#like when i feel angry it consumes all of me and i just want to break things

[dumblilb]

I Could Be Enough

Vi x Fem!Reader

(Synopsis: They weren’t super close as children, but running around in the same crowd kept them in the know of each other. But years later she might be all Vi’s got left.)

(Warnings: drunk!vi, alcohol, mentions of physical violence ‘ not towards reader’, it’s mostly fluff, a little bit of angst, no mentions of physical attributes, just she/her pronouns, not proof read)

(Requested: yes)

(Words: 1,585)

* ・゚☆ 。・ * ・゚★ 。・ * ・゚☆ * ・゚☆ 。

You don’t even know how it got to this point. Sitting at the booth in a gross, sticky, and dark club, watching over a girl you didn’t think you would ever see again. And maybe you were right. Cause she’s not the same girl you remember running around the streets of the under city as a child. The one who always had a bright look in her eyes as she tried so hard to live up to her father’s name, and keep her siblings safe.

But one thing was the same behind those, now dark and sad, slate grey eyes. She was a fighter. In the most literal sense. She couldn’t keep her fist off a jaw if she tried. Night after night she would cover her distinct tattoos and red hair with dark paint. Disguising herself from the public who claimed her strength as a prize. Or maybe even hiding from herself. She wasn’t to sure anymore.

But as the nights carried on the paint got messier and the drinks were getting stronger. And it was hard to watch. But here you were. Watching. So hard you thought your eyes might bleed from all the strobing lights and smoke filling the air. Any other night you might have gone to bed. Ignored the aching feeling you had, and left her to party the rest of the night away. But you couldn’t. Because there she was also watching you. As she sloppily got up with a bottle in her hand and started to walk towards the exit, the urge to follow consumed you. Because you knew she wanted you too. She was practically begging. And so you did. Meeting her by the stairs leading to her small apartment.

“Thank god you came, I thought I was gonna have to drink all alone tonight.” She slurred and you sighed resting your hip against the wall, propping yourself up.

“What would you do without me.” You smiled at her. Trying not to be angry with how fucked up she sounds. Slyly taking the bottle from her and helping her steady by the waist you walk her home.

“You know you’re so pretty when you’re mad at me.” She sighs as you push her door open. You just roll your eyes. She’s been doing this for months. Ever since her first pit match. You were hired as a sort of nurse for the ring. Patching up the people who were getting their shit rocked, and the people doing the punching. Making sure they were healed enough for their next match. And the second you saw her step in that ring you knew it was her. Sure she looked a little different. But her deep upper cut. You could never forget that.

So you causally brought up growing up in the lanes while bandaging her fists that day. How you were pretty shy but always friendly with a boy named Ekko. And he had introduced you to his friends a few times. You could tell she remembered you. But she didn’t say anything. Which was okay. You could tell she didn’t really want to be known at that point. But as time went on she spent more time talking to you after matches. Sitting at the bar just trying to figure out how life got both of you here.

But she also found alcohol along the way. And that concerned you. She would always assure you she was fine. And you chose to believe her. Even though it sometimes seemed she would look right through you. Like she wished something else was there.

But even before the alcohol, the casual flirting was always there. Comments about how attractive you looked and how nice you were to her compared to the other fighters. Claiming you made her feel ‘so special’ and not just because it was coming from a beautiful girl like you.

So as you sit her down on her small bed and pull out some supplies to remove her makeup you can’t help but shake your head at her.

“Your dumb fake flirting isn’t going to get you out of this one vi. You’re a mess.” You sigh pushing her hair back with one hand, removing her makeup with the other.

“It’s not fake and you know it.” She rolls her eyes. “I want you. Please.” She says griping the hand with the cloth in it. Rubbing her thumb across your knuckles softly. The difference between her ruff scared hands and yours now glaringly apparent.

“You’re drunk and exhausted, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you had a bit of a concussion after today’s match. I haven’t seen you get hit that hard in a while.” You say ignoring her advances. As you’ve done before.

“I’m fine. You know I’m fine.” She reassures you. But the wavering of her eyes says otherwise.

“I know you think you’re fine-“ you remove your hand from hers and finish wiping her face. “But I see you, Vi. And this isn’t fine.” You say pointing from the bottle resting on her little table to her bruised fists.

She groans tossing her head back. And you gear up ready for a fight about how you don’t know what you’re talking about. But she rubs her eyes a little, her breath slowly becoming unsteady.

“You’re right I’m sorry.” She breathes out looking at you. The small bit of light roaming the room makes the wateriness of her eyes sparkle. “God I’m so tired and I don’t know what to do.” She cries.

You don’t even know how to respond. She’s never really cried in front of you before. She’s always been so tuff. But as she sits before you, even her toned and muscular body couldn’t make her look strong.

“I’m so lonely. All I have at this point is you. And you don’t even want me.” She continues and your face softens. Kneeling down in front of her you softly stroke her hair, pulling her in for a hug. She cautiously wraps her arms around you. Like just her touch might scare you away.

“You have me. You do. I think you have for a while now. I just didn’t think you were serious.” You reassure her. Her head nuzzles into the crook of your neck, and you can hear her breathing steady slightly.

“I’m always serious about you.” She says softly, it being a bit muffled by her position. She pulls away from the hug, resting her forehead to yours. “Can you stay please. I don’t want to be alone.” She asks quietly. Her warm breath hitting your lips.

“I’ll stay.” You grin and she moves to get up and grab a blanket. You help get her ready to lay down, removing her thick boots and setting aside the dirty cloth.

She props the blanket in your lap and she lays down. At first you just smile at how dainty she looks compared to how you usually see her. But her strong arm pulling you down next to her snaps you out of it pretty quickly.

Pulling the blanket over you both, you run your fingers through her hair. Analyzing her face one feature at a time. Her eyes seem a little more blue in this lighting. And you can finally see the small freckles adorning her skin.

“Are you trying to seduce me.” She asks with a soft laugh. “Cause it’s working.”

“Don’t get any funny ideas. That’s not happening. At least not tonight.” You say and you could have sworn her cheeks got a little pink.

“Well then you’ve got to stop staring at me like that… At least not tonight.” She jokes rolling over. Making you smile.

With her back to you, you place an arm around her waist holding her firm. You could feel her body stiffen and you try to remove your arm but she stops you. “No wait. This is good.” She whispers. “This is good.” And she holds your arm tight to her. Rubbing circles across it with her fingers. Her whole body relaxes against yours and you smile against her neck.

“You know I’m not that same girl anymore.” She sighs a little out of no where. But you get it, she’s trying to give you an out. A chance to run. You hum in response. “I’m different I think. I’m not as strong as I used to be.” She continues and you know she’s not talking about muscle, or brawn. She used to be a leader. Someone people looked up to. And now… most people didn’t even know her real name.

“That might be true. But that’s okay.” You say pressing a soft kiss to the base of her neck. “You’ve been through a lot. I think you’re holding on to a girl who didn’t know what life was yet. And you’re grown up. It’s normal to not be the same. Or feel the same.” You continue and she turns to face you. Caressing your cheek softly.

“I think maybe I can be okay. With you.” She muses. Placing a light kiss to your lips. Making you smile.

“Good cause I’m not going anywhere.”

You don’t know if tomorrow she would go back to drinking. Or if she would get her ass kicked in the pit. But tonight she was safe. And she was with you. And as she fell asleep to your heart beating against her, you couldn’t help but hope it could stay this way. Cause for you. This was enough.

[uncanny-tranny]

Whenever people who are entrenched in diet culture talk about how terrible chemicals are, I just want to whip out this:

[love-has-a-way-ofgrowingbackward]

everytime i take a tiny triangle out of the cake i made my brother comes in and cuts off a trapezium, making the cut a single clean line. it would be vaguely funny but like i made the thing and like could he not eat it all without leaving some for me

[nexus-nebulae]

do any other autistic people feel like they experience like. way more extreme emotions than neurotypical people. like as if my Emotions lever is constantly set to MAXIMUM POWER so whatever im feeling is just amplified way more than other people. good emotions bad emotions all emotions they just feel like i Feel them so much i might actually explode

[cinemacrypt]

So so so fucking angry tonight

[quillyfied]

.

[magicofrobin]

lyric analysis of wide eyes by badflower and how it fits jason todd's vibes. long post incoming. (tw: implied/referenced sa, character death)

starting with the pre-chorus and chorus rather than the lyrics from the verses because these are the most easy to understand.

PRE-CHORUS ANALYSIS.

my innocence was taken / i'll never be that boy again

the first line is the loss of his childhood. unlike other children he witness violence and addiction at home, as well as around his neighborhood. he took care of his mother and slowly watched her die because of her "illness". he lived on the streets after losing both of his parents (the grief for his mother was like a knife, the space where his father used to be was filled with relief). jason wasn't allowed to be a child, he grew up too fast because he had to. it was the only way for him to stay safe. for so long he lost that childlike innocence that tells you that the world is good and your parents will always love and protect you. he saw the world through the eyes of an adult when he shouldn't have had to; in an ideal world someone would've shielded him from this. from all of it.

it can also be used in the same context as the song, which has been interpreted as being about sa. in that sense his innocence was taken when talia manipulated him and brought him into her bed when he was under her care. in that sense it was about the blurred out faces and half remembered hands from his childhood.

the second line, to me, is about his death. he's not going to be who he was before, no matter how much he wants to. he can't go back. he's changed too much to be that boy anymore. he doesn't even view that boy as him anymore, it's easier to think of robin as someone else, as a ghost, than it is to admit it's him. jason todd and robin might be one and the same in reality but not through the lens of his trauma. this can even be seen in canon, when he's reliving his death and disassociating. he sees himself at fifteen, dying on the warehouse floor, being between to death, and he calls him robin, not jason. because it isn't him, not really.

i guess i'm only speculating / but there's no use in hearing the truth from a liar

this one is less specific but to me, it's about how he feels like the other bats don't trust him. mainly how bruce doesn't trust him. it feels like no matter what he says or how much he works with them, there will always be the sense that none of them trust him. if he says he won't kill then he's lying. if he says he's fine he's lying.

he has lied before. many times in fact. that was what red hood was in the beginning, a lie spun to hide his identity until he was ready.

