#please remember to send the letters guys

[chickpea0]

Everyone put your most out of left field regression headcanon 3 2 1 GO!

[strawhbrrries]

Movement

pairing: mike schmidt x afab!reader

summary: a double date that leads to mike schmidt coming home with you in the name of "helping your friend" and he ends up fucking you.

warnings: unprotected sex, no foreplay, creampie??, female pronouns, slight degrading??, pet names, heavy cussing, mike being hashtag v hot, no established relationship, porn with no plot, not proofread

word count: 2.1k words

author’s note: listen to movement by hozier for the full experience!!! I know this fic wasn't voted to be the first mike one to be posted but I had to do it okay!!!! he's so hot n sexy in this and i need him badly...please enjoy! mwah!

Your eyes scanned the restaurant in front of your car, you were promised a very nice dinner with a very nice man and the place you ended up might as well have been a denny’s. Gia somehow managed to rope you into a double date and as the amazing friend you are, you obliged. Now, you wanted to take it back. If the guy you were set up with wasn’t just an absolute heartthrob you might consider strangling her in the bathroom.

“Gia, this better be the best damn food and the hottest men you have ever experienced or I’m never doing you another favor ever again.” You teased, getting out of your car as she walked up to it.

“I swear he said this place was nicer! Thank you so much babes, I owe you one!” She responded, slipping her arm inside of yours to walk inside. “Maybe the inside is really nice and it’s just a shady exterior.”

You’d never seen the man Gia was seeing tonight so when the two of you arrived at the table you weren’t sure which man was yours, but you knew which one you wanted. He looked gentle, shaggy hair untamed almost like he wasn’t prepared to go on a date tonight. 

“I suppose I’m your date.” He smiled softly, getting up to pull your chair out for you. “I’m MIke, you look uh, really beautiful tonight.”

After the introductions and small talk the two of you hit it off right away, it helped that Gia and her date were more interested in each other than remembering that the people they brought also existed.  The more you talked the more Mike came out of his shell, he wasn’t as shy as you first pegged him to be. Your heel was slowly caressing his calf, neither of you were quite sure when it had ended up there but he wasn’t complaining.

“A man in uniform is hot.” Your flirting was a little rusty, but it seemed to be working just fine for you.

“It’s just a security gig.” He shrugged it off, maintaining eye contact with you the whole time. 

You grabbed the straw of your drink, wrapped your tongue around it, and took a sip. Mike choked slightly but covered it up with a cough, adjusting his pants under the table at the same time. 

“She’s not going to go home with him unless I go home with you.” You whispered in his ear as you leaned over the table, tangling your fingers in his hair to trick Gia into thinking you were whispering something dirty. “I’d really like to go home with you.”

You could feel the heat creep up his neck, his face was flushed. His heart might as well be on the outside of his chest with the intensity that it was beating, it’d been a long time since he’d been on a date or even gotten laid but Abby was at home and that just wouldn’t work.

“Uhm, my sister’s at home, can we go to your place?” Mike’s saliva was thick and pooling in his mouth, it felt almost impossible to swallow. He had to be dreaming, this just didn’t make sense otherwise. He was just doing his friend a favor and now your breath was hot on his neck and his jeans were uncomfortably tight.

The second the two of you walked outside he got fidgety, like he was going to take off the second you let go of his hand. Frankly he was surprised you hadn’t let go of it the second you picked it up, he was dripping sweat from the moment he realized you were his date. He quickly made a mental note to send a letter to the company who made his preferred deodorant, the fact that he didn’t smell absolutely putrid spoke volumes on their product.

“So did you mean what you said inside? Because I’m perfectly okay with just going home.” 

“I meant it, don’t be so nervous.” You smiled back at him, handing him the keys to your car.

The tension was thick, his knuckles were white as he tried to keep his focus on the road ahead and making it back to your place safely and not the fingers drawing figures on his thigh as you spoke about something he couldn’t quite grasp. 

Your place wasn’t too far from the restaurant that Gia’s date had picked, that Mike was thankful for. The longer he had to endure the torture that was your fingers on this thighs, the less his ability to be a gentleman and control himself existed. If it was up to him, he’d probably just pulled over and fucked you in the backseat of your own car but it wasn’t. He was a gentleman, he’d just met you all of a few hours ago, he knew better.

“This is the place.” You smiled softly as he pulled into your driveway.

“It’s nice.” He stated, handing your car keys back to you and taking your hand. “Suits you.”

Mike’s eyes wandered the walls, taking in every aspect of you, as you led him through the house. It didn’t take him long to notice that you lived alone, another thing he was now thankful for. His fingers trailed the zipper of your dress as he stood behind you in your bedroom, his other hand rubbing your arm and leaving goosebumps in its wake. 

“Are you going to take it off?” Your voice was shaky and quiet, for the first time tonight you were nervous. 

“And you thought I was the eager one.” He chuckled, tugging your hair back softly to give him just enough access to your face to make eye contact with you. “Do you get off on bringing strangers to your home and having them fuck you?”

A soft whimper escaped your lips, blessing the ears of the man behind you who responded with a groan. His lips made contact with your neck, biting and sucking at any of the skin he had access to. The hand that was holding your hair back made itself busy drawing the zipper of your dress further and further down until it couldn’t go any further, you shivered as the cold air hit your back. 

Mike detached himself from your neck and took a step back, briefly admiring how disheveled you looked despite still being fully dressed, he made a quick motion for you to turn around and you obliged almost immediately. If you got his dick any harder it might’ve fallen off before he ever got the chance to use it. 

He backed you into the bed, laying you down and sliding your dress off and into a pile on the floor. Another deep groan was emitted into the air as he took in the sight in front of him, you hadn’t worn a bra and the underwear you’d chosen left nothing to the imagination. Mike immediately started thanking whatever god was above for you and the experience he was about to have. 

Your heart was pounding out of your chest. Truthfully, you hadn’t planned on sleeping with anyone tonight but then you saw him and your entire plan was flipped upside down. You lied about your friend not going home with her date if you didn’t leave with him, you didn’t want him to think you were desperate but he knew now. The second he touched the zipper of your dress, anything left of your facade was gone. You needed him.

“If you weren’t so fucking wet I would’ve thought you were only doing me a favor.” He spoke nonchalantly, rubbing his finger over your folds through your underwear. “ Or maybe you’re just a whore? Huh?”

“For you.” You choked out, words getting caught in your throat over his words. 

At the beginning of the night you would’ve placed money on the fact that he wasn’t capable of things like this, it was like another side of him had come out during the drive to your house. You weren’t complaining, his words were getting to you in a way you’d never experienced. 

“Yeah? For me? Mikey’s own personal whore.” He slipped your underwear to the side and slid his finger through your folds, collecting your juices and bringing them to his mouth. “You’re as sweet as you look, need a honey jar full of you.”

You cried out at him softly, trying to use anything you had to stop his teasing. He was winding you up but edging you right before you could pop, he could’ve said anything and you would’ve agreed just to get him to fuck you. Being this desperate for a man you hardly knew was an exhilarating experience. 

“Please, I need you.” You whined, grabbing at his shirt in a desperate plea. “Please.”

“Good job using your words, pretty girl.” Mike praised, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your underwear and pulling them down, throwing them in the same pile as your dress.

His clothes soon joined yours on the floor, a small pout emerging when you realized you wouldn’t be able to suck him off, his eyes catching yours as he climbed up your body. He kissed his way up, biting occasionally. Fingers tracing your skin just as you had done to him earlier in the night, lighting a fire on your skin as they went. It was like his body was made to fit yours, like your souls had searched for each other through every lifetime and yet this was the first time they had met.

His lips finally met yours for the first time, teeth nipping at your bottom lip as he pulled away to breathily whisper something in your ear. You shook your head in agreement at whatever he said, as long as he kept touching you like that and making noises in your ear you’d agree to anything he said to you. 

Shaking your head yes was the best decision you’d made so far, you felt two fingers slip inside of you. Thrusting for a few moments before they were replaced by the tip of his cock, slowly pushing in as his mouth found one of your nipples. The gentle man you had once perceived had been replaced by a god who was hung like a horse, splitting you in half with the cock fit for a god.

“Fuck.” Mike moaned, tipping his head back when he bottomed out, taking your legs and placing them on his shoulders. “So good, pretty girl.”

Anything you had planned on responding with quickly dissipated the second he pulled out and thrusted back in, a low groan coming out insead. His fingers were digging into your thighs as he held them up where he wanted them, all you could hope for was the imprints bruising as a reminder that this actually happened. What hair that wasn’t sticking to his skin from the sweat covering it was dangling backwards freely, all his focus was on not cumming too soon and if he continued to look at you he definitely would.

Your eyes had glossed over a long time ago, tears streaming down the sides as a byproduct of the blissful state his cock had put you in, fingers gripping desperately at the sheets and your tits bouncing with each thrust. He was once again praying to every god that he would get to do this another time, then he could sear the image of you under him into his mind.

“Mike, Mikey I need..” You whined, the knot in your stomach twisting and turning, threatening to spill before you could even finish a coherent thought.

“C’mon pretty girl, you can do it, let it go.” He praised you, bringing his thumb down to your clit and drawing figure eights in time with his thrusts to help your orgasm spill over.

His words were the final piece in the puzzle, your orgasm hitting you soon after he spoke. Legs shaking, mind blowing, tears, and silent moans was all your body could do at the supernova your orgasm had proved to be. You’d never cum this hard before but if every orgasm after didn’t measure up, he had ruined you. 

“You did so good.” Was all you heard as you came down from your high, Mike’s hands soothed down your hair as he whispered into your ear. 

His thrusts continued at the same pace for only a few seconds before his hips stuttered and he painted your insides white. 

“I guess tonight wasn’t a total waste.” You joked quietly, turning to the side to smile at him as he laid down next to you. 

“We need to do this more often.”

[felassan]

Letters from Lovers

Transcriptions of the letters from the various gear store items. under cut for length.

Isabela:

“My dear Hawke, Do you know anyone with a flock of parrots? I'm trying to cheat on a bet with Varric and the stakes are exceedingly high. If you help me, I shall take you to that breathtaking beach you so crave. Free of ancient horrors, too. I think. I'd hate to take respite from all my adventures, but there are other ways to make the heart flutter. In fact I'm already imagining a few. Aren't you? Sailing there can be fatal, but Admiral Isabela will keep you safe. Are you interested? I would love to see you again. Yours, Isabela”

Morrigan:

“My love, Now before that grin reaches your ears, perish the thought that this letter was my idea. 'Tis Kieran who would not give me peace until I wrote to ask how you are faring. Regale us, if you please, with another of your tales that I might read to him in bed. He is particularly fond of those wherein you spur mischief whilst you save the day. Thank you for your most delightful gifts. I shall make certain to wear them the next time you come home. Dream of me until then, my Hero of Ferelden, and have a care. Morrigan”

Dorian:

“My dearest Amatus, Home is ever as it was: a glittering whirl of dancing, politics, and murder. I'm used to people staring daggers at me - I quite relish it, actually - but the glares seem to possess a new intensity since my return to Tevinter. Do they disapprove of House Pavus freeing its slaves while I work in the Magisterium to end slavery across Tevinter? Perhaps they simply covet my cheekbones, and who could blame them? Real reform will take time, but we're making inroads. I miss you terribly, Amatus, perhaps almost as much as you miss me. I treasure you and your belief in my work here. Yours always, Dorian P.S. I wouldn't take it amiss if you might send me another barrel of that dreadful Fereldan beer?”

Alistair:

“My love, How are you? Is it true that you recently killed darkspawn with only a mean glare and a pointy stick? Ferelden is ablaze with this rumor! You do give people so much hope. Tales of your heroism never fail to astonish me and almost ease the pain of going to sleep without you by my side. Almost. I can't wait to be with you again. I'd bring you some roses, you could give me a tour of the keep, we'd drink with the new recruits and then cuddle in a tent. Without the new recruits! Tent time is just for the two of us. I want to make that clear. Now excuse me while I practice my death glare and rummage through the dog's stash of sticks. I love you. Yours forever, Alistair.”

The Iron Bull:

“Kadan, You won’t believe what I did today. I got a guy to flip! Twice! So yes, all is well. Except for all the demons. And this whole thing in which I’m far away from the love of my life. Really keeps me up at night. Anyway, you hearing these rumors of a dragon on the loose? Yeah! The boys and I are on its trail. Last I heard, it was flying toward the Frostback Mountains. Can you join us? I hope you’re not uh… all tied up. Don’t worry, I’m fairly certain it’s not a Ben-Hassrath trap. And if it is, you know I’m prepared. Ataash varin kata! I love you, Kadan. See you soon. The Iron Bull.”

Tali:

“By the way, I left something for you up in your cabin. Go have a look.” - Tali’Zorah  --- “Dear Shepard,   As you may remember, I presented this picture frame to you as a gift on the Normandy. It was my way of expressing my admiration for you and our bond as comrades-in-arms. On the back of the metal frame, I've emblazoned a promise that will never fade - 'Shepard, wherever you go, I'm with you.'  I know it's not much, but...this is what I look like under the mask. I'm sorry if it's not what you were expecting. I know Quarian faces can be a bit...different. Every time you look at my picture, I hope you will be reminded of our adventures on the Normandy, from our battles against the Reapers to our intimate conversations in the privacy of our quarters.    I am not one to express my emotions openly, but thank you for being my friend, my confidante, and my inspiration. I look forward to many more adventures together.  Keelah se’lai,   Tali’Zorah”

Another letter from Tali:

"Whatever the galaxy throws at us, I'll be at your side. - Tali" --- "Shepard It's been a while since I last struggled to sleep. You must be dreaming of falling through a fish tank or starring in a hanar vid? I can hear you muttering about jellyfish. It's funny. I've spent my whole life hoping for the future, but these days nothing scares me more. Keelah, why can't we stop time? Even for just a little bit? No war, no Reapers, nobody counting on us. Just you and me, as free as the dust in the solar wind. When this is all over, will you settle down on Rannoch with me? I love you. - Tali"

Bonus:

Shepard's N7 acceptance letter, from Anderson:

“N7 Congratulations on your graduation From Captain David Anderson Shepard, When I graduated from the N7 program I had the honor of meeting Admiral Grissom, the man who inspired me to pursue a career in the service, and I never thought I’d feel prouder in my life. I was mistaken. Don’t get me wrong, it was a big day. An important day. But there’s something about welcoming driven young people like yourself into the ranks that’s also pretty damn satisfying. Your distinguished service record may have gotten you into this program - but it was your courage, integrity, and tenacity that’s enabled you to join an elite few. You represent the best of humanity, and I feel certain you’ll make the galaxy a better place. And I’m not the only one who feels this way. Becoming an N7 means the entire Systems Alliance is telling you one thing - we believe in you. Let me end by saying this. Welcome to the team Shepard. We know you won’t let us down. David Anderson Systems Alliance Interplanetary Combatives Academy N7 N7 Acceptance Letter”

[amirasainz]

Hi literally get so excited when you update! Can you write one where charles x alexandra x reader where charles and alex are away for an event and forget that it's the reader birthday ans only remember when someone tells them birthday it and they try and make it up to her.

Hi loves. I hope you enjoy this little piece. Let me know what you think. Comments are always apreciated!I'm sorry,but the Sydney Sweeny picture was perfect, so I had to include it😉

Also, question (and please answer me that in the comments), does anyone read what I write before the story? Like the little message here? I'm just curious❤️

Enjoy reading and send me requests!!❤️

-XoXo

The Birthday disaster

You couldn’t believe it. They weren’t here. They didn’t call, text, or even send you a freaking letter. Your own boyfriend and girlfriend forgot your birthday. And not just any birthday, it was your 21 birthday. Instead of celebrating with Alex, Charles, and all of your friends in a vibrant club, you were sitting on the balcony of your apartment. Despite the cold wind hitting your bare skin mercilessly, thanks to the cute short dress you wore today, you couldn’t bring yourself to walk back inside.

Of course, your friends tried to get you to come out with them to celebrate your birthday properly. But it just hurt too much, and to be honest, your mind was too tired and sad for any kind of festivity.

When Charles and Alex first informed you about the event hosted by one of Alex’s friends, they eagerly asked you to join them. Unfortunately, your job didn’t allow you to tag along, which both of them understood. However, they promised you that they would return today at around 5 o’clock. To be honest, you thought they had something special planned for your birthday. But last night, at around 11 pm, you received a text from Alex, informing you that they would be staying longer in Venice, where the event was held.

At first, you thought this was some kind of joke. Maybe they wanted you to think that they weren’t able to celebrate with you, only to surprise you with a birthday party. But sadly, when you woke up this morning, nothing happened. Throughout the day, there was complete silence between you and them.

Your group of friends, who had been with you a few hours ago to at least celebrate your birthday a little bit, tried to convince you to go out and party with them. Before you could agree, you got a notification from Instagram. You were tagged quite often in a post showing Alex and Charles at the event. They looked so happy and carefree, making you feel even more numb.

Despite their best efforts, your friends left after half an hour, after you reassured them with phrases like “Yes, I will take care of myself,” “Yes, I will call you if I need anything,” and “No, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m completely fine.” They knew you were anything but fine; however, they also knew that you needed to be alone right now.

So here you are, sitting alone in the cold with your only companions being the vodka bottle you brought with you and the relentless wind hitting your skin. “Happy fucking 21st birthday to me, I guess,” you muttered to yourself, staring out at the sea.

“Oh my god, Lisa. You truly outdid yourself,” complimented Alex, her friend. And it was true. The event was filled with beautiful flowers and lights, giving the room a fairy-like appearance. The soft glow of the lights reflected off the petals, creating a magical ambiance that made everyone feel like they had stepped into an enchanted garden. Charles, who stood next to his girlfriend, only brought her closer to him and said, “Yeah, I have to agree. I’m 100% sure YN would have loved it.” “You are so right, love. I wish she was here with us,” agreed Alex, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness.

“Wait, I’m confused. So there is nothing wrong between you guys and YN?” asked Lisa, her brow furrowed in confusion. Alex and Charles shared a look with each other, both of them equally puzzled. “No, why would there be anything wrong with us?” Alex replied, her tone defensive. “Oh, I just thought you had a fight and this is the reason why you are here and not with YN today. But I must have been wrong…” Linda’s voice trailed off, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. She shared a look with her partner Mary, both of them realizing the gravity of the situation.

“Wait, stop. Pause. Why would we be with YN tonight? You invited us to your event and we are here. I don’t get what’s going on right now,” said Alex, her frustration mounting. It felt like Mary and Lisa knew something she and Charles didn’t. Mary, who was now also becoming more annoyed with how the two of them acted before them, didn’t take any nonsense from Alex.

Without hesitation, she looked straight into Alex’s eyes and told her with an ice-cold voice, “Well, we weren’t expecting you to show up today because we thought that you would be busy celebrating YN’s 21 birthday today. But from the looks of it, it seems like you forgot your own girlfriend’s birthday. So don’t talk to us with that rude tone of yours. At least we remember each other’s birthdays.” With that, Mary took Lisa by the hand and left, leaving Alex and Charles standing there in stunned silence.

Alex and Charles were left behind, both staring at the space where the couple used to be a few seconds ago. Both of them felt a wave of guilt and shame wash over them. How could they forget their own girlfriend’s birthday? Turning on their phones, they saw the flood of messages they had received from not only their fans but also their friends, YN’s friends, and their families. Each message was a painful reminder of their oversight.

“We messed up so badly,” muttered Charles, looking at Alex with a pained expression. The woman could only nod, still speechless. Charles took her arm and gently but firmly led her out of the room. “We have to go to her. ASAP,” Alex told Charles, who was already a step ahead of her and had their jackets in hand. With that, the couple left the event, both feeling a deep sense of remorse. How could they forget their girl’s birthday?

As they hurried to their car, Alex’s mind raced with thoughts of how to make it up to YN. She knew it would take more than just an apology to mend the hurt they had caused. Charles, too, was lost in his thoughts, thinking of ways to show YN how much she meant to them. They both knew that they had a lot of making up to do, but they were determined to do whatever it took to make things right.

At around 1 am, the couple finally arrived home. The ride back had been silent, the air in the car feeling oppressively thick, making it hard to breathe. They parked their car in the garage and, without hesitation, jumped out of the vehicle, racing towards the elevator. The few minutes it took to reach their front door felt like an eternity, each second stretching painfully.

When they entered the apartment, everything was shrouded in darkness. A figure sat on the balcony, barely visible in the dim light. Charles immediately sat next to YN, while Alex kneeled in front of her. YN didn’t even look at them before taking a gulp from the nearly empty bottle of vodka. “Hey love, I think you’ve had enough for tonight,” whispered Charles, gently trying to take the bottle away from the now 21-year-old girl.

YN shook her head, her voice trembling as she reminded them, “No. NO, you do not get to tell me what I can and cannot do. Not after you forgot about me.” “Baby, we didn’t forget about you,” Alex tried, her eyes already filling with tears. YN only laughed, her own tears streaming down her face. “No, Alexandra. You do not get to tell me that after you forgot my birthday, and you certainly don’t get to cry.” “Ok, let’s all calm down,” Charles attempted again, his voice soothing but firm.

“No Charles! I don’t want to calm down. You both forgot about me. You two promised me that something like this would never happen to us. You promised me that you would always love me. You promised me that the age gap didn’t bother you when we started dating when I was 19. But look at us. You already broke one of your promises. How can I be sure that you won’t break another one?” With that, YN broke down in tears. Her whole body shook with the force of her sobs, her head held in her hands.

Charles and Alex immediately moved to comfort her. “YN, breath. We are so freaking sorry. I guarantee you, we didn’t mean for something like this to happen. We were all so busy with our jobs and social lives that we didn’t mean to forget something so important,” Charles began, his voice filled with regret.

Alex took YN’s head into her hands, gently wiping away her tears. “We love you more than anything in this world. You are our air and our heart. And we will apologize for the rest of our lives if we have to,” she said, her voice breaking with emotion. YN only whispered, “I love you guys too.” Alex didn't hesitate before kissing her girlfriend. after a moment the they pulled apart.

