#return of the dark angel

[of-twilight-and-moonshadow]

Return of the Dark Angel - Kenny x Emery x Jay

Alrighty, here we go~

Part of my Dark Angel of the Bullet Club series

Tagging a few that expressed interest @moxxieswitchblade, @summertimefun1982

Next, I guess I'll work on an introduction post for Emery (it's now done, just click on 'intro' for a direct link)

Word Count: 5864

Angsty Kenny x Emery / Jay x Emery and slight Hangman x Emery (if you squint enough)

Warnings: Angst, a few swear words, feelings of abandonment, heartbreak

(border by)

Emery stood backstage, throwing her long brown hair up into a messy bun, before she crossed her arms in front of her as she watched a match on one of the screens. Darby Allin and Jungle Boy were taking on Sammy Guevara and Daniel Garcia. Matt was out with a legitimate injury, Nick was out with a kayfabe injury. It left just her and Kenny—and Brandon, too, she guessed.

Kenny said he would meet her here to watch the matches half an hour ago, but he had yet to show. Yet again.

It seemed to be a common occurrence since he returned from the investigation. He hardly ever interacted with her like they used to; play games, go to random arcades, and go out to eat as a team (with the bucks). Even traveling together had almost become non-existent. It felt like she was losing her best friend.

Emery was so deep in thought that she hadn’t even noticed someone had joined her. His blue-gray eyes watched her curiously, his lips rising slowly into a grin as he leaned back and put his hands into his pockets. Narrowing his eyes slightly, he erased the grin from his face.

“I think I see smoke comin’ from those ears…” he muttered, seemingly drawing her from her thoughts. Her eyes refocused, and Emery looked around, jumping slightly as she realized who was beside her.

“Jay…” Emery breathed out, unsure of his intentions at the moment. Sure, while she had been in Japan, she had made many friends—even people outside of Bullet Club. People like Okada, Kota Ibushi, and even Jay—and they remained friends over the years. However, the last time she saw him was in Japan when he had taken Bullet Club from under Kenny.

“Relax, Princess,” Jay teased her, his smirk back on his face as he watched Emery release the breath she had been holding,” You act like I was a bad guy or somethin.”

“Because I know you,” Emery shot back, eyes narrowing playfully,” King Switchblade.”

Jay let out a bark of a laugh, his head tipping back briefly before he held open an arm, “C’mere.”

Emery walked over to him with a smile and wrapped her arms around him. His scent enveloped her—and for the first time in months, she felt at peace. Closing her eyes, she let herself enjoy the moment, her whole body relaxing against his. A few moments passed before someone nearby cleared their throat.

“Okay, children. No funny business,” Juice’s deep voice called out.

“Fuck off,” Jay chuckled, glancing at his Bullet Club mate, as Emery took a step away. When he looked back at her, his smirk disappeared; Jay slowly brought his hand up towards Emery’s face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that had fallen from her eye.

“Ree, what’s wrong Princess?”

“Nothing,” Emery shook her head, trying to put a smile on her face,” I’m fine.”

“Emery,” Jay warned, raising an eyebrow,” I know you. C’mon, be honest with me.”

“I…” Emery sighed, before giving up,” It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got nowhere to be,” Jay shrugged, crossing his arms across his chest, waiting.

“Well…”

He stood there, quiet, and didn’t interrupt her once as Emery told him about the last couple of months—beginning at All Out last year in September. When she got to how Kenny had recently been behaving towards her, ignoring her and almost avoidant, Jay visibly tensed up. His jaw twitched and he wanted nothing more than to punch something. Or someone. But he didn’t- he let Emery finish, and when she did, Jay could tell she was close to crying again. Wordlessly, he cupped her face and placed a gentle kiss to her forehead, before wrapping his arms around her protectively.

“I want nothing more than to kick his ass,” Jay started, his voice soft and right beside her ear,” But for you, I’ll refrain. For now.” He pulled away from the hug, wiping away the tears that had fallen from her brown eyes as she gave him a small smile.

“My princess shouldn’t be treated that way by anyone,” he continued,” You deserve to be around people that respect you—that cherish you.”

Emery knew what he was implying. To leave Kenny, leave The Elite, and rejoin Bullet Club.

“I couldn’t…”

“Shhh,” Jay told her, placing a finger to her lips, giving her a grin and a wink when she glared at him,” Don’t make any plans just yet. Give it some time, princess. When you figure out what you want to do…”

Jay looked over her shoulder and saw Kenny approaching in the distance. It took a minute, but Kenny finally saw Jay standing beside Emery and quickened his pace. Quickly, before the Canadian arrived, Jay finished what he was saying.

“…. You know where to find me.”

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing—Emery, you okay?” Kenny asked her, looking at her briefly before turning his attention to Jay,” Just because you signed here doesn’t mean I won’t still kick your ass.”

“I’d be careful, Omega. If I’ve been told correctly, you’ve got your hands full with another club that’s out for your blood.”

“Is that a—” Kenny began, taking a step towards Jay before Emery cut him off, coming to stand between them.

“Kenny, please. Don’t start,” she pleaded with him. His blue eyes darted down quickly, before going right back to Jay—but just as quickly, his attention went back to Emery. Kenny could see in her eyes the emotional turmoil, the plea she made. Taking a deep breath, Kenny took a step back and looked back at Jay.

“Stay away from Emery. This isn’t New Japan—it’s not your show.”

“S’what you think,” Jay smirked, as Emery looked at him with a silent plea,” It’ll be the ToJay show soon.”

Taking a few steps back, he looked to Emery once more, giving her a wink as he said,” See ya around, Princess.”

Kenny and Emery watched as Jay and Juice disappeared down the hall, before Kenny turned his attention to her.

“Are you okay? He didn’t hurt you, right?”