CHORUS ANALYSIS.

true was the bride at the turn of our time

in the song the bride is referring to the catholic church, with that context, i think this line for jason's character is a bit hard to interpret.

but to me, it feels like it's about bruce's crusade and his time as robin. things were good and he believed in everything bruce stood for when he was robin. after his death nothing is the same, least of all him. he no longer believes in batman or his methods, the life he lived under bruce's roof is no longer true, it hasn't been since he ended up in that warehouse. it's almost like a loss of faith.

holding my, holding my / holding my life in your body

this one is obvious & not so obvious. there's different things it could mean but the most in your face one is: bruce finding his son's body in the wreckage and holding him, wishing that jason would open his eyes. it's so reminiscent of the every image of bruce finding his son in death in the family; jason’s limp body in his arms, him the picture of the devastated father.

its batman protecting his robin when they're out on patrol. jason's full trust in his dad to keep him safe. every night out as robin was a risk and bruce was always there beside him, pulling him back when it was too dangerous or picking him up when he was too hurt or too tired to carry on.

its jason holding a gun to the joker's head and demanding his dad make a choice: him or his murderer? one of them was going to die there and it was all in bruce's hands, whether he wanted it or not.

it was the way the batarang sliced his throat and sent him stumbling, releasing his murderer so he can grasp at his throat. a timer is about to go off and he's trying to stop the bleeding. this was his dad holding his life in his hands and choosing wrong. this was jason keeping himself alive, the only person he could depend on anymore.

in a meta sense it's the poll that killed him. his life hinged on the votes of fans. he would live or die based on whatever they called in and said. they held his life in their hands and voted against him. voted to see him dead. voted to see batman's world shatter with the loss of a child. they could've saved him.

i bottled up the pieces of the lie, of the lie

it's about putting his past behind him, or trying to. it's the distance between him and the rest of the bats. he's not part of them and his time with bruce was a lie, it wasn't real, that wasn't his family. he thinks he knows that now. he was replaced, they're happier without him. so he keeps his distance and he keeps all those feelings inside until they spill out and he's confronting a bat and it gets explosive. because he does want to be part of the family, he wants his old life back even if he can't have it.

its about all the things talia told him while he was healing and training. the whispered half truths that she used to manipulate him, so he would become a more willing pawn. she told him about tim and twisted it, told him that bruce never loved him, didn't even miss him. jason's body had barely been in ground before a new kid was going out in the colors that killed him. she doesnt tell him how his dad was self destructing, how tim thought he had to step in to keep bruce alive, how tim was just a kid taking responsibility for a man so lost in his grief he took it out on the world. she tells him how his death has gone unavenged because no one cared enough about him to avenge him.

she doesn't tell him how his dad almost killed the joker, he would've too. he was going to put his rules behind him and rid the world of his son's murderer. but superman stopped him (there might have been valid reasons but does it really matter?). she doesn't tell him how dick wanted the joker dead as soon as he heard about jason's death, how fucking outraged he was that bruce was letting him sit in arkham instead of six feet under. she doesn't tell him how dick beat the joker to death for him and tim and barbara and the only reason he's still alive is because bruce brought him back. she doesn't tell him that he was loved.

everything she's says is lies wrapped up in a thin layer of truth and he takes it as gospel because why would she lie to him? she's in charge of him, she saved him.. right? she should have no reason to lie to him.

who am i, who am i / to ever love you with wide eyes?

so much of this song is about his relationship with his dad and how it's changed since he came back to life. he's not the same kid he was, he's angry and wrong and he hates bruce for replacing him and for letting his murderer go on living. there should be no love left for him to give. but there is. there's enough left that it has him coming when his family calls and agreeing to nonlethal methods, anything to make his dad happy, to make his dad love him.

jason doesn't feel like he deserves to love anyone, least of all the family he doesn't fit into. he's the extra puzzle piece, one that came from another box and was so obviously out of place there was no mistaking it as part of the bigger picture. just like jason is with the family.

this line is him quite literally asking himself if he's allowed to love bruce now that he's broken all the rules. is he allowed to still think of him as his dad and want his love if he's not part of the family anymore, if he's not robin anymore.

going into the verses now, this part might be more select lines rather than the entire verse. we shall see.

VERSE ONE.

my love was only temporary / i aged, but kept the memory / and still it makes me shiver cold

this is all about losing the two most important parental relationships he's ever had and how it'll never stop being an open wound.

he had three years as robin, as bruce wayne's son, he knew it wouldn't last forever. he was so loved during those years, he wanted it to be forever, he wanted to know what it was like to grow up happy. but he died and he lost it. to him, the love he experienced then died with him. and now, as red hood, he knows it has. all he has left is memories of a time when he was happier and it's mostly his fault. it keeps him up some nights, nights where he's alone and nightmares won't let him sleep and he wakes up in a cold sweat wishing he could slip out of bed and walk the hall to his dad's room, seeking out comfort like he used to.

it's losing catherine when he was so young. it's the constant desire for more time with his mom that he'll never get to have. no matter how old he gets he'll always be that little boy shivering and laying beside his mom, hoping she'll wake up.

if i really wanted to, i could also tie it back to talia honestly. she made him feel loved so she could mold him into a pawn and then she betrayed him in the worst possible way. jason will never forget what she did and she will star in those nightmares that wake him up at night.

theres no place to hide the past we bury / so like the virgin mary / she lied to save the family

for the most part the latter part of this line is about catherine to me. it references how she tried to shield jason from the worst of things. she told him she was sick, not an addict. her drugs of choice were medicine to make her better, not the things actively killing her. she lied to him to spare him, to save him.

the first line is pretty on the nose to me. try as he might jason will never be able to run from his past – whether that's being robin or living on the street or being raised in an abusive household or his time spent with the league. nothing is gonna be able to hide it. even six feet of dirt wasn't enough for him to be rid of it.

VERSE TWO.

i am the dust behind the window / the darkness in the shadow / the stain under the pillow

the most standout line here is the darkness in the shadow because that's what he is, isn't it? he's the dark spot on the otherwise clean history of robin. (it means nothing that every robin has had their problems, none of them are innocent, but jason will bear the curse of that alone.) and when he was first starting as red hood, he was hiding in the dark and going through with his plan for revenge. no one knew, or could've known, that jason was back in gotham. he should've been dead, he should've been a ghost.

the first line is referring to his memorial in the cave. the suit he died in – that should've been destroyed, it never should've been kept, it just like robin should've ended with jason – is displayed behind glass. the suit is all that's left of a ghost.

and i'll be the perfect silent witness

this is a bit more of a loose interpretation than some of the other parts but this to me would be referencing the deal he makes with bruce about not killing in gotham. his attempts to repent and be the son bruce wants again.

i stink from all the bullshit / so feed me and i'll hold my tongue

the first part of this is similar to some of the things i've written about jason's internal monologue. where he's thinking about how he's not able to rid himself of where he grew up, like his neighborhood left a permanent stain on him. it's something he felt most intensely when he was attending gotham academy. he felt like the students and the teachers could smell the stink of crime alley on him, that they knew he was not from the same kind of people, that he was only there by chance – not by birth.

finally to finish up, here's the bridge which is so so fucking fitting.

BRIDGE.

rage! / i'm the bad guy, i'm the bad guy / i'm the cynical kid, i'm the rage

this is red hood. this is all red hood is. all of jason's anger wrapped up in a neat little bow and hidden under that helmet of his. he makes himself the villain in the family. he kills people even though he knows it breaks his dad's number one rule and it'll make it so he can never be part of that family again.

he comes back so disillusioned to bruce's methods because he knows! they don't work! gotham is still just as bad as ever! there's no way the city will ever get better if someone doesn't start cleaning up the streets and laying down rules and getting rid of the worst of the worst. which is what jason does.

as a kid he wasn't full of so much doubt. he genuinely believed he was making a difference but now he knows better.

i'm the big lie / i'm the goddamn shame of the goddamn pride!

jason todd was the good soldier! the plaque on his memorial says so! but that isn't true now is it? no, jason was the soldier who wouldn't listen in the end, who turned his back on the cause when he was shown the truth.

he was the angry one, wasn't he? that's what everyone wants to believe.

jason todd the good soldier. jason todd the angry robin. the robin who was always destined to go down the wrong path. it's true because bruce said it, isn't it?

his past is all hidden behind the lies of a man he still calls dad. he warps the memory of a dead boy to suit his needs, ignoring the truth of jason's life because it makes his death easier to deal with. it makes his return and his crimes easier to deal with.

because he's batman's greatest failure. his soldier, his fault.

he's the bat that makes them all look bad. he wears their symbol and he kills people. he thinks he's something that they're all ashamed of (and maybe they are. maybe he deserves that for what he's done.)

rage! / i'm the bad guy, i'm the nice try / i'm the typical bitch with the rage on my face!

pretty much the same as the first part of the bridge but i want to focus on the i'm the nice try part. because i feel like it reflects thoughts on his life and death. his time as robin was cut short but he did good during it, didn't he? he helped the people of gotham and he did so much good but it wasn't enough.

and then his death! it didn't stick! his resurrection is basically the universe's way of saying nice try! not even death could stop jason todd.

i'm the goddamn beast of the goddamn pride!

this!

jason is the member of the batfamily that's willing to go further, he's capable and ready to kill if it means protecting his city and his family. he's the violent one now and he accepts it. that's his role in the family now.

[chuluoyi]

✎ to my beloved

- gojo satoru x reader

bad days don't mean the end of the world, and your husband is making sure you know that

genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, fluff, fluff—just gojo pampering you

note: my job has been so hard for me this week :') so yeah it's very self indulgent as i need a lil hurt/comfort and i think you should too~

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

This week... has been a total dumpster fire.

You were utterly exhausted, covered in grime and blood, a persisting headache made you almost black out, all while sitting in the hospital waiting room as survivor's guilt slowly consumed you.

Grueling paperwork, a new project, facing the higher-ups, being substituted to Kyoto for days, and then a sudden attack of a curse user on the loose.

In times of need, you were supposed to protect others— you are a jujutsu sorcerer.

And yet, what happened? Megumi suddenly bathed in his own blood. You barely managed to save him in time, and now you were waiting for the news that he would be okay.

Why couldn't it be you instead? You wanted to break down each time you replayed the scene that took Megumi out. It was so eerily similar to how Haibara was—

"Are you okay!?"

You whipped your head, surprised to find your husband pounding down the hall. Satoru looked unlike himself—he was disheveled, and when he saw you, he immediately dashed towards where you were.

"Satoru..." you voice came out in a croak, feeling the lump in your throat closing in. When he dropped to his knee, put both hands on the sides of your face, and then your body, feeling you over to check if you had any injuries—

You finally burst into tears.

"Sweets, hey..." Satoru immediately pulled you close, trying to soothe you. You were shaking in his arms and he tightened his arms around you. "What happened to you?"

"I-I was... w-with him..." you sobbed, burying your face in his shoulder. "S-Satoru... I-I'm sorry...! M-Megumi—"

Your husband immediately shushed you. "Shh... it's alright, yeah? He'll be okay—"

You were still inconsolable even as he held you in his embrace. He hadn't seen you like this... not ever since tragedies during your high school years ago. And he struggled to reconcile this sight of you with how you were back then.

"I-I s-should've stood in his way— t-that way, he won't be hit—" you hiccupped as you poured your heart out and clutched at his shirt. "I-It would be f-fine if it... was me—"

But all thoughts flew when he heard your words, and suddenly he felt so angry—

"What do you mean?" his voice was so low and sharp that it startled you. "How will it be fine if it was you?"

You stiffened, and Satoru gripped your shoulder, pulling away to look you right in the eyes.

"If something bad happened to you... how is it fine?" he emphasized with gritted teeth. "Where do you get that kind of bullshit from?"

Your lips were wobbling as you sniffled. "At least... i-it isn't him—"

"If you got hurt, how do you think it'll make me feel?" Satoru posed the burning question on you next, his cerulean eyes glinting with silent fury, and you almost recoiled.

"T-that's...!"

"I'll wreak havoc if anything ever happens to you." His tone was harsh and forceful. "So if you think you can just—"

"I'm tired!" you screamed then, and he was stunned, wide-eyed as he took in your outburst. "I-I'm just... I've had enough of this— this shit! I want to quit!"

You were openly weeping, and this time, Satoru felt his heart lurch. You looked so heartbroken and utterly inconsolable that his first instinct to protect you took over.

"Then quit." He rose and took a seat next to you, before cradling you closer and pressed your head against his chest. "Even if you quit, I'm still here. I can protect you well enough. I don't like you being a sorcerer anyway."

You were his beloved wife and he hated seeing you like this. You were supposed to be happy and smiling.