Charles turned her face towards him, speaking softly, “And we didn’t lie when we told you the age gap didn’t bother us. And we certainly didn’t lie when we promised you that we would always love you, ok?” After YN nodded, Letting Charles also kiss her. This kiss was filled with as much love as Alex, just a bit more urgently but still gentle. After their kiss, the three of them cuddled close to each other, finding solace in their shared warmth.

It would take some time before everything was alright between the three of them again. But for now, sitting together and watching the city lights flicker in the distance was the perfect way to start healing.

[inkykeiji]

what now?

character: dabi | todoroki touya

genre: smut + angst

notes: eeeee happy birthday dabi!!! sorry i’m a day late, and sorry i keep writing angst for your birthday. this piece is set directly after dabi’s touya reveal, in that dingy little safe house he seems to love so much! please heed the warnings below and stay safe!

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, rough sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dom/sub dynamics, use of master/owner/sir, fem!reader, minimal prep, biting, branding, blood, the piece switches between both dabi and touya as names, size kink + size difference, spanking, objectification, degradation + dumbification, a lil bit of praise, dabi’s pretty mean when he’s fucking, dabi carries reader, toxic relationship, dacryphilia, choking

words: 8.8k

It’s dark by the time he returns, reeking of charred flesh and ash. He had stashed you away in a decaying little safe house—a place no one else knew about, a place that was his and his alone—and had told you to wait for him. He had promised he’d return to you, no matter how long it took, no matter what happened, he’d be back, pinky swear.

Touya never breaks his pinky swears. Dabi might, though.

You had seen his video. You had been watching the news just like he told you to, anxious, waiting for any sign or indication of trouble, of terror, but the heat and the dust had been too much for the news cameras to penetrate, and there had been no reports of casualties on either side. 

Yet. 

It’s astonishing to think that the whole world knows his name now—his true name, the one buried in his blood and his bones, the one staining his soul, the one he can’t snuff out, no matter how hard he tries. You remember the first time he told it to you. 

“Touya.” 

He had said suddenly, randomly, while laying in bed with you one night back at the League’s hideout—back before all of this was set in motion, back when there was just the gentle clink of glass sounding beneath the floorboards, followed by a muddled curse and the rapid mashing of plastic buttons. 

It was muttered out in the dead of the night, when the wind was stagnant and the moonlight shimmered through grimy windows, brilliance of the beams diffused by the dirt, turning everything a hazy silver, glinting off his stitches.

“Hmm?”

“That’s my real name. Touya.”

“Touya,” you had murmured to yourself, rolling the letters around on your tongue, allowing them to seep into your flesh. “It’s beautiful.”

“Todoroki Touya.”

Oh.  

“It’s still beautiful,” you said softly, after several moments of silence, feeling Dabi melt beneath your words, tender yet resolute. “Even if the man who gave it to you isn’t.”

“Yeah,” he had responded, though his voice had sounded weird to his ears; odd, off, broken. “Fuck that guy.”

And that had been it. You hadn’t made a big deal about it, or pushed him to tell you more, or badgered him with questions and curiosities about his past. You had just accepted it and continued on. 

He had offered up shards of information over the next few months, always murmured out in the dead of night, always a piece and never a whole, always something too jagged to fit with any of the other pieces of his jigsaw he had gifted you. 

But it didn’t matter. Who he was, his past, the name he carries around and DNA twined inside his body—none of it mattered. He was, and will always be, the man you love, irregardless of the name he was born into, and the curse it bears.

The harsh unlatching of that decrepit painting startles you from your stewing thoughts, your gaze snapping toward the noise just in time to catch Dabi crawling through the trick window, entrance hidden behind the heavy gilded frame. 

Your legs toss themselves off the fraying couch the instant his gaze meets yours, heart kickstarting thick bouts of adrenaline to rush through your veins, footsteps keeping time with the tattered exhales each bang of your heart sends barrelling up your throat, body colliding into his only a moment later.

He catches you with ease, laughing loudly as he sweeps you from the floor, strong arms locked at the wrists around your lower back. Instinctively, your ankles hook together at the base of his spine, fingers immediately wandering into the dirty hair at the nape of his neck, whole body wound around his own.

He’s still laughing, bright and breathless and so, so beautiful, even as he crushes his lips to yours, even as your tongue pries past his teeth and slams against his own. It spills down your throat in warm vibrations and you swallow it readily, greedily, hands sinking further into tufts of ink-tinged ivory and twining the strands around your knuckles, desperate to tug him closer. 

The tang of death stings your tongue, earth and copper and smoke, so poignant you swear you can taste their screams, those who lost their lives to his flames and Machia’s feet and the rubble left in their wake, but you don’t care.

You don’t care, because he’s here, he’s home, he’s safe and back in your arms, with his teeth clacking against yours and his spit flooding your mouth and his unruly little giggles consistently breaking the flow of your lips. 

“Did you see it? Huh? Did you see it?” he hurls the words into your mouth, lips still mashed against your own but spread in a smile, sapphire eyes twinkling.

“I did,” you confirm with a nod, tips of your noses nudging. “I did, it was brilliant; you were brilliant, baby.”

“I know,” he snickers, foreheads knocking together, breath wafting in small, ragged pants across your face as his feet begin to move, unable to stand still. “It couldn’t have gone more perfect, I swear to fuckin’ Christ. It was—It was better than I could’ve ever imagined. I can’t even believe it.”

Words continue to tumble from his lips in excited gasps as he twirls in wide lopsided circles slow and careless around the decaying little safe house, his boots conjuring small puffs of dust beneath their soles.

“I wish you could’ve been there, baby, honest. I wish you could’ve seen that fucker’s face, it was fuckin’ priceless, and—Oh! Fuck, how could I forget the best part!” 

Halting his whirling, he pulls back to look at you more resolutely, as if he has to see the whole picture, sapphire darting around your face all wild and erratic, his smile spreading impossibly wider; uncanny, inhuman, eyes glowing with the thrill of the secret he’s about to spill.

“Shouto was there, too! How much happier could a coincidence get!” 

“Shouto?”

“I wasn’t expecting him to be there, but seriously, it was the cherry on top.” 

His feet begin to move again, resuming his impromptu dance number, adrenaline thrumming in his veins, overflowing from his orifices—smile stretching, chest swelling. 

“His presence is what really made it spectacular, you know? Sure, dad was broken, but Shouto…” Dabi shakes his head. “Little baby Shouto was knocked off his fucking feet.”

“Oh, I can only imagine…” 

…How horrifying of a realization it must’ve been; how terrifying it must’ve felt to encounter your father’s worst mistake in the breathing, bloodied flesh.

“I doubt he even remembers me—” Dabi continues, “he was only five or so when I died; he barely knew me at all.” He laughs, but it sounds tangled, caught on something buried in his throat. “Imagine that! Your big brother, only ever a ghost haunting your life, back from the grave!” 

“I’m sure he was very shocked,” you giggle, pressing your forehead to his again, fingers combing through the hair at the back of his skull. 

“Shocked? Baby, he was beyond shocked. He was—He was—I don’t even have a word for it!”

Another laugh spills from his lips, jagged and squeaky and full of razors. 

And, oh, how breathtakingly beautiful genuine happiness looks on him, even if it’s tinted with derangement—the edges of his smile a little too sharp, the glint in his eye a little too vicious.  

“The whole thing sounds magnificent,” you admit, soft and genuine, lips brushing his own. “I’m so happy it went so well.”

“It was perfect,” he gushes in a sigh. “The only way it could’ve been any more perfect is if mom, Yumi, and Natsu were there—but I’m sure they all caught the broadcast.”

You’re sure they did, too. That news programme had been playing on every major screen across the entirety of Japan; you’d have to be buried beneath a rock to have missed it.

He’s still babbling, feet still hopping and skipping around with you cradled tightly to his chest as the anticipation of his return finally wears off, clears from your system, and you take a real, good look at him. 

And your heart sinks.

New burns have bubbled up on his cheeks, leaving only a sliver of skin between them and the scars below his eyes. Staples have snapped in half, hanging precariously from chunks of dead flayed flesh, their broken edges tinged an ugly black, burnt by Todoroki flames. Speckles of crimson are splattered artfully across his hair—though whether they belong to him or someone else, it’s hard to tell—the small remaining patches of healthy skin marred by dried black dye. 

“Baby,” you breathe, struggling to keep your smile from trembling, struggling to keep concern from seeping into your voice. “You’re filthy.” 

“Yeah, you should’a saw the other guy!” he giggles at his own joke, strident and sticky in his throat, but his smile is still so bright.

“And you’re hurt.”

He blows a dismissive breath from between his lips. “Can barely feel a thing, though—and I’m not even rolling right now!” 

“Still,” you say, a frown beginning to weight the corners of your grin. “You should let me clean you up.”

“But it isn’t even painful.”

“Still,” you repeat, tender fingers brushing strands of white back from his forehead. “I want to clean you up.” 

Begrudgingly, he allows it, sat on the closed toilet lid and continuing to chatter on as you tend to his wounds, words bubbling up on breathless excitement, massive smile still slapped, almost uncomfortably so, across his face.

Oxygen keeps escaping him before he finishes his sentences, everything bouncy and enthusiastic, and it’s such a stark contrast to the Dabi you’re used to, with his languid apathetic drawl and unhurried, uninterested speech. 

And despite the subject matter, it’s nice, it’s cute. 

He tells you about his father’s paralyzation and the tears in Shouto’s eyes and the horrified panic coating their faces as careful fingers dab and wipe and smear, meticulous in their task, devoted to their cause, your head nodding along with his endless recounter, emitting the perfectly placed ooh’s and mhmm’s, asking questions when the opportunities present themselves.

And even though you love seeing him this way, full of pure joy and exhilaration, you can’t quite kill the question sprouting in the depths of your mind, chewing on the back of your brain.

What now?

It’s on the tip of your tongue, searing your tastebuds, begging to be spoken. You try to swallow it down, but it claws at the back of your tongue, clinging, curling up in your throat and refusing to be forgotten. 

What now? What’s going to happen now that Enji knows of his existence? What’s going to happen the next time he encounters his eldest child, swathed in the flames he once cherished so dearly, praised so hopefully, eating away at his boy as his hatred burns higher, blazes brighter, consumes his blood and flesh and bones and hopefully swallows down the monster that bred him in the process? 

Will there even be anything left at all? Of either of them?

Does Dabi even care? Does Touya? 

You know he’s still in there, despite the fact that his heart’s been corroded by the bitterness that’s been festering inside of him for eleven years—you’ve seen him. 

You’ve seen him, trailing along with Toga, causticity eating at his teeth as he spits that she’s fucking stupid, this is so fucking stupid, but allowing himself to be led anyway, zero resistance as her tiny hands tug him along behind her bouncing form, feet following willingly. 

You’ve seen him, meticulously picking through the glass bowls at the League’s small Halloween get together, checking and then double checking that everyone’s favourite candy is there, growling that he really doesn’t give a fuck, actually, he’s just looking for his own all the while, despite the fact that his fingers have skipped over that particular chocolate bar several times. 

You’ve seen him, on those nights where Tomura just can’t get to sleep, sprawled out on the couch in the early hours of the morning, dirty boots an inch from Tomura’s crossed legs, staring blankly at his phone and waving Kurogiri off with a go to bed already, old man. 

��So what now?

“He tried to cool me down.”

The sudden switch to a quiet, monotonous voice snaps you from your tangle of thoughts, eyes refocusing on Dabi’s face, realizing you’ve rubbed a streak of his cheek near raw. 

“What?”

“Shouto. He tried to cool me down. With his ice.” A pause, a drop of blood, balancing precariously on his lash line. “Like…Like how mom used to.” 

His Adams apple bobs with the heft of a thick swallow, his eyes blank and unblinking, staring at your shoulder. 

The blood in your veins runs frigid, hand held rigid and hovering over his wounds.

“During the fight?” 

His gaze stays fixed on that spot as he nods, slowly, just once. 

“I was overheating, and he…” 

Another beat of silence passes, the sound of your own breathing echoing in your ears, harsh and fast with the rapid beating of your heart. The blood collecting along his lashes finally overflows, escaping their confines to pool in the crinkles of dead skin and coat gold in crimson.

“Hey,” you murmur, so gentle, so soft it inspires a second wave of blood, dainty hands cupping his jaw and tilting his face to yours. 

Thumbs swipe through the thick streams of scarlet trickling down his cheeks, smearing bright strokes across healthy skin. His eyes, red and glazed but tearless, hold yours for a moment, his nostrils twitching twice. 

Beneath your palms, the hinges of his jaw flex with another dense swallow, warped smile wobbling a little.

“Whatever,” he says, voice less than an octave off from normal. “Doesn’t matter, not important.”

It does, you want to say. It is, you want to insist—

“All I want to do now is celebrate the best day of my life with the love of my life.”

Saliva pools beneath your tongue, the threat of tears thick in your throat.

“Touya…” your eyes search his face, worry woven into the wrinkles between your furrowed brow. “It—”

“Please,” he whispers, so quiet it’s barely more than a wisp of air, his eyes closing briefly for a moment as he gathers himself, lids lifting a second later. “Let me have this.” 

You want to, you so desperately want to—want to allow him this space to be happy, unfiltered and unadulterated, even in all of it’s unhinged, brainsick fervour. You don’t want to ruin this for him, the self-proclaimed Best Day of His Life, but…

What now?

It’s nipping at your lips, leaving them tingling and twitching, but you press your tongue to the roof of your mouth and suck, melting the question in the smothering heat. 

Now is not the time to ask. You will save this question, will fold it into a neat little shape and stash it away in your stomach, where it will rage and roar and demand to be spoken, where you will shove it down and stomp it into submission until it is time to be released.

You refuse to steal this moment from him.

“Okay,” you finally murmur, stroking his blood-slicked cheeks. “Okay.”

It’s hard to ignore the concern scraping at the walls of your skull, to disregard the talons tearing at your heart, to snuff out the flames licking at your lungs, but you’ll do it for him.

Always for him.

And for the first time tonight, his smile softens, sharp edges gone melty with love.

Large hands, hardened by blue fire and the ends of Marlboros, skim up your bare thighs, the callouses adorning his palms scraping roughly against sensitive skin, inspiring trails of chills in their wake. The hem of your dress pools around his wrists as his touch climbs higher, filthy fingers, with dirt caked beneath their nails and grime lining their cuticles, wiggling their way beneath a frilly pink waistband, curling almost protectively around your hips, tips digging into supple flesh just shy of too hard.

“A perfect day deserves a perfect end, don’t you think?” 

The question drips from his lips in a sultry murmur, stare heavily lidded as he tugs you down into his lap, a leering smirk smeared across his face. 

“Oh, yeah?” your arms wind around his neck, nose bumping against his own. “And what’s that?” 

“Stuffing my favourite girl full of my cum.” 

Lips trace along the edge of your jaw as he speaks, words leaving sloppy strokes of saliva as his mouth moves against you skin. 

“Over,” kiss, “And over,” kiss, “And over again, until it’s leaking out of her pretty little pussy, all over her pretty thighs, all over my pretty cock.”

“I think that—ah—I think that’s a great way to end the day.”

“Mm,” he hums, painting a flat, wide stroke of saliva up the column of your neck, the tip of his tongue tracing your cupids bow, nose bumping against your own. “It’s my favourite way to end the day.” 

His lips press to yours, tongues finding each other instantly, dragging across one another in crude, sloppy caresses, heavy and slow and firm as they grind, massaging together in little circles. It’s almost as if you’re trying to soak up his taste, to permanently imbue your tastebuds with it, to keep a little reminder of him—a single piece—with you forever. 

It’s messy, thick drool oozing from the seams of your conjoined mouths, but you don’t care, licking excess saliva from the corners of his mouth, sucking the dribble steadily collecting on his bottom lip, lapping up the foamy spit coating his chin staples, leaving them gleaming with you. 

Lips clash again, teeth gnawing their way into the warm, wet heat of mouths, desperate to devour any part of each another you possibly can, sucking gasps and mewls and laughs from one throat into another, inhaling shards of your souls and swallowing them down, burying them in pits of stomachs and depths of guts—keepsakes, kept safe.

You can taste his blood in your mouth, salty with the tears that can’t fall, trickling from the edges of his eyes. Unfurling from your mouth, the tip of your tongue licks a thin strip up his ragged cheeks, over dead skin and warm bumpy metal, sopping up crimson sadness and consuming it. 

You hold it for him, extract it from him, bear it with him, letting it soak into your heart where it can stay, for as long as he needs it to.

But that isn’t enough for him, because he wants something in return; he wants your blood, too.

Sharp teeth sink into your bottom lip, sucked taut and pressed tight to his tongue, a muted chuckle vibrating in his chest at your responding yelp. The strong hinges of his jaw flex, burrowing ivory deep, deep, deeper into your flesh, until the barrier snaps and copper explodes on his tongue, sticky and potent and so, so much. 

He refuses to release you, ribs rattling with a growl when you try in vain to tug your lip free from its captors, a sob hitching in your throat, followed by a wheezy whine. 

“Stay put, goddamn it,” he mumbles the words through his occupied teeth, tongue stroking your lip in the process. “M’not finished.” 

Your squirming stops almost instantly, body deflating into his own, and he huffs out a snort, hot against your face. 

The grip of his teeth loosens marginally, the tip of his tongue laving over the steadily weeping wound in firm, thorough strokes, tracing every indent his teeth left behind, dips rapidly swelling and filling with watered down blood, a mold of six teeth carved into your flesh. 

The strength of his suction increases, siphoning fresh blood from the tiny gashes, and he moans a little, eyes rolling back in his skull as fluttery lashes frame the whites, his hips twitching up. 

Sicko. 

His cock is already hard, rutting into your core in irregular little movements, the lace of your panties so delicate you swear you can feel it throbbing, his motions molding the dainty fabric to your soaking folds with every slight jerk upward.

Slim fingers flex, grip on your hips tightening and further burying his nails in your flesh as he forces you to begin rocking in his lap, grinding down to meet each roll up.

His lips have left your own again, his mouth streaked with your blood, a pretty pink shimmer glazing the bottom half of his face. Blood is still trickling from the six tiny slashes his teeth left, overflowing from the seam of your mouth and flowing down your chin in unbroken streams. 

Swiping a thumb through the thin floods, he smears sticky crimson across your skin, collecting a healthy swap of the substance on the pad of his finger—so much so it begins dripping down the curve to settle in the lines of his knuckle and his palm.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, repeating the action, painting you in messy shades of yourself. “Just beautiful.” 

A whimper slips through your lips, eager tongue catching his thumb and curling around the appendage—protective, possessive—drawing it into the heat of your mouth. 

He lets you guide him willingly, watches with lust-blown pupils as your lips pucker around the second knuckle, slick tongue cradling his thumb as it sucks it to the roof of your mouth, pools of saliva washing your blood from his skin. 

His breath is coming out in hot, hard huffs, exhaled through parted lips as your mouth tightens, swallows his thumb down further. His pupils pulse, gnawing away at his irises as they try to devour you whole, blue so thin it’s scarcely an outline tracing gaping orbs of black.

Your hips are still gyrating against his in erratic little circles, a single palm still clasped around your waist guiding you, encouraging you as he bucks in response, straining cock rubbing along your cunt. 

It’s just barely catching your clit, nothing more than teasing little grazes, dense heat simmering in the pit of your tummy.

You need more.

“Dabi,” you whine a little, wriggling in his grasp, a desperate attempt to garner more friction. 

“Uh-huh?”

“Touya.”

“Yeah, baby,” he answers, the nonchalance in his tone contradicting the mischief glinting in his eye. “What is it?” 

Chrome chips your nails as you claw at the heavy buckle of his belt, leather squeaking against metal. His free hand captures your wrists easily, holding them together in one palm, hard enough that the bones grind together.

“You want something? Huh?” 

Brows knitting, you glare at him, bottom lip quivering a little, fighting the urge to jut into a full-blown pout, fighting the urge to spit out what do you think? 

“You know.”

He does, of course he does. 

But that doesn’t mean he’s just going to give it to you.

“C’mon, I wanna hear you say it,” he purrs as your chin puckers, your whole face scrunched up in a scowl. “C’mon, baby, c’mon, be a good little girl and ask for it.” 

Sapphire scathes your skin, almost as bright and burning as his flames, his unadulterated attention nearly too much to bear, confidence and brattiness withering beneath his scorching stare.

Lashes fluttering, your eyes flee his, tears forming to shield you from his heat, shoulders caving inward in an attempt to protect you from his unyielding scrutiny. 

“W-Want your cock.”

His tongue clicks in disapproval, a mocking frown slapped across his face barely suppressing his amusement, eyes shining, power flaring. 

“That’s not asking, sweetheart.” 

Swallowing thickly, you force your gaze to his, lids squinting a little beneath his brilliance.

“Can I please have your cock? Please?” 

“Please what?”

And although he’s acting unaffected, he can’t quite quell the spasming of his hips, jerking up in minuscule movements and grinding his cock into your sopping hole, panties clinging uncomfortably to your folds.

An eyebrow raises, a question of Well? I’m waiting… imbued in the subtle action. 

He isn’t going to give it to you unless you ask properly, like a good little girl is supposed to.

As expected.

“Please, Master,” you mewl, fingers curling over the edges of his belt and tugging, sharp leather biting into soft hands. “Please, please, let me ride your cock, Sir.”

Cavernous eyes observe you for a moment, scanning for dishonesty, grin growing when a whine vibrates in your throat, low and needy.

“Please?” you whimper, the leather of his belt creasing beneath your grip, squealing as it rubs together, a plead hitching in your chest. “Pl—Please, Sir.”

“Alright, alright,” he’s pacifying, acting as if he’s doing you some sort of favour, as if his cock isn’t jumping eagerly with each drool of pre-cum leaking from its slit. “Go on, then. Get it out.”

Words of thanks are pouring from your lips as your hands hastily undo his pants, yanking at the buckle, tugging at the zipper, shoving at the waistband, messy and urgent until his cock is finally released.

The stretch is nothing short of incredible, as it always is with him, little hole trembling as it swallows around his girth, drawing him in further and further, deeper and deeper, slow and steady until the head nudges your cervix, his hips twitching up twice, ensuring he’s hit the end, buried to the hilt with nowhere else to go, completely stuffing your cunt full. 