“I’m fine, Kenny, really,” Emery told him, looking up at him,” You know Jay would never hurt me.”

“Perhaps, but he could corrupt you, my Angel- and that would be devastating.”

“I think you’ve got it wrong, Ken,” she smiled fondly as he looked at her with a confused expression,” The only one who corrupted me was a certain Cleaner.”

Kenny gave a chuckle, bringing her in for a hug,” Touché.” For the first time in months, Emery felt like she finally had her Kenny back. In an instant, however, the moment was ruined when Don cleared his throat.

“You’re all set to go on, Kenny. It’ll be right after they get done and back here,” Don said as Jungle Boys theme rang out across the arena.

“Thanks,” Kenny told him, his arm falling from Emery’s shoulder.

“Hey, Ken—how about we hang out tomorrow and play some Street Fighter?” Emery asked him, sweeping some stray brown hair behind her ear, and for a minute, he looked excited.

“Kenny’s busy tomorrow. Meet and Greets and a few interviews,” Don shook his head before Kenny could speak.

“Right…” Kenny frowned,” Sorry, Angel. Perhaps another day.”

“Yeah…” Emery sighed, wondering when that day would come. If it ever did.

--- Two Weeks Later ---

Hangman walked through the halls of the arena, energy drink in hand, keeping a wary eye on his surroundings. He knew that the Blackpool Combat Club could be lurking anywhere, and while he hated to admit it, walking alone made him an easy four-on-one target. Passing by one hallway, he peered down real quick—full intentions to keep going—but instantly took a step back. His blue eyes locked on Emery, sitting atop an equipment crate. 

Her brown eyes seemed clouded over as though she was lost in thought, her eyes boring a hole into the floor below her. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Hangman walked towards her carefully- he didn’t want to spook her. Since Don Callis convinced Kenny that the Cowboy had hit him last week and knew that Kenny and Emery were seemingly two peas in a pod, he had to be careful. Not that he thought Emery would do that to him… but still, better safe than sorry.

“Ree?” Hangman softly called out, pulling her out of the deep train of thoughts she was tangled in. Her eyes seemed to refocus, and the brunette gave him a soft smile.

“Hey Cowboy.”

Instantly, he knew something was wrong. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes like usual; her eyes didn’t brighten up; even her voice sounded… different. Emery didn’t even keep eye contact with him; the moment she acknowledged him, her eyes fell toward the floor.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, taking a few steps closer to her. She gave a low chuckle, his heart dropping at how miserable it sounded—how weird it sounded coming from her.

“It’s… it’s nothing. Don’t worry—”

“No, no—Ree,” Hangman shook his head, interrupting her as he came to stand right in front of her,” Despite all the shit that’s gone down, you’re still my friend. I care about you—please. What’s wrong?”

It took a minute, silence passing between them, before Emery glanced back up at her friend, and the instant she did Hangman felt… He felt angry but more so, he felt like his heart began to shatter. Emery had tears gathering in the corner of her eyes, threatening to spill at any moment. Instantly, Hangman sat his drink down on the crate beside her, placing his hands on her legs gently.

“Ever feel… like the person you care the most about… forgets you even exist?” Emery murmured softly, holding back the tears as best she could. Her eyes trailed down, focusing on Hangman’s chest; she knew the second she looked into his eyes that she would start crying, and it was the last thing she wanted.

Slowly, she continued, her voice cracking halfway,” Ever feel like… while they mean the world to you… that—that you mean absolutely nothing to them?”

“This about Kenny?” Hangman asked softly. Emery’s brown eyes flickered up to meet his blue ones, and as she gave a small nod, a tear fell down her cheek. Adam’s eyes widened, a hand reaching up towards her face to wipe it away.

“Hey, hey… Princesses aren’t supposed to cry,” he told her, his voice almost a whisper. After a brief pause, his hand on her cheek, Hangman returned his hand to her leg, and Emery continued.

“Kenny’s been… I don’t know. He’s just been different… since coming back. And with Jay showing up two weeks ago…”

Life had gotten chaotic- they both knew that. With two Bullet Club leaders—one current, one former—it was bound to happen. Especially when Jay was the one that overthrew Kenny years previously.

“Everything happening with the titles and with combat club… it’s like he forgets I’m even there…” Emery continued on, trying to hold back her tears,” I’ve tried talking to him countless times. Not even work-related stuff—but about anything. To get his mind off it all so that he can relax… but something always comes up… I-I finally got him to stop for a moment last Wednesday…”

--Last Wednesday, mid-taping of Dynamite—

“Don—wait, hey,” Emery called out, closing the distance between her and Kenny’s manager. The bald, older man turned to face her briefly before continuing on his way. Quickly, she followed along behind him as they approached Kenny’s locker room.

“Can you let Kenny know I need to talk to—”

“Kenny’s a busy man, Emery, he doesn’t have time to chat,” Don said dismissively.

“I know he’s busy- but I just… I really need to talk to him.”

They came to a stop at a door that read ‘Kenny Omega’ and Don turned around to face Emery.

“Please?”

“Okay, fine,” Don sighed, “I’ll let him know.”

“Thank you.”

Emery waited patiently, leaning against the wall. The minutes were ticking by, and she began to wonder if Don actually gave Kenny her message. Ever since the beginning, when Don started hanging around- she never liked him; something about him made her uneasy. Emery knew Kenny would come out of his locker room soon, to make his way to the guerilla before his match, so even if Don didn’t tell Kenny she was out there, Emery could catch him on the way. A few more minutes ticked by before the door opened and out came Kenny with Don right behind him.

“Kenny—”

“Not right now, Angel, I’m a bit busy,” Kenny cut her off, not even stopping as he walked towards the stage. Quickly, Emery followed along behind him, ignoring Don completely.