He let out a disgruntled grunt. "Did you know how I was when I heard from Ichiji that you were at the hospital? I thought I might go mad thinking something had happened to you."

You sobbed harder at his words.

"It's perfectly okay if you're tired," he affirmed, patting your back gently. "If you're fine with giving up everything, then I'm on board too. Whatever makes you happy, sweets. Just... don't think of anything that might hurt yourself. Don't think of anything that might make you leave me."

You didn't know you needed to hear it. Right at that moment, your heart swelled with warmth. All your feelings were validated, and even if you chose to let go of everything, Satoru would accept you as you are.

You felt safe, so incredibly and irrevocably secure.

"Whatever happened this time..." he breathed out, feeling the dampness in his chest, his fingers gently combing through your hair. "It's not your fault. No one will blame you. I don't blame you, and Megumi won't too."

Your sniffles quieted down a bit at his words, and your throat still felt tight, clogged with tears.

"H-he... looked s-so much like Haibara... w-when—"

"Shush, he does not. Megumi will be okay. You will too, hmm?"

And just like that, you let go of everything and surrendered your entire being into his arms.

Clinging to him, you finally believed, in whatever shape or form it might take, you would be okay.

A week later, Megumi was discharged after being cleared by the hospital. His wounds were thankfully shallow, and you cried in relief when he woke up.

And after escorting him back, later that night, you laid on top your husband...

Your weight on him felt like a comforting reassurance as he gently patted your back. Satoru couldn't help but smile when he saw how peaceful you looked, like a baby about to fall asleep.

He couldn't resist and planted a firm kiss on the crown of your head.

"Mmm?" you looked up at him, eyes fluttering open, and he cracked a grin.

"What?"

"What?"

"Can't I kiss my own wife? When she's adorable as heck too."

"You..." your lips curved into a bashful, yet exasperated smile, poking his chest in the process.

"Heh."

You drew circles on his broad and sturdy chest, noting how his arms extended and feeling how your toenails only reached a little past his knees. "Your arms and legs are ridiculously long. You are like an oversized plushie."

Satoru snickered. "Well, isn't that good? You don't have to buy them anymore. I can be your personal talking plushie."

"Ew." You hit his chest playfully, and he pushed your bum forward until you were face-to-face with him. He smooched you on the lips, and you giggled afterward.

His eyes shone as he stared at you, breaking to a smile himself. "Finally smiling. Pretty."

"Satoru..." your eyes found his, and you marveled at how sparkling they were. Seeing him so close, even after being married to him for more than a year, made your heart skip a beat. "I..."

"Hmm?"

"I want to keep being jujutsu sorcerer..." You had thought about it ever since, and you still arrived at the same conclusion. "It's true if I give up on it, you'll still keep me safe and all, but..."

Your husband waited for you to continue, still smiling, blinking expectantly.

"...this is something I have to do. I know there will be more hard days ahead, but believe it or not, I... found purpose in doing this," you said, shifting your gaze away from him. "It makes me feel... I can be useful. Even if I'm not special like you, I can still contribute in my own small way..."

How you pressed up against him, the way you looked hesitant and yet convinced at the same time... Satoru thought you were the most precious thing there was.

"Then keep going. I'll still be here too." He hugged you tight then, surprising you. "Just let me know when you feel like you need a long leave, and I'll definitely give you the solution."

"Eh? How?"

"Easy... I can just put a baby in you~ They won't deny you maternity leave or put you in missions~"

"...Satoru, you're—" You shot him a look so unamused, before resigning with a sigh. "Never mind... alright, sure, whatever you say."

"Ooh! So does this mean you want to try now?!"

"—? No, not now yet—!"

"When? We have to try one of these days before some meddlesome aunties ask us when we will have kids!"

Being sillies like this made you so glad that you had him in your life, and that you married him. And if he felt the same way as you... then you really thanked the stars for it.

You huffed, yet wrapping your arms around him in return. "Satoru, you're a clown."

"Your personal clown, you mean. Right~"

[creganslover]

My King

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Velaryon! Wife! Reader

Requested?: No

Summary: You find your dear husband sulking in his study.

Word count: 1.2k

Warning/s: sad jace, passive agressive jace? lol, suggestive themes towards the end but no smut! no use of y/n

Note: just inspired by jace and baela's scene in s2ep8 hehe aka i just wanna give him a hug and kiss him all over is that too much to ask- likes, reblogs, and feedbacks are greatly appreciated ❣️

GIF is not mine, credits to the owner!

Tracing over the scripture on the tome, you shift yourself, crossing a leg over the other as your brain tries to consume the content within the pages, even if it was already deep within the night, the air seeping into your bones if it were not for the candles distanced around you. 

The candles flickered, casting a warm glow, the night air making you already feel the pull of exhaustion from today’s events, however one was keeping you from the graces of sleep.

You wondered where your husband was, Jace. 

You had been waiting for his return to your shared chambers, but recently, he looked occupied with trying to reign in his own mother as well as trying to be by her side, you could not blame him for the way he had been acting. You supported her cause, but you could see how it had been affecting Jacaerys lately. 

Huffing, you rubbed at your eyes, closing and pushing the book away as you stood, about to come looking for Jacaerys. 

It felt more often than not you had to fetch him from wherever he may be just to go and drag him to bed with you just so he could find sleep. 

Your feet led you downstairs, bunching your robes so you do not accidentally step and fall over these stone steps, though the thought made you almost laugh. Those thoughts are quickly forgotten when you spot Jacaerys down the open door of his study. 

Peeking in curiously, you saw him, elbow perched on his desk, side of his head propped against his fist as he was slowly turning the pages of a book with his other hand, his face pulled to a frown, brows knitted in thought. You might find it endearing if it wasn’t for the situation.

Poor boy doesn’t even register your presence as you slipped in, making it eventually known by speaking. 

“It does not befit a prince to pout.” You suddenly say, Jacaerys stilling for a moment, his heart spiking but eventually relaxing as his mind registers your voice, making him close his eyes shut and release a deep sigh. 

“I’m not pouting.” Came his reply. Leave it to your husband…

“What would you call it then, husband?” You voiced, shuffling the books on the chair behind him, placing it onto the desk before sitting beside him. “I’m reading, wife.” As if to send his point across, he turns a page in between his two fingers, but he does not even seem to be glancing at the sheet. 

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you sigh. “You’re angry.” 

That’s when Jace finally moves to face you. “Aren’t you?”

You look down for a moment to shrug, of course the idea was bizarre and clearly a blow to your family’s honor. “I don’t see what good it would do.” you reply, “They are an insult to us.” Jace murmured, looking ahead of him, jaw clenching. “To what makes us Targaryens.”

“If any common lout can ride a dragon, then–” You were quick to cut him off. “Yet that does not make me common. Or you.” You try to convince him, inching your chair closer to your betrothed. 

“You know what I am.” He responded, no, that’s not what you were going to have. “I do not care, Jace.” You firmly said, reaching for his hands underneath the desk as you looked at him while he maintained to avoid your gaze. 

Raising a hand of his enclasped in yours, you press your lips against the back of his hand, a show of affection. “You are the crown prince, the son of the rightful queen- and here you are sulking because you believe that if not for the dragon, or the trappings of your station- that you are nothing.”

Placing your hand still holding his on your lap, you couldn’t help but just want to drown out your husband’s thoughts and distress.

“Do you believe that you are the first noble heir who was not sired by his noble father?” Taking an inhale of breath, you added. “Such is the way of the world, Jace, and in resenting it you only diminish yourself.” 

Hoping it will come through to him as you stroke your thumb on his hand that was now on your leg, his palm resting on the flesh through your robes. 

He still doesn’t meet your gaze and it sends you frustrated, but you keep trying anyway. “Easy enough to say.” He replied, voice tinged with rancor. You see him swallow as he stares into the void of candles and books. “I’ve heard the whispers the whole of my life.”

Your face pulls to a sympathetic look, gaze momentarily flickering to the ground, cursing the accusations Jace had been succumbed to ever since in your youth. You squeezed his hand on your leg, your gaze holding onto him. “Then prove to them you are worthy, you are Jacaerys Velaryon, heir to the Iron Throne- no one would change that, unless you will not get up and take your place by your mother’s side.”

After what felt like an eternity, Jacaerys finally gave in and had looked at you, though still shying away as he leaned his head back, blinking away the moisture from his eyes. You sigh, squeezing his hand again.

You felt that silence was enough, letting your words sink into Jacaerys’ mind. “I’m sorry.” He said after a while, in which you shook your head. “There is no need to be sorry, Jace.” You reach up, cupping his face with your free hand as you slowly make him turn his head to face you, to look earnestly in your eyes. 

“I am with you, through your ups and downs.” You murmur, stroking your thumb across the apple of his cheek, “We’ll get through this together, we’ll end this war, see your mother to the throne.” You promised, leaning in to capture his lips to seal the vow. 

He reciprocates, squeezing your leg as his other hand found your arm, tracing up to cradle the back of your neck, pulling you closer. 

“What would I do without you?” He murmured against you, breaths mingling together in a dance as your lips brushed against the other.. 

“Perhaps still pouting and sulking, my king.” You teased, pulling back and getting up from your chair, sending Jace befuddled yet stimulated, you calling him king had seemed to fry every last thought he had before recovering.

A smirk came to his face, amused at your teasing as he also rushed to stand, lunging to try and capture you in his arms, but you had anticipated it as you easily slipped from his grasp, his troubles melting as the wax on the lit candles. 

“You tease me now, wife? How shall I punish you if I ever become king?” It sent your heart fluttering and your insides heating as Jace played along, making you continue your act, placing your hand above your chest in mock disbelief. It was a start, you would always want to see your husband in high spirits. 

“That is if you can catch me first, my king.” 

And with that you were off, stifled laughter down the hall, your robes bunched up in your hands as you ascended the stairs towards your shared chambers… with a fired up dragon hot on your trail.

[hyper-fixates]

and what if i said logan could get off from biting and marking you up ☹️ then what ☹️

just a silly little one-shot. this can be read for any logan/era :)

tags: afab!reader (no pronouns/gendered language), biting/marking, clothed male/naked reader, explicit language, sloppy kisses!!! scent kink, dry humping, groping/touching (let me know if anything was missed!).

Logan loves to smother you.

His earnestness and desire to swallow you whole doesn’t get more apparent besides when he’s on top of you, grinding against your bare cunt despite his cock straining against his jeans. And he’ll leave it that way, at least for tonight.

He sucks harmless kisses against your neck and jaw as if your skin will disappear any second, afraid to lose the sex-filled scent that’s keeping him glued on top you. You squirm relentlessly from the sensitivity and intensity of it all, but it just makes him more determined to overwhelm you and feel how much wetter you’re getting against him.

He licks over the taught tendons in your neck before biting an angry mark into the supple skin adjacent, making you claw harder at his shoulders (the grey wife-pleaser already making it easy).

Each lick, kiss, and mark earns you a swift thrust against your exposed pussy, the rough denim brushing against your sore clit that’s already been teased and tortured by his experienced fingers. You weren’t the first and you won’t be the last.

His scruff pricks the sensitive skin over your neck and shoulders as he ventures along your body eagerly, hands kneading your hips in sharp, desperate squeezes to anchor himself and rut his cock harder over you.

He’ll offer the deepest kisses to your lips when he hears you getting louder, timing his thrusts to rock against you when he reclaims your lips each time, making sure your pleading sounds are silenced.