And despite the trademark ache, delicate flesh stinging as it splits into little fissures to accommodate him, your hips begin moving immediately, starved and raring, whimpering a little into his shoulder as you cling to him, every rotation of your hips radiating pricks of pain through your gut.

“God, you’re pathetic,” he snorts, but the insult is soft, edges dulled by love. “So fucking desperate for my cock, aren’t you?” 

“Can’t help it,” you murmur, rubbing your cheek along the curve of his neck, then his jaw, streaking your face with his sweat. “Missed you so much.” 

“I know, baby,” the tip of his tongue swipes through the blood still staining your chin. “Bet you missed my cock just as much, if not more.”

“Yes, yes, Sir,” you’re nodding in messy little motions, hips still rocking languidly against his own, clit gliding against his slick pubic bone in rhythmic strokes. “I did, I missed it s’much—”

A gasp slices through your slurred words, sharp air shoved from your chest as his hips begin snapping upward, rough and ruthless and without warning, the hands grasping your hips tightening around your flesh as he forces you to stay in place.

“Of course you did,” he grunts out, as if it’s preposterous to think otherwise. “I’m not at all surprised; my sweet lil slut can’t live without my cock, can she?” 

“Never, never, ne-never,” you babble out in confirmation, words stuttered harshly with the piston of his hips. 

Another laugh spills from his lips, airy and malicious in melody.

“No, never,” he rasps, ever-so-slightly breathless with the effort, dewdrops of sweat beginning to adorn his hairline. “Fuck, how would you ever get off without me, huh?” 

The question sends a pang searing through your heart, echoing a question you’ve been asking yourself often as of late—how would you ever survive without him? 

The thought stings your eyes, thick tears rushing to cloud your vision and rendering him nothing more than a watery blur of ivory and violet.

“I—I wouldn’t, Sir, I wouldn’t!” you cry out, rapid fluttering of your lids dislodging teardrops, streaming down your cheeks in glistening pairs. “I n-need you, I need you, always, always, al-always!” 

Your fingers curl against his shoulders, nails catching on staples, a hiss spit from the gaps of his teeth. They sink into grafted skin, dead and weathered and dusted in ash, and cling, knuckles locked and stiff as you try to pull yourself impossibly closer to him.

Gnarled flesh collects beneath the edges of your nails as your grip strengthens, chewing on his body and gathering it in your grasp, consuming whatever tiny slivers you can, a silent plead to stay.

“It’s okay, precious,” he hushes you, lips pushed into a mocking pout, contradicted by the smothering affection exuding from his eyes. “M’here, m’not going anywhere.”

God, you hope not. 

“Please, please—” 

And you drown yourself in it, drown yourself in him; his taste, spicy hickory and warm smoke, exhaled onto your hungry tongue, soaked up and swallowed down; his gaze, overflowing with adoration and intense attention, tying itself in a thick braided noose around your neck and tightening; his touch, stamping his prints into your flesh in blotchy bursts of blue, singeing his name with licks of sapphire that welt and wound, that crust and crater and scar. 

Your ribs squeeze, sucked inward by the voracious black hole your heart has morphed into—never sated, never filled, always vying for more—whole body curling beneath the strain.

But he’s right there to hold you, to steady you, to keep you intact, his hands the stitches you need to keep from unraveling.

“I know, I know,” he’s cooing as you choke on sobs, still scraping weakly at his back, “your Master’s gonna give you what you need.”

Slim fingers flex, soot-stuffed nails latching onto your flesh like tiny leeches, dug in nice and deep, using his grasp as leverage to control the speed and angle of your hips. 

Your feet skid against the chipped bathroom tile, the muscles in your legs tensing as you attempt to find stable purchase on the floor trying to aid in his movements, to fuck yourself on him.

It’s no use, though—it’s not like it matters, anyway, not when Dabi’s got complete domination over your body, over all of its movements and positions, manhandling you into whatever arrangement he pleases, reduced to nothing more than his favourite little plaything. 

“It’s real cute,” he’s telling you in that sugared condescension you’ve come to love so much, “that you’re trying so hard to help me.”

A whine escapes your lips, caught somewhere between apologetic and petulant, hips stammering as they begin to slow, and he laughs. 

“Aw, no, don’t stop,” his tongue clicks against his teeth. “Keep trying, it’s so precious.” 

And although his tone is taunting, full of characteristic derisive glee, his eyes are encouraging, begging you to keep going, for him. 

And so, you do, desperate to please him, the muscles in your thighs beginning to burn as you work in vain to pathetically hump away at him, hips knocking together irregularly as your footing continues to slip.

It doesn’t do much to assist him, but he’s happy anyway, a certain type of pride saturating his features, dulling the points of his wide smile, dimming the harsh brilliance in his eyes, turning his face into something a little softer, something a little sweeter.

Dabi keeps an iron grip on the pace—not that you’d ever expect anything different—forcing you to ride him hard and fast, bouncing you on his cock as his hips buck up in expert rhythm, completing your movements every time. The head drags over that engorged spot with each pound into you, sending a judder of scorching sparks to rush through your blood, each bout more intense than the last.

“God, look at you, you’re such a little slut for me, huh?” he pants out, rapacious eyes sweeping across your face, keen to soak up your expression. “Taking my cock like you were fuckin’ made for it.”

He’s really fucking into you now, jerking you on his cock like a toy, because you are—something that’s his to use whenever, wherever, and however he sees fit, something that’s his to own, to care for and splinter to bits and painstakingly piece back together, over and over and over again.

Tears of ecstasy are pouring from your eyes, cascading down your face in twin streams, excess dewdrops embedded in spiked lashes glittering with every rough pump of his hips.

It all hurts—always does, with Dabi, incapable of treating anything with any degree of gentleness; not a flaw, just a fact, oblivious to his own strength—but the pain only works to elevate the pleasure, pushing it higher and higher and higher until it’s choking you, smothering your lungs and stuffing your throat and spilling out your mouth in the form of messy, stringy sobs.

“S’been so long, Sir, so long,” you weep, nails burrowing further into his body, almost as if they’re desperate to reach his core—to pry past his ribs and claw into his heart and curl up in his soul. 

Because it has been so long, too long, most of Dabi’s attention soaked up by Paranormal Liberation duties and his own extensive planning as Shigaraki’s due date drew closer and closer, any scraps of time thrown your way whenever he had a spare moment to sneak off to this dilapidated safe house where he’d stashed you away, his visits sporadic and unpredictable. 

“You’re right,” he says, and there’s a tinge of melancholy to his breath. “It’s been way too long since your sweet cunt has been filled with your Owner’s cock, hasn’t it?”  

“It has, it has,” you’re nodding sloppily, tongue tangled in threads of spit.

“My poor lil pussy,” he pouts, and it’s so derisive. “Must be starving, it hasn’t been stuffed nice and full with my cum in forever.” 

“No, no, no,” you’re chanting in agreement, “feels so empty without you, Sir, feels s-so wrong.”

“Aw, don’t worry, sweetheart,” he crudely laps at the steady stream of tears, vicious bouncing causing his teeth to nick your cheek. “I’m gonna change that.”

Chapped lips find your ear, slicked with saliva, his voice dropping an octave as he continues. 

“Because tonight,” he breathes, sweltering against your ear, his tongue darting from between wet lips to trace along the curve. “I am going to stuff you so full of my cum that—ah, fu-fuck—that it’s going to flood your cute lil tummy, that it’s gonna seep into your organs, into your fucking blood, that it’s gonna be leaking out all over the fucking place.” 

“Oh, oh, please, Sir, please!” 

The pleads come out as a single string, melded together with drool and garbled on your tongue. Little jolts of fire shoot through your body with the constant ramming of his hips, flames licking at your veins as they sear through them, the sharp slap of your ass against his thighs complementing his harsh pants and your broken moans.

“Yeah, I know, my little cumslut wants that so badly, doesn’t she?”

Your brain struggles to stitch together a sentence longer than his name, your mind gone delirious for his seed—and it’s an aching, it’s an addiction, sick and depraved and downright uncontrollable—little uh-huh!’s mercilessly fucked from your throat, head bobbling along with the affirmations.

You can feel it, a taut pleasure building within your body, a fluttering that furls into a tight ball of sapphire flame in the pit of your belly, pulsing a little faster, a little harder, a little more with every drive of his cock. 

“Oh, Touya, Tou—Touya!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, say my name.” 

A growl rattles against his ribs, whole chest vibrating with the force of it, and his head dips down, slick tongue painting strokes of thick, shimmering saliva across your skin, an artist priming his favourite canvas.

“C’mon, tell me who’s making you feel this good—” and although it’s supposed to be a command, it comes out as a plead, voice tapering off into a low whine, muffled against your shoulder. “Tell me, tell me.”

“You, Touya,” you choke out, the name mangling itself in your throat. “You, you, you!” 

“You’re goddamn right, it’s me.” 

Sharp teeth bury themselves in your flesh, mouth clamped over the junction of your neck, harder and harder and harder until the barrier of your skin finally splits, syrupy copper erupting on his tongue. 

His name shatters on your lips, a dark chuckle soaking into the wound when you arch your neck, stretched and strained and offering him more room to work despite the squeal of pain sticking in your throat

It’s all so much, too much, his teeth in your flesh and his cock filling your cunt and—and—!

“Gonna—gonna—!” 

A large palm collides with your ass, sick slap echoing off the cracked walls. 

“Is that any way to ask your Master for permission?” Dabi spits, voice dripping with disappointment. “God,” he huffs out a laugh, incredulous, but the mirth shining in his eyes is so bright, so blazing it almost hurts to look at. “My cock must’ve really made you go fucking stupid, huh? Don’t you know this body belongs to me?” 

Another spank lands against your bottom, a yelp hitching in your chest with the ruthless jackhammer of his hips, his fingers sinking into the burning flesh in a bruising grip, amplifying the sting of the slap, digging it deep into your tissues. 

“This body is not allowed to cum unless I say so—so ask nicely, you little bitch.” 

“M’sorry!” you cry out, a fresh torrent of tears flooding your eyes. “M’sorry, m’so sorry, Master—”

“Yeah? Yeah?” 

His other hand snakes between your heaving, sweat-drenched bodies, thumb and forefinger clamping down on your clit and tweaking, hard enough to force a scream from your tongue, sending spikes of pain rushing through your veins. His fingers flatten against the engorged little nub a moment later, rubbing hard, quick circles into it, a malicious little giggle squeaking in his throat because it’s so swollen, baby and Christ, you must wanna cream all over his cock so badly! 

Sounds of affirmation spill uncontrollably from your lips, head nodding in frenetic little motions, whole face shimmering and sticky with salt, snot, sweat. 

“Uh-huh? Uh-huh?” 

He’s mocking you, chin tilted up in superiority, staring down the bridge of his nose to regard you in patronizing pity, eyebrows raised and imploring you to continue. 

“Apologies are not asking, baby,” his grip catches your slippery clit again, twisting it harder this time, your eyes scrunching shut as a cry shatters on your tongue, fingers scrabbling against his shoulders, tearing out staples. 

He’s right, you know he is, but he’s making it difficult to speak, difficult to ask, difficult to stitch together a single word at all, let alone a full thought, when he’s playing with your clit like that, alternating between pulsing pinches and gentle caresses, the calloused pads of his fingertips providing just the right amount of friction. 

Your whole body quivers with the effort of holding your orgasm back, muscles pulled tight and taut with the strain, and he laughs—beautiful, breathless, bona-fide—cock twitching inside of you. 

“Pl—Please, Sir,” you manage to gasp out, entreatment forced from your tongue in a single thin breath. “Please, let me cum, please, please, please!” 

The pleads melt into one gooey stream as they flow from your lips, slathered in drool and dripping from the corners of your mouth in thick cords. 

“Yeah? You want it? You wanna cum all over your Owner’s cock?” 

“Yes, yes!” you practically wail, pawing urgently at him. “Please, sir, let me cum, make me cum, I wanna—I wanna—”

“Alright, alright,” Dabi’s pacifying, but his actions don’t slow, hips merciless with their assault on your body. “Go ahead, sweetheart, make a pretty mess on me.” 

Never one to disobey a direct order from your Master, you do, almost instantly, entire body convulsing as your cunt pulses around his shaft, gushing so much slick that it floods his thighs and soaks the waistband of his pants.

The constant circles ground into your sensitive clit as you spasm around him only work to heighten the pleasure, brain gone numb with the shocks of ecstasy coursing through your body, another flurry of jolts sent through your veins with every run through the routine, skin rippling with the impact. 

He doesn’t stop his assault even after you cum, vehemently refusing to let up even as the clenching of your cunt fades into something faint and erratic, even as violent tremors loop through your veins, entire body quivering in his tight grasp, even as your fingers claw weakly at his wrist, crooking staples and scraping scarred flesh, blood rushing to fill the gouges left by your nails. 

No, he doesn’t stop until you’re teetering on the brink of passing out, wandering in and out of consciousness, his name leaving your lips in a near incomprehensible jumble, slurred and heavy with spit. 

Only then does he scoop you up in his arms, your legs dangling limply from his elbows as his palms firmly clutch your ass, hard cock still aching and buried deep inside of you, and carry your pliant body to that worn, fraying couch, with the puffs of white cotton leaking through the polyester and the exposed springs groaning beneath your weight.

You barely notice the change in scenery, though, still blissfully fucked out, nerves gnawed raw  by his overstimulation, a soft hiss slipping from between your teeth as the scratchy cushion rubs against your bare bottom, a raised imprint of Dabi’s palm and all five fingers still rapidly swelling. 

“It’s my turn now, angel,” Dabi’s words drift over your body in an indistinct haze, vision fuzzing at the edges, your head nodding instinctively. 

“Gonna—Gonna make good on your promise, Master?” 

“I always do, don’t I?” 

And then his hips are thrusting, cockhead repeatedly ramming your cervix with every harsh plunge forward, leaning down to catch fresh tears with his lips. The tip of his tongue traces their salty trajectory all the way to your bottom lashes, matted into wet little spikes, before sucking a hickey into your cheek, tiny capillaries bursting beneath his tongue, staining the thin skin with swiftly developing violet.

Tufts of ivory cling to his temples in damp clumps, dried black dye liquifying beneath his heat and running down his cheeks, leaving streaks along the line of his jaw and the curve of his neck. Sweat collects in the dips of his collarbones, shimmering gently in the flickering light spilling from the television set, a wavering news reporter recounting the tragic events of today, stuttered by static.

“God,” he nearly whines, voracious eyes sweeping across your face, desperate to soak up your twisted expression of pleasure-tinged pain—the way your lids keep drooping as you struggle to keep them pried open, eyes speckled with stars, lashes encrusted with tears; the way your tongue keeps lolling out to draw your slick lip back between your teeth, muffling your whimpers and mewls, and oh, no, he can’t have that, a gentle tut of his tongue clicking against his teeth as his thumb tugs it free from your mouth, drawing out a stringy whine in the process.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous when you go dumb from my cock.”

The words leave his lips in an airy gasp, as if he can hardly believe you’re real beneath him, as if he can hardly believe it’s his cock making you look this way, a hand leaving your waist to slide along your torso, taking the hem of your dress with it, rough palm tracing every curve and dip and bulge as it crawls to your collarbone. 

He takes his time to admire you—to appreciate the sensation of your skin beneath his touch, fingers gripping, kneading, scraping, gathering palmfuls of you in his grasp before letting go again in a stunned sort of marvel—hips slowing to an uneven rutting, unable to fully halt his fucking. 

Keeping a firm, steady grasp on your body and pinning you in place, his free hand continues to roam, hardened fingertips sinking into the pretty blue lace of your bra hard with enough force to elicit a yelp from your lips, amusement tugging at his lips. 

“So, so beautiful,” he pants, eyes skimming your now exposed body, his fiery gaze outlining every edge, dedicated in committing every contour to memory. “Fucking look at you.” 

In all the time you’ve been with him, your body has become a scrapbook of Dabi. It tells stories of him—what he’s done, how he’s felt, where he’s been, why he did it—stamped permanently into your flesh using his teeth and his tongue and his flames, in raised flesh and puckered craters and glittering scabs.

You can’t tear your stare from his face, though, too busy worshipping him, sapphire eyes gaping and glazed as they travel along your body, soft huffs of breath escaping his lips, pushed from his throat with the tender heaving of his chest, saliva glistening on his lips, smeared so prettily across the staples climbing his chin. 

Dainty fingers grope at the air, pathetic and yearning, clawing at nothing, and he laughs a little, nothing more than a smooth, deep vibration at the back of his tongue.

His touch finds the apex of your thighs again, nails dimpling flesh as he spreads your legs wide—so wide your muscles begin to burn, taut beneath the strain—a quiet groan rumbling in his chest as he stares at your stretched cunt. 

Two fingers press into your clit, still slick and swollen, grazing over it in slow caresses—back and forth, back and forth, gliding easily over the puffy nub and snorting a little at the way your hole flutters, eager and aching, squeezing his cock, sucking him in, begging for more. 

So cute. 

Eyes wide and unblinking, he plays with you in a trance, slowly but surely building up pleasure in you, pressure in you, fascinated by the way your body so readily reacts to his simple motions, grinding circles and rubbing strokes and pulsing fingertips. 

It enraptures him, puffs of hot air exhaled through slightly parted lips as he watches just his touch bring you to orgasm for the second time tonight, obsessed with the way your cunt trembles around his cock, a surge of your essence streaming from your hole, embracing him in a thick, wet heat.

Your cunt gorges on him—so fuckin’ greedy, even after cumming twice—fluttering a little around the base of his shaft, still oozing so much slick that it’s glazing your ass and his balls, steadily seeping past the tight seam of your hole. 

It’s so pretty, it’s so fuckin’ pretty, baby, he’s breathing, eyes hazy with awe, hips drawing back just a little to watch the way your body clings to his girth, sheathing his cock in a shimmering layer of arousal. 

A palm wraps around the base of his shaft, the head of his cock still buried an inch or two in your straining cunt, and he jerks himself hard and quick, sick wet slaps echoing out among the room as his hand slams between your cunt and his pelvis. 

“Fuck, f-fuck—” 

His hips start moving on their own accord, too impatient, his hand nothing compared to the sweltering ecstasy of your cunt, and he releases his cock, sticky hand collaring your throat, pinioning you to the couch, his thrusts so vicious they’re jostling your body up the cushions, the palm crushing your airway keeping you in place.

Lithe fingers flex as their grip on your neck tightens, coarse pads of his fingertips beginning to heat up, blood in your veins bubbling beneath his touch. 

Your flesh melts beneath his hold, melds itself to his grasp, desperate to stay in his hands forever. 

The sting is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, his palm and all five of his fingers singed into your skin in the prettiest, most precious permanent necklace. You can barely breathe, exhales coming as weak little wheezes, and you swear his flames must be licking into your throat, down to your lungs and straight through your veins, incinerating your blood as your body goes numb, cunt clenching around his cock for the third time, wailing out shards of his name. 

But you don’t allow his hold to let up, to loosen at all, both of your hands placed firmly over his, holding it there harder, a loud moan escaping his lips, his hips stammering out of rhythm. 

“Brand me, Master, brand me, brand me,” you’re gasping out, voice wrecked and raw. “Make me yours, mark me as yours, forever!”

“Jesus Christ,” he nearly sobs, his thrusts turned brutal, primal, losing any semblance of finesse as he relentlessly fucks you, motions stuttering as he finally cums, a violent shudder coursing through his body before he collapses on top of you, drenched in sweat as his cock throbs, filling you to the brim with hot, thick cum. 

“More, Touya, more, more!” you’re crying out, scrabbling at his shoulders as you try to pull him closer, shivering legs latching around his waist as tight as you can manage as your hips roll up to meet his own, crudely humping him. “Gimme more!” 

A groan, dense and heavy, spills from his lips, his entire body rippling with hiccups as he ruts into you—automatic, instinctual, desperate to give his sweet girl what she wants, even if it hurts.

“Yeah, yeah, ye-yeah, Touya, Touya, fill me with y’r cum!” 

And so, he does, using your cunt to milk himself even as his form quivers with every rock of his hips, chills skidding across his flesh with every bump of his cockhead against your abused cervix. 

He keeps going, just like you begged him to, just like he promised he would, until your tummy is stuffed full and your cunt is leaking with his seed, until neither of you can take it anymore, bodies shuddering with every hump and drag and grind, deliquescing into one another, a puddle of limbs. 

You stay like that for a while, his body blanketing yours, breathing as one, being as one. Gentle fingertips trail up and down the column of his spine as his bones begin to fuse and harden again, tiptoeing over the trails of staples stitching dead skin to healthy flesh and evoking a mild shudder, pads of your fingers pressing into each golden suture, counting them lovingly, kissing every one. 

Eventually, after your fingers have traversed across all thirty-one, he shifts, manhandling you onto his chest as he shuffles himself beneath you, cradled between his thighs. 

“What now?”

You don’t mean to say it, don’t mean to shatter that delicate, post-orgasmic, precarious peace with two simple words, but they claw up your throat and pry past your teeth and gnaw on your lips, desperate to be vocalized, immortalized, heard.

What now? 

They’re uttered out softly enough, lips moving against his heart, warm breath seeping into his chest, the question worming its way beneath his skin. 

His muscles go rigid, his breath stalling in his lungs.

What happens now that his goal has been reached, Part One in his plan succeeded? What’s the next step, now that the world knows Todoroki Touya is alive and simmering in his hatred, fuelled by spite and ravenous with revenge?

What happens when he goes to face his father for the final time? And what happens if he never returns?

“Oh, I dunno,” he sighs out, but his voice trembles. “We could fix this place up, all nice and swanky, have a couple’a kids, get a golden retriever—y’know, real nuclear family type shit.” 

You laugh, but it comes out strangled, sounding strange to your ears, a distorted sob. 

“The dream, huh?” 

“Yeah,” he says, quiet, nostalgia for a time that has never happened, that will never come, aching in his words. “The dream.” 

A silence settles over the two of you, as tender as the edges of a festering wound.

“I have to do it,” he says after several moments have passed, and his voice is soft—softer than you’ve ever heard it before, softer than you ever thought him capable of—infused with apology.

He does.

You know he does. You understand why. That’s how the story ends, the final chapter he’s been drafting—you were never meant to be a part of this tale, written in between lines and margins, stuffed between words, twined throughout the pages nonetheless. But ultimately, this is his story—to write, to tell, to edit, to revise, to create, to conclude. 