“I know you are—I just—”

“Perhaps, after his match—“Don interjected, but Emery paid him no mind. Quickening up her pace, she passed Kenny and spun around, stopping in front of him. Coming to an abrupt halt, Kenny gave her a look she couldn’t quite place.

“Emery—”

“No, I know, Kenny. You’re busy, I get it,” Emery told him,” Just… promise me you’ll call me after the show is over? I-I really need to talk to you. Please.”

Kenny and Emery stared at each other for a brief moment, his blue eyes softening slightly. It was almost as if Kenny was worried; before he could ask her, though, he felt Don’s hand on his shoulder, reminding him of his match coming up.

“Yeah, okay,” Kenny nodded, “I’ll call.”

“Thank you,” Emery smiled softly at him, stepping aside to let him continue his path. She kept her eyes on Kenny’s retreating form but didn’t miss the look that Don gave her as he followed behind.  

--- Back to present ---

“Adam… he never called,” Emery frowned, swallowing the lump in her throat,” He always calls me when he says he will. Or texts me—something! But he didn’t…”

“Maybe… maybe he just got busy and forgot?” Hangman suggested. He knew Kenny wouldn’t purposely do something like this. It wasn’t like him. Then again, with Callis involved, Hangman didn’t know what to think.

“I thought so too—but a few days ago… back on Monday. I was with Matt, Nick, and Brandon. Shooting for BTE,” Emery continued,” Guess who Matt got a text from?”   

Hangman felt his heart drop. Did Kenny actually forget to get ahold of her? Was he doing it on purpose? Neither scenario was one that Hangman wanted to believe, but something was going on.

“I- I don’t know what to do, Adam,” Emery said, her eyes filling with tears once more,” I don’t—I’ve always been in Ken’s corner… since day one. I’ve always been there. Every championship. Every defense. Every win or loss. Every injury! He’s my best friend…and--” By now, the tears were falling freely down her face, and Hangman felt terrible. He knew she had been close to finally admitting that she had fallen in love with Kenny. He had known it for years now, as had the Bucks.

“I don’t know…. If I can continue to be… if this is how I’m going to be treated…”

“You definitely don’t deserve it, darlin’,” Adam told her, both hands cradling her face as he attempted to wipe away her tears,” You have been there for him. I’ve seen it. Bucks have seen it. Hell, the world has seen it. You—you could come hang out with me a bit? I sure wouldn’t mind having you in my corner again.”

He gave her a smile, to which she returned a small grimace, gently pulling away from him. His hands fell back towards her legs as he waited for her to speak.

“I-I can’t… You’ve got a Blackpool problem,” Emery reminded him,” And you’re so close to being back with the Bucks… and Kenny.”

Silence fell between them for a few seconds before she raised her hand and put it on one of his.

“The four of you… you’re amazing individually, but… together? You’re magic…” Emery gave him a soft smile, but it quickly fell from her face, “… I think…. I think I need to find my own magic… Even if it leads me away…”

Hangman’s brow furrowed as he asked her,” Are you… You’re not leavin’, are you?”

“I… I don’t know… I wish I did…” Emery used her other hand to dry the remaining tears from her face, taking a deep breath as she made to get off the crate. Hangman stepped back to give her space, bracing her landing so she wouldn’t stumble. His hands came to rest on her hips, and he looked down at her with his baby-blue eyes.

She saw the sadness in them and had to look away before she started crying again. Drawing him in for a hug, Emery took a deep breath and smiled fondly. He still smelled like her Cowboy, even after all these years.

“Never, ever change, Adam,” she whispered, feeling a tear trickle down her face as she gripped the back of his t-shirt tightly in her hands. His hold on her tightened slightly- not enough to hurt, though. “Thank you… for listening.”

“Anytime, darlin’. Anytime,” Hangman replied in a whisper, biting the inside of his cheeks to keep his own tears at bay. He wouldn’t cry—not here, not in front of Emery. He had to be strong for her. After a few minutes, they pulled apart, and Emery wiped the tears away again. Giving him a small grimace, the words died in her throat. Hangman knew what she wanted to say, however, and gave her a small nod.

With no further words, Emery turned away from him and walked down the long hall, leaving Hangman standing there on his own. He watched her disappear around a corner before his eyes fell to the floor. To him… All Elite Wrestling suddenly felt cold and very lonely.

Later that night, Emery walked the stone pathway towards the front door of the house before her. The entire day, she had thought and thought more about what to do—and only one thing kept coming to mind. Taking a deep breath, Emery knocked on the heavy wooden door and waited.

Was she doing the right thing? What would—

The door opened, interrupting her thoughts, and she stared at the man in front of her with uncertain eyes.

“Hey… I…. I just….” Emery didn’t even know what to say, which was odd. Wordlessly the guy stretched his arm towards her and opened his hand, inviting her to take hold of it.

“I—”

“Shhh…” he whispered, “Come inside, Princess.”

She barely hesitated, before reaching out and gently placing her hand in his waiting one. Looking from their hands to his eyes, Emery gave him a soft smile and followed him inside.

She was home.

--- Three Months Later ---

Tonight, was a big night for All Elite Wrestling. It was their second-year hosting Forbidden Door and this year seemed bigger than last. In the past several weeks, Kenny and Hangman seemed to put the past behind them and had rekindled their friendship. All it took was Blackpool Combat Club trying to take them both out—which is when they realized, without the Bucks around, they needed each other. However, no sooner had they finally put the Blackpool problem behind them had a new, yet familiar, foe waltzed in.

Jay had warned Kenny that this was going to be his show and he had zero issues with making that come to fruition. Jay and Juice had hit the Cowboy and Kenny hard, not caring if they had just finished with a grueling match with BCC.