The soft scrape of teeth against your bottom lip has your pussy clenching around nothing as he tugs just far enough away to open your mouth and seamlessly slip his tongue down over yours, locking your lips back together in a kiss that makes you both dizzy. A soft groan catches in his throat.

He moves back down your jaw, nuzzling the curve while placing wet kisses over your pulse, enjoying how fast it’s gotten from a couple bites and slick kisses.

“I could get off just by doing this,” he sighs, slotting your lips together again in a messy, tongue-filled kiss. “You smell and taste too fucking good to stop,” he whispers against your lips. “Every fucking time.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” you reason, sliding your hands up into his hair. The perfect cat-like points breaking apart as you gently pull at the roots.

He drops his head back to your shoulder, consumed by bliss, sinking his teeth into the skin right between your neck and collarbone. A tremor works its way through you as you feel a new wave of heat roll through your cunt while he sucks deeper and deeper at the spot with a groan.

“God, Logan, please don’t break the skin,” you pant as your thighs clench around his hips, pulling him closer. “It will take at least two weeks to heal.”

You feel him chuckle against you before he pulls off with a lewd sound, panting just as heavy as you. Your neck, shoulders, and chest are raw with hickeys and teeth marks; the skin tender to the touch and red-hot when he finally pulls away for more than a few seconds.

“I remember it being ten days,” he smirks, offering a final gentle kiss to your puffy lips, accepting the white flag you’re waving.

You’ve been marked. Claimed.

You give your eyes a roll. “Satisfied?” you hold back a smile.

He pushes his hips up into yours again, cock still very much hard and now newly soaked through his jeans from your arousal. “Oh, I think you know the answer to that one, sweetheart,” he says with a small, breathy laugh.

A hand releases it’s death-grip on your right thigh, trailing up your chest to lock itself tight under your jaw, holding you there for him as he consumes you with rough kisses that have your core aching. All tongue and teeth and he just keeps you there. All for him to devour.

Maybe this is the one part of himself that he’ll never be able to domesticate.

[wanders-in-wonderland]

My Roommate

It’s a typical Friday night, I’d made plans to go to a new club opening with some friends after work and I’m getting ready to leave.

Dressed in a short, skintight dress and heels, I’m just about to head out when I hear the front door open and see my roommate walk into our living room. His eyes sweep over me and I think I see his jaw twitch before he raises an eyebrow at me, “Going out?”

I smile brightly, grabbing my clutch and sliding past him to grab the door handle he’d just let go of. “Don’t wait up!” I cheerfully say as I spin out the door.

I catch him murmur something under his breath but I’m too far gone to notice. I spend the next few hours dancing, drinking, and partying with friends before I finally make my way back home, still a little tipsy and high on a wild night.

I stumble into the apartment, kicking my heels off as I step through the door. I’d been expecting darkness but instead, the lights are on and my roommate is sitting in the armchair in the living room, facing the door. I smile at him and walk into our kitchen to grab a glass of water.

“What are you still doing up?” My words are mostly clear but I can still feel the fuzziness in my head from all the alcohol I’d consumed tonight.

“I was waiting for you,” his voice is flat, with none of the friendly inflection I’m used to. “Hm?” I stare at him in confusion as I bring the glass to my lips, drawing thirstily from it.

I watch as he rises from his seat, walking towards me with purpose. I stare as he approaches, my lack of shoes making our already significant height difference even more pronounced as I tilt my head back to maintain eye contact as he draws closer.

“Did you get tired of prancing around in that outfit like a slut?” His words cut through me, dousing me like ice cold water. I’m slack-jawed for a moment as I stare over the rim of my water glass.

“What?” My voice trembles as my alcohol-addled brain comprehends what he just said. His eyes narrow into an anger-filled glare that makes me shrink and take a step back. He doesn’t stop advancing and my legs carry me backwards instinctively, only stopping when I feel my back hit the kitchen counter.

His voice is dark and biting when he speaks again, “Did you like it when all those men at the club gave you their attention while you whored yourself out? Did that make your cunt wet?”

My heart stutters in fear as I take in how angry he looks and how close he is to me. “I- I don’t know what you mean…” my voice is small and seems to be swallowed up by the room.

“Don’t play dumb. I know how whores like you act,” he sneers and he towers over me, caging me as he plucks the glass from my frozen fingers and sets it down.

“Desperate little whore who lives for the attention and validation that you get from men. That’s what you are. All you want is for someone to own you and possess you and treat you like the worthless piece of pussy you are.” His voice ends in a harsh hiss as he bends down to hold my gaze.

I can feel my heartbeat echoing in my ears and despite the fear, the alcohol, and the indignation that wells up inside of me, I feel my body clench in response to his words.

His hands settle on my waist, his fingers spanning across my back as his thumbs dig into my hips harshly. I whimper softly at the pinch of pain but I feel my pussy throb.

“And I’m tired of watching you run around like a bitch in heat,” he spits the last few words at me before he leans down and captures my lips in a punishing, bruising kiss. I whine into his mouth as I feel his tongue dominate mine, my hands coming up to rest on his chest briefly before my brain catches up to my body and I push away from him.

“What the fuck?” It’s anger now that fills my body and mind, “You have no right to treat me like that or say that about me! What I do is my business, not yours!”

He glares down at me, “It is my fucking business when you’re doing it all under my roof. And I have every right because I’m about to own every part of you.”

I splutter in disbelief, “Who the hell do you think you are, you freak? I don’t fucking belong-“ His hand cracks across my face as he backhands me.

I cry out as my head snaps to the side, my cheek immediately flaring in pain and fear settles into my stomach.

“Don’t fucking disrespect me.” His voice is ice as he stares me down. My eyes fill with tears but I blink them away furiously. My arm comes up to retaliate but before I can, his hand snatches my wrist and in one smooth movement, he pulls me around, pining my arm behind my back while pushing me down against the kitchen counter.

I struggle fruitlessly against him and expletives spew out of my mouth. I hear the sound of his hand cracking against my ass before I even feel it.

The force jolts my entire body and the sharp burn of pain makes me cry out. I twist and try to squirm away from him but he lands several more blows against me, each one drawing a cry from my lips as my thin dress does nothing to dampen the force of his blows.

“You’re fucking mine.” Every word is punctuated with a hit. I feel the tears spill over my lashes as the pain and panic bombards me.

“No, please stop, please let me go!” My voice is desperate and small as he overwhelms my every sense.

“Shut the fuck up,” his tone is cold yet heated with anger and possession as he grabs the bottom of my dress and wrenches it upwards, bunching it around my hips.

He lets out a mocking laugh, “You fucking whore, you didn’t even wear panties out.” I close my eyes as if that would block out what’s happening. He lands a few more harsh slaps to my bare skin, making me whine and cry out again.

I feel his fingers against my core and feel my heart stop. “Fuck, you worthless little cunt, you’re dripping,” his voice is gravelly as his fingers slide against me, collecting the slick that betrays me.

“Being punished like a whore really does turn you on huh?” He laughs with derision. “No, no please stop!” My voice shakes and I feel shame heating my cheeks simultaneous to the desire that heats my blood.

“Don’t lie to me, whore, I can feel how badly you want this.” He slams two fingers into my dripping pussy as he snarls his words into my ear. A strangled moan erupts out of my mouth as I shudder from the pleasure. His fingers don’t stop as they piston into me, the sound of my wetness filling the room with my cries.

“I’m going to give you exactly what you deserve,” his words barely reach me as the beating of my heart roars in my ears.

He curls his fingers inside of me, making my breath stutter as I feel my orgasm fast approaching. His fingers brush against my clit and I let out a broken wail as pleasure washes over me and I come undone on his fingers, splayed out on our kitchen counter.

“Fucking whore,” he growls in my ear as he works me through the orgasm, making me shake and writhe.

I gasp breathlessly as my body comes down from the high and he pulls his hand away from me. He grabs me and spins me around swiftly, the move making my head dizzy as I look into his eyes. He doesn’t even look winded while I know I’m flushed and panting like a bitch in heat.

Before I can get my bearings, his arm shoots out and his fingers wrap around my throat. I let out a strangled whine as he tightens his grip before pulling me out of the kitchen, toward his room.

I stumble slightly, my legs trembling from the orgasm that shook me. He yanks me by my throat before effortlessly tossing me onto the bed. The movement stuns me but I’d be lying if I said his show of strength didn’t make my core clench a little. I stare up at him as he pulls his shirt over his head and drops his pants, revealing his long, hard cock. The harsh movement makes it bounce slightly against the hard lines of his stomach and I let out of small whimper as I take in his size.

He smirks as he catches my eye, “I’m going to make sure you never want another man after tonight.” I shake my head in response, too overwhelmed to formulate a response.

He’s on me a second later, grabbing my arms to lock them above my head in his hand as his body covers mine. His lips attach to my neck and I moan softly when I feel his teeth scrap my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

I feel him mouth me harshly, in a way that I know will leave a deep bruise to show the world who owns me. I whimper softly and squirm against him, unsure if I should arch into him or away from him, not that he’s giving me much space to do either.

He pulls away slightly to run a free hand down my body, ghosting over my skin like I’m something precious he doesn’t want to break. But his next movement dispels that notion when he roughly spreads my legs and lands a stinging slap against my dripping pussy. A cry escapes from my lips as my body jolts sharply.

“Fuck, you’re dripping, you whore,” he growls before landing several more stinging slaps, hitting my clit with each one, the brutal pain combining with pleasure to make my head spin.

“Look at your puffy little pussy, swollen clit all sensitive huh?” He purrs softly into my ear as he harshly lands another sharp slap. I moan brokenly, trembling against him, my eyes fluttering shut.

I feel him shift above me and my eyes fly open when I feel his cock line up against my center. My gaze catches his and I watch as his lips curl into a cruel smile before his hips slam into place. My mouth opens in a wordless scream as his cock fills me and he sets a ruthless pace.

I arch my back against him, staring up at him with unfocused eyes as the pleasure mounts inside of me. His fingers are like bands around my wrist, keeping me pinned to the bed as he fucks me into the mattress.

“You’re fucking mine, you whore. I’m going to breed you and own every part of you. That’s what you need, huh? You need to be owned and controlled because that’s all stupid sluts like you want.” His voice is harsh, deep with possession and finality. I cry out and whine as my vision goes white and my body clenches for another time, my orgasm slamming into me with no mercy.

“Yes, yes, yes, I’m yours!” My voice is shrill and desperate as he unrelentingly forces my body into submission to him. His low groan fills my ears as I feel his thrusts stutter. “I’m going to mark you as mine inside and out,” he snarls as he throws his head back and slams into me one final time. I arch into him and feel his cock throb inside of me as he cums, filling me and claiming me as his.

His body collapses on me, pressing me into the bed under his warm weight. His hands release my wrists and I bring my arms up to wrap around his shoulders and pull him closer.

I giggle softly and let my lips brush against his ear, “Took you long enough to take what belongs to you.” He laughs with breathless incredulity in my ear. “Fuck, you’re amazing.”

[djarincore]

TAGS: smut, fwb!ghost, car sex, degradation, name calling, PIV

A/N: I said if I got sleep token tickets I'd write more smutty simon drabbles. This is a bit different than how I usually write him tbh but sometimes you don't need to be worshiped and adored you just need to get fucked in the back seat of a car and be called a slut *shrugs*

Simon Riley was all smoke and fury, wound tight beneath rippling muscle and an aloof demeanor. He was a bastard at best and cruel at his worst. He was an impossible to read man.