You know.

But the acceptance sticks in your throat, furled into a tight, hard lump, so you nod instead, punctuating your affirmative with a kiss pressed to his chest, planted right over his heart. It soaks into his skin, burrows itself into pulsating muscle and finds salvation there, finds home there, a puzzle piece that snaps into perfect place—something that’s always been missing, now complete. Something he’ll take with him, when his pen leaves the page, when his book snaps shut.

You don’t dare look at him. You don’t need to. You can feel the stutter of his chest, hear the hitch of his breath tangling on hard truths to swallow, smell the copper streaming down his cheeks again.

And you hug him tighter. 

You know. And no matter how badly you wish to, you won’t stop him. 

[yanderenightmare]

can we have more yan DEKU who terrorises his exgirlfriend? like, he sends her creepy letters and gifts, without mentioning it's him of course, scaring her straight back into his arms??

Deku - Midoriya Izuku

TW: yandere, hints of dubcon/noncon, size difference, stalker, mental abuse

Green Paisley

You’d felt watched lately, and things were rarely where you remembered putting them. But thinking it was all in your head, you’d ignored it until you received the first gifts and saw the pictures. Eyes peeled while reading the letter with a shaky hand covering your mouth, you dropped everything on the steps to your apartment when quickly reaching for your phone.

I wasn’t going to write you any letters. I was happy just watching because I knew you were already spoken for. But I’ve noticed that the green-haired guy hasn’t come over lately, and I feel so sad knowing you’re home all alone…

You contact the police, but all they tell you is to invest in a new alarm system. After a little crying at the station, they show you enough sympathy to post a squad car in your neighborhood – but all in all, you’d say they didn’t seem very convinced.

That green-haired guy is a fucking moron. If you were mine, I would never let you go. I would take care of you, much better than he ever could. I would give you only the prettiest gifts and call you only the sweetest names. I’d treat you how someone like you deserves to be treated. Keep you safe and sound and happy to be mine…

You read the stalker’s letter again while browsing ways to upgrade your security – your thumb in your mouth, nail bending where you chewed on it – eyes panning over the photos that came in the box. Taken through the window – some innocent enough, candid pictures of you cooking in the kitchen or watching a movie on the couch. 

Others were not so innocent.

Your nail broke between your teeth as you looked at the revealing pics of you in your bedroom – wearing nothing but flimsy underwear. 

You looked back to the screen and continued scrolling through deals – but more than that, you were trying to distract yourself from what you really wanted to do…

Izuku had always been a source of comfort when it came to safety, and you know he’d come if you called, but since you broke up with him only a couple of months ago it seemed too selfish to ask. Besides, the reasons you broke things off were all because of his derogatory tendencies, and to beg him over because of something like this would only prove his point.

You couldn’t call him over. He’d see it as a win, and you’d decided you wouldn’t lose to his patronizing ways any longer. You needed to do this on your own – without his help.

You had to wait through the weekend until Monday to call a guy. A new box came both days, each one more terrifying than the last. But after installing a new alarm system you felt a little safer.

But the next box stripped that safety away.

I know I must be creeping you out. After all, you have no idea who I am, whereas I know you so intimately. But you shouldn’t feel scared. I would never hurt you. My gift to you today is proof of that.

P.S. Security systems aren’t enough to keep me away from you. 

Beneath the letters were more pictures of you – this time sleeping – inside the house. 

You fell apart – caving in, calling Izuku in tears, begging him to come over in a hurry. “Izu- please, please, please come home-”

He’s sitting on your couch only a curt fifteen minutes later, a tight arm around your midriff, holding you close for comfort while you sobbed against his chest – a furl deepened his brows while reading, holding your stalker’s letters in the other hand with green eyes narrowing for every sentence he finished.

I dream of making you mine. As I watch you sleep, I wonder what you dream of. You look so lonely lying there. Maybe if I keep you company, you’ll start dreaming of me too.

“How many of these have you received?” He questioned when done, looking around at the gift wrap on the floor, green-paisley-patterned, and the several boxes filled with crepe and untouched pieces of what looked like different arrangements of lingerie, candy, and sex toys.

“Four, I think…” You muffled against his tear-soaked shirt, clinging to him with your legs tucked onto his lap.

“Four? Why didn’t you call me sooner?” He echoed, looking down at you with heavy curls shadowing his eyes.

You looked up at him through the blur, lip sucked between your teeth before answering. “I- I went to the police-”

“The police? You went to the police instead of calling me?” He cut you off harshly, making you flinch.

“I-I-” You stuttered, crying, and he shook from his misplaced anger and took your face in his palms.

“Shh-sh- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you.” He apologized with a kiss on your forehead before pulling you close to his chest again. “It’s just… this is exactly what I warned you about. You should have called me sooner.”

“I’m sorry.” You whimper, calming down to the warm strokes his large hand smoothed across your back.

“Shh- it's okay… I’m here now… and I'm not gonna let any sicko touch you. I promise.” He soothed – his voice a calm and strong anchor for you to grip onto. “Come, I’ll help you pack a bag. You’ll sleep at my place tonight.”

“Okay…” You sniffle. “Thank you.”

He drove with only one hand on the steering wheel, the other on your lap, holding your hand – your bag by your feet – and you’re reminded of the first days you started dating. Sleepovers and overnight bags – his hand between your thighs on the drive.

His new place is bigger than the last – like something out of a magazine. Modern and simplistic – a little too clean, maybe, but very stylish. 

You knew he’d been climbing the ranks a couple of spots a week since you broke up with him, but you hadn’t known the new paychecks could afford something like this. It made you feel a little guilty thinking about it, then a little embarrassed, causing you to flush – standing there in guest slippers, bag in hand – your presence sticking out like a sore thumb.

“You hungry?” He asked, shaking you out of your meekness, where you looked up with a small nod and a slight hum.

He smiled, turning to the kitchen. You were so cute.

At dinner, it almost feels like old times. Izuku plays with your legs under the table even though you give him a look. He gets you to giggle after a while, surrendering to his hopeless flirting. You help him carry the dishes after you’ve finished – and even though he has a washer now, you slip right into that old routine and start filling the sink with warm water and soap. And then you stand there, the two of you – shoulder to elbow, and your chest flutters, wondering if he was always that tall.

You blushed and ducked your head, not wanting him to see you getting so flustered. You pretended to be throwing some scraps in the trash and that's when your eyes caught hold of it.

Green paisley.

You’re stunned for a moment. Still crouched down, your head hovering over the trash – face blank, body still.

“You weren’t meant to see that.” Came a voice.

Izuku stood next to you. Washcloth in hand, dripping soapsuds on the floor.

You’re breath shivers in your throat, and you drop to the ground with a gulp, looking up at him – now with building fear accenting your still shocked expression.

You blink a couple of times, trying to make sense of it but getting nowhere. “W-why?” Left you then, along with sudden tears that started slipping down your cheeks.

And it really was the only question you had. Why would he do this? Why would he torment you like that? Why would he-

“’Cause you left… And I needed a way to get you back.”

You cringed. Feeling sick – almost sick enough to turn around and throw up the entire dinner in the trashcan, all over that stupid green paisley print. But you didn’t. “You’re pathetic.” – is what you said instead.

You got up from the floor. Upset tears still rolled down your face, but you were mostly just pissed – kicking off your guest slippers, you sat down atop the shoe bench and started doing your laces.

“I’m leaving. Don’t call me. If I ever see you near my place, I’m calling the cops.” You uttered, grabbing your bag before yanking the door handle.

It didn’t budge – some strange new type of locking mechanism, which really made no sense to have on the inside.

“I’m going home, Izuku. Unlock the door.” You huffed, turning around to look at him sourly, only he’d approached you all too silently – making you gasp to see him standing right behind you.

“You’re not going anywhere…”

You’re taken to the bed, kicking and screaming – then pinned by hands thrice the size of your own beneath the big-boned body they belonged to. And now you’re really feeling scared.

Before, it had been such a distant threat – something you could pretend wasn’t there for most of the day and otherwise deal with by the soothing presence of a weapon in your house or a quick phone call to the police. But now – there was no comfort to be found anywhere.

“Shh, baby~ don’t fuss. It’s better this way.” He tried soothing, holding your fighting wrists tightly above your head in one fist. The other kept your lips shut, muffling all screams. Barring your thrashing legs beneath his own. “You need me- you couldn’t even last a single week without calling me.” He justified, hunched over you with his mouth only an inch above the knuckles draping your mouth. “But that’s alright, I don’t mind it. I always planned on taking care of you.” He cooed, rubbing his nose sweetly against yours despite you trying to shake away from it. 

You felt something rub against your thigh, and you knew all too well what it was. Fat tears streamed down your cheeks, facing the next events.

But Izuku shared none of your discomforts, rocking the bump against you with a moan slipping into his rant. “You like the new place I got, don’t you? You can stay in all day- I’d give you all you’d ever need or want- you’d be so comfortable you wouldn’t ever even want to leave-”

He sounded just like the letters.

And where it had ached you to know that he’d been the one to write them all… now it terrified you to understand how he’d meant every last word of it, too.

[hxt1b]

how much you own me

ex-boyfriend Gojo x reader

-> CW: ex-boyfriend Gojo, angsty, you both teach at jujutsu high, Gojo is an idiot, Geto is flirty but that is inconsequential [I just love him] Gojo is possessive and a bit whiney, fluffy near the end. MDNI, smut warning [hand jobs, fingering, finger sucking, it’s all kinda soft tbh, nipple sucking, penetration, a lot of kisses – so many kisses, bathroom sex, public sex, mention of form of protection {IUD} I apologize if I missed anything]  

-> WC: 2.9k

-> Masterlist | Prompt List [send me requests!]

-> A/N: Okay so this is a little cliché, maybe not the best written, and totally self-indulgent. I wanted an ex-boyfriend Gojo begging you to take him back, and some make up(ish) sex and so I wrote it. I hope you guys like it. As usual please ignore any grammar that is incorrect, I tried my best.

"When I'm all by myself and the drink doesn't help. Take 'em down from the shelf and I'm reminded, I keep fighting wars in my head with the miles of regret 'cause I had every letter but now, I cant find the words to say."

– The Vamps

“Don’t walk away from me.” His voice was even, he never really yelled. That was one of the first things you’d liked about Gojo, his effortless calm. Everything was easy for him, so it was rare for him to be anything but calm. The only things that rattled Gojo were things he couldn’t control. Lack of control was not a state of being for Gojo Satoru.

“Watch me.” You replied turning away from him. He caught your wrist and pulled you back towards his chest. 

“Stop.” He gritted out, his voice wasn’t as even anymore but he wasn’t yelling. He still thought he had some control. Jokes on him. 

“Or what?” You asked, your tone taunting. Your head tilted to the side as you glared up at your ex. His pale blue eyes were hidden behind glasses, but this close you could see them narrow at you through the tinted glass. 

You scoffed at him before yanking out of his hold. 

 “Leave me alone Gojo.” 

Your footsteps echoed down the hall as you walked away from him. Your hands shook at your side. A couple of steps, and you’d be outside. Outside the school. Outside Gojo’s bubble. Out. 

“I can’t.” 

His words hit your back, piercing up your skin, and crawling over your mind. You saw red.

“You can’t?” You asked. Your steps halted just as you got to the door. “You fucking can’t!?” your voice rose as you spun to face him. He was still in the spot you’d left him. 

“You broke up with me!” You yelled, “You stopped talking to me! Three months Gojo and now you wanna talk to me like that didn’t fucking happen. Well too bad, I don’t give a fuck about you anymore.” 

That was a blatant lie. You cared a lot and seeing him was hard, him touching you was brutal. You needed to get out of this hallway. Away from him. 

He said your name as you turned away from him a second time, a soft word floating in the hallway. Your blood boiled as you stomped out the door. 

He followed, “Please baby.” His hand grabbed your arm again, but he didn’t pull. This time his grip just held you in place. 

“Do not call me that, and do not touch me.” You yanked your arm out of his hand for the last time and walked away. 

~

Gojo was drunk. 

“Youreanidiot.” Geto slurred. “I said that back then too remember?” He was waving his glass in Gojo’s face. 

“Shut up you drunk.” 

“Hey, I’m only drunk because I’m a good best friend.” 

Gojo took a large swig of his drink, the bitter taste coated his throat, a deep burn blazing down his chest. He closed his eyes and let his head fall on the table. The room was spinning. He told Geto as much, but Geto mumbled something back before getting up and leaving Gojo alone at the table.

“I need some space.” 

Space was stupid. Space was dumb. Why had he asked for it? What did he learn? Oh, he learned something alright, he learned what your face looked like when your heart broke. Gojo banged his head against the table once, before letting out a deep groan. 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, his hands fumbling the device as he brought it to his face. Only lifting his body half up in his seat, that’s all he could manage. He thumbed through his contacts and found your name. He called you. Once, twice, three times. Of course, you didn’t answer him so he texted. 

im don’t need spac e I jst needu. 

Im sn idiot. 

Im sorry. 

But of course, you never replied, you never read them. 

 “Oh, Satoru don’t text her,” Geto whined as he sat down in his seat again beside Gojo. 

“I’m pathetic.” 

“That you are.” Geto swung his arm around Gojo’s shoulder pulling him into his side. “But it's okay.” 

~

“He really thinks he’s something huh?” your best friend asked from your left. You were sat on a bar stool your first drink, following three shots, in your hand. You’d only taken a sip from it before spotting Gojo leaning against a wall. His gaze geared on you. 

“He really thinks he can just get you back?” Utahime asked from your right. Her presence was the reason you three were out today at this club, she was visiting for the weekend. 

“He sent some drunk messages last night.” You said looking away from him and pulling your phone out to show your friends. The two leaned into to look at your screen. Your best friend snickered. 

“Sad.” 

“Pathetic.” 

“Ah yes, that he is.” Geto’s voice churned in. Your eyes moved up to take in his smiling face, he was leaning in as well, his eyes on your phone. 

You pulled your phone to your chest, forcing Geto to turn his smile to you. 

“Have you heard of personal space?” You asked. Your distaste for Gojo unsurprisingly extended to his best friend.  

His only response was a soft breathy chuckle and a step back. 

“Hey now,” He started throwing his hands up, “I don’t think I’m the enemy.” 

“Why are you two here?” Your best friend asked, Geto turned his head to her, his eyes trailing down her body before he replied. 

“Isn’t it obvious babe?” He asked leaning towards her. 

“It’s pathetic.” You muttered. 

“I thought we already went over that,” Geto replied his hands disappearing into his pockets his eyes still on your best friend. 

“Go away.” Your best friends muttered turning away from him. You could tell she was flustered by his gaze. 

You rolled your eyes at Geto’s antics before quickly downing your drink.

You took Utahime and your best friend’s hands, “Come let’s go dance.” You pulled them both towards the crowded dance floor, the bass of whatever song was playing thumped through your body as you settled into a spot and began to sway to the music. The couple of shots you’d taken before realizing Gojo was also in the building were running rampant through your bloodstream now, aided by the heat of the bodies around you. You laughed as the song changed and you danced pushing your ex out of your head and letting yourself go to the music. You were having fun despite Gojo and that’s why you didn’t mind when hands snaked around your waist and pulled you away from your friends. You ground your hips back into the stranger liking the way his hands trailed up your side, his head curling into the side of your neck. He said something but you didn’t hear him, your eyes had found Gojo again his head was turned in your direction, and you knew he’d been watching you the whole time. You could feel it. Tipping the corner of your mouth up at him you lifted a hand up and threaded it into the stranger’s hair. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” You let him press wet kisses into your skin, your eyes stuck on Gojo, your hips still moving against the stranger. Your brain streamlined on your ex, you got to a dazed place where the hands on your body were Gojo’s, and so were the lips pressing heated kisses only stopping to harshly nip at your skin. Your eyes fluttered at the thought and when you gained your focus again Gojo was gone. 

“Fuck off.” A voice growled to your left, a hand grabbing at the wrist that was pulling at strands of hair. 

“Excuse me-” The guy was cut off as Gojo yanked you into his chest. His glasses slid down his nose as he glared at the other man. 

“Gojo what the fuck.” You struggled against his grip, but his hold was strong, and he took you through the crowd towards the restroom, your body pulled into his chest the entire way. Once inside the bathroom, he pushed you towards the sink and mirror and turned to lock the door behind him. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You asked. He didn’t say anything, your words hung heavy in the air as he stared at you. His gaze was heavy, his blue eyes peering at you. The only movement was him taking his glasses off, he tucked them into his back pocket and took you in. Trailing his eyes over your body, heat trailing everywhere he looked. 

You narrowed your eyes at him and scoffed. 

“Let me out Gojo.” You said motioning for him to move from the door. 

“You know,” he started and took a step towards you, “three months, four months a year. Baby get it through your head. You are mine.”  

His voice was low, rubbing against your heart pulling at your sanity and causing a deep rage to crawl over you. 

“You broke up with me!” You yelled. 

“And I regret it.” Gojo said, “And that only confirms how much I need you. How much you own me.” 

“No, fuck that and fuck you.” You said and moved to shove him out of the way so you could leave. He grabbed both your wrist as you tried to shove him and spun you into the door. Your back hit it hard as Gojo crowded into you, your arms pinned on both sides of your head by his hands, his lips on yours in an instant. 

The kiss was deep, heavy, and angry. You bit at his lip, and he moaned into your mouth. His tongue met yours and you pushed back with the same fervour he displayed. You were going to implode, his touch, his mouth was too much. You knew, ever since that day in the hallway when he grabbed your wrist, you’d known. If he touched you again it would be too much. He knew it too. 

You moaned against him as he moved his thigh between your legs, your body had been rocking against his as you kissed. You felt a sense of needing to run as you moved against him but the feeling left, overwhelmed by Gojo. 

“I broke up with you because I’m an idiot,” He muttered his lips still touching yours. Your eyes were closed, and your breathing shallow, your hips still rocking ever so slightly against him, but you let him talk. “One more chance, please.” 

“The great Gojo Satoru begging.” You whispered back. 

“For you. Yes.” He didn’t even sound ashamed. Just desperate. You relented and kissed him again. He let go of your wrists, letting his fingers tangle into your hair. Your own hands went around him, pulling at the soft strands at his neck as you got lost in him. It was familiar and good, you’d wanted this so bad. Would it be so bad to give him another chance? 

Your hands left his hair and trailed down his torso and up his shirt pushing it up as you felt the ridges of his abs letting your nails dig into the hard muscle. Gojo hissed into your mouth but didn’t stop you. So, you kept moving your hands, lower this time, fingers brushing his skin as you went. Your fingers stopped at his waistband, he sucked on your tongue lightly as you both waited to see if you would do it. It didn’t take you long to decide, yes you would. 

Your fingers moved to undo his pants and grab at his erection. You pulled away from his mouth and looked down, the skin of his cock was heated, and the head was swollen and red, you licked your lips as you skimmed your thumb over the slit. Gojo hissed again before letting out a soft moan as you did it again. You brought your hand to your mouth spitting into it before palming him, moving your hand against his heated skin, watching his face as he closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against yours. 

“I don’t deserve this.” He muttered. 

“No.” you muttered, “you don’t.” But he was still getting it, he was still getting you, that thought pushed him to move, his hand pushing up your shirt and bra palming your boob before flicking at your nipple. You sucked in a breath at the action but kept your hand moving on him. He lowered his head and took your nipple into his mouth sucking on you before biting at it. You let your head fall back against the door as Gojo worked your nipple. Your hips still grinding into his thigh, and your hand still working his cock. 

“Satoru,” You moaned, eye fluttering shut. 

“Satoru,” He muttered back forcing your eyes to open and look at him. He was peering up at you with a cocky grin on his face, his mouth red from sucking on you. But you were beyond yourself to be mad at it, yeah you moaned his name, his first name, so what? 

“I need your fingers.” 

“Happily.” He answered, and let his fingers run down your quivering stomach to the band of your pants, he quickly undid them and instantly his fingers were on you. Two fingers circled your clit heating your blood further, you were arching against the door, he took your nipple back into his mouth forcing your hand to hesitate on his cock as he worked you. 

You moaned his name softly again before saying “More.” He brought his head back up to yours pressing your lips into a wet kiss as he sank two fingers into you. You sucked in a breath as he began to pump his fingers. His lips moved against yours forcefully as he picked up his pace, your hand stilling on his cock as he did so. He grabbed your hand intertwining his fingers and pulled it away from him letting you focus on your pleasure as he fucked you with his fingers. 

A heated bundle of energy built up in the pit of your stomach moving down as Gojo added another finger stretching you further, pulling louder moans from you as he did. 

“Satoru, I’m going to cum.” You mumbled into his lips. 

“Then come baby.” He muttered back, curling his fingers into your g-spot, and finally tipping you over. You saw white as you arched into his chest further, your nipples rubbing into his chest, your head rolling to the side allowing Gojo to dip his head into the crook of your neck and suck on your heated skin. His fingers worked you through your orgasm prolonging the intense heat that coursed through you until you were panting against him, your hands shaking, and your mind muddled. 

“The sounds you make are mine, the face you make is mine, and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to you.” He said this lowly, his head dipping so that his eyes were locked with yours, “Proving to you that you own me as much as I own you.” He finished it off by pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth as he pulled his fingers from you. “Turn around babe.” 

You listened and spun in his hold, your back arching so that your ass was against his groin instantly. His left hand coming up beside your head on the door, and his right holding tightly onto your waist. 

“Let’s take these off.” He said and pushed at your pants, you helped him get rid of your pants and underwear, “Are you ready for me pretty girl?”

You nodded, your breath shallow still, your skin heated and your brain stuck on all things Gojo Satoru. He pressed a light kiss to the back of your neck as he brought his cock to move through your folds. You mewled when his cock head passed over your sensitive clit. 

“Fuck, I don’t have a condom.” He groaned, “I wasn- this isn’t how I wanted this to-” He stumbled over his words his head bowed into your shoulder. His hips were still moving against you though, his cock still dragging through your wet folds. 

“It’s okay, I’ve still got my IUD.” You let your arm turn over his head, your hand digging into his hair so that you could pull his head to yours. “Fuck me Satoru.” You whispered, your lips grazing the side of his mouth. He groaned and lined up his cock with your entrance. 