Weeks of constant back and forth between them, physical and verbal, had led to this night. A challenge of the Old Club vs New Club, as Kenny told Jay to find two partners—any partners—and face him and Cowboy, with two additional partners, at Forbidden Door.

Jay, with a knowing smirk, agreed without a second thought. He wasn’t dumb, he knew Kenny would immediately go to the Bucks. That was okay, though, because Jay already had his finger on the contact and was calling for backup the second he walked through the curtain. This would be his show and without a doubt in his mind, Jay knew Bullet Club would beat the Elite.

The Elite were at full strength once more, with Matt back from his injury, and it couldn’t have happened at a better time. Together, the four friends—plus Brandon and Nakazawa—stood backstage, stretching, and getting ready for their match.

“Hey, uh—has anyone talked to Emery lately?” Brandon asked as he filmed for BTE. Everyone looked at him for a moment before they thought more about it.

“It’s been a few weeks, now that I think about it,” Nick frowned, turning his attention to Kenny, “You talk to her almost every day, how’s she doing?”

Kenny stopped stretching and thought back, before realization hit him square in the gut.

“I… I actually haven’t…” Kenny pondered, wondering when he had talked to her last.

“What do you mean? You guys talk all the time,” Matt laughed. Hangman dropped his gaze to the floor, sadness flowing through his veins as he realized that none of them had talked to Emery since she left. He had tried calling her, but after the first week, she stopped responding. He then had opted to text her, message her on snapchat, anything. Luck would have it though, she responded—not often, but it was enough for him.

Brandon seemed to notice a tension growing in his friends, and respectfully stopped filming as Kenny spoke up.

“Last time I saw her… it’s been months, back at the beginning of you being out,” Kenny said, looking at Matt as he stretched on the floor, before his eyes fell to the tile below,” I hadn’t even realized…”

“You’ve talked to her though, right?” Nick asked, confusion evident on his face. He and Matt had been there when Emery and Kenny met—they had seen them grow close over the years. The brothers had noticed when the friendship seemed to change, at least for Emery, though she never brought it up.

“Haven’t you?” Matt asked, standing up from the floor as he looked at Kenny.

A silent minute passed, before Kenny finally looked up, regret evident in his blue eyes,” No… It’s been…. I don’t think I’ve spoken to her since the beginning of April sometime…”

“Kenny—that’s three months dude,” Nick frowned.

“I-I know… I don’t… I don’t know what happened. Time just… got away from me, I guess…”

“It happens,” Nakazawa shrugged,” I’m sure she’s fine.”

“I haven’t even seen her lately,” Brandon remarked.

“Tony said she had asked for some time off,” Matt explained,” But you would think she’d be back already.”

“Let’s give her a group call after the match,” Nick suggested, “Video call her, even.”

“Yeah,” Matt nodded in agreement, before noticing Hangman had been silent,” Hey, Adam, you know anything about what’s going on with Emery?”

Hangman’s head popped up, his blue eyes wide, as his friends looked at him. He had two choices—tell them the truth, or lie to them and keep their conversation to himself. They had finally all mended the fences though, could he risk lying to them?

“Y-yeah, actually,” Hangman admitted, clearing his throat. Kenny straightened up a bit, taking a few steps closer to the Cowboy.

“I came across her in the hallway one night, she seemed a bit down,” Hangman explained, unable to meet any of their gazes as his eyes darted around at the environment surrounding them,” She told me… she’d been feeling, uh… forgotten? Like… like she wasn’t important anymore…”

“That’s nonsense,” Nick scowled, “Sure Matt and I were out—but she had Kenny!”

As he listened to his friends’ words, Kenny began to feel more regret swirl in his chest as he remembered all the invitations to hang out that never got to happen.

“She didn’t feel that way,” Hangman said, still not able to meet their gaze; Matt and Nick looked over at Kenny in confusion and noticed the emotion crossing his features.

“She… she never said anything…” Kenny frowned, hating that he hadn’t even realized what was happening right in front of him.

“She tried,” Hangman bristled, a bit angry at Kenny’s blindness; he finally looked Kenny directly in the eyes,” For weeks on end, she tried. You were always ‘busy’. Hell she even asked you to call her after the show one night and you never did!”

The air in Kenny’s lungs disappeared, as he remembered that exact moment.

“No, I know, Kenny. You’re busy, I get it,” Emery told him,” Just… promise me you’ll call me after the show is over? I-I really need to talk to you. Please.”

“Yeah, okay,” Kenny nodded, “I’ll call.”

It sickened him to realize he never did call her; he didn’t even text her.

Matt and Nick were about to get on Kenny’s case, before they saw the evident regret, his eyes glistening over a bit, as he slowly sat down on a nearby chair. It was quiet between them for a few minutes, not even Brandon or Nakazawa knew what to say.

“Did she say where she was going? What she was going to do?” Matt asked, worried about their friend.

Hangman shook his head,” She didn’t know yet… just said she couldn’t keep feeling that way… Said she needed to find her own magic…even if it pushed her away…”

Kenny rested his arms on his knees, his face staring at the floor between his feet, trying to keep his composure and emotions in check. He wanted to be able to focus on the match—he needed to—but Emery… his sweet Angel… Had he unknowingly pushed her away?

Quiet stretched across them, a feeling as though they had lost their friend was thick in the air. Don walked up, a huge smile on his face until he noticed the tension.

“Come on guys! You got a big match coming up soon—we need to see some—”

“Shut it,” Nick frowned, crossing his arms in front of him.

“Just leave us be, Callis,” Hangman glared.

“Look, whatever it is, it’s not important. This match—”

“Don,” Kenny called out, lifting his head to stare at the manager. All of them would probably agree that Emery was more important to them than this match, so for Callis to say otherwise—even if he didn’t know the situation—it angered all of them.