When he was gone, somewhere far over seas, you would tell yourself you didn't need him anymore. You had more self respect and deserved someone who wanted all of you, not just a quick, meaningless fuck.

But you were always the first person he called when he was home. Maybe that meant something or maybe it just meant he was a lonely man. Either way, he called and you answered every damn time.

He took what he needed from you with primal, untamed desire, and when it was over, he was gone until the next late night call. And you were left angry and frustrated at yourself, at him.

You hated recalling your pathetic mewls and broken moans. The warmth of his skin pressed against your, slick with sweat, as he fucked you, burying his cock deeper into your needy cunt.

With your legs around his waist, your knees burned against the leather of his backseat with every sharp thrust that seemed to knock the air out of your lungs.

Times like those were when you wished you could steady yourself in his hair, silence your moans on his lips, but he never took his mask off. You called him Simon, but you only ever saw Ghost.

So, your hands were forced to find security in the meat of his bare shoulders as he gave you no choice but to sit and let him bounce you on cock.

You hated his voice, always mocking and dripping with venom that made your cunt flutter and chest ache.

“Desperate slut,” he grunted. His harsh breaths fanned over the shell of your ear. “You always take me so good.”

Simon’s hands squeezeed the flesh of your ass. His nails left their cresent marks on you the same way yours did on his shoulders. It would be the closest thing to declaring your ownership over the other. He dragged your hips closer, forcing you to grind down on him.

The stir of his cock inside you pulled a moan from you. You worked yourself against him, almost rutting, feeling him deep inside you.

“Go on. Show me what you can do.”

He went hands off and you did your best to take over. He'd already given you two orgasms before stretching you around his cock. His fingers did well enough to leave you exhausted.

You rose slow with your knees and allowed gravity to take you back down. The slick noises of your bodies meeting seemed to echo in his car. The windows had fogged hours ago from your combined breaths. You were completely consumed by him all around. Nothing mattered, but him and you.

Your stamina was no match for his and you were slowing your movements when your breath struggled to catch up.

He scoffed. His lids lowered as cold eyes focused on your sluggish movements, the wetness glistening on his cock and your cunt wrapped around his tip. “Fuckin’ pathetic. Tired already?”

“Make me come, Simon,” you begged, clawing down his chest. Your hips came down to a slow grind against his, urging him to take over.

Simon never took kindly to your orders. You assumed he got enough as it was from being a soldier.

“Wanted you to work for it, slut.”

He bucked his hips, filling you to the brim once again, kissing your cervix with the head of his cock. Your head fell back as you moaned and clenched around him.

“But I'll make you come,” he promised with each word after followed by a heavy thrust. “Again and again and again.”

thank you to @/saradika-graphics for the dividers!

[zaldritzosrose]

I Could Be Your King (Aegon x Wife!Reader)

Request from @bridgertonbee1814, hope you like it!

Summary: Your marriage to Aegon came long before war, but it was war that threatened to tear you apart. You were the daughter of Rhaenyra and Harwin. Just that was enough those who claimed to support Aegon to make him question his own wife's loyalty. As did you, torn between your mother and husband. Your own feelings would make the decision for you.

CW: MINORS DNI, afab reader, she/her pronouns, reader is has the canon Strong features but is only described once, Aegon being a devoted husband, mentions of death, p in v sex, profanity, Aegon needing love and affection.

Words: 3525

You'd die for what I'd kill to give away. They're holding me, but I don't want to stay…

The crown was a heavy weight on Aegon’s head. You could see it every time he would enter your chambers of an evening. Preferring the warmth of your rooms over his own – once belonging to the late King Viserys. Another thing he wished not to inherit. To be King, to now sleep in his father’s chambers. He bore the weight of not only his father, your grandsire, but also the weight of the war that had broken out the moment he had the Conqueror’s Crown atop his brow.

If it wasn’t for you, he would have run. Anywhere, as far away as he could. Anywhere would have been better than how he felt now. His one beacon was you. His one constant. 

But he was afraid he would lose you.

Bury me, steadily, cold blue lips. Reaching still, holding on for one last wish…

You heard the door open, but you didn’t look up. You recognised the footsteps as your husband. But you could not bear to look anywhere but the parchment in your hand.

Lucerys was dead.

Lost to the waters around Storm’s End, torn from the skies by Aemond and Vhagar. The ink on the parchment smudged with every tear that spilled from your eyes. Your little brother gone, your uncle to blame. Your husband’s brother, to blame. 

You could feel Aegon stood behind you, his hands rested on the back of your chair. Though he said nothing. 

“He’s dead…”

Your words were barely audible. Aegon wasn’t even sure you were talking to him. He already knew, of course, it had been the topic of the council meeting he had come from. And now, looking at your tear-streaked face, he remembered the smug smile on Aemond’s. Even when his brother claimed it to be an accident, that smile remained.

“My darling I-“ 

But Aegon didn’t know what to say. What words could he say that would make you feel better? Or even simply not make you feel worse?

Would you give it all just to have a little? Would you give it all to be in the middle?

The letter was from Dragonstone. It wasn’t from your mother, but you imagined Rhaenyra was distraught. The letter had come from Princess Rhaenys, without her seal so it wouldn’t be intercepted and kept from you. War had barely started but your allegiance was being questioned.

The daughter of Rhaenyra, but the wife of Aegon. If there was any worse place to be, it was torn between two sides of a war.

We're all going down. We all want a crown…

Aegon simply stood behind you in silence. You could feel the tips of his fingers brush against your shoulders. Wanting to touch you, comfort you, but resisting.

“I assume you know? I imagine Aemond is quite proud of himself.”

Your words were harsh, but Aegon didn’t take them to heart. You were in pain, and you were right to be angry. He tried to reach out again, barely brushing the blanket wrapped around your shoulders before you had stood from your seat.

“It was the main concern of today’s council, yes.” Aegon said simply, his voice low and tentative. As though he was standing in front of a wild animal.

You were much like a dragon now, the venom in your words your fire. He could almost see the rage burning behind your eyes.

“Ah, a concern. Is the death of my brother only a mere concern!?”

Aegon stammered. That was not what he had meant, and if you hadn’t been so consumed by your pain you probably would have seen that. His hands remained outstretched, held up now as though he was surrendering.

And they all want me now. But I don't want to drown…

The letter was scrunched in your hand, but the words were branded into your memory. You had accepted such pleas, but not after the death of Lucerys. 

Your mother needs you. Your brothers need you. We all need you.

That is what Rhaenys had written. Pleading to the love you held for the other half of your family. To the mother who had fought hard against your betrothal and marriage to Aegon. Who had all but demanded, through coin pressed to a servant’s hand, that you use your marriage to him to secure the throne for her.

You wanted to scream. At Aegon, at the gods, you knew not who. You simply wished to scream. There would be suspicions about your loyalty, you knew that. But you also couldn’t bring yourself to wish to reply to. Because you were torn, feeling like you were being split down the middle. 

Half your soul tied to your mother, your brothers. The other half, to Aegon.

“That is not what I meant, my love, please…” Aegon took a tentative step forward, gauging your reaction before coming even closer.

He was a hair’s breadth from you, hands still outstretched but his whole body was tense. You didn’t move away, but you didn’t reach out for him either. Aegon could see the letter in your hand. Part of him wanted to read it. He knew there was more than grief over Lucerys in your heart. More than anger toward Aemond.

“Did they question my loyalty? Did they expect me to run back to Dragonstone and join my mother’s cause?”

Aegon’s hands began to lower, one moving up to run through his hair. Of course that would be your first thought, because you were right. After the fury directed towards Aemond, especially from his mother, the next question from the cancel had concerned you.

And Aegon hated to admit it, but for a second, he had thought the same. Would this be what turned you away from him? Would this be the one blade to break the tie between you both?

I could be your king. I could be your...I could be your king. I could be your...

He wanted to ask you. To demand you affirm your loyalty to him as your husband and King. But he could never do that to you. The idea that he had even questioned you, even in his mind, made him feel sick.

“They did, and I made quite sure any such words were never to be spoken again,” Aegon said gently, seeing the frown on your face ease just a little in response.

To know he had defended you, especially his council, his mother, his brother. Your heart softened just a little at the thought. Aegon moved forward again, holding one hand out to you. You wanted to take it, to feel his skin on yours, but you couldn’t move yourself to do so.

“You are my wife, my queen. Any words against you, are words against me.”

Aegon took a chance, moving his hand to cup your cheek. You didn’t move, but you didn’t push him away. He could feel the dried tears on your cheeks, his thumb wiping the ones that began to fall anew.

I could be your king. I could be your...I could be your king. I could be your king…

His wife. His queen.

Those were your titles, but not the ones you knew we used behind your back. 

Bastard. Daughter of the false queen.

Those were the words muttered behind your back. They were not stupid enough to say them to your face. It used to hurt you. Such insults had been levied against you since you were a child. Though not as often as your brothers. But now, being married to Aegon, they had been easy to forget.

But it seemed even being crowned as his queen did not protect you.

Your past is calling back to you again. You've run so far, and still your scars are there…

“But it will not stop them thinking it, husband.” Your voice was resigned. Though your rage had dissipated, the pain was still there.

Aegon wished he could stop it. To control the words, the thoughts of those around them. This was a crown he did not even want, and now it was causing you pain that you needn’t feel. 

He was fighting a war within his home now and beyond it. And he feared he may win neither.

“Then I will do nothing but defend you, my love.”

But you knew it would never happen that way. No matter what happened, you would always be Rhaenyra’s daughter. The bastard princess.

“You have a war to fight, Aegon. We have a war to fight.”

You had a dragon; you were the queen. You would be expected to fight, even if Aegon would not say the words. But could you fight your mother, your brothers, Daemon, Rhaenys. Even Baela and Rhaena. Could you really bring yourself to take them down if you had to?

You've reached the edge, over your head, but you've gotta fight…

Days passed since the letter. Aegon had done his best to keep you and Aemond away from each other. Knowing the sight of your brother’s killer would only cause you pain. And what kind of husband would allow his wife to hurt?

He had sent Aemond on patrols, utilising the might that was Vhagar as a way to keep Aemond occupied.

As for you, he had spent as many nights as he could at your side. Hoping his presence was enough to calm your mind. To show you that his loyalties lay with you.

The words had never passed between you both. But there was an affection between you. Whether you could call it love, that was not something either had ever crossed your minds.

But more recently, it had been a constant in your thoughts. Was it your love for Aegon that stopped you replying to Rhaenys’ letter? Or was it the fear of choosing your mother over him?

Every time you thought of leaving, your heart felt heavy, and your stomach felt sick. And no reason you could think of seemed to make sense, except for love.

Aegon had returned to your chambers again that night, and he looked more tired and drawn than usual. You were already in your nightclothes, laying on your bed with a book in your hand. He didn’t even ask before stripping himself down to his smallclothes and crawling into the bed at your side, settling immediately back into the pillows behind him.

“How was the council this evening, my darling?” You asked, and Aegon froze momentarily at the endearment you graced him with.

Aegon couldn’t remember a time when you had called him anything but uncle, husband or his name. Though such names often fell from his lips, he had never once asked the same from you.

So, to hear them from you now…

He did his best to ignore the flutter in his chest. Settling back and turning to press his lips to your temple.

“It appears Aemond and Cole are content to undermine me at every turn.”

Aemond’s name hitting your ears made you stiffen and Aegon noticed but said nothing.

“Undermine you?” You set your book down, turning your attention to your husband instead.