“Every day baby. You’ve owned me every day since I’ve met you. I’m sorry I’m such an idiot.” He said this as he slowly sank into you, every word hitting something deep inside you as he bottomed out. You only managed to moan his name. 

“I know.” He mumbled before kissing you again and began to slowly pump into you. Every single one of your senses was filled with him, you were living and breathing Gojo at that moment as he moved against you, his cock dragging against your fluttering walls. His moans filled your ears mixing with yours, joining the sloppy sound of his skin slapping against yours. 

You couldn’t think properly as he moved his hand from your waist to your mouth, slipping in past your lips. You sucked on them moaning as you did, when he pulled them from your mouth a strand of spit still connected you to his fingers. He darted down to your clit deftly moving the two fingers over it to draw you closer to your second orgasm. 

“Cum baby. Cum with me.” He breathed. Overwhelmed, you came. Breaking apart on his throbbing cock, you spasmed in his hold, his other hand leaving the door to gather you against his chest as he continued to fuck you through the orgasm his fingers still moving against your clit. His name repeatedly fell from your lips as you saw white sparks floating around your vision, your entire body heated and spent. He followed soon after, finishing inside you with your name on his lips. 

“Prove it Satoru. Don’t fuck me over this time.” You said through heavy breaths. 

“I won’t” 

He pressed a kiss to your forehead.  

You smiled as you both took your time calming down and getting back to reality. 

~hxt1b, feb 11 2024

[keto-keyes]

The Slytherins at Valentines

Imagine/preference

In celebration of the day of love, I have taken it upon myself to commit to paper how I imagine the Slytherins would celebrate Valentines with their S/O

Mattheo Riddle:

Mattheo would probably act like he'd forgotten until right at the last minute before it was time to head to sleep for the night

and practically dump a whole-ass pile of presents on his S/O's head.

definitely expects you to cuddle w/ him

he's the little spoon obviously

would constantly whisper things like:

"You thought I forgot, didn't you?"

"...Dumbass thought I'd forget the best day ever"

If you correct him, you lose your gifts

If you don't, smug ass bf forever

Choice is yours

He never really shows how touch-starved he is until Valentines Day, when he can snuggle with you and kick all the others out of your dorm without hearing you complain

not that you ever do

Basically, cuddles and rich-man benefits from the king of puppy eyes.

Tom Riddle:

This man... he is so romantic about how he spoils his S/O

A single rose, or a ring or some other piece of jewellery

Watch out, he'll present it at breakfast with a modest little card and expect you to wear it all day without fail.

might even buy you a crown fitting for the queen of the slytherins

doesn't like PDA, so none of that

Subtle smiles in your direction, maybe even a blown kiss

will love exchanging coded love letters with you like the little nerd he is

if you expected him to be cold like usual, he's not

other kids get time off from being victims, he's moony about you for a change

probably even brings small little things he finds to give you in-between classes

a feather, a dropped quill, some cookies he "borrowed" from some useless gryffindors

Mattheo couldn't stop teasing him after he caught Tom plucking nice-smelling herbs from the potions closet

You might need to stop him killing his brother

he's a gentleman, alright?

Theodore Nott:

Italians know how to Valentines Day

the saint is literally FROM Italy

and theo is rich. So....

Presents. lots of presents

anything you need

kisses also. lots of kisses

mans really loves kissing you. he'll never say no to PDA

staring at you for HOURS

dude has a stare like looking into the ocean - beautiful but somehow also makes you self-conscious

whispering to you in italian

even if you can't understand him, you know he's either complimenting you or whispering blasphemy about whichever first year last crossed his path

he likes to sit you on his lap when he can and rub your thighs or massage your shoulders

shoulder and neck kisses when you do

he doesn't like to be too far away from you, like any good clingy bf

will definitely need you to tell him to stop holding your hand or your waist before he does

maybe needs reminding multiple times. especially with other guys around

double the soft boy on the day of love

Draco Malfoy:

expect this boy to become very clingy

he's attention-starved, remember?

but he will give his S/O lots of gifts and presents to celebrate love

cards, messages via flying paper crane, roses, rings, ripped out passages of books from the forbidden section of the library, all the romantic gifts

he prefers to give little pecks on your cheeks when he can, but if not, definitely hand kisses.

i kid you not, he will get down on one knee with his usual gentlemanly demeanour just to kiss your knuckles

give this poor boy lots of kisses please

he needs them

play with his hair, let him be the little spoon

not that he isn't usually

he just won't let any of the others know that

holding hands

terrorising first-years

sending cutesy love letters to one another without the professor knowing

or zipping them right past mcgonagal's ear, if you live on the wild side

either way, he's so soft and squishy

Blaise Zabini:

i have come to inform you that this man will skip school for you

you're not feeling potions today, rather go out on the town? done

he does not care

you both get good grades anyway

all the sweets

sugar is his love language, and, funnily enough, your pet name

letting you wear his jackets

kisses. give this man some kisses

holding hands whenever you can.

i headcanon his hands are huge.

like giant sized

him smiling to himself whenever he sees you

"How did I manage to score this little sugarcube?"

yep, another sugar-themed pet name

you are like a little flower he needs to preserve (an icing flower, if you catch my drift)

another member of the touch-starved trio

he can do your hair for you (if you have long hair), but ONLY if you sit on his lap

this man knows french. and danish

did you know danish is one of the most beautiful languages on earth? well, you will soon

he likes muttering how pretty you are in danish. and how much he loves you

also, mans is a legit beanpole boy

he will rest his head on yours. he is just that tall

anyway, he loves you in 3 languages fam

Pansy Parkinson:

probably wants to make sure you both have the same number of presents

you'll always have one more than her somehow. like, how does someone forget they bought you the cat (or some other household pet) you always wanted?

isn't happy until she can constantly see a smile adorning your features

like Blaise, she will do your hair for you (if you have hair)

she buys THE NICEST necklaces and bracelets. not even Tom can compare

she can also speak french, but she'll only open up and start speaking it when you tell her you love her in your native language

will find pretty flowers to put in your hair or behind your ear so you can constantly smell of that flower

holding hands. there is no excuse

showing you off to the boys, making them pretend to have never met you before

no-one is allowed to make you smile except her. so, please stay away from Mattheo and Enzo for the day

will contain her anger and short temper for you

she's the little spoon.

you must comfort her. dealing with 6 boys everyday is tough

you're like royalty for a day, deal with it

Lorenzo Berkshire:

cheesy gifts. no cap

small flowers out of decorative bouquets? check

a flower or butterfly pin? yessir

constant hand-holding

teasing you

lip bites, squeezing your thighs, twirling strands of either of your hair

he is a major flirt, contrary to popular belief

he thinks you are the most adorable thing ever

loves to tell you how gorgeous you look

master gentleman in action, ladies and gents

singing cheesy love songs

mans will serenade you

he is the big spoon, for reasons you may never know

perhaps he likes holding his world in his arms

that's right folks, you are his WORLD

and nothing will stop him from telling you that as you nap in his arms instead of going to potions

[servicpop]

Which one of your oc reacts from the worst to the better one when s/o actually break up with them?

Make it nsfw? I wanna see some s/o getting pinned down and got punish lol

cw : slight non-con(?) and my ocs might be a bit toxic . . .

Adrien definitely acts the worst. He's obsessed with you remember ? The moment you go to him and tell him that you don't want to continue this little game of yours and you want him to leave you alone . . . sure , he'll respect you for a bit. But after a day or so and you're not texting him , not even looking at him , he'll go back to his old ways. Skipping classes , getting into fights and he swears he's going to crack the guy you smiled at's skull apart. He fully goes insane and after a week , he's blowing up your phone , chasing down your friends who are honestly surprised that he even knew of your existence. And when you finally agree to see him again , he's tearing off his clothing and pushing you up against the wall not even a foot away from the front door , groping at that soft flesh he missed so much. His words are an unintelligible mess of 'please take me back' and 'I'll fucking kill anyone you talk to.' Man is crazy about you !! He'll fuck you right outside the bedroom , pushing you up against the wall and pound into you because he's missed you way too much to wait any longer !

Vallen simply doesn't let it happen. You come up to his office with a nervous look on your face and when you spill the news he glances up through his reading glasses ( his eyes are getting sore from looking over so many documents >< ) and simply hums, curling his finger at you, instructing you to walk over to him. The moment you do , he pulls you onto his lap, gripping at your thighs as he stands up , letting your back fall across his desk. He's cruelly slow, pulling out all the way before slamming his hips against yours so hard that his pens rattle on his desk. "Found someone better than me?" He'd mutter before slowly pulling out just to ram himself back in. "I doubt it." He's too mean about it, slapping your thighs everytime you try and justify your reasons why you'd break up with him ! He's rich, gives you everything, loves and cares for you, why would you want to break up with him ?

Cole accepts it fully. He acts like a kicked puppy when you break the news to him. At first he'll ask you what he did wrong , if you weren't happy with him , if it was your job that make you break up with him. He tries his best to understand , especially since you're his first ever relationship with a man ! He won't stop going to your shows , won't stop sending you letters and flowers , but he does it all without showing his face ! He thinks you wouldn't want to see his face so he still shows his love through gifts and notes. It's not long before you cave in , all the gifts and letters still marked with paw prints and his signature at the bottom just pile up in your room and you miss him. Miss his caramel smile too much. Unlike the others , Cole doesn't jump to sex , he takes it slow by cuddling you , the limit of intimacy being kisses on your stomach ( he'll still believe you hate him until you reassure him 200x )

Callahan is exempt from this since he was never really in a relationship with you , but ! If he doesn't see you for an extended period of time ( basically breaking up ) he'll work even harder to track you down , asking for leads , retracing steps and finding you back at that motel where you two always seem to end up after every confrontation. He'll put you in cuffs , blabbering on some lie about how he'll put you in jail but just ends up stuffing your head in the pillow and pounding into your ass like he missed you ( which he did )

[lure-of-writing]

Why can't we?

Authors Note: Oh My gosh guys, the love on part two was insane, truly thank you so much. It makes me so happy seeing all the comments and reposts it means the most to me. Part three is officially here and I am so excited for you to read it and I can't wait to see what you guys think about it. Without giving the ending away I would love to hear what you guys think about an alternative ending? Anyways if you have any request or ideas please send them in and again thank you all so much!

Summary: After leaving the night court you begin to find your place in your new life, that is until the night court comes to be directly in your home.

Word count: 4.0k

Warnings: Angst, arguing, (Let me know if I forgot any!)

Part one: Never been good enough

Part Two: Left in regret

Thesan was waiting for your arrival with the captain of the peregryn army in the common area of his home. They had been waiting no more for ten minutes until they heard the thundering of wings and watched as Kolos landed with you in his arms.

Kolos was second in command under his captain and a lifelong friend of yours. Having been raised alongside him you knew he would never pass judgment upon you and also provide the support you would undoubtedly need in the following weeks as you figured out how to put your life back together. You were born into the dawn court but had chosen to leave with the idea of being able to be used to your full potential as a spy and you did in fact find that in the night court but you had also never regretted a decision as much as you also loved the people you met and memories you made from that said decision. 

“Y/n welcome back home to the dawn court, we have missed you sincerely.” Thesan the living embodiment of calm energy welcomed you with open arms and a warm hug. “I assume all went well?” you could tell that the question was directed at Kolos “Yes they didn’t try to stop us but I think y/n has something very important to tell the two of you.” Without another word Thesan took a seat in a chair and motioned for everyone to do the same. “Azriel…Azriel is my mate.”  you watched with a baited breath for anyone to say anything and for a while no one did that was until your high lord spoke up. “And how do you feel about that?” 

“Well considering that he's in love with Elain, not very great. But I am not going to force either of us to be in a relationship that the other does not want. He was only apologetic because we are mates. If we weren’t he would have never chosen me.” In the week that you had been residing back in your home court you had kept all this information to yourself, unwilling or maybe even unable to accept the cards you had been dealt but to finally tell someone other the Kolos felt like lifting a weight off your chest. Like it was a start in the right direction to leaving the past and starting anew. 

“This is certainly unexpected information.” the captain spoke up “Yeah you’re telling me.” a breathy laugh fell from your lips as you glanced at your high lord waiting to see what he had to say. “I guess that means I can expect letters from Rhysand or maybe even a visit from the night court?” Thesan looked at you in question. “Oh no, I don’t think that will be happening. I made myself very clear to Azriel that I didn’t want to be his second choice or anything like that. If I haven’t been good enough for him in the almost five hundred years of knowing him then why would I suddenly be good enough now? I’m not interested in partaking in those mind games.” 

“Very well. I support whatever decision you make. Always.” you bowed your head in appreciation to the kind ruler. For as long as you remember Thesan has always been kind to you, always let you do as you wish and have control over your own life. He never offered any input unless asked and always listened with compassion while allowing you to figure out your own life, the least you could do is serve in his court to at least restart to repay him for all the care and compassion he has shown you in life. “Thesan? If you would allow it, I would be honored to serve in your court again, it's the least I can do to repay the kindness you have shown me.”  you could tell the captain was uneasy with your request and it made sense you had just come from the night court claiming Azriel as your mate and now wanted to serve in his lover's court. But truly you wanted nothing more than to leave behind the past and start building your new life in the dawn court. The court you were always supposed to be in. “It would be an honor to have you serve in my court.” 

Surprisingly it had been almost six months after leaving before the night court reached out to set up a meeting with you and the high lord but upon your request it was denied. You had finally settled into a routine not only within the court but within your own life and you had no plans of having any member of letting the night court interrupt that. “So how many more times do you think that they are going to send a letter before they get the hit?” Kolos sat at the kitchen table and watched as you made the both of them breakfast. “Honestly I don’t know. It's one thing in Rhysand is sending them himself but it's another if Azriel is asking him to send them. You know how Illyrians are, too stubborn for their own good.” Kolos couldn’t help but laugh at your statement for it held nothing but truth. “I suppose you are not wrong but what happens if there is a high lords meeting? You will be expected to attend.” The food was set before him as you moved to take the seat next to him. You placed you head on your head and smiled at him “It's a good thing I have my own personal warrior to protect me” 

During the first initial weeks you stayed in the court palace but soon after you moved into Kolos house. At first it was only because you would never pass up the opportunity to live with your friend, especially in the time of trying to move past your old life of the night court and what's a better idea then moving forwards with the support of a lifelong friend. As the six months came and went you found yourself becoming interested in Kolos and it was safe to say that the same could be said for him. The line that was becoming increasingly more blurred of friends and lovers had never been crossed but something told you that it would be very soon. 

You were at the daily meeting with Thesan and all of his other trusted advisors including Kolos when the announcement was made. “Rhysand has requested a high lords meeting, he also asks that it be held here.” there it was, the final card that you knew Rhysand had to play. Unlike most courts, Thesan had two emissaries, one was an older male and the other was you. He handled the day and night court while you handled the summer, spring, autumn and winter court. Theo, your counterpart, could not handle the likes of Berons offspring but unlike him nothing brought you more joy then the verbal sparring match that was bound to happen while dealing with Eris. Being in charge of the seasonal courts meant you had no idea what was happening with the other ones. Didn’t know it was escalating to the point of a high lords meeting being called but you also knew that when it came to Rhysands brothers he would stop at nothing to help them. 

You could feel everyone's eyes on you. Nobody knew the full reason as to why you had returned to the dawn court but your departure from the night court had piqued enough interest that the fae in the room were looking to you for the answer as to why Rhysand requested this meeting. You knew why but refused to acknowledge it. “And what exactly is the reason behind this meeting?” Kolos was quick to pull the attention away from yourself and onto him. “He wants to see how everyone is doing after the war and talk over next moves.” you watched as Thesan weighed his options. “Very well, the same rules apply as last time.”

The date of the meeting had been set for three months after the letter had been read, as it was to ensure each court would be able to attend despite their excuses. You had spent the morning getting ready trying to fight off the nerves of having to see your old family again when Kolos decided that he had enough of watching you fight the thoughts running loose in your head. Leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed he simply watched for a minute as you perfected your makeup. “You do know that if Azriel tries anything I will kick his ass.” startled you look through the mirror to meet his eyes. “You also do know that the last time there was a high lord meeting that he was able to get through the barriers? I mean you were there.” Kolos simply gave you a shrug and a sly smile before taking in your outfit. A beautiful dress adored your body, it was a soft blush orange color as if to mimic the color of the sunrise. The top of the dress was a v-neck that stopped just below the sternum with straps on the top that started on one side wrapped around your neck and connected to the other side as if to make an x on your chest. The sleeves see through and flowy while the bottom of your dress had two hip high slits on each side of your hips. The whole dress was stunning. 

Kolos knew that the dress you picked out was nothing out of your usual attire but after seeing you in night court clothes for so long it was nothing short of breathtaking to see you in dawn court attire, and it didn’t help that your dress was fit for a queen. As much as he would love to sit here and drink in your beauty for as long as you would let him, Thesan wouldn’t be pleased if you were last to the meeting that was being hosted in his court mostly for the reason of your old personal matters. So without another word said he ushered you to the door and from there you winnowed to the court palace. 

Ryhsand was fashionably late as always but of course not without letting his shadowsinger and general making sure it was safe first. You watched from afar as he appeared from thin air and assessed that it was safe for his high lord and lady. Soon after the inner circle appeared before your very eyes. You watched as they took their seats across from where you were sat at the side of Kolos. Thesan was in the middle and to the right of him was his captain and to his right was Kolos and at his side was you. It was a safe bet to make that they were surprised to see you on the side of warriors and not the side where the other important court members sat. 

You felt as if Azriel tried to catch your eyes but you refused to give him that satisfaction so instead you focused on watching all those in the room except the night court. “I forgot to tell you that you look stunning by the way.” Kolos had leaned over to whisper into your ear and intern place himself just mere inches from your face. “I see what you’re playing at but thank you.” you whispered back as you felt Azriel stare weigh on your body. “I’m not playing at anything, I simply forgot to compliment you earlier and thought I should do it before the chaos ensues.” 

From the moment Azriel arrived his eyes couldn’t leave your body. They assessed you from head to toe to make sure you were ok before taking in your outfit. The night court attire looked good on you but he hates to admit the dawn court was devastatingly beautiful. He took in every part of your exposed skin and wished he could keep the eyes of every male and female off of you so that nobody got the idea of approaching you. 

Azriel knew that you were avoiding making eye contact with him and anyone else from the inner circle and he would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt but he also knew he was to blame. But nine months had passed since he seen you last and he wanted nothing more than to sit down and be able to explain everything, to beg for your forgiveness and make the mating bond work. In those first six months Azriel sent letter after letter along with Rhysand pleading for you to come back and just talk to him but eventually he realized you wouldn’t so he asked Rhysand to call this meeting in hopes that he would get a moment alone with you to tell you everything he needed to say. 

What Azriel didn’t account for was for you to be seated directly next to the random man he saw when you had come back to the house of wind to collect your belongings. He also didn’t account for the said random man to put his face so close to yours that if you moved you would be kissing. Azriel watched as the man whispered something in your ear and you turned to face him with a light blush now coloring your cheeks and soft smile gracing your features and before he knew it he was in between the two of you.

“Don’t ever get that close to my mate again.” Azriels words were thinly veiled with a promise of a threat. “Who is to say that she is your mate shadowsinger? As far as I knew you were with the middle Archeron sister. What was her name again? Ella? No…it’s Elain right?” Kolos knew that he was dancing on the edge of a fine line when it came to upsetting Azriel but he also knew that he was a warrior in his own right and could also handle his own if it came down to a fight. 

It was as if you had been watching everything happen in slow motion. From Kolos complimenting you to Azriel appearing right before you and now them bickering. Snapping out from the haze you were in you grabbed Azriels arm marched him back over to the night court and demanded that Rhysand winnow you to the river house.  

“What the hell were you thinking?” you yelled at your so-called mate. Without another thought you stalked up to Azriel and started pushing an accusing finger into his chest. “What made you think you had the right to do that! In front of the other courts also? Are you out of your mind?” Azriel had nothing to say, he had never seen you this mad, not even when you were yelling at him about Elain. He could see the redness creep up your neck and slowly take over your face, he watched as the rage built behind your eyes. Backing away from him you turn to look at the rest of the group and spot Elain sitting in the corner holding nyx. The person who started this all. You leveled her a glare before turning your attention back to the man who decided to play hero when it wasn’t necessary. 

“Do you really think I needed you to come to my rescue like some damsel in distress? I know that this might be new news to you but I am no such thing and have never needed your rescuing, especially not now. That man you decided to threaten was Kolos, my childhood best friend for your information since you seem to think he's some sort of threat to my life. He will never be someone I need saved from. You on the other hand, well the same can’t be said for you.”  

“I know you don’t need me to save you but y/n, that man could have kissed you if he had leaned forward. Please try to see that from my point of view. He may be a childhood friend of yours but you are my mate and I can’t just allow another male around you like that.” If you weren’t mad before then now you were livid. How dare he talk about someone being close enough to kiss you when the whole inner circle knew that he and Elain were doing much worse. “Let's get one thing clear, Azriel, I may be your mate but I do not want this bond. I refuse to let myself fall into a relationship where I am only wanted because the bond makes you want me. So if I want another male to kiss me then that is my decision only, you will have no input.” Once again you were face to face with Azirel, anger radiating from your very body. “You want me to look at that situation from your point of view? Ok Azriel, then let's look at you and Elain from my point of view shall we? How about all those times when she purposefully pushed herself into you or the times when she would need “extra” help with something as simple as stretching or when you two would sit and whisper to each other at family dinners. You also could have kissed her if you happened to move any closer. Plus let's not act like you two are innocent, everyone here knows what you two did behind closed doors. Oh and one last thing Azirel you do not allow who gets to be around me. You never have and you never will.”  

Through the mating bond Azriel could feel your resentment not only towards him but also the situation and it was the first time the spy master could truly say he was feeling panicked. Azriel knew he had made a grave mistake but he also knew that he would have never even looked in Elains direction if he knew about the mating bond. If only you could see that he would spend the rest of his life apologizing for the pain he caused you if you would let him close enough to do so. He just had to get you to understand how sorry he was. 