“Just… give us some time,” Kenny said to him, his voice low. He sounded tired, like he hadn’t gotten any sleep—but the whole situation had just taken a lot out of him. Don raised his hands in mock surrender, his eyes darting around the group, before turning and walking away. Kenny’s eyes fell back to the floor, before addressing his friends.

“Let’s…. let’s try focusing on our match, get back in our mindsets,” Kenny told them, slowly standing up,” As soon as the match is over, we’ll call her. She’s my… our… Angel, and we… I… don’t want to lose her.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, eventually going back to their stretches.

One of the most anticipated matches of the night finally came up. The Elite had reunited and the crowd was going crazy over it. When Jay’s music hit, he and Juice walked out onto the ramp, pausing at the top as Justin Roberts announced them.

“And their partners…” Justin trailed off, waiting for the music to hit. Soon enough, the well-known rumble started, as 'headbanger’ blared out across the arena.

“…. Taiji Ishimori and Elllll Phantasssssmo!”

As his stablemates (and let’s face it, best friend) joined him at the top of the ramp, Jay smirked in Kenny’s direction. If possible, the crowd seemed to be louder than before, excited at seeing Bullet Club live and in AEW.

The match began and as to be expected, it was show stopping. Back and forth between everyone, flawless executions of teamwork and several moves got reversed due to knowledge they all had of each other. The Elite seemed to be feeding off the energy from the crowd, and eventually seemed to have the upper hand. Kenny, Matt and Nick stood in the center of the ring, El Phantasmo on his knees between them. Each held one of his hands, Matt and Kenny sharing the same hand, as they pointed towards the sky.

“V--!” They yelled out, but before they could continue, the lights across the arena flickered before going pitch black for a few seconds. When the lights came back on, The Elite looked around, before Nick noticed the figure at the top of the ramp. El Phantasmo lay on the edge of the apron, seemingly forgotten about for the moment, as Nick pointed out the figure to the rest of the Elite. Even Brandon turned and looked up at the top of the ramp, using his camera to zoom in as best he could. The four friends looked up at the mysterious figure, trying to figure out who it was—missing the quiet tag Jay made on El Phantasmo.

Was it Blackpool Combat Club fucking with them again?

Was it perhaps House of Black?

Or was it someone new?

The figure stood at the top of the ramp, not moving. Their entire body was covered, head to toe, in black clothing. A black hoodie, black cargo pants, black tennis shoes. The face was obstructed by an intricate venetian mask, half plain ivory with some decorative swirls, the other half a plaid purple, silver, and black joker theme. Their hands were shoved into the front pocket of the hoodie, hair pulled back underneath the hoodie. The only feature that could be seen were the eyes; and as the camera panned close to the figure, you could see the two-tone eyes. One brown. One red.

The Elite whispered among themselves, gesturing towards the figure, trying to figure out what the deal was, before seeing movement out of the corners of their eyes. It was too late though, as the Bullet Club jumped them, getting the upper hand. Juice took out Hangman with a fierce clothesline as a recovered El Phantasmo and Ishimori locked up with Matt and Nick. Kenny and Jay squared off in the ring, as they had many times before. Only one thing was different this time—and upon realizing it, Kenny seemed to lose his focus.

Emery wasn’t ringside, cheering him on.

Jay noticed the change in Kenny, and with a wicked grin, took full advantage and pulled a Blade Runner out of nowhere, making a quick cover. Matt made to run into the ring, but El Phantasmo grabbed his leg and held tightly, as the ref counted-

“1.”

“2.”

“3!”

The bell rang out, signaling the end of the match, as Jay propped himself up off Kenny. His hands resting on his knees, he smirked down at the Canadian who seemed utterly lost for a second. Jay noticed Matt free himself of El Phantasmo, so he quickly rolled out of the ring and joined his stable on the outside as Nick and Hangman slowly climbed into the ring and surrounded their friend. Kenny was sitting up, a knee bent as he shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind. With Jay’s Switchblade theme song ringing out through the arena, Bullet Club made their way up the ring, before coming to a stop at the top. The boys kept to Jay’s side, steering clear of the unknown individual, as Jay stared a hole into person. Looking over his shoulder, Jay saw the Elite still crouched in the middle of the ring, and he slowly turned to face them once more. Kenny glanced up towards them and noticed a smug smirk cross Jay’s face. One by one, the Elite turned their attention in Jay’s direction, and only when they all four were looking did Jay look to the masked individual and sweep his arm out towards the crowd as if telling the individual to do something.

Slowly, they took their hands from the pocket of the hoodie and raised their hands towards the mask. Delicately placing their hands on the mask, they tapped their dark-blue nails against the mask a few times, toying with everyone. As if moving in slow motion, they began to raise the mask up, uncovering their chin, lips and nose. Then in one fell swoop, they pulled the mask off and the entire audience gasped out in shock. The Elite couldn’t believe their eyes either. Jay watched in glee at the shock and hurt that crossed the Elite’s faces, especially Kenny’s.

“Oh my God! Excalibur, that’s Emery!” JR shouted into his headset.

“That’s not the Emery we all know and love though, JR—It looks to me like she’s reverted back to her Bullet Club days. Or a version of it—I don’t recall her having the red eye before.”

Emery stood there, her bright blue, shoulder length hair framing her face, as her two-tone eyes narrowed, an amused, dark laugh escaping her lips. El Phantasmo was losing his mind, hyping up the situation, as Juice and Ishimori stood there with smirks on their faces. Jay reached a hand over to her and Emery instantly slid her hand into his. He pulled her over, close to his body and draped an arm across her shoulders. Jay threw up a too-sweet, quickly followed by El Phantasmo, Juice, Ishimori, and lastly Emery.