Aegon sighed, his head falling back against the headboard. The turmoil on his face broke your heart. You knew he never wanted to be king, he had told you as much. But you could tell he was trying with everything he had.

I can if you let me try. I can if you let me try.

Your whole body turned, your hand resting atop his and playing with the dragon egg ring on his finger. Your face nestled against his neck, gently inhaling the scent of him. A scent you had come to enjoy. You would smell it on the pillow…no his pillow…when he would wake before you in the mornings.

Aegon let a smile tug at his lips at your closeness, at the gentleness of your touch. Even when his day felt like the worst of his life, you always seemed to be the balm to his worries.

“They have been meeting in secret, it seems, to plan this war without my knowledge.” 

Your hand tightened on his. Anger simmered in your stomach at the audacity. Was there no one but you who supported Aegon and believed he was capable of ruling without interference?

That was the first time you had been so absolute in your thoughts. That Aegon was a good king. That he could be a good king if he were allowed to be. 

I could be your king. I could be your...I could be your king.

You sat up, surprising Aegon it seemed as you straddled his thighs.

“Those fools underestimate you, Aegon.”

Aegon’s hands went instinctively to your waist. Your relationship was not without physical pleasure. If there was one thing Aegon knew he could do, it was please you in that regard. There was never, and would never if he could help it, be a shortage of intimacy between you both.

I could be your king. I could be your...I could be your king.

 “None of them listen to me. Not my council, not Otto, not even my mother anymore.”

Your hands cupped his face, your fingers rubbing gently circles on his temples as he tugged your body closer. It had been a growing problem from the moment Aegon had called his first council. You had, in the beginning, assured him that those men would come around and see him as someone capable of great things.

And at the time, you had simply said words you knew would calm him, soothe his worries.

Now? You meant every single one. You truly believed Aegon could be a king to be remembered. He already had the favour of the smallfolk; he simply needed the trust of those within his walls.

“Then we make them see, we find a way to show them what kind of king you are.”

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. Aegon was quick to return it, his arm snaking around your waist and pressing you tighter into his chest. His other hand tangling into your hair, weaving your silken brown locks between his fingers.

“We? How will my queen help me?”

Your heart raced. It was like something had switched inside you. With Aegon’s lips on your skin, his hands gripping and pressing you to his chest, and the need that simmered in your core, it was like you were tumbling further and further into something unknown.

“Remove those you cannot trust, punish the ones who defy you.”

Was it selfish on your part? Yes, Aemond had received little consequence for his actions, but you had never once asked Aegon for such things. That was his brother, and though you were his wife, you knew what it was like to be torn between two sides.

But now that Aemond, and Cole, had embarrassed Aegon so, you knew he would want to do something.

Aegon kissed you harder. The arm around your waist loosening as he bunched your nightgown up around your hips. Your words had ignited something within him. He realised he had been blind to his most steadfast supporter.

You, his niece, his wife, his queen. Even when you were torn between him and your mother, you had never wavered in your loyalty. Even when it pained you. You had stayed at his side.

The moan that fell from your lips the second his fingers pressed against your pearl was like music to his ears. His rhythm was slow but forceful. Your hips already rolling to meet his hand. 

“Even my brother? I know your feelings on Aemond, my beautiful queen,” Aegon whispered, his lips moving down your neck.

Your head tilted back as he kissed a heated trail down, settling on your breast as his free hand tugged the straps of your nightgown away. His question floated in your mind. He knew you well enough to know your anger towards Aemond would never dissipate.

You could only nod as Aegon’s lips wrapped around your nipple, rolling the bud between his lips as your pleasure overtook your ability to speak.

But Aegon knew you had a point. Aemond did as he did because he thought Aegon was a pushover. Someone he could belittle and embarrass again and again. Your words only reminded him that no one should be safe from a king’s ire.

“Aegon…” you sighed, and any other questions he had were long gone.

He tilted you back gently, urging your legs to part as your back hit the bed below.

“I should bring you to my council, my love, it seems you are the only one I can truly trust.”

Those words hung heavy as Aegon descended on your breasts again, one suckled between his lips as he kneaded the other in his hand. His hips nestled between your thighs, the only barrier being your smallclothes.

“You are my king, my husband, there is nothing that would turn me from you…”

I could be your king. I could be your...I could be your king.

You had said it. He was your king. Those were the words he had longed to hear. You had called him king before. When you would tell him he was a good king, when you remind him, he was the king.

But you had never called him your king.

The fire in him threatened to burn him from within. Knowing you backed him, knowing you were entirely loyal to him, it made him desperate to show you that he was just as loyal and bound to you.

I could be your king. I could be your...I could be your king.

The words had fallen from your mouth before you could stop them. But you didn’t want to stop them. You believed them wholeheartedly. He was your king. Yours. And you would do anything you must to make sure he believed them too.

The sound of fabric tearing had you sat up on your elbows. Your smallclothes in tatters in Aegon’s hands, and a hungry look on his face.

“Say it again.”

I could be your king. I could be your...I could be your king.

His hands tugged your legs wider, before leaning back and tugging his own smallclothes from his body. His cock stood proud against his stomach, hot and slick as he kept you splayed out in front of him.

“My king…”

Aegon had never felt so desperate for you. He had desired you, every time he had bedded you, but this…it was like it would pain him to not have you.

His queen. His comfort. His wife.

His lips crashed against yours. He could already feel the slick heat of your cunt against him, you were as needy as he was. As filled with desire as he was. There was little gentleness as he lined himself up with your entrance, pressing inside with a groan that rumbled out of his chest. Aegon was never rough with you, unless you asked it of him. But his body was working separate from his mind now.

“Again.” 

He buried himself deep with one, swift thrust. Your back arching from the bed as he bottomed out. The stretch was enough to have you moaning before he’d even moved.

But when you didn’t answer, he slammed his hips back into you.

“Say it again.”

Your legs hooked around his waist, your nightgown hanging loose off your shoulders as your breasts bounced with ever harsh thrust.

“My king…yes…my king!”

Your hands gripped the sheets as he pounded into you, fuelled by a heady mix of lust and love. Aegon’s hand was quick to tug both of yours above your head. Holding them tight as his pace only quickened.

Your moans were pitching higher and higher as you raced closer and closer to your peak. Aegon groaned into your neck as he felt your walls begin to spasm and clench around him. He wouldn’t last long, he could feel it.

“Oh, my queen…fuck…come for me, gods, come for me..” Aegon panted into your neck, pleasure licking at his spine.

His hand was tight around your wrists, your back arching from the bed as you peaked. Muscles spasming around his cock as his name fell like a prayer, over and over from your lips.

I could be your king. I could be your...I could be your king.

It wasn’t long before Aegon followed, painting your inner walls white with his seed as he peppered kisses of your heated skin. As his pleasure simmered down, something else began to seize at his heart.

“I love you…I love you so much...” 

Your mind remained foggy with pleasure, but you heard those words. Aegon’s hand released your wrists, and you immediately tugged his face to yours, pressing a hungry kiss to his lips. It was a mess of teeth and tongues, but Aegon could feel every ounce of emotion in that one kiss.

And when you pulled away, breathless, you finally uttered the words that had his heart soaring.

“I love you too, my king.”

Aegon taglist:

@legitalicat @thenameswinter99 @sylasthegrim @aemondsbabe

@kaelatargaryen @sihtricsafin @thought--bubble

@towriteloveontheirarms @anjelicawrites @multyfangirl

@blissfulphilospher @elaratyrell @khaleesihel

@arcielee @tumblin-theworldaway

(If you want to be added or removed, let me know!)

[churipu]

Hiii!! I can ask for jjk men (your choice!) with a girlfriend who doesn't look like it but is like super strong! ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ I have a love for those types of characters<3 thanks in advance!

I hope you are getting better ❤️‍🩹

jjk men & their "looks like a cinnamon roll but could kill" you gf

featuring. gojo satoru, toji fushiguro, nanami kento x fem! reader

warnings. cursing

note. anonnn <33 i absolutely love this one, i have so many speculations for different characters about this request omg, thank you for requesting love, i hope this one is up to par, much love xoxo (and i am feeling so much better now, thank you for checking up on me). OH AND GUESS WHAT? u don't understand how thankful i am to reach 300+ followers in the first week??? u guys rock, ilysm

GOJO SATORU. i feel like he'd feel so betrayed after finding out how you're very strong?? one second he's looking away and then the next second, he looks back and a curse is ready to pounce on you. he grits his teeth when he realizes that — but before he could even do anything, there you were, sending out a strong punch that leaves a gust of wind as a cherry on top.

gojo could only stare at you, jaw dropped. all he could think of was how on earth did you do that and how could someone so...cute and adorable like you send out that kind of punch. honestly, on one side he felt so betrayed to only know of your power now — but on the other side, he's so damn proud of you.

after all of that, you still managed to send him your most innocent smile as if you didn't just almost possibly created a hurricane with that punch of yours. skipping happily and then throwing yourself onto the male, "satoru!"

"you never cease to surprise me, baby." he chuckles.

and you blinked at him innocently, a little confused at what he's talking about. at first gojo thought you were just pretending not to know, but when he realized that you actually didn't know, it dawned upon him that maybe you didn't even realize how strong you actually are.

"y/n, you just obliterated a curse."

"oh. oh. yeah! i did."

yeah, you definitely weren't aware of your own strength. which surprised gojo even more.

TOJI FUSHIGURO. he's always thought that protecting you was one of his main duty, and believe me when i say that toji is always on guard for anything that could possibly send harm your way. feral animals, harmful plants, annoying babies, curses, anything he finds annoying — he just assumes you don't like them either.

despite not having a cursed energy, toji is strong. anyone would agree with that. so when he settled in with you, someone who radiates such loving and gentle aura, toji made it his job to keep you out of harm's way.

but apparently, you've got that under covered.

being in a relationship meant going out on dates occasionally, right? however, some people do not understand the meaning of "i have a boyfriend" and it annoys you. so when toji was away to fetch a few things and you were left alone, a stranger felt like it was the best time to hit on you.

"saw ya' from a couple of minutes ago, thought you're cute. we should hang out."

obviously the word "no" didn't work as he kept on bothering you, and you do know how people react when they don't get what they want sometimes? they just plain out throw words to boost up their ego and deny their own embarrassment. it's funny.

"whatever. ya' aren't that cute anyways." everything began out as an exchange of words — until anger consumes the best out of them. the male got ready to swung his hand on you.

and believe me when i say that toji was having the time of his life watching you exchange angry words with the guy, until he saw the male raise his hand. toji was about to drop everything and come to your rescue, but stopped when you smacked the stranger across his face harshly it sent him stumbling over his own feet.

toji chuckled lightly, although surprised. that day, i swore he promised himself not to get on your bad side (also, he thought it was pretty hot of you). he told you he'd been watching from afar, and was so ready to be your knight in shining armor.

apparently, you are your own knight in shining armor.

NANAMI KENTO. for the longest time, nanami has stood his ground in defending you from malices and curses. some of the people do not like the idea of you and him together, especially girls who failed to obtain his attention (obviously). and he'd always be the one to tell them to piss off and not to butt in his relationship.

you were just a normal businesswoman working normal office hours, and nanami — well, he's a pretty busy man. but he has made himself visible to your work environment a couple of times, mostly because you were clumsy enough to forget your bento box that you made for yourself before going to work.

and apparently that few times was enough to make girls swoon over your boyfriend. honestly, you could care less. you trust nanami. but things went rock bottom when this one particular girl, a co-worker who was obviously jealous of you. and she doesn't hesitate in showing that to you.