Rhysand could see that the situation was escalating on your part and that Azriel needed a minute to think of how to approach you so he tried to step in and help. “Y/n I know that you are upset with Azriel, but I think you need to step back from the situation and take a moment to calm down.” Rhysand may be a high lord but the pure hostility coming from you could rival his own power and deep down he knew he made a mistake interjecting. 

“I need to calm down Rhysand? That's hilarious coming from you, I mean I do remember you being willing to kill Tamlin with your own bare hands for what he did to feyre. But I need to calm down? Alright.” Turning back around to deal with Azriel you found him on his knees before you. “Y/n I know that I fucked up. I know that I should have realized sooner that you had feelings for me because that is my job as spymaster to be aware of the slightest things and I am sorry that I failed to see that, but you have to understand, if I had known about the bond I would have never even looked in Elains direction. I know I can’t control who's around you but you have to understand I just want to keep you safe. And I know that Elain and I aren’t innocent but I will spend the rest of eternity making it up to you, you just have to let me.”

For a second all you could do is stare down at Azriel and feel his sorrow through the bond. And for a second you wanted to forgive him but deep down you knew that this moment would be something you could never let go, never get past. You knew that Azirel could spend the next thousand years apologizing but some part of you would never be able to fully trust him. And the realization broke your heart but you knew you also owed it to yourself to never be treated this way no matter the circumstance. A heartbeat later you knew the choice you had to make. 

“Azriel, get up.” He had never heard your voice so dejected before and he knew something was wrong. “ I do not care that you were with Elain. Did it make me happy? No. but you were also with her before I knew about the bond so I guess it doesn’t matter but what does matter is that up until that point I had spent hundreds of years showing you my love with no acknowledgement ever but suddenly this “wholesome” human girl appeared ,who was afraid of fae mind you, and you were infatuated with her as if she hung the moon and the stars. What I do care about is that if it weren’t for the bond we share you would have never considered picking me instead of her, would have never looked my way. I mean hell you forgot me on the battlefield because Elain needed you.” 

The inner circle watched as you took a frustrated breath in while trying to collect your emotions and they held their breaths also while waiting for you to say something else. “I have wanted a mate for as long as I knew about their existence and as much as I want to have this with you Azriel I can’t. There will always be a piece of me that can’t let this go. You could spend forever apologizing but I will never be able to fully accept it, and neither of us deserve that. I deserve to never be anything but the only choice and you deserve to be with someone who doesn’t have an ounce of resentment in their heart towards you. So no, I can’t do this.” 

“Why can’t you see that I am picking you! I want you! I want this bond, I want this relationship!  If this is what you want and it's what I want, why can’t we make this work? I would rather have you and you be mad at me for the pain I’ve caused you then to not have you at all. I will grovel at your feet until you see that I want this, if that's what I have to. I will do anything. Please…please just let's at least try.” Azirel had never felt so many conflicting emotions at once. Anger, heartbreak, nerves. You name it he's experiencing it waiting for your response. 

“I’m…. I am so sorry Azriel. I can’t. At least not right now. I need time to process and to heal. I need time away from you and this and the whole situation. I need to find the version of me that is not the one who would do anything for an ounce of your attention. I am not saying no for forever but for now I am and for however long else I need. I won’t do anything to the bond but please don’t send me your emotions. I need to sort mine out without trying to figure out yours also. I do not know how long it will take but maybe someday in the future we can try again.” 

With the permission from Thesan, Kolos winnowed to the river house to make sure you were ok and to bring you back from the night court. What he wasn’t expecting to find was Azriel on his knees before pleading for your forgiveness. He watched from afar as you explained why the mating bond couldn’t be. He disregarded Azriels form as you turned away from him and walked towards himself. Kolos wasn’t sure how you knew he was there considering you never once looked away from Azriel until you walked away but without any words needed he took your hand and winnowed away back to the dawn court to begin your healing.

Taglist: @j-pendragonx , @piceous21 , @harrystylesfan2686 , @kemillyfreitas , @naturakaashi , @kalulakunundrum , @thelov3lybookworm , @marina468 , @feyres-fireheart , @thalia-as-blog , @blurredlamplight , @wallacewillow0773638 , @inkedaztec

[j-the-latter-gay-saint]

Rating artistic depictions of Captain Moroni by how hot he is

Captain Moroni Raises the Title of Liberty, Arnold Friberg

A classic! Not bad looking, but there is a certain something about him that makes me want to know his whereabouts on January 6, 2021. 5/10

For the Blessings of Liberty, Scott M. Snow

Strangely enchanting, glaringly caucasian as he is. Somehow I am put in mind of sapphic lady knights like Joan of Arc and Cassandra Pentaghast and Chappel Roan. At the same time he looks like a regular from the Hallmark movie casting stables playing younger than his age. 6/10

Moroni and the Title of Liberty, Clark Kelley Price

Look at that bicep! Look at that tease of thigh! Look at that beard! But WHY does your armor look so Roman?? 7/10

Title of Liberty, Ken Corbett

Oh this guy was DEFINITELY at the capitol. 2/10

A Letter from Pahoran, Jerry Thompson

Another classic! ...Tell me I'm not the only one who sees "child of Dennis Quaid and DeForest Kelley." It's...it's odd. I don't know. The end result is Just Some Guy. 4/10

Come Forth, Walter Rane

You can't fool me! I know Matt Mercer when I see him! Not his best angle, though, especially with the strain from yelling. 6/10 (*Note: this score is not applicable to Matt Mercer himself.)

Captain Moroni and the Title of Liberty, Larry Winborg

The first time I saw this painting was a small, slightly off-colored paper cutout on a bulletin board at church, and I thought Moroni's face was much rounder and I was delighted at the prospect of a Moroni who looked a little chubby, known bear enjoyer that I am. Alas, I was wrong. But he's still quite handsome. 8/10

Young Captain Moroni, Lester Yocum

Oh, hello! An artist who remembered Moroni was in his twenties when he was appointed to his position! See that determination in those lovely dark eyes! Oh, and the curly hair! 8/10

Morianton's Maidservant and Captain Moroni, James H. Fullmer

First of all, we love a man who respects women. See that kindness in his expression. He is so strong, but being so gentle with his strength. Second of all: Daddy. He's got MUSCLE, and not in the bodybuilder way like some of these other paintings. Look at that nose just made for kissing, that hair just made for brushing strands out of his face, that beard just made for gently scratching your cheek. 10/10 PLEASE come sweep me off my feet and demand better of my government.

Send me more...Captain Moronis? Captains Moroni? Copies of Captain Moroni. And I'll rate them, too!

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XXII)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... SOMEONE (Danny) had a PANIC ATTACK (it was warranted) and now he's laying low and trying not to move.

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

There’s a green guy in his room.

Danny keeps eating his mush. There’s mush apple in it today, for variety. It’s probably triple-pasteurized applesauce, but it’s something, and Danny’ll appreciate it while it lasts.

The green guy and the lady are talking. Danny is happy to ignore them—they’re quiet, and careful, even if they’re trying not to act too suspicious or too quiet. Danny has the sneaking suspicion that he’s supposed to be getting used to his presence. Like a cat meeting another cat, or something.

The thing is, Danny kind of remembers him—but his brain’s been so loopy and weird, it’s kind of…hard to be certain? There are some memories of pain, and some memories of stress, and…maybe he was there for one of his star-walks? Danny thinks?

His memories are all mush. Since waking up here, Danny’s been more confused the more he’s become aware.

He sticks his spoon in his mouth.

Hello, the green guy tries, flexing some oddly solid aura, but Danny’s very busily ignoring him; the television has another news segment on weather in places Danny’s never seen, and he’s trying really hard to remember what the extra letters actually sound like.

There’s, like, an ampersand in the middle of words here. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

I would like to talk, the not-ghost says without speaking, which is how Danny knows he’s not human. He doesn’t feel like a ghost, per se, and Danny’s breath is normal and as warm as his body can arrange it. It’s still weird though, since he clearly wants to communicate in some way, and Danny just.

He digs his teeth into the plastic spoon. It’ll leave little tooth-shaped dents. He focuses very firmly on the television spot. There are so many towns. Some of them have very silly names. One of them is having an asteroid shower, if Danny trusts his understanding of the icons they’re using.

Asteroids are cool. There’s a couple shots of the sky and a projected time at 8pm in some time zone. Maybe he can get the fast kid to tell his medical team he wants to see them. Maybe they’ll actually let him out of his room at night to watch…?

A hand gently fans at his sleeve so that the breeze jostles the fabric just a little bit. It’s a signal Danny’s gotten used to—a non-verbal, attention-grabbing signal that doesn’t require physical touch.

Danny looks. The lady waves.

He huffs.

“Licie,” the lady asks gently, but firmly. It’s a pretty insistent Please.

Please be polite with the guests, Danny. Your father loves Vlad, so please be nice, Danny.

…Danny doesn’t quite roll his eyes but he does. Look away. He doesn’t want to talk to them. Boundaries aren’t so… Empathic beings are…

“Do I have to?” he asks, and then remembers. Right. Different language. “Ic sceal?”

“Licie. Pleese.”

Danny’s face scrunches up. All the scarring his face probably has pulls taut. “…’Kay.”

“Min þanc.” Thanks.

Danny…reluctantly…faces the green guy.

He looks. Nice. Enough. He’d look better if he wasn’t staring—if Danny couldn’t physically feel how heavy the green guy’s attention was weighing down on him, pressing into his head and shoulders and neck, and—

Danny looks away. Again. The lady sighs.

The green guy sends waves of peace, calm, which is definitely a threat! Danny’s been smacked by Nocturn more than once! He knows what safety feels like when wielded as a weapon!

Apology wafts around the room, but Danny doesn’t want to hear it. Feel it. Smell it? Whatever. It has nothing to do with him. Danny wants to fiddle with the bits of his space station and maybe practice writing his name again, which has so far been less than a success. But he should probably introduce himself soon enough.

It’s only been. You know. …Literal months.

Questions and answers/queries and information? the green guy offers to trade, which is theoretically nice. But Danny’s been hunted for answers before—and sometimes just straight up hunted for fun.

There’s no information he wants to give.

Ask me? comes instead.

…Danny’s fingers still. Wait. He’s allowed to ask?

A bubble of amusement/worry bursts. Yes. If Danny has questions, he can apparently…ask.

Okay. Danny sets the space shuttle aside. He tilts his aura around, and bends it—if the green guy were a ghost, they’d be able to share more emotions with ­Danny’s guard slipped downwards. He’s going to bet it works…kind of the same way for whatever he is.

Who’s the lady? Does she have a name?

There’s a bubble burst of a memory—some dude in all black with little cat ears announcing This is Wonder Woman, hand out to present her to the listener. Without her scrubs on in the memory, she looks…like a warrior.

Armored. Strong. Black hair, gold gauntlets and red boots. Firm back. Like on the television

…In her scrubs, she just looks like the same lady as always. In his head, she looks as powerful and mighty as Pandora.

Danny’s heart picks up. Breathing becomes—harder. Does she fight? Does she fight all the time?

Memories of shared battles play out from the green being’s point of view: punching and throwing and whipping her lasso in the air and confidence and freeing prisoners and the power of the gods behind her, a royal in her own right—

…Will Danny have to fight?

The green guy murmurs something sad, grief flashing up against Danny’s low emotional shields. His hands reach out—but Danny leans back. He doesn’t want to be touched. He doesn’t want to feel the dude feeling bad for him. He just wants to know; will Danny be forced to fight?

There’s a deep, painful sympathy brushing up against him. Danny recoils. The thoughts of healing, doctors, naps, coming off his meds, recovery. Of concern, worry, Wonder Woman settling the patient’s blankets, his green-marred face raw and luminescent.

Healing. Resting.

Which. Danny glares. He gets that. But what happens after? Medical care is expensive, and Danny doesn’t even have hint of an idea of how long he’s been lying here. He knows that nothing comes free.

The green guy’s expression squeezes with concern. His head might be kind of funky-shaped, but the face is pretty human equivalent. Danny would have struggled to read Frostbite’s more than his. Danny doesn’t like that.

Danny misses beings he recognizes. He wants his friends. He wants Jazz. He wants Frostbite or Wulf or…or…

…Or Mom…or Dad…

Something touches Danny’s hand. Danny looks down. The green hand that reaches for him doesn’t grab, exactly, but it lets him know that the dude is there, at his side. I’m sorry, the guy says, more sentiment than thought. And then there’s a struggle to convey the next few thoughts.

…Because the guy doesn’t have as much experience of being outside as the school bell rings, children going in. Lunches in the headquarters cafeteria. The phone in Flash’s hand turned sideways, so that Martian Manhunter can see the dead-fish kiss between Rosalinda and Romero from last night's episode—

Wait, is the guy actually an alien? It’s kind of rude, but Danny. Gawks.

The concern hanging around in the air of the room turns into green-tinged amusement. The green dude and Danny have already had this conversation.

…Danny peeks at his water bottle on the side table and sheepishly rubs his nose. Ah. Whoops. They have?

Yes, the alien continues, and pulls his hand back. But they were having a conversation. About school. And healing. And recovering, and a comfortable space to rest, and an apartment on Earth and peace and family, and—

Danny shoves his emotional shields all the way back up before he. Before he forgets. His heart is pounding. He can’t look.

He can’t.

He.

…He can’t have that again.

The green guy—the martian wants to tell Danny something else, but he can’t—he can’t open himself up to that anymore.

Danny doesn’t have a mom anymore. Danny doesn’t have a dad anymore. His sister is—gone. He’s not going to hurt himself for wanting them back. There's no family and no house and no safety.

There are more quiet, empathetic presses against Danny’s emotions, but Danny pulls the covers up as high as they’ll go, and breathes through the thin cotton sheet pressed against his face.

It catches his tears, when he has them.

Someone mutters, and someone else mutters back. When Danny feels something touch his wrist through the cotton blanket, he can’t help flinching, but the speaker’s voice is familiar enough that he settles quickly enough. Danny listens to the lady—Wonder Woman, he remembers—hum softly.

…It’s a nice hum.

She hums, and she strokes his wrist, and she doesn’t go anywhere. She’s a stalwart, soft presence at his side.

It’s nice.

It's... Relatively, it's safe.

Danny eventually stops acting like a baby, and. Takes the sheet off. He isn’t crying, so there aren’t and tears to wipe away (there’s no need to check the footage, just believe him!), but it takes him a second to get himself reoriented to the room without a giant psychic presence in it.

But the whole time, the lady just…rubs his wrist, and then his mildly obliterated (but mostly healed!) hand. And hums. And lets Danny reorient himself, at his own pace, and in a safe space.

 Danny sniffles. He hopes it’s all mucus in his sinus cavity, and not, like, more ecto. But who knows?

The lady tilts her head forward, until Danny can see the blue eyes peeking over her lavender surgical mask. Her hand comes to her chest to tap against the paper-thin PPE covering her top half.

“Wonder Woman,” the lady says, firmly and clearly. “Diana.”

…That’s a name. Danny’s nose scrunches. That's a human name. That's a very recognizable, extremely culturally familiar human name.

They never introduced themselves, right?

Maybe…well… He is in space. Maybe he’s far enough away that no one will know him if he says his name.

(Or maybe Mom won’t want him back anyway, even if she found him.)

And there’s probably a million black-haired kids named Daniel, anyway. It’s a biblical name. These people don’t even speak English or Esperanto, or anything else Danny knows; so maybe it’s. Safe?

And…maybe Danny just wants to hear his name said again.

“D…”

The lady frowns, and then eases closer. Danny—gently—tugs on a lock of her hair until she lowers, and his mouth can reach her ear.

“D’nny,” Daniel James Fenton whispers into Wonder Woman’s ear.

Diana raises herself back upright. Her eyes are wet.

“Danny,” she repeats back to him. Her callused hands gently take both of Danny’s scarred and lumpy ones. “Wel mete.”

*

“He believes that we are going to require his presence in combat as payment for his recovery,” J’onn reports diligently, and stuffs his trepidation deep into his countenance.

The league around him groans.

*

[gojos-thot-patrol]

Now Presenting...

Starring Frat Boy!Sukuna and Virgin!Reader

A modern day college AU in which the reader is a young adult just now starting to shrug off their sheltered youth. And Sukuna is more than excited and willing to help lift that burden off your shoulders. Warning: this fic contains smut, loss of virginity, drinking, enemies to lovers, fingering, cunnilingus, semi-public sex, use of pet names and unprotected sex. Reader discretion is Advised ;p

Honestly, you really could not believe you dated this dunce. You remembered the break up like a trauma. Staring at his popcorn ceiling as he told you he simply couldn’t get past the fact you didn't want to sleep with him. He didn’t want to be with a prude. At the time, it crushed you. But now, as you sat at your desk, pouring red ink over every love letter he ever sent you, you couldn’t help but feel thankful you didn’t lose your virginity to him.

“What are you doing?” Your roommate asked as she walked into your shared dorm.

“Grading my ex’s love letters.” You said without looking away from your task. The awkward beat of silence that followed proved that she was not expecting that answer.

“Why?” She asked. You simply shrugged. To grieve, you guessed? 

“I felt the overwhelming need to correct his grammar.” You could hear her ask why again before she asked it. “I plan on sending them back.”

“You really need to get laid.” Your roommate laughed.

“He hasn’t gotten higher than a d on any of these.” You muttered, “A d Mei.”

“You need some D” Mei chuckled, going and sitting on her bed. “I could get you laid ya know.”

“I don't want to get laid.” You reminded her. That wasn’t quite true. You did want to get laid, you just wanted to do it on your own terms and you didn’t think that was a lot to ask for!

“Well do you wanna come to a party with me tonight?” Mei asked with a smug smirk. “Alpha Beta Omega house is hosting a party tonight, you should come! ABO has all the hottest guys ya know.” You did know, and while the thought was rather enticing, you were never really big on partying. You came to college to get your degree for fucks sake!

“I don’t know Mei,” you sighed, “I hate parties…”

“Oh come on, it’ll be fun!” Mei tried to sell it. “Please! Don’t let me go alone, that would be a dick move, ya know?” She pouted, giving you the puppy dog eyes that roped you into every party you had been to since starting school. You sighed in irritation, knowing it was useless to keep fighting.

“I’ll think about it, okay?”

♥️♥️♥️

Ryomen had no fucking idea what he was thinking when he signed up for an 8 am class, but if he could kick his past self’s ass, he would. He didn’t think he had been on time for this class even once. He tried everything to wake himself up. Putting his phone on the other side of the room, sleeping with the curtains open, drinking vodka instead of whiskey, all of it was about as effective as putting dry socks on a drowning man. 

He walked into class already twenty minutes late. He felt all eyes fall on him, which was fair considering he had interrupted the lecture. He ignored it though, confidently and nonchalantly walking to the nearest empty chair. A chair that just so happened to be next to you. 

You felt your heart do level 11 gymnastics in your chest as the Ryomen Sukuna sat next to you. You hated how attracted you were to him. He was everything your parents had ever forbid you from going near. 6 '4 and nothing but a wall of muscle, you couldn’t help but feel like his face full of sharp tattoos just emphasized how soft his puppy-dog-eyes were. It made you want to run your fingers through his soft pink hair. 

Suddenly, your keyboard had become the most interesting thing in the world. Your eyes burned holes into your computer as you prayed that Ryomen wouldn’t look at you, or worse talk to you. You found him attractive, yea, but you also knew he was bad news. He was a member of the ABO fraternity and was known for being a womanizing piece of shit who often defaulted to calling you “woman” when he forgot your name. The man was a walking talking red flag factory and to desire him was to desire madness and hurt. You should want nothing to do with him.

And yet.

“Hey, do you have the notes?” Ryomen asked, looking at you from the corners of his eyes and ho-ly shit. Fuck whatever the fuck the professor was going on about, you now had his full attention. He fully turned to you, taking you all in. If Ryomen had to describe his dream woman, he would simply pull up a picture of you. A reluctant innocence clung to you, begging him to find the delinquent underneath it all. He didn’t know what he was thinking, signing up for an 8 am class, but he would kiss his past self if he could.

“Yea, for sure.” You muttered, biting your lip as you pulled up your email. He showed you his laptop so you could get his email straight from the source, and thanks to technology, he had the notes in seconds.

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver.” He smiled, showing his unusually sharp canines. You thought that you were done with this interaction, thankfully, but then he kept going. “So, are you going to the ABO party tonight?”  He asked. 

“I don’t know,” You shrugged, “Parties aren’t really my thing.” Of course, you probably spent most of your life sheltered, too scared to disappoint your parents to ever rebel. Ryomen wanted your rebellion more than he wanted to pass his finals. 

“You should go,” Ryomen whispered, “I bet you’d be really popular.”

“Yea, and by that you mean men would be drooling over how bad they want to fuck me, right?” You scoffed, forgetting yourself. He did in fact mean that by the way, but this response from you is not what he expected. You kept him on his toes. You intrigued him. “Now, just why do you think I’d want that?” You asked.

“So you’re worried about creepy dudes?” Ryomen asked, raising an eyebrow. “Alright then, Come with me then. Be my date.” He smiled that fang filled smile that was quickly burning its way into your heart.

“No.” You said plainly.

“Oh come on,” he damn near begged, “You get to go and have fun without the fear of creeps, because I’ll be protecting you, and I get to show up with a beautiful woman on my arm, it’s a win-win!” You weren’t sure when it happened, but class had ended and others were leaving.

“And just how do you plan to protect me from creepy guys when you are the creepy guy?” You challenged.

“By out creeping them.” Okay, even you had to admit that was funny. Ryomens smile widened as he realized he had gotten you to laugh. He won. 

“Ryomen, let’s go!” Someone called for him. Ryomen looked to the door and found his friends standing there waiting for him, Geto looking particularly annoyed. “We’re going to be late for class.” Geto said, annoyance dripping from him. 

He quickly scribbled down his number into his notebook, ripping the page and putting it on your computer. “Just think about it and call me, yea? I’m excited to take you.” He winked as he rushed to join his friends. 

You stared at the number for a few seconds after he left. You felt like the number was taunting you, yes, but also enticing you. It showed you a night of fun, excited passion that you had never experienced before but so desperately missed. It showed you a taste of freedom and rebellion. Doing something bad, knowing it was bad, and doing it anyway because it was so intoxicating. It showed you everything you wanted and more. 