“Ladies and gentleman, if you’re not familiar with Bullet Club history, what you’re seeing is the Dark Angel of the Bullet Club,” JR explained.

“I remember watching some clips a while back, JR,” Excalibur said, as Bullet Club turned and walked behind the curtain,” Dark Angel Emery is so much different from the Emery we’ve all come to love and adore here at AEW. She was cold, sadistic, and rebellious with no cares in the world.”

“I’m worried at the future of AEW with Bullet Club seeming to reform right under our noses,” JR told Excalibur.

“Indeed JR, something tells me that life is about to get even more chaotic.”

Inside the ring, it was a dark, depressed feeling sweeping amongst the Elite. Ever since she had joined the Bullet Club in their NJPW days, Emery had been in their corner. In Kenny’s corner. Now, however, it seemed to them like she had turned against them and aligned herself with Jay White.

Kenny had his arm resting on top of his propped up knee, his head laying in the crook of his elbow looking down at the ring. He was still in shock, in disbelief; aside from the match, it seemed like he had gotten the air knocked out of his lungs. There was no way Emery had aligned herself with him.

Had he really pushed her that far?

Did he just lose his Angel?

[lorepossum]

Samael says “I love you” to Flower boy waaaaay early in like Episode 7 (The Dawn) or smth. And there are a few opportunities for Flower boy to say it back between then and other events of the series.

Might I pitch my favorite;

Flower Boy finally saying “I love you” back to Samael right before he takes the ritual of ascension. Bleeding out in Samael’s arms, surrounded by demons, unsure whether he’ll survive the process, while Samael begs him to live.

I just think it’s the best kind of dramatic ^w^

[ericofrivia]

[wizardsix]

I can't remember who said this but there was this one dev who said that when making romanceable characters they have to be attractive in some way (personality, looks, not too morally fucked up etc). and since I read that, the statement hasn't left my mind and I'm very aware now of whenever outside influence and modern discourse get to me or other writers. like just yesterday I found myself rewriting a scene to be more "comfortable" to witness, even though the point was to be emotionally charged and face a difficult topic the character had been actively lying about. but some things can't be glossed over. sometimes it's good when media grabs you by the shoulders and makes you face horrible shit. it's good when media makes you uncomfortable even if it's coming from a ~romanceable companion~. that means it's working. if you remain comfortable forever you learn nothing.

I bring this up bc the veilguard companions are the perfect example and victims of the "romanceable characters need to be attractive" mindset. they don't have ugly sides, they don't fight with each other--and I mean really fight--they don't have controversial opinions or do problematic things. they don't ever question your authority over their lives and why you're the guy in charge. they are nice and perfect and their problems aren't really that serious and can be fixed by simply having a therapy session w rook (bc being possessed or gaining new magic isn't a big deal in a world where previously such events are Very distressing and hard to control). they are further proof that trying too hard to make something attractive has the complete opposite effect if your brain isn't the size of a pebble.

it's overall very frustrating that big game developers continue to be so spineless and I'm not giving anyone a pass for shallow writing, especially from a franchise that is known to have complex characters. none of this is impressive after the first three dragon age games, which were well loved and dissected and debated for years after their release. that isn't to say these games don't have kind characters, having that balance is why I personally like dark fantasy and liked what the dragon age games offered (whenever the writing was good..). it's not dark for the sake of being dark (see grimdark), there's a reason why these things are happening, and in this world no one is completely innocent even if they have good intentions. most people like when their characters aren't always kind or agreeable, bc it's extremely rewarding to finally find that middle ground (of course I have to bring up larian, who made bg3 and proved just how much people appreciate flawed characters, see astarion). conflict is the driving force of a story, no matter what it is. even the most sickeningly sweet cozy slice of life story will have some kind of conflict. it's unavoidable. that's life. taking that away is setting yourself up for failure and all that remains is a boring story full of boring people. no one cares about characters who have their lives together.

(the post is technically over but I wanted to put some final thoughts under the cut bc this got longer than I meant)

I want to go back to the statement real quick... like i do agree, it's true as writers we'll subconsciously (or consciously if you're insecure) try to make our characters appealing, but this is the common trap writers fall into by giving a shit about what others think and want from Their work (which btw I fully believe in writing what you want even if it's "bad" because something with genuine soul will never be as bad as soulless cashgrabs). romanceable characters can and should be as flawed as you'd make any other character, bc trust me there's an audience for everything. even a random npc with two lines will be attractive to someone.

the pressure of an imaginary audience is what pushes writers into a corner and prevents writers from writing and exploring what They want. it's the writer's story first, not the audience's. I think the romanceable companion trap can be easily avoided if writers just 1) grow a bit of a backbone and 2) ask themselves if this is even a necessary or insightful mechanic that will help develop a character further. ask themselves if this character even has the capacity to handle a romantic relationship bc everything else is subjective and it's impossible to appeal to everyone (which apparently this is a controversial take). I won't sit here and pretend that I don't appreciate a good romance, but sometimes all someone really needs is a friend.

obsidian is a good example of self aware devs. they tried to do romance for pillars of eternity 2 bc of fan demand, and it didn't work very well. now for avowed, they didn't explore romance bc they know it's not their strong suit and don't feel it's necessary for this story, instead that time and effort went to developing the characters in other meaningful ways. I have nothing but respect for such a decision bc they know what they want from their story instead of lying and trying to be everything at once. less is more as they say.

[aidaran-alha]

“What now?” He asked the other archangels, fighting back the tears, forcing his business smile to stay steady in his face.

“Now, we start with a nice, old fashioned war in the middle west. War will go there.” Sandalphon answered, his nasty smile showing his golden teeth. He’d always loved pain and blood.

Aziraphale touched the forehead of the horsewoman to mark her as free and she vanished.