"accidentally" spilling coffee on you, "accidentally" stepping on your foot with her heels, "accidentally" bumping into you, "accidentally" elbowing your head when she walks by. just everything in an attempt to get a reaction out of you so she could possibly play the victim card.

you brushed her every attempt off, although it bothered you quite a bit. but your last straw was when she "accidentally" ruined the report you've been working on for the past week, sacrificing your rest and sweat for it — only for her to dump down a cup of iced macchiato on it the day you were supposed to hand it in to your boss.

you've just had enough of her, and this was not something you can brush off like her other "accidents" because this report would affect your position in the company (and possibly get you fired). but at this point, do you even care? no, no you don't.

"so, is this the part where i hit her?" you ask another co-worker who was there in the room when everything happened, and they nervously shook their head, "really? i feel like this is the part where i do."

so when you did send a punch to her jaw, your other co-workers were quick to run find help (your boss). and all it took was one punch to make the girl wobble weakly, her knees buckling.

oh, and your boss wasn't too happy about your resort in violence, especially in the work area.

"i don't care, i'm fired anyways." you took off the company's id card that was hanging from around your neck and tossed it onto the table before packing your bag to leave.

your boss wasn't the only unhappy one, you were too. and nanami as well.

"it isn't my fault, kento."

"i know, darling. i'm not saying it's your fault, i'm just surprised...that's all."

well, that was the first time you've ever threw a punch to someone. and the first time you've ever been fired, so yes. it is a surprise to nanami, but to you? you were expecting it sooner or later with the pace of how that co-worker was going in with her shenanigans.

"she was pushing it."

nanami was silently proud of you for being able to defend yourself though, "well, at the end of the day, you won the fight. right?"

© CHURIPU 2023 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE !

[clare-875]

Wait, I'm Sorry (Gojo Satoru x Reader)

_____ Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader Summary: You get hurt after an argument. Warnings: Angst/Fluff, descriptions of injury, some swearing, Gojo being kind of unreasonable in the beginning, canonical violence Notes: The above image does NOT belong to me, Female Reader [JJK Masterlist] _____

The atmosphere was tense within your home. You hated it, you hated feeling the trepidation churn in your chest as you watched silently Gojo's unusually rigid form. You are standing as you look at him sitting on the living room sofa and his sharp eyes glowing with his anger. They are trained purposefully on the ground before him, like he hadn't just spat cruel words at you. Suddenly, the lovely evening that was supposed to be spent felt heavy with the built-up tension. Suddenly, the beautiful dress you picked up and the makeup you perfected on your face was ruined with tears and the angst of the evening. What had happened? What had happened to the compliments on your form earlier that evening, the words "stunning," "beautiful," and "love" whispered in your ear. What had happened to his arm wrapped around your waist as he took you on your weekly date? What happened to the flowers that still lay within a vase, your favourites, ones he had given you mere hours ago. Why was he being so cruel now, because of something you couldn't control.

"Satoru, I'm telling you, you're overreacting." Your voice is sullen now as your tears make exhaustion creep up on you after the half-hour spent now arguing. "He was just-" Satoru's eyes are narrowed as they turn to you quickly, and your heart drops at the sight of his irritation. It was a sight of anger you never had seen pointed at you, and you felt sadness creep up at the fact that now you knew what it was like; what it was like to have the 'strongest's' eyes look at you in a way that didn't reflect love and devotion. "You didn't see him [y/n]! He was basically undressing you with his eyes in front of me!" You groan now sharp irritation ringing in the back of your head at the same scenario brought back and forth. "And what did you do?! You fucking smiled at him!" Your body is now consumed with rage as you turn to your boyfriend and his incessant words, his blunt and stubborn reasoning. "Yes Satoru, I smiled because he was our fucking WAITER, and he was being polite!"

Satoru rolls his eyes.

"You know what, I'm done." You turn, lips tugging downward at his childishness that returns when he can't see reason past his daftness. "Come get me when you actually want to have an adult conversation about this." You gather your purse and make a beeline for the door, but Satoru's eyes are still trained on you angrily. "[y/n], I'm not done with-" You turn to him sharply then, your own anger and disappointment seeping into your gaze, seeping into his eyes. "I'm done." With that, you slam the door closed and you leave Satoru looking wide-eyed at the spot you just were. He feels an unfamiliar grip on his chest as he looks at the lack of you now in his home following the lack of a beautiful evening. But Satoru can't help it. Even if it had all been in his mind and even if he had taken it too far, all he imagines are his eyes looking at you with a spark of desire he knew too well. All he saw was his smirk, one that rose subtly enough so that only Satoru could see. All he saw was your angelic smile pointed at him like his thoughts were shrouded with the mere innocence of pouring you another drink. So, Satoru stays put despite his body telling him to get you before you leave.

But he remembers your eyes, angry and disappointed.

You, on the other hand, make your way to Shoko's place and she is surprised when she sees your tear-stained face at her doorway but ushers you in. "What did Gojo do this time?" Her eyes are narrowed as she thinks of the white-haired man, so undeserving of you, or at least in her mind he was. You wipe your eyes quickly and shake your head letting out a long sigh. "It was so stupid." You mutter disbelievingly at the ceiling as Shoko nods her head in grim understanding. "Well, you're welcome to stay the night, you know that." You smile gratefully at your best friend as you nod slowly. "Thanks, Shoko." She grins half-heartedly as you watch her go back into the depths of her home and see the swipe of her hand as she pulls out a cigarette, leaving you be. However, when you got yourself ready to go to bed that night, you slept terribly and he did too. You hated it; the lack of his warm arms and the cheesy lines he'd say before bed. He hated it; the lack of your sweet words and your loving gaze lulling him to sleep. He would apologise in the morning, he thought to himself.

But he never got the chance.

You were awoken to a call early in the morning and your eyes were weary as they shot to your bright phone in the depths of the dark dawn. You half expected it to be Satoru, but when you look, you see that it is a number retained for your work. Sure enough, when you pick up, it is for a job to exorcise a grade-two curse causing a reign of terror in a nearby abandoned hospital. You were a semi-grade one sorcerer and the only one with an apt grade who was free for the day. You sigh heavily and despite thinking you would have the day free, you decide that maybe you could use a win. So, you leave a note for Shoko thanking her and asking her to inform Satoru if she has the chance. Then, you quickly make your way to the Jujutsu High School for your uniform and further details. However, when you finally do make it to the abandoned hospital in the early shine of the rising sun, you notice instantly that something is wrong. You feel it brimming within the atmosphere, an untold power, an untold curse that felt too strong to be a second-grade curse. But before you can contemplate the situation further. A curse appears from the depths of the floor.

You quickly ready your weapon and soon, there is a multitude of smaller curses building upon smaller ones, gurgling incoherently and its disfigured form towering over you. You grit your teeth but ready your cursed technique. This wasn't the one you were worried about. You dodge an incoming attack and strike your weapon, but you defeat the curse after only a small number of attacks. Soon, all that is left is a muddle of its remains slowly disappearing into the floor, but this was all too easy. You know the fight's not over, and you are right. "Help me." You turn quickly at the sound of a child's voice in the barren hallway, your eyes sparking wildly at the trembling of it. The reports said nothing about hostages. "Help me, please." You start to run swiftly through the cool corridors left with built-up mould and cracks. You follow the voice as it calls out to you louder now, more rapidly.

Thinking back, you really should have been a bit more weary.

As you rip open a door, the sound of the child reaches your ears and your eyes spot a small young girl with teary eyes and soft blond hair looking at you desperately. "Please, please help me." Your eyebrows furrow at her form slightly dirty and eyes that reflect despair. "It's okay," your voice now reaches the air as you slowly approach her from the door cautiously. "Everything's going to be ok-" You are slammed into the wall from your side so rapidly that you can't even react. For a moment you're confused, and then you feel the pounding of your head and the gut-wrenching scream you stifle in your throat at the pain. The pain that now seeps through your body. Your mind whirls and your vision sways as you desperately try to get a grip on your reality, but your form is betraying you. "Help me." Your eyes go to the girl that had been in front of you but you watch wide-eyed as she disappears from sight. More like, she had never been there in the first place. It was all a trick of your mind, a hallucination put in place by the curse that looms in the corner of the room before you.

A special grade curse.

Your breath comes in rapidly as you watch it smile wickedly at you, and you groan as it slowly approaches you as you wrestle yourself from the floor and try to move. But you are too slow. The curse lets out an intolerable blow and you feel yourself break through walls and you feel your blood start to mingle atop your skin. Your vision blurs from nothing to the blurry scene of the special grade curse slowly approaching you. I'm dead. Your mind buzzes and you feel your eyes slowly start to lose their will to be kept open. I'm so dead. I couldn't even do a single thing... Your mind then flashes to a pair of bright blue eyes, to the smile you adore. Satoru... what would he say? You groan as your breath shakes at the weight of your injuries. You then feel your hands reach for your phone and you are surprised to see it unshattered after the multiple hits you undertook. You press the speed dial and bring it shakily to your ear as you watch your death approach you. It rings once, it rings twice, and then you hear it, his voice, so comforting it almost makes you cry.

"[y/n]?"

There is silence as your heart thrums faster at the impending defeat that looms and you say two words that you never thought you would say so bluntly to your boyfriend, even when every day he swore to keep you safe. "Satoru." Satoru's eyes are wide when he hears your stuttered gasps and the strain in your voice as though you were in pain; you are in pain. His heart pounds erratically and he knows instantly there's something horribly wrong. "[y/n]! What's wrong?! What's happening?!" Your mind slowly starts to turn dull as you can't even keep your eyes focused on the curse that comes before you. "Save me." With that, your phone falls limp to the floor and you don't hear the screaming that takes place from within it, or see how Gojo almost loses his mind. But as your mind whirrs and you see the building power of another cursed technique before you, your thoughts are only of him. So as consciousness fades and you finally let yourself delve into peace, you think it is a final blessing, a rare kindness of the curse when you see a flash of white hair and movements you could recognise from anywhere.

Because it has to be another hallucination.

You feel it then, arms wrapping around you and words shrouded with grief. "Baby, please, wait, I'm sorry." He blabbers and his crystal eyes are broken in his tears. "[Y/N]!"

The Gojo Satoru sobbing over the top of you, what a beautiful sight to die to.

.....

You hear it first before you see it. Pain. But it wasn't yours. There is a steady beep in the background and though your eyes are closed you wonder if life had actually gifted you more of it. You hear the steady rise and fall of your chest and you feel the steady squeeze of your hand.

You hear unsteady words, murmuring with loss.

It had been years since Shoko had seen his crystal eyes so broken as he turned to you, endless streams of tears tearing away his usual composure. His gaze is wide and full of fear so unnatural it makes even her, unbearably uncomfortable. "Gojo I know you're worried but you need to leave you can't be-" She is cut off when he looks sharply at her, form taut with dread and trauma. "Shoko, I-I can't what if she, what if she doesn't-" Shoko sighs as she looks at him and finds her own heart constricting when she looks at your seemingly unconscious form resting from injuries she had worked tirelessly to heal. Shocked was an understatement to how she felt when Gojo brought you in battered, bleeding, bruised; almost dead.

"When she wakes up, come get me."