You threw it in the trash on your way out the door.

♥️♥️♥️

You sighed as you stared at yourself in the mirror. The white tennis skirt Mei Mei had picked out was far shorter than you wanted, and the pink sweater was far tighter. You tried to put on a pair of stockings to compensate for the shortness of the skirt, but, all they did was accentuate your legs. You couldn’t believe Mei had convinced you to go to this stupid party. 

I mean, you could. It wasn’t hard, she offered to do your calculus homework for a week, you would have killed your mother to get out of having to do calculus for a week. But when you agreed to let her pick out the outfit, you had never expected—or prepared—to wear something so….

Sexy. That's the word you had been looking for, you looked sexy. You had never really dressed up before, sweatpants and t-shirts were typically your uniform. You were surprised at the way your body worked for you when you let it.

“Are you ready yet?!” Mei asked 

“Yea, I’m coming.” You said, finally pulling yourself away from the mirror and joining Mei by the door. She gave you another once over, smiling in satisfaction as she did. The outfit she’d picked out had really come together. 

“You look good,” She nodded. 

“Thanks,” You shrugged, trying to hide your slight embarrassment. You weren’t used to compliments. Mei nodded one last time before ushering you out the door. 

“Hey, Mei?” You asked as the two of you started the walk to the ABO Frat house. 

“What’s up Y/n?” She asked.

“You’re not going to leave me alone, right? Like, we’re actually gonna hang out and protect each other tonight?” Mei gave you the warmest, most reassuring smile you had ever seen.

“Of course Y/n. I won’t leave your side for even a second.”

♥️♥️♥️

You regretted every decision you had ever made in your life that led to you coming to this party. The music was way too loud, the drinks were way too strong (thanks Nanami), and the people were way too obnoxious. Mei had abandoned you almost the moment the two of you had walked in the door, making you realize you really needed to get better friends. It wouldn’t have been that bad, except some asshole that smelled like corpse had decided, against your will, he was taking you home tonight.

He wouldn’t leave you alone. You’d tried everything, complete disinterest, telling him you had a boyfriend, hell even telling him you were gay! Nothing would deter him. You even tried to go to the bathroom to try and lose him and he just fucking waited for you outside the bathroom door. This Mahito motherfucker was really starting to freak you out.

“You’re really pretty, you know that?” The ragdoll yelled in your ear, sending a fog of rotten breath over your face. You didn’t hide the disgust you felt as you looked for an out— any—to get out of this situation. 

“What do you say you and I get outta here?” He asked. As he did, he put a singular hand on your waist. The moment he did, your head filled with sirens and screaming, every true crime podcast you had ever heard, willingly or not, replayed through your head and you were never more sure that this man had women tied up in his basement. Your adrenaline spiked as you looked for any way to get him to properly fuck off.

Ah-ha!

“Babe!” You yelled, all smiles and cheer as you ripped yourself away from Mahito and ran to Ryomen. Mahito followed, like the idiot he was, but this time you somehow knew you’d be fine. Ryomen looked confused at first, then noticed the corpse walking with you and it all clicked. He smiled back at you, more warmly than you ever expected, 

“Hey! Babygirl!” He called out, holding out his arm so you could bury yourself into his side. The girl he was talking to was very very confused, but decided to remove herself from the situation before she got caught up in any drama. Shout out to her.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you, where’ve you been?” He asked, leaning down and kissing your forehead to really sell it. You considered slapping him, but, figured that would break the illusion, so you settled for giggling instead. 

“I’ve been trying to get rid of this creep.” You said, your eyes darting from Mahito to Ryomen in a very Help Me way. Ryomen looked at Mahito and all of the warmth instantly left him. It sent chills up your spine to watch him go from joking smiles to cold stares. The light left his eyes as they narrowed and you were sure his features somehow got sharper. Or maybe that was the tattoos.

“Have you been fucking with my girl?” he asked. The emphasis he put on “mine” sent chills of a different kind through you. Oh, you liked that. You really liked that. You pressed your thighs together to try and take your mind off the feelings between them, and took a drink of your vodka redbull to try and cool down. It didn’t work. 

“Well, I- I mean, I-” 

“I-I-I.” Sukuna mocked, “You didn’t have any trouble talking to my girlfriend all night, why’re you having trouble now?” Danger radiated off of Sukuna like a match in a room full of methane, waiting to be lit. It was the kind of danger that drew you in, no matter how much you resisted. It felt inevitable. “Come on man, if you’re going to be a fucking creep you might as well say it with your chest.”

“I’m not a creep!” Mahito tried to argue.

“That's not what she said,” Ryomen said, holding you just a little bit tighter, sending sparks throughout your body again. “So what, you’re calling her a liar?”

“Well, no, I-”

“You say I alot.” Sukuna said, taking a sip of his drink to really show off his disinterest. “You know what I think?” He asked. “I think that you should get the fuck out and go the fuck home before I rip your larynx out of you via your asshole.” He threatened. It was such a ridiculous tough guy line that normally you would have laughed, but, somehow he sold it hook, line, and sinker. You could see that fact alone in the now bleached white face of Mahito. 

Sukuna looked into his cup, determining he was going to need a refill. “You have exactly 45 seconds to leave before I turn you into pie filling.” He said without looking at the smaller man. He finished his drink and looked back at him. “45, 44, 39-”

The count down did its job wonderfully. Mahitos ass was kicked into high gear. You could see in his eyes he was hearing the same sirens you were earlier as he ran to find the front door, desperate to get as far away from the monster that was holding you as soon as possible. You, on the other hand, were feeling the exact opposite effect. You wanted to be even closer to him than ever.

“So, why didn’t you call me?” Ryomen asked, looking down at you. Somehow, all the ice in his eyes had defrosted, leaving him with his warm puppy dog ones. You realized that you were in danger rather quickly and detangled yourself from his arm. 

“Oh, because I threw it away.” You smiled. The liquor you had been drinking was officially flowing through your veins, and quite frankly, you didn’t really care about decorum. Ryomen blinked at you, fully processing what you said.

“Why?” He asked. 

“Because, while you may not be a creep, Ryomen, you’re still a womanizing fuck boy that never had any real intention of starting a relationship with me. Am I right?” You asked, batting your pretty eyelashes at him. Ryomen couldn’t help but smirk. Damn, you really had him pegged, didn’t you? He was growing fonder and fonder of you by the minute. 

“You’re right.” He admitted, taking a step closer to you, “But, I gotta say, I respect you having the balls to say it to my face. Makes me think you might actually be worth getting to know.” Which was the closest Ryomen could ever get to saying ‘I find you at least intriguing and would actually be interested in a relationship.’ You just smirked at him and hummed. 

“But are you worth getting to know?” You asked. Before he could answer, Mei had suddenly returned from the astral plane, you fucking guessed. Of course she would be nowhere to be found when you needed her, but show up to ruin things right as they get interesting. 

“Y/n!” She laughed as she came downstairs, “We’re playing seven minutes in heaven upstairs, you gotta come play!” She said, giggling as she grabbed your arm.

“I can think of nothing more opposed to my soul.” You said plainly, taking your arm back. “Getting sweaty in a dark closet with a stranger? Sounds like hell.”

“Sounds pretty fun to me.” Ryomen said. It was a dangerous gamble, but if the cards were on his side he could just end up being the stranger getting sweaty with you in a dark closet. 

“You would, mega creep.” You scoffed, semi-jokingly.

“Come on Y/n, what's the worst that happens? You end up making awkward chit chat for seven minutes in a closet? Come on!” Mei groaned.

“If they make you uncomfortable, yell herpes and I’ll come kill them for you.” Sukuna offered. “Your safe word is herpes?” You questioned. 

“Can you think of anything that kills the mood faster than the thought of herpes?” Ryomen asked. Alright, fair enough Ryomen. 

“Come on Y/n, please come play? It’ll be fun!” Mei begged. You sighed, wondering when you planned to stop making bad decisions tonight.

“Okay, fine. I’ll play.” You groaned while both of your companions cheered. In a flurry, you were being whisked away up the stairs, both of them trying to get you in the game before you had a chance to back out. You were reminded once again that you hated college parties, walking into a smoke filled dorm room lit by led lights and adorned with a weed pride flag. 

“Love that you can tell what part of this room was decorated by Gojo and what was decorated by Geto.” Mei laughed as she led you to a group of young adults sitting in a circle. 

“Overhead lights are the devil!” Gojo yelled, throwing a chip into his mouth. A not at all shocking amount of people in the group of (Probably neurodiverse) stoners agreed with him in hums and cheers. You sat down next to him, Mei sitting on the other side of you and Ryomen  taking a free spot in the circle somewhere across from you. 

“Who’s in the closet now?” Sukuna asked. As if summoned by his question, Nanami and Shoko walked out of the closet, both of them on their phones. 

“Geto’s turn.” Shoko said. Mei scoffed at them both.

“Weren't you making drinks, Nanami?” Mei asked as Geto spun the bottle.

“I was..” Nanami assured her, “I got bored.” The bottle landed on Gojo, and everyone let out childish woos and whistles. Geto and Gojo both grinned like fools as they rushed to the closet, the two of them always excited to feel each other up. Honestly their participation in this game took you a bit by surprise. What if one member of the couple didn’t get the other?

“God they need to just get together already.” Ryomen muttered, rolling his eyes. What?! They weren't together?! Before you could express your shock, a very loud, very breathy moan left the closet door, filling you with second hand embarrassment for the two. The rest of the crowd ate that shit up though, shouting encouragement and wolf whistling. Even Ryomen was laughing with the crowd when he caught your eyes.

He raised an eyebrow at you. “What? Voyeurism not your thing?”

You looked at him in annoyance. “Why would it be anyone's thing?”

He shrugged in response. “Performance is performance. People will do anything for attention.”

You raised an eyebrow at him now. “Would you do anything for attention?”

He smirked at you. “I’d do anything for your attention.”

Your silent conversation was interrupted by another loud moan, this time courtesy of Geto, and the crowd went wild again, shouting vulgarities at them. You began to wonder if this was typical of them, or if they were— as Ryomen suggested— putting on a performance. You got your answer as the timer rang, marking their seven minutes as up. They exited the closet with a flourish, bowing for the crowd and showing off their messed up clothes and hair. Was this the appeal of seven minutes in heaven? You didn’t understand party games.

“Alright Ryo, your go.” Geto laughed, giving fistbumps and highfives while he sat down. Ryomen rolled his eyes. “Don’t call me that, Gene Simmons” He growled at him, before giving you one last look and spinning the bottle. You were mildly curious to see where the bottle would land, already feeling bad for whatever poor schmuck that got locked in a closet with him. 

And then the bottle landed on you. Cheers and hollars surrounded and pounded in your ears. Your body was in super-hyper-defense mode which…was really just an oncoming panic attack. Of all the people you imagined being shoved in a closet with, Ryomen Sukuna had never crossed your mind. You were going to be in a small, confined space with him, all alone, where you’re literally expected to at least make out. You were electrified back to life as a hand fell in front of your face.

You looked up and saw the hand was attached to the grinning face of Ryomen, fireworks exploding behind his eyes. “You coming baby girl?” He asked with a wink. You didn’t have to. You could have turned tail and run away, out of the party and back to your dorm. That was actually what you probably should do, it was the safe option! The one that would make your mother proud. 

You took his hand, sending the crowd into yet another tizzy. But this time, you heard none of it, your mind focused entirely on Ryomen. He squeezed your hand reassuringly as he led you to the closet and smiled almost comfortingly. You didn’t know his smile could be comforting, thanks to the fangs, but it was. All of it felt very…off, coming from Ryomen, probably the least comforting person at your school.

He pulled you into the closet, pulling you close to his chest as he pulled the door closed. A lot of pulling was going on. You braced yourself for war, for him to kiss you. You closed your eyes tight, feeling your entire body tense but…nothing came. He didn’t kiss you. In fact, he let go of you. You opened your eyes just to see him leaning against the wall of the closet, staring at you with his hands in his pockets.

“You…didn’t kiss me?” You questioned, just for him to raise an eyebrow in confusion.

“No? You didn’t want me to.” You weren’t sure why, but that assertion upset you. How dare he claim to know what you wanted?! You didn’t even know what you wanted!

“You don’t know that.” you scoffed, causing him to laugh.

“Oh please,” He shriveled into what (You hoped) as an overly dramatized rendition of your body language from seconds before, “Doesn’t necessarily scream ‘Kiss Me’.” He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. You crossed your arms, but, you knew he was right.

“It’s just…I’ve never done this before.” You tried to explain. 

“You’ve never been kissed?” He seemed genuinely shocked.

“No, dipshit, I’ve kissed people before! I’ve just never played seven minutes in heaven.”

“Oh, yea I could kinda tell,” He admitted with a shrug, “You scream sheltered kid. I bet even now, as a grown ass adult you’re still too scared to rebel against mommy.” The way he said “mommy” struck you. It was soaked in condescension and mockery. You hated that he was right. You hated that despite the fact you were fully grown getting a college degree, you still heard your mothers voice in the back of your head every time you wanted to do something even a little bit rebellious. You were willing to bet no one else had that! You bet Ryomen didn’t have that.

“I am not!” you lied to him.

“Oh yea?” He challenged.

“Yea!” You asserted.

“Then prove it. Kiss me.” he said. Ryomens eyes burned into yours as he stepped forward, slowly closing the already small gap between you. His presence was intense and all consuming and hot. You could feel him burning you away from the inside out, as if he was a raging inferno and you were just a piece of tissue paper caught in his wake. He had a smirk that just screamed I know I just won and it drove you crazy because he was right! He was either right or he got the kiss you knew he’d been chasing all night. Well fuck it. There was only one way for you to win here too.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss. Ryomen didn’t skip a beat, pulling you even closer to him and pushing you against the wall, the soft thud sending the drunken crowd outside the door into hysterics. Your fingers tangled in his hair and his hands slid up your shirt to grab your bare skin. He bit your lip, making you gasp and giving him room to deepen the kiss.

Your head was spinning with excitement and panic, your breathing becoming harsher by the minute as he moved to kiss your neck. Your ex had never kissed you like this before. So desperate to have you, as if you were the most desirable being on the planet. It excited you, electrocuting your nervous system with every touch, pull, or bite. Despite your better judgment, a moan escaped you, sending the drunken crowd outside the closet into another bout of hysterics.

Your body reacted to him in ways that it had reacted to nobody else before, you needed him. He grabbed one of your thighs and rested it on his hip, his hand sliding under the hem of your skirt.

“Ryomen..” You moaned out, soft enough not to feed the masses.

“Say it again.” He purred.

“Ryomen.”

“That's seven!” Gojo called, pounding on the closet door, startling both you and Ryomen. He pulled away just in time for Gojo to pull the door open, a smug smirk plastered on his face. “You two love birds have fun?” He teased. Sukuna rolled his eyes, his annoyance with being interrupted evident.

“Not as much fun as you and your boy toy.” He scoffed, grabbing your hand and pulling you from the closet. The crowd of drunken young adults had grown, meaning the crowd of people wolf whistling and cheering (jeering?) had grown. Embarrassment exploded from your chest. What the hell were you thinking?! Kissing Ryomen?! You silently scolded yourself.

You didn’t even fully process that he had dragged you from the dormroom until you were in a new one, this one seemingly vacuumed sealed away from the party. The art on the wall queued you into the fact that this was probably the room Ryomen and Nanami shared. 

“Ryo?” You asked as he pulled you into the room and locked the door behind him.

“Nicknames now huh?” He chuckled, “That's cute.”

He locked the door. He locked the door. You may have been a sheltered kid, but you weren’t dumb. You knew what a locked door met at a frat party. The realization sparked your nervous system into high gear and you felt the need to press your thighs together again.

“I’ve never done this before.” You told him quickly.

“What, sex on a first date?” He asked, wrapping his arms around your waist again. You’d…hardly call this a fucking date, but that was an issue for later.

“No, sex.” You told him. He actually backed away.

“Really?” He asked, more shocked than you would have liked. “Hey, look we don’t have to-”

“I know we don’t.” You cut him off. “I want to.” He smirked almost proudly as he closed the gap between the two of you once again.

“I knew I liked you.” He purred. Before you had a chance to ask what that meant, his lips had crashed into yours, pulling you into another heated kiss. It was like the two of you physically couldn't get enough of each other, like you’d simply stop breathing if you weren’t kissing. It sent your head into a heated flurry, making you feel light. He pressed you into the bed, wrapping one of your legs around his hips as his hand slipped underneath your skirt, his fingers tracing the now translucent spot in your underwear. 

Another moan escaped you, sounding far more desperate than you would have liked. “Needy, are we?” Ryomen chuckled, pushing your panties to the side and running two fingers up and down your slit, collecting the sticky lube. You wanted him so bad it hurt. Your body felt flushed with hellfire and you couldn't help but wonder if he was this cocky with every girl he brought to his bed.

“Yea,” You moaned through a heavy breath, “You gonna take care of it, or whaa-” Your quip died in your throat as he buried two fingers into your weeping pussy, up to the knuckle without even a warning.

“What was that doll?” He teased, curling his fingers up to perfectly hit your g-spot and send you astral projecting into the ninth dimension. Was this what you were missing out on? Your hands fell to his shoulders, clinging to him for dear life as he curled his fingers again. This was a completely new type of pleasure for you, one you couldn’t get from your own fingers or a toy. You were hooked on it, you needed more of it. You started grinding down on his hand, chasing the high he was more than obliged to give you. 

“Feel good?” He purred. You nodded helplessly, your brain too mushy to make words. “Want to feel even better?” His smirk was wicked. You didn’t have time to process it though, or even answer the question before he removed your panties and ducked his head under your skirt, his lips quickly finding your clit. The new sensation was your tipping point. The fire in your veins overtook you, your head felt like it was made of cotton, and the tension that had been growing in you was reaching a breaking point.

“R-ryo,” You panted desperately, “I-its too much, I-” Your pleas for mercy are cut off as he slips another finger into you, shooting sharp tendrils of pleasure throughout your body, finding every last inch of you. Your brain was mush and your nerves on high alert, feeling every single one of the pink haired man's movements.

Your entire body felt tense as heat continued to pool in hot waves in your stomach, every curl of his fingers, every swipe of his tongue bringing you one step closer to the brink. You had never wanted anything so bad in your life. Your hands tangled in his hair, subconsciously pulling him closer to your needy cunt. Ryomen very much obliged, giving you everything you wanted and more.

“I-I, ah-!” all of the intense feelings were building into a crescendo inside of you, your small boat in the ocean of oxytocin and euphoria was capsizing. All at once your body seized, you thought you whined out his name but you weren’t sure. Pleasure came rolling over your entire body in seething waves, filling all of your senses and leaving you shaking like a chihuahua. 

“You're beautiful when you cum.” Had to be one of the weirdest compliments you had ever received. You lifted your head off the bed to see Ryomen wiping his mouth off. He stood up, taking off his shirt, and holy shit. You don’t know why the thought never occurred to you that the tattoos would be on his chest too. They covered his face, they were on his arms and wrists, why wouldn’t they be on his chest? It made you wonder where else they were.

“Enjoying the view?” He asked, knowing full and well you were. You looked away in embarrassment, just to feel him grab the hem of your sweater. “I showed you mine, let me see yours” He teased, pulling the pink top off of you. His reaction gave you your confidence back plus some. You felt emboldened by the way he beheld you, like you were Venus herself. You smirked as you took off your bra, exposing your chest to him.  

“Enjoying the view?” You asked. 

“Very much so.” he said in a rush before his eager, hot mouth wrapped around your right nipple, his hand coming up to play with the left. You had never imagined having your tits played with would feel so good. Maybe it was just the effect Ryomen had on you. But his actions left you whimpering softly under him, unconsciously bucking your hips to make some friction. He noticed the command he had over your body, the way you melted into him. He knew you were his, he just had to seal the deal. 

He pulled away, undoing his belt and jean buttons to free his cock. You bucked your hips at the view again, feeling your cunt clench around nothing. He was bigger than you expected, thick and long. You’d probably have been a little bit intimidated if you weren’t so desperate to feel that high again. He fisted himself with one hand and clumsily rubbed your sensitive nub with the other. But it wasn’t enough anymore, you needed him. 

“Ryo, please..”

“Please what Y/n?” He smirked. He knew exactly what you wanted. But, he wasn’t going to give it to you that easily.

“Ryomen, please, I need you.” You whined, not wanting to say it outloud.

“I’m right here baby girl, what do you need?” His grin was wicked and still full of mirth. You were starting to hate him again.

“Ryomen please, I need your cock, I need you, I need you to fuck me.” You blurted out all at once, your mouth moving faster than your mind did. His grin turned into a full on smile.

“Well, then why didn’t you just say that?” He laughed as he lined himself up with your soaking cunt.

“I di-AHH!” You screamed as he pushed his fat cock into you, the collision with your cervix jolting you into a state of hypersensitivity. You clung onto him desperately, your cunt clamping down around him, trying to push him out and pull him deeper all at the same time. You felt helplessly stretched out underneath him, your mind trying to find your body.

“Relax for me baby,” Ryomen moaned into your neck, kissing it softly. Easy for him to say! He wasn’t just impaled! You took deep, jagged breaths, to try and reregulate your fried nervous system. You took in the smell of pine and cigarettes, the almost comforting feeling of his body flush with yours, and the near tenderness of the kisses he was trailing along your neck. It was a beautiful caricature of intimacy, really.

Finally, you had relaxed enough around him for him to move. And move he did. To his credit, he tried to take it slow. He tried to be considerate of your virgin status (well…former virgin status) and not hurt you. But, Ryomen was not the slow gentle, “making love” type and before he knew it, he was chasing his high with a ferocity that left you weak under him. 

You weren’t complaining though. His thrusts were intoxicating, the curve of his dick hitting your g-spot with every thrust of his hips. He was stretching you to the point of delirium, feeling a rush of ecstasy every time he moved inside of your velvety walls. Your head was in heaven and your soul was in hell. Everything was all at once too hot and too cold, overwhelming. The waves of euphoria were building up inside of you again, a string tangling over itself again and again until it was taunt. 