“Pestilence will follow,” Uriel added. “Pustulent wounds have always been his favourite. So many new sicknesses to create there.”

Aziraphale nodded, all his energy focused on keeping his stomach in place as he blessed the second horseman.

Pestilence had been reinstated lately, and was trying to make up for the lost time. New illnesses, people who distrusted medicine and science, anti-vax movements. All that fed him, gave him the life penicillin had taken away from him.

“And the other three?” Aziraphale asked softly.

“Pollution is going to target the rivers in South America. We already bribed some politicians to sell the mountains for open sky mining.” Michael said. “Famine will follow, to make sure all the crops die as the land gets poisoned.”

Aziraphale nodded and blessed them too, watching them disappear.

AND I WILL BE EVERYWHERE, Death whispered, leaving. He didn’t need the blessing of an archangel.

“Right. A very sensible plan.” Aziraphale choked on the words, and stayed in place after the other angels left, paralysed, until he remembered how to walk, how to go to his office to hide.

Once he was alone, in the only space he could call his, he threw up and slept for the first time since he’d arrived to Heaven, curled in the ground, drained after hours of crying and heaving. His stomach had been empty for months now, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t rebel against everything he’d done.

That was when he realised he had to escape.

Continue reading:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53075170/chapters/142230364

@goodomensafterdark​

[emmy-hunterson-schofield]

I’ll just leave this here… Paul as the Phantom at age 16, at Maynooth Education Campus 🌹🌹🌹🌹

[sarsaparillasister]

GOD I SQUEALED LIKE A SCHOOL GIRL WHEN I SAW THIS!!!!

I LOVE HIS MUSTACHIO

[woonderfullie]

Quasi-Kuro related ramblings about the demons under the cut

(most of it is in the tags)

Demons as catalysts for change and upheaval, or at least ardent advocates for it, using their presence to tip the scales

Could demons be summoned with less for less, through sacrifices that don't involve bloodshed but still have the power to drastically alter the course of one's life?

[whereserpentswalk]

Look under the cut to see what meeting your entity is like. Reblog to give a gift to your patron.

The fae: a creature stands before you. Though this street was warm and crowded a few moments ago it is suddenly cold and the people around you look like shadows. The creature begins an antlered shadow with glowing white eyes, but soon its body can be seem, with white blue flesh, and sapphire eyes, and icicles for teeth. What looks like a cloak unfolds from its naked body and you can see massive white wings of a moth. As if it's an act of sacrifice you tell it your true name, a name you didn't even see before, and suddenly you belong to it, for better or worse.

The angel: a radiant entity appears before you. They're bright, like something so hot it would burn you up. But as the light fades, you can see a person in silver armor, perfect yet inhuman like am ancient green statue, their back srouting six wings with blue eyes along them, as the eyes on their head are covered by a mask of two smaller wings. The creature offers their hands and you shake it, as they fly you through the city streets and above the skyscrapers, to the stars above and dimensions beyond, to gods living and dead, across the streets of alien cities and the clouds of dead worlds. And when you return to the earth you can feel something diffrent about you, like there's light in your blood.

The scavenger: below the lights of skyscrapers beyond you, on the dark sands of the beach, you see it crawling twords you. This serpentine creature with countless legs, and a dark black shell, yet a strangely human like face. You think it'll attack or run away, but it just looks at you, egar, and for a momment you stare at eachother. It's legs pass something to eachother and then to you, it's meat but it's shining with all the colors known to the human eye, and a few more. You hold it and it happily looks at you. You take a bite and suddenly you know... you know so very much...

The vampire: she flies down to you on green wings with orange eyespots, but folds them into her back. She looks like a human for a momment, tall and strong, with a black suit over her body, but eyes the color of ruby. For a momment her mouth opens, and it's massive and monstrous, with countless moving parts and fangs. But then it folds back onto something humanoid and she gives you a playful smirk. She cuts her hand and offers you her blood, and when you drink it it tastes so sweet, and makes you feel so good. She hands you the knife and you know to do the same, and when she drinks from your palm it's life the sweetest of kisses.

The djinn: the room wirs around you. If it were not for the fans it would feel like hellfire. For a momment there it darkness, but then the screen before you glows white like smokeless flame. You can sense something inside, something beyond the code. You reach your hand within it, and there's no glass, your hand passess right through until you're in a white void of your own making. You call out, thinking there is nothing at all around you. Yet somehow something calls back, something that knows your name.

The rat king: You see him in an empty subway station. Something dark and distorted, you're not sure if he's man or animal, covered in rags, and singing in the language of the goblins and the orcs. Yet he comes close to you excited. And you can feel his song. He calls for you to come to the train tracks, and let yourself run with the rats and the roaches, where the train will pass over you when it comes, and you'll live forever. When you touch the third rail you don't die, but you'll never be human again.

The lich: the library is strangely bright. Run by skeletons in suits, decorated with gold. There are more books here then you thought were in all the world. There's knowledge here most mortals will never have the change below, all kept safe below the city. You see her, her body doesn't look human, everything has been replaced making her look more like a joining white doll then a being of flesh. Yet she is dead, you can tell that under the porcelain skin she must be dead, she is dead, and there is the tragedy of death in her eyes. You come closer to her, and she places a black rose within your hair...

The demon: You stand in his office and he stands before you, a humanoid being covered in black scales, with red eyes covering his skin. Yet none are on his head, that remains featureless save for two massive horns. Wings on his back nearly surround you. Countless souls line the walls of his office, looking at you, waiting. After you sign your name you give him yours, you can feel it come away for you forever and your eyes grey and your skin pales. But he puts the jar in a special place for you, you're spacial, he can tell there's something about you that he likes.