With that, Shoko leaves with a pack of cigarettes in her hand, already blowing on one before she even reaches the door. Unbeknownst to them, you are trying desperately to move. Amid the quiet of the room, all you hear are the murmured words of your boyfriend; the 'strongest' begging you to come back to him. You finally succeed when you lightly squeeze against his hand and your eyes flutter open to unbearable light. "[y/n]..." Satoru's tired eyes are on you instantly and you meet his gaze with a half-smiling, half-grimacing regard. "Hey, S-Satoru." He moves up from his seat abruptly and wraps you around him tightly. His infinity is off as he desperately tries to feel you alive and well beneath him. "Satoru... l-life-threatening injury..." You wheeze out as his gaze widens before quickly releasing you of his form, still drowning in relief. However, as he breathes in the reality of you, a flash of realisation seems to hit him. "[y/n], I'm sorry, I let you go after a stupid argument, and if I didn't maybe then-" He starts to ramble; Gojo Satoru is lost for words. You stare at him; eyebrows furrowed, gaze adverting.

You look at the trembling of his hands.

"Satoru," you call out to him and see the rare seriousness that encompasses his gaze and the questioning look in his eyes as he turns to you. You know of his past; you lived it with him. So, you know how much this all may have impacted him. "It's okay," you say breathlessly before you feel a slight pounding in your head making you lean back down. "It was just all so stupid," you then reach for his hand once more and Gojo returns your grip quickly, his crystal gaze on you. They were filled with worry and apprehension, but they were filled with love and devotion once more; all for you. "Thank you, for saving me." You whisper and you finally see the slight upturn of his lips as he looks to you upon your bed. But you also see the severity of the worry and dread he held onto. "Don't do that again," was his only reply. You smile at him teasingly as you reach out to wipe away any remaining tears. He then leans forward slightly and cups your face in his hands, pushing away at the hair that lingers upon it. He allows himself to calm down as he gazes at you in front of him, safe and sure. He had almost lost you, he would never allow such a thing to happen to you again. His lips capture yours and you return his fervour to the best of your ability. His hands are gentle as they cradle your form and you feel your own hands carve their way gently through his hair. The both of you are lost in each other for several long moments. Or, until Shoko returns to the horrendous sight of him on top of you.

"How many times have I said, Gojo, not in here!"

Satoru barely misses the edge of her rage, but you laugh at the sight of them, safe and loved. Gojo turns to you then, his own smile quirking upwards at the relief of your joy, of your blatant forgiveness. He swore never to see the look of disappointment in your gaze again. He swore he would die before he saw your form withered in his grasp. When Shoko finally calms down enough to continue her examination, relief brimming in her own gaze as she looks to you, his gaze does not falter. His promise lingers silently in the air.

[judebellswife]

Shattered Trust, Mended Hearts

— REQUESTED by ANON / REQUEST status: OPEN

— pairing • jude bellingham x soft!reader

— summary • Jude Bellingham, consumed by jealousy and fueled by rumors, believes his girlfriend is cheating on him. In a moment of anger, he refuses to let her explain, kicking her out of their shared apartment. Tragedy strikes when she gets into a life-threatening accident, leaving Jude overwhelmed by guilt and regret. With her in the hospital, he reflects on his mistakes and learns that love and trust are fragile but worth fighting for. Realizing that she never betrayed him, Jude is forced to confront his own insecurities. Together, they find a way to rebuild their broken relationship, restoring what was lost in a sea of misunderstanding and pain.

— warnings • Heavy angst, miscommunication, car accident, hospital scenes, mention of injuries, emotional turmoil.

"Jude, please, just listen to me—"

"I’ve already heard enough!" Jude's voice roared through the apartment, his anger palpable, bouncing off the walls like daggers. He stood in the kitchen, fists clenched, chest heaving, trying to contain the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. His dark eyes, usually so warm when they looked at you, were cold and distant, as if he couldn’t even recognize you.

You stood frozen near the door, the keys you had just placed on the entry table trembling under your fingers. You had no idea what you were walking into. Coming home after a long day at work, all you wanted was to relax with Jude, maybe watch a movie, talk about your day—but instead, you were met with fury.

"Jude," you whispered, your voice shaking, tears already welling in your eyes. "Please. Just tell me what’s going on."

He scoffed bitterly, turning away from you as he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Don’t act like you don’t know," he muttered, his back to you now as he stared out the window into the rainy night.

You blinked, confused. "I—I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Jude whipped around, his expression dark. "Oh, don’t play innocent, Y/N. I know about you and Ryan."

The mention of Ryan's name hit you like a punch to the gut. Ryan was a colleague from work—someone you'd had to collaborate with closely for the last few weeks due to a project, but it had never been anything more than that. He was friendly, sure, but you never saw him in that way. You never even thought Jude would be suspicious. "Ryan? Jude, he's just a co-worker, we—"

"A co-worker? That’s funny, because that’s not what everyone else seems to think!" Jude's voice was dripping with bitterness, a tone you had never heard from him before. "Do you think I’m stupid? You think I don’t see the way you’ve been acting? Coming home late, spending more time with him than with me—"

You shook your head frantically, trying to approach him, but he stepped back, his face twisted in hurt and disbelief. "Jude, no, it's not like that! I swear, it’s just work! There’s nothing going on between me and Ryan, you have to believe me!"

But Jude wasn’t listening. He wasn’t hearing you. All he could see, all he could feel, was the poison that had been festering in his mind for days, the doubts and insecurities that had been fueled by whispers and rumors. He was blinded by his pain.

"You think I’m an idiot? You think I haven’t heard the rumors? Everyone’s been talking about it, Y/N. About how you and him have been seen together, laughing, having lunch, all those 'late nights' at the office. I bet they weren’t all about work, were they?"

You were shaking now, tears streaming down your face as you tried to reach out to him. "Jude, please. I would never—"

"I don’t want to hear it!" His voice cracked, loud and raw, and it silenced you. His anger was too much, too overwhelming. You had never seen him like this before—this angry, this distant. And it broke your heart to see the doubt in his eyes, the mistrust.

"I thought I knew you," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, almost more painful than his shouts. "I thought we had something real. But maybe I was wrong."

Your chest constricted painfully, your breath hitching as you reached for him one last time, desperate to hold on to something that was slipping away. "Jude, please," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Don’t do this. I love you."

But Jude’s gaze hardened. "If you loved me, you wouldn’t have lied to me."

The silence that followed was deafening, your heart shattering into a million pieces as he turned his back to you again, his next words sealing your fate.

"Get out."

You stood there, frozen, your mind racing as you tried to comprehend what he had just said. "What?"

"Get. Out," he repeated, his voice quiet but firm, as if he couldn’t even bear to look at you anymore. "I don’t want to see you right now."

Your world came crashing down in that moment, the weight of his words too much to bear. You opened your mouth to say something, to beg him to listen to you, but no words came out. You felt numb, completely broken.

With trembling hands, you grabbed your bag and stumbled toward the door, your vision blurry from the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. As you reached for the doorknob, you turned back one last time, hoping—praying—that Jude would stop you, that he would realize how wrong he was and call you back.

But he didn’t.

He stood there, rigid and unmoving, his eyes focused on the floor, his expression unreadable.

And so, you left.

The rain was relentless, soaking through your clothes as you stepped out onto the dark street. You wrapped your arms around yourself, shivering both from the cold and the overwhelming despair that consumed you. You couldn’t think straight. You couldn’t breathe. All you could do was walk, your feet moving without direction, aimlessly wandering the city streets, your mind still reeling from everything that had just happened.

How had things gone so wrong? How had the love you shared with Jude turned into this nightmare?

You pulled out your phone, trying to dial your friend’s number, but your hands were trembling too much to type properly. You managed to hit send, but as you crossed the street, you didn’t hear the roar of the car coming toward you until it was too late.

The blinding lights flashed before your eyes, and then— Nothing.

Jude sat on the couch, his hands covering his face as he let out a shaky breath. He had kicked you out. The realization sank in slowly, the weight of what he’d done pressing down on him like a heavy, suffocating blanket.

I kicked her out.

The anger that had burned so fiercely in him just moments ago was gone, replaced by a sickening sense of guilt and dread. The apartment felt too quiet, too empty without you there. And now, sitting there alone in the dark, he couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that something was terribly wrong.

His phone buzzed in his lap, dragging him out of his thoughts. It wasn’t a number he recognized.

"Hello?" His voice was hoarse, tired.

"Is this Jude Bellingham?" a woman’s voice asked, calm but urgent.

"Yes," he answered slowly, his heart beginning to race. "Who is this?"

"This is St. Mary’s Hospital. I’m calling about your partner. She’s been in an accident."

Jude felt the floor drop out from beneath him. "An accident? What—how bad is it?"

"She’s in critical condition. We need you to come to the hospital as soon as possible."

Jude’s legs felt like lead as he sprinted through the hospital’s sterile halls, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he reached the emergency ward. His heart pounded violently in his chest, panic rising with each step.

A nurse led him to your room, where the sight of you lying in the hospital bed, hooked up to machines, left him frozen in place.

His world shattered in that moment.

You were so pale, so still, and the beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound in the room. Jude sank into the chair by your bedside, his hands shaking as he reached out to take yours.

"I’m so sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking as tears filled his eyes. "God, I’m so sorry, *Y/N*. I didn’t mean any of it. I should’ve believed you."

He squeezed your hand gently, bringing it to his lips as his tears fell freely now. "Please wake up," he begged. "Please. I need you. I—I love you. I was so stupid. I should have trusted you."

The guilt gnawed at him, tearing him apart as he watched your chest rise and fall weakly with each breath. How had he let things spiral this far? Why hadn’t he listened? Why hadn’t he let you explain?

For three days, Jude didn’t leave your side. He barely slept, barely ate. He couldn’t think of anything else but you and how wrong he had been.

When your fingers twitched on the fourth day, Jude’s heart leapt in his chest.

Your eyes fluttered open, groggy and disoriented, the bright lights of the hospital room making you wince. Everything felt heavy, your body aching, and it took you a moment to remember what had happened.

"Y/N?" Jude’s voice was soft, but urgent, pulling you back to reality. You turned your head slowly, finding him sitting beside you, his face pale, eyes red-rimmed and swollen from crying.

"Jude…" you whispered, your voice hoarse.

Jude reached for your hand, his fingers trembling as he held yours tightly. "I’m so sorry," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I was so wrong, *Y/N*. I was so stupid. I—I didn’t trust you, and I should have. I should have believed you. None of this—none of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t been such an idiot."

You blinked, trying to process everything, your heart aching at the sight of him so broken. "Jude…" you whispered again, trying to find the right words. "It’s okay."

"No, it’s not." He shook his head, tears spilling down his cheeks as he pressed your hand to his lips. "It’s not okay. I almost lost you because I was too caught up in my own insecurities to trust you. I should’ve known you would never… I should’ve known better."

You looked into his eyes, the raw pain and regret there clear as day, and despite everything—despite the accident, the pain, the heartache—you still loved him. You had always loved him. "Jude, I love you," you whispered, managing a small smile despite the tears in your own eyes. "I never wanted to hurt you. I would never cheat on you."

He let out a shuddering breath, leaning down to rest his forehead against your hand. "I know," he whispered. "I know now. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, I swear. If you’ll have me."

You squeezed his hand weakly, your voice soft but filled with emotion. "Of course I will. I’m not going anywhere."

Jude let out a soft, broken laugh through his tears, leaning in to gently press his lips to your forehead. "I love you so much," he whispered against your skin. "And I’m never letting you go again."