifully in the oven, the mashed potatoes were creamy and smooth, the stuffing was fragrant with herbs and vegetables, and the gravy was rich and velvety.

“Okay,” Pedro said, wiping his hands on his apron, “I think we’re almost ready. Just need to set the table.”

Y/N nodded, grabbing the tablecloth and heading towards the dining room. Pedro followed close behind, carrying a stack of plates.

They worked together, quickly transforming the dining room into a festive space. The table was set with their best china, gleaming silverware, and colorful napkins. A vase of vibrant fall flowers sat in the center, adding a touch of elegance to the scene.

“Looks beautiful,” Y/N said, admiring their handiwork.

“Indeed,” Pedro agreed. “Now, all we need are the guests.”

Just as he finished speaking, the doorbell rang.

“They’re here!” Y/N exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Pedro grinned, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Let the chaos begin.”

The house quickly filled with the sounds of laughter, greetings, and the clatter of suitcases being dragged through the hallway. The aroma of Thanksgiving dinner mingled with the scent of perfume and cologne, creating a heady mix that was both familiar and comforting.

Family members arrived from near and far, each one bringing their own unique energy to the gathering. Aunt Maria, true to form, immediately took charge of the kitchen, offering unsolicited advice on the gravy. Uncle Carlos, as predicted, cornered Y/N’s dad in the living room, their voices rising in the heat of political debate. The children, fueled by sugar and excitement, raced through the house, their shrieks of laughter echoing through the halls.

Amidst the joyful chaos, Pedro and Y/N moved through the crowd, greeting their guests, offering drinks, and making sure everyone felt welcome. They were the anchors of the family, the glue that held everyone together.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the dining room, everyone gathered around the table. The turkey, golden brown and glistening, took center stage, surrounded by bowls of mashed potatoes, stuffing, cranberry sauce, and all the other traditional Thanksgiving dishes.

Pedro stood at the head of the table, carving the turkey with practiced ease. Y/N sat beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm.

“To family,” Pedro said, raising his glass.

“To family,” everyone echoed, their voices filled with warmth and gratitude.

The meal began, a symphony of happy chatter, shared stories, and the clinking of glasses. Even Uncle Carlos and Y/N’s dad seemed to have reached a truce, their political debate temporarily forgotten in the spirit of Thanksgiving.

As the evening wore on, the atmosphere grew more relaxed and intimate. The children, their energy finally waning, curled up on the couches, falling asleep amidst the soft murmur of adult conversation.

Pedro and Y/N found a quiet moment to slip away from the crowd, retreating to the porch to enjoy a breath of fresh air.

“It’s perfect,” Y/N said, leaning her head against Pedro’s shoulder.

“It is,” Pedro agreed, wrapping his arms around her. “Just like every year.”

They stood in comfortable silence, watching the stars twinkle in the night sky. The sounds of laughter and conversation drifted out from the house, a comforting reminder of the love and connection that bound them all together.

“Thank you,” Y/N whispered, turning to face Pedro.

“For what?” he asked, his eyes filled with love.

“For everything,” she replied. “For this, for us, for family.”

Pedro smiled, gently cupping her face in his hands. “I love you,” he said, his voice soft and sincere.

“I love you too,” Y/N replied, her eyes shining with tears of happiness.

They shared a long, tender kiss, a silent promise of their love and commitment to each other. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of family and the magic of Thanksgiving, they knew that they had everything they could ever need. They had each other.

[gatorbites-imagines]

hello

ima big fan of your work and read it all the time

and I was wondering if you do more Plastic Man clone reader stuff if it isn’t to much trouble

plastic Man is my favorite hero and I really enjoyed that one shot

Dick Grayson x Plastic Man clone male reader

Headcanons

You didn’t say anything specific, so I cooked this up, as I remember watching the animated show that was batman and plastic man years ago. So, this combo felt fun. Not the longest, since I’m dealing with a lot right now.

Patrick worked with Bruce on the semi-regular for a moment during the years, meaning you got dragged along. It was around the time Patrick had just found you, meaning you were still getting used to this whole… being alive thing.

At least Robin was nice, when he wasn’t annoying. Because you two were teens… of course you would find each other annoying. It led to a lot of bickering, some valid and some not, but you two grew close anyways.

When Dick stopped being Robin and became Nightwing, it didn’t really make a difference for you. You didn’t make a habit out of hanging around Gotham, since you didn’t respect Batman’s authority, so if you could hang with Dick in Bludhaven instead? Then it would all be great.

Youd make a game out of it whenever you visited, taking the form of some vigilante of rather sidekick. Shaping yourself to look like a little Nightwing with some tweaks to the costume, some color changes, and boom! Nightwing had a sidekick.

Your friend group all had a great laugh when Nightwing started hearing from the locals of Bludhaven, asking about his sidekick, and what his name was. Apparently, Dick wasn’t a big fan of the name “Nightboy” or “Winged crusader”.

Dick just didn’t appreciate all the work and effort you put into “Redwing”, after the red winged blackbird, of course. To match the color scheme you gave your little sidekick form.

It also led to a whole intervention from Bruce, and the rest of the bats, when they thought Dick actually got a sidekick. Only to see the so-called Redwing, stretch and change color, only to become you, who cackled and fell over, literally turning into a puddle from laughing too hard.

In the end Redwing was only something you pulled out when you two were bored and had time, or if Dick really needed backup and you couldn’t show up as yourself.

You didn’t truly have a place of operations of your own. In your own words, you weren’t a hero, so you didn’t need a city to watch over. This just meant you wandered a lot, did some petty theft, or very extreme theft if they were a corrupt person, and just… hung out.

You knew Oliver was SICK of seeing you around star city, but it’s not your fault that the place was filled to the brim with corrupt rich people. It also allowed you to take potshots at Oliver when you got the time. Roy may have forgiven him, and they may have made up, but you didn’t forgive as easily.

This was also why you found yourself in Bludhaven so much, just lounging around Dicks apartment or safehouses. It was a common sight for Dick to see you literally stretched across his couch, or see you worming across the floor like a snake towards the kitchen.

Anyone else might have found it sickening, but Dick had been around you so long that it was normal. Plus, you made a great blanket when you would slither back from the kitchen and drape across him.

And maybe it was overexposure, but he did find your stretched out grinning face cute, in its own weird way.

It was so easy to take cuteness aggression out on you, since he could pull, bite and pinch as much as he wanted, it wouldn’t hurt you. It also resulted in you being Dicks personal stress ball, meaning hed massage and pull at your face when he was deep in thought. Your face always looked like some kind of Picasso painting afterwards.

There were other times you’d shrink and hang out in his toolbelt, if he had one on, or in some other compartment in his suit, just so Dick could stick his hand into that pocket and you could hold his finger, for comfort, mainly his.

It also worked great for surprise attacks. You never knew when Nightwing had plastic man 2.0 in his pocket before it was too late!

And yes, your hero name was plastic man 2, no matter how much your friends begged you to change it. Why would you change it? that’s literally what you were. Having a different name should be enough.

You did joke a few times about changing it to Flamebird to match Dick though, just to see him blush.