One of his hands moved to massage at your clit again, coaxing your climax out of you with every stroke. You were speeding at 160 miles per hour off of a cliff and there was nothing you could do to stop it. Your mind was filled with nothing but Ryomen Ryomen Ryomen as electricity and pleasure coarse through your body. It felt like you were an electrical fire underneath him, no longer just tissue paper but an inferno in your own right.

“Ryomen, I’m-!”

“I know.” He said as he continued to chase both of your highs. The way your cunt clenched around him, pulling him back in with every thrust told him everything he needed to know. “Cum for me.”

Your body was under his command whether you liked it or not. You came undone around his cock, the string finally snapping as you drove off the cliff with no hesitation, and into your grave and erotic bliss, pleasure overtaking your body in waves. Your entire body shook under him as the intensity of your climax overcame you. He wasn’t far behind with the way your velvety walls were clenching around him, pulling his own orgasm from him. He came deep into your cervix, overflowing you and making you pray you wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences later.

You both stilled for a moment in the afterglow. As he pulled out and managed to collapse next to you, not on top of you. What did you do now? You could still hear the party raging outside of the door, but the last thing you wanted to do was rejoin it. You looked over at Ryomen, still trying to regulate his breath next to you.

You moved yourself to rest your head on his chest, figuring that was what couples do in movies after sex, right? For a second, you thought he was going to push you off. But, he didn’t. Quite the opposite really, he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer. 

“Sooo,” He said, finally breaking the silence, “Do you want my number again?”

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・Part 2 Out Now! ・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

[harlowhockeystick]

wordless apology being accepted

pretty pls need this with sidney, can be coach!sidney or not, whatever you wanna do 💞

february prompts | coach!sidney x fem!reader

remember how y'all said you wanted the angst....yeah...

"hey, ryan's doing great in practice. he is the best kid a coach could ask for, really," sidney gave his players parents praise in the stands. it was thirty minutes until puck drop. occasionally before games sidney would go up in the bleachers and talk to parents while he could. he wanted to keep the relationship with his player's parent's strong, knowing that he was for their kids just as much as they were.

he sat next to y/n right before going back down to the bench on the ice. his hand subtly rested on her thigh as he listened to you talk about all you did that day, the parent meetings after class. he wished that he had time to actually talk to her, had time to sit with y/n and hear her go into more detail. but mid season he has to find a little bit of time to sit with her where he can.

"carter's getting better every day. i talked to the coach from arizona state today, he called wanting to know about him." sidney said, taking some of the popcorn she held in her hand. whipping her head to make eye contact she felt a few butterflies fluttering about in her stomach, college coaches already?

"but he's a freshman? are they even allowed to reach out when they're freshmen?" those were the questions that y/n was able to put words to, but in her head she had a thousand and one roaming about.

"all i told him was that he's everything a good program needs, he'll only get better with time, but to give me a call in a couple more years. coaches can go look and scout players as young as they want, but typically they don't get offered until they're a junior," sidney explained, "but if they're good...which carter is, then yeah. they can call, i got calls when i was in the eighth grade."

y/n felt intimidated, she isn't ready for conversations with college coaches and she knows carter isn't either. y/n just wants carter to enjoy the innocence of it all before dollar signs get thrown in his face.

"ten minute mark, i better get down there. want me to meet you guys at the restaurant?" she nodded her head and gave him a kiss on the cheek for good luck. by now parents had put two and two together of y/n and sindey's relationship. she had been approached and so has sidney, but for the most part it's been supportive. a few rumors here and there, but how can they complain when their son has the best coach in the country?

sidney starts to walk down the steps and takes a second to get somewhat of an outside perspective on warmups. hands in his pants pocket watching the opposing team but his thoughts were interrupted when a man approached him.

"i have a, uh, question," the man seemed nervous. he was stuttering over his words, not in a drunk way but he was extremely anxious over something. "can you maybe tell me," he took a breath before moving on, "which one my son is?"

sidney was taken back- no, he was floored. is this a joke? is this man serious?

"are you joking with me man?" sidney asked, taking a half step back to face the mans body with his. but from the way sidney looked in his eyes, they were nearly glossed over with fear and intimidation. the man shook his head as he looked on the ice again.

"i've been out of his life, i haven't been a good man and i'll be the first to admit that but, please i gotta start somewhere. saw his picture in the paper and i recognized him from the letters and stuff my mom sends me- his name's carter."

sidney pulled his lip between his teeth. he felt his leg start to shake and his stomach coil from anger, his hands grew sweaty as he balled them up in fists. he looked this man, this small weak man in the eye, he leaned into his level, "your son is number eighty in black. now get the fuck out of my arena before i have you kicked out, you fuckin-"

before sidney could say what he wanted to he felt y/n's hands on his chest pushing him back, "go to the bench, i'll handle him."

sidney looked down at her then back at the man behind y/n. he was still raging with anger on the inside, but did as told and walked down to the bench. when he got down there he watched as she talked to him a little bit before walking him out of the arena.

"what the hell are you doing here, john?" y/n finally asked as they stood out in the cold. she had kept in vague contact with john, trying since they divorced when carter was five to get him to come by at least once. for a birthday, christmas, or even an easter. but he never did.

occasionally he would send a gift card or a card with some cash, but y/n wasn't fully convinced it was him. she had her suspicions that his mother did it. she was involved in her grandson's life; she repeatedly apologized for her son's actions and for his absence. she was just as disappointed as anyone else was.

"'cause i feel horrible, y/n." was all he could say. it was all he had been thinking the past year. "i...i started going to therapy, and i've been trying to get the courage over a year and i just...i wanna be involved. i wanna be there, i wanna get to know my son."

"well you should've thought about that before you walked out on me and your son with your secretary, john. you should have thought about that before you chose a woman who was barely twenty years old over your wife and your child, you had the chance but you lost it."

y/n had so much more to say. she had thought for a long time what she would say if she got the chance. she often rehearsed in her head all that she would say, all that she would yell and scream at john for. she thought about all of it.

"y/n just give me a chance!" john shouted, taking a step closer to y/n not caring about the people who were walking past.

"no. it's not my chance to give. if carter wants to meet up with you then i'll get with your mom, but i could care less. to me you're a fucking loser, john." she felt tears begin to fall down her cheeks as she looked the man she loathed in the eyes for the first time since she last saw him after the divorce was finalized ten years ago.

"leave, just leave. this isn't how carter would want to see you for the first time in ten years anyway," john ducked his head and walked toward the parking lot. y/n turned and went back into the arena to where she was sitting.

a few parents asked her if she was okay, those who knew her and carter's story giving her a hug and a pat on the back. she was appreciative of those around her who supported her and her son.

y/n could barely focus on the game that had already started when she sat back down, her perspective and head space too foggy to even comprehend the game unfolding before her. all she could do was think about the worst days of her life replaying over and over in her head. she was replaying the minute she found out about john's affair, when she packed up her and carter's things and went to her parents house for the time being. she was replaying the divorce meetings, the arguments, the tears.

she was replaying having to explain to her five year old son where his dad went and why he wasn't going to be at home anymore. y/n hadn't gone into full detail with sidney about all of this yet. their relationship was just a few months old and she wanted to protect carter as much as she could. y/n knows and trusts that sidney was and is a good man, but she wants carter to tell what he wants to, not tell for him.

but now she will probably have to.

-

she went ahead and sat in sidney's office, she walked down there a few minutes before the last period ended. she knew that carter had a couple of points on the board, but y/n couldn't remember how he got them. her mind was full of remembering the worst years of her life with her ex husband.

she sat in a chair next to his desk, silently staring at the mess of practice plans, rosters, and scheduling papers strung along his desk. he walked in and shut the door behind him with a thud, plopping his game folder down on his desk. he didn't sit down, he stood with his hands in his pockets looking down at her as she remained sitting.

"you okay?" he asked. she could tell that he was tense, she couldn't figure out why though. they had won the game, the boys played well, and he didn't have anything to worry about. why was he so tense?

y/n nodded her head in response.

"i'll uh, make sure that he doesn't come to another game again." sidney sat down in his chair, resting his chin on his hand. there was an awkward tension in the room. sidney didn't know much about her past marriage, she didn't reveal too much to him. but now he had more questions than ever, he wanted to ask but it was clear she wanted nothing but to keep everything bottled at the moment.

"he seemed like a dick, don't know why anyone would want to marry him." sidney muttered, moving a few things around his desk. but y/n heard him loud and clear.

"what did you just say?" she asked, speaking for the first time since he walked into his office. oh no. he registered what he said, he didn't think before he spoke. he just let his thoughts flow freely off his tongue, shoulda held that one in.

"i- i didn't mean it, y/n i-"

"no, you think i don't regret being married to a man like that? one who was a complete horror of a man? who cheated, who left his wife and child? do you think i'm not embarrassed?" y/n felt tears brim her eyes and she stood up in front of him.

"y/n you know that's not what i meant," he stood up with her and walked around the desk. he put his hands on her shoulders but she slapped them away walking toward the door. she quickly opened it and headed toward the stairs. he thought about running after her but he didn't want to cause a scene. walking back into his office and closing the door he took a spare hockey stick that sat in the corner of the small space and smashed it as hard as he could against the wall, solving his anger in just that moment.

he fucked up.

-

sidney saw a text from carter which had him gathering his keys and putting shoes on his feet.

hey mom hasn't stopped crying since we got home, you know something i don't?

sidney picked up a to-go order on the way to her house, he knew that she wouldn't have eaten anything since leaving the arena. when sidney walked into her house he saw carter sitting at the dinner table eating a bowl of soup watching youtube videos on his laptop. "everything okay?" sidney asked, dumb question.

"i don't know, when i got in the car she was crying. i asked what was wrong and she just shook her head, i thought you guys broke up or something. did you?" carter asked, pausing the video.

"no, we didn't. it's not my place to tell you what happened, but i'll go talk to her." sidney patted carter on the back and walked toward the back master bedroom. he softly knocked on the door, he tried turning the doorknob but she had it locked. "y/n?" he softly asked, knocking again.

he heard sniffles and light footsteps across the wooden door. she unlocked the door and opened it. his heart softened at the sight, her eyes were puffy and her lips were chapped, she wore soft clothes.

walking back to her bed she got in it, pulling the covers over her legs. sidney sat at the foot of her bed and handed the greasy paper sack to her, his form of an apology in that moment. she took the bag and looked inside, a little grin coming on her lips as she saw the bag was full of fries.

she ate the fries in silence, her brain is dull and her head is hurting from crying for two hours straight. sidney sat on the bed with his hand on her leg, just hoping she feels comforted by his presence. he thinks she is, since she didn't take the bag of fries and kick him out.

she sat up, setting the now empty bag on her bedside table, leaned forward to take his hand in hers. sidney scooted closer to her on the bed when she folded her legs. then she gave him a kiss on the cheek, accepting his apology that came in the form of fries.

"i'm sorry for what i said y/n," he whispered again, pressing his forehead against hers. "it slipped out, i shouldn't have said it, i didn't even mean it i-"

"shh, you're forgiven sidney." y/n placed both hands on either side of his face, keeping her forehead against his. she sniffled and sidney parted for a moment, pressing his lips against her soft skin, taking both of her hands in his.

"you don't have to tell me anything about your marriage right now, but i promise, you say the word and i will make sure that he never steps foot anywhere near you or carter again." he tucked some hair behind her ears and kissed the top of her hands.

y/n shook her head, "you don't have to do that." she scooted back toward the pillows that leaned against the headboard, sidney moved on the bed to sit next to her. he put his arm around her shoulders, kissing the top of her head while she laced her fingers with his.

she told him everything that happened in her marriage; she told him about the way john would speak to her in such degrading ways, how john never really made efforts to go to carters special events, how he would make excuses and say things he's in preschool how special could it be? she explained how she found out about john's affair and the messy divorce. right after the divorce john left the state and she never heard from him until five years later. y/n explained how john's mom still keeps in contact with herself and carter, and that she sends john letters and cards with pictures of carter.

sidney felt himself boiling with anger inside, how could someone be that bad of a person? why would anyone want to do such a thing?

"this was the first time in...years that i had seen him in person and it just brought back, everything." tears began to flow through once more and sidney wrapped both arms around her and pulled her in as close as she could. "i don't know what i'd do without you."

[soda-sparkss]

HOME-BOUND

Its me again, hi <3 I've made yet another Welcome Home Au called Home- Bound where You're on a Train to Escape Your Mundane Life. Every friendly neighbor has their own cart on the train, with Julie's being the first one you're seated at and Wally's being the conductor car. Make your way through this whimsical little train ride that seems to last for Eternity! Where are you headed? Who knows! Trying to Escape the train once you're on will result in a proper Punishment. If you get off before the train Stops, there will be no moving from the spot that you landed on. Any physical or emotional violence caused to the train will result in consequences varying in severity depending on how much damage you've done. Please do Remember that the train is your Home the train is your Home the train is your Home the train is your Home the train is your H Oh, and one more thing! Don't Forget Your Ticket.

Cars are in order starting from the back. Sleeping/Boarding Car Jullie's Car Poppy's Car Sally's Car Howdy's Car Frank's Car Eddie's Car Barnaby's Car Wally's Car/Conductor Car

First off, We have our Humble Conductor, Wally Darling!

Being at the front of the Train, Wally has many responsibilities as a Conductor. Once you board the Train, he will come back to the Boarding Car to punch your Ticket. It is Imperative that you have it, lest you be sent right back to the station!

Second up is Barnaby B Beagle! Wally's very very very close "Friend".

In this lovely dog's car, he can be found cracking so many fun jokes! Heck, he has an entire book full of Comedy skits from passengers who were Fortunate enough to make it up to his car all the way from the Boarding car! Though, if you want to leave, you'll have to give him another skit to add to his book!

Next up is the darling Mailman, Eddie Dear!

This dearest mailman send out all the letters and Tickets to future Residents of the Home Bound Express. He's quite the workaholic, especially during the nighttime hours! If you happen to make it to his car, be in for a load of sorting letters, snacks, and lovely stories about all of his travels on the Train! Poor guy is a afraid of snails too..

Next up is the trains Librarian, Frank Frankly!

If you enter his car, you'll be greeted with books up the Wazoo! He will insist you look at any one that interests you. The books are written by him and consist an encyclopedia of facts about every existing bug on the planet. Not one bug left out! Unfortunately, if you want to leave, you'll have to take a quiz. Find a book about a specific bug he tells you about, read through it, and then tell him what you learned. Careful not to let the bookflies(book butterflies!) distract you! After you tell Frank the facts you learned, you have to navigate your way through a maze in the garden behind his library. Don't worry, the bugs will guide you!

Next up is the 'local' Grocer, Howdy Pillar!

Who can resist a Pillar who advertises his wares so well? He has everything from the little doodads to wild thingamajigs! Careful you don't get lost in the maze of his stock. If you want to leave, however, you must buy something or solve a little riddle of his!

Next up is the ONE AND ONLY!! Sally Starlet!

This Star is always putting on a Show!(With sleep and snack breaks, of course.) Her seemingly endless act will have you wrapped up in a world completely different from your own! Her whips and twirls will thread a story right before your very eyes! It's Almost Impossible to Look Away!! Also, nighttime shows are provided for people with insomnia, headphones are provided for those with sensory issues, plushies and hand santizer are provided for people with anxieties or obsessive compulsions.

And following right behind her is Poppy Partridge!

Who doesn't want an absolute sweetheart to take them under her wing and provide a comfortable place to Relax! Treats are baked for anyone who wants one! Beanbag chairs cots, futons, and a plethora of cushions are provided, as well as DvD players and a TV for Entertainment. Careful, too many sweets from this lovely Partridge will send you into a Deep Sleep.

Then we have the lovely Julie Joyful!

Julie is so playful! If you step foot into her car, you're in for a whole day full of fun games like Tag, Tic Tac Toe, and Hide and Seek! Hide and Seek is her favorite game! Though I can't say the same for her victims Passengers.

And then the Train himself, Home!

While Home is the train, pictured above is his physical manifestation. If he doesn't have a cup of tea, he'll probably be smoking Candy Cloud, which is their form of tobacco.

And Last but not Least, You!

That's right, You! YOu reading this right now! Go ahead and put yourself in the au, draw yourself interacting with the neighbors! You can use this base, I'll post a blank version soon enough! A HUGE huge thank you to @mumimoondrops and @severalbonez for helping me with designs and the story! Mumi is a co-owner of the au. Notes and Disclaimers: Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in Welcome Home. They all belong to @partycoffin. And while two people have already made train conductor au's I wanted to make my own story and designs for the cast! Design Inspirations: @chez-cinnamon, @clownsuu Tags: @3amclothesmonster, @dottyorange, @doggwwoggy23, @kennethmoop, @snowshinefivez5, @larzuen, @nyx-mrbones-2360, @vixxproductions, @sedittedice, @mumimoondrops, @ari-jay, @strugglebugglemoth, @wheatlover, @unpleasantbread, @mockhound, @purplefoxy14, and @anonymous-paperbag

[hina-hina]

Hello i was wondering if you could write ghost and a daughter reader who wants to follow ghosts steps but he doesn't like the idea and they ended up in big argument and wasn't able to make up before he left

Hello friend! I love this request and it's something quite similar to what I did for Price a while back. Still one of my favorite scenarios! Thank you for requesting, Hope you enjoy!!

Tried something new with this one, I hope you guys like it! I saw another writing using this format but I can't remember the user. If you know, please lmk so I can give proper credit!

Ghost is a single dad in this btw!!

→ COD Masterlist

|| Ghost With a Daughter That Wants to Go Into the Military ||

Warnings: Wicked amounts of angst but also fluff

Female!Reader // Platonic

Your dad always claimed that you were a little too much like him

Most of the time, he found it endearing

But then their are times he wished you didn't take after him so much

He had come home from deployment and he could tell something was up

You had insisted on making him a home cooked meal because you knew he had been surviving off bland MREs for months

But he sat down and the two of you had a pleasant dinner and exchanged stories on what had been happening in your respective lives

When you suddenly got serious, he knew he was in for it

You scooted your chair close to him and grasped his hand which had been lying on the table then said you had something to tell him

His mind immediately starts jumping to the worse but he tries to keep it under control and let you finish

Then you tell him that you plan to enlist in the military

He is immediately shook by fear and just tells you a simple but firm, "No."

"You didn't even let me explain!" You shout back as he back.

Ghost jumps from his chair, turning his back on you as he runs a shaky hand down his face, "You don't need to explain, the answer is no."

Your face screws up, anger at your father's abrupt dismissiveness, you grumble, "It wasn't a question."

He turns, his face drawn up in a surprised annoyance, "Excuse me?"

"What's the big deal, anyway." You were standing now, locked into an intense stare-off with Ghost, "Your in the military."

"I joined the military to ensure you would never have to. Conversation over." His accent was becoming thicker as you could almost sense his rising anger.

You were being overtaken with such childish anger. You wanted to stomp your feet and scream until he decided to listen to you. You hated fighting with your dad but you couldn't stand how protective he was over you sometimes.

Ghost was now moving to collect the dishes, ignoring looking at you entirely as he moved to put them in the sink. Him dropping the conversation and trying to move on like nothing happened only made you more angry.

"Well, I'm doing it whether you like it or not!"

You knew you were being childish now but that didn't stop you. You turned on your heel and stomped up the stairs to your bedroom, slamming the door for good measure.

The next few days were painful to say the least. It was filled with silent dinners and the both of you being too prideful to start the conversation again.

This continued until the day came where he had to return to base to prepare for his newest mission.

That's what brought you to today, the both of you standing face to face in the living room. He was dressed in civvies but he had his impossibly large military duffle tossed over one shoulder, his balaclava gripped in one hand as he prepared to become Ghost again.

"I'll be back in a few months. I'll send letters and tell Mrs. Davies is next door if you need anything."

You nod your head but still refuse to speak, causing a deep sigh to rumble from his chest. He looked like he wanted to say something but he didn't. Instead, he opened his arms slightly, a subtle invitation for a hug.

You don't move a muscle.

He face twitches with disappointment before he raises his hands to pull his balaclava on, hiding his facial expressions from you.

"Bye, love."

He heads out the door and locks it behind him. You feel your eyes start to sting.

Despite what happened when you left, he does keep true to his promise to send letters up until the day comes when he has to ship out.

You don't hear from him again and you spend the next few weeks sulking alone. Until a knock comes from the door, causing you to drag yourself from your bed despite how your body fights against it.

You open the door and standing there, shifting nervously, is none other than John MacTavish, your father's sergeant.

Your heart sinks, "Can I help you?"

"Hi, lassie," He smiles but it seems forced, "I was sent by your father's task force to inform you that yer dad has been injured while in action."

"What?" Your voice cracks, a hand coming up to cover your mouth.

"He's alright now, gunnin' to see you actually. I can drive you to the hospital, if you want?"

Immediately, all the things that you were angry about seem so insignificant. You regret not hugging him even more. You give the other man a slight nod as you rush to grab your purse, locking the house and rushing out to his car. He doesn't push you to talk and he pretends not to notice the silent tears streaming down your face.

When you arrive to the hospital, John walks you through the secure areas in the military hospital and leads the way to your father's room. He holds the door open for you and you inch inside.

Ghost is laying on the stiff hospital bed, eyes shooting toward the door as he watches you enter. His eyes crinkle from under his balaclava, a tell-tell sign that he is smiling. "Thanks, Johnny. Mind givin' us a minute?"

"Not at all, sir." John closes the door behind himself leaving you and your dad in the silent hospital room.

Your dad is the first one to speak, "How are you, love?"

You crumble. Your eyes fill with tears as you stumble toward your father's bedside. His arms immediately open and you jump straight into them, careful to avoid his bandaged wounds. He shushes you softly as you beginning to release hiccuping sobs.

"I'm s-so sorry! You got hurt and I didn't even give you a fucking hug before you left! I'm s-sorry, Dad!"

"Enough of that, no more Scrikin', now." He wipes your tears away, taking one hand to pull his balaclava off. He never liked wearing it around you. "I'm sorry for not hearing you out. I just can't stand to think of something happenin' to ye. But, I promise we will talk about it. Don't go jumpin' into anything just cause your old man said you couldn't."

You laugh, rubbing at your ruddy cheeks with the sleeves of your shirt, "Ok."

"Love ya, kid." He ruffles your hair.

"Love you too, Dad."

Thank you for reading!