The mushroom lord: you walk through the darkness of the forest, the furthest from civilization you have ever been. You come upon a part where the trees all seem dead, that even the cryptids won't go near. Mushrooms fill the ground, and white vein like lines are all over the trees. You feel the need to lay down, and you let the moss and the mushrooms and the worms surround you, and let yourself sink into the soil,, and it feels good. It feels so good...

The witch: You can see them in the Cafe next to you, skinny and small, with a sweatshirt over most of their body, and dark glasses over their eyes. They seem powerful though, and though their body looks young they seem ancient, they seem beyond humanity. You talk to them and they tell you things, and secrets, lost gods, things you never knew you didn't know, both beautiful and disturbing. When it's time for them to go they pet your head, and give you their number. You don't know if you should text them, but you have to, you have to see them again, there's something about them that makes you need to know.

The living clothing: you step into it at first, it looked like a puddle yet shining like silver or chrome. But soon it surrounds you, first just your torso, but soon your head, your entire body. But it doesn't feel scary, it feels like you're being held, held by something beyond your understanding. It whispers to you, and you don't know if you should feel like your being eaten alive, or like you're being protected. You can't help but keep walking.

The abyss: the void is before you, blackness beyond blackness, like the color beyond the field of your vision, stands before your eyes. You stare at it, it's nothing yet you're entranced. It stares back...

[flashfuckingflesh]

Wake Up and Get Lost in the EVIL Flowers. "Terror Firma" reviewed! (Dark Arts Entertainment / Blu-ray)

“Terror Firma.” The First Dark Arts Entertainment TItle Now Available! Having no place to go during the middle of an unexplained, national Marshall Law event where citizens must remain indoors or else face imprisonment, Lola bunks in with her fellow adopted brother Louis and his bizarre tenant Cage. Though Lola and Louis have not seen each other in years, they quickly bond to deflect Cage’s…

[audasaurusart]

All the published books with my maps and/or illustrations

Some of them are mine but most of them are not. It's pretty cool seeing them all stacked up like this ^_^

For these other books, one is a series that will have my map in a later book and the other is in the special edition hardback of Hunger Pangs

If the spines here make you cringe, I'm sorry XD

[samerpal]

"First, I would like to thank everyone who supported me.🙏🌹

This is my new platform, friends, after my old platform was deleted for reasons unknown to me.

I ask for your help in sharing my story again to keep hope alive for me and my family, friends.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.♥️

My family and I appreciate your cooperation and hope to reach the desired goal and save us.🙏

Attached are the verification links for the old account from the supporters.

Link vetted by @ibtisams

Link vetted by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi

Link vetted by @sar-soor

My approved number by the families in need and endorsed by the supervisors is 196."

@90-ghost @ibtisams @nabulsi @aces-and-angels @sar-soor @sayruq @fairuzfan @palestinegenocide @vakarians-babe @northgazaupdates @northgazaupdates2

Trapped Family in Gaza Appeals for Help to Survive 🕊️🇵🇸🙏

I Samer Abu Ras, am reaching out to you with a heartfelt humanitarian appeal, after the ongoing war in Gaza has cast its dark shadow over my life and the lives of my family. Our lives were once filled with peace and stability before the onset of this catastrophe, but now, we find ourselves living in a situation described as nothing short of tragic.

My wife, Shurooq, our three children, and I are now homeless, without a source of income, and without hope for the future. My family and I have lost our businesses and our home due to the war, and we now have nothing left but the cold streets and troubled hearts.

My children are suffering greatly as a result of these horrific events. They have lost the security and stability they once enjoyed and are now facing new health and psychological challenges that threaten their lives. As a father and husband, I feel powerless in my ability to provide adequate protection and care for them.

My child, who is a year and a half old, is experiencing hardships far beyond his tender age. Since the war broke out, we had to flee our home and seek refuge in a tent in a displacement camp. My child lives in extremely difficult conditions, deprived of safety and stability. The tent does not provide adequate protection from harsh weather, and food and medicine are scarce. My child suffers from malnutrition and illness, lacking basic healthcare. He cannot play or grow in a healthy and suitable environment. My only dream is to see him grow up in a safe place full of opportunities

In the face of difficult circumstances, Samer Abu Ras and his family find themselves facing serious challenges in their daily lives. They reside in a modest tent lacking comfort and security, suffering from a shortage of clean water and food, and encountering difficulties in accessing necessary healthcare. Despite these challenges, they continue to express hope and resilience in confronting adversity, holding onto hope for a better tomorrow and a return to a more stable and secure life.

I appeal to you today, dear friends, to extend to me a helping hand in escaping this hell. Regardless of the size of the donation, every drop of generosity will contribute to alleviating our suffering and rebuilding our lives anew.

We need your help to secure the funds necessary to travel away from these destructive wars and seek a safe and stable environment where we can build a better future for our children

Let us stand together in these difficult times and let hope triumph over despair by providing support and assistance to those in dire need. Let us be part of the solution and build a better future for ourselves and future generations.

Thank you for listening and for the potential generosity of your giving, and for your generous donations that will change the lives of my family for the better.

With sincere gratitude and appreciation

‏Samer Abu Ras and family.

@heba-20 @soon-palestine @marnota @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @i-am-aprl @nabulsi @sayruq @communistchilchuck @palipunk @palestinecharitycommissionsassoc @faggotfungus @ghost-and-a-half @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness @three-croissants @interfacefox @appsa @akajustmerry @feluka @flower-tea-fairies @90-ghost @victoriawhimsey @ficsforgaza @aria-ashryver @mangocheesecakes @humanvoicebox @plomegranate @queerstudiesnatural @commissions4aid-international @palestinegenocide @ghost-and-a-half @bibyebae @heritageposts @norrriey 🍉🌹🍉✍️

🌹🍉🇵🇸❤️🌹🍉🇵🇸❤️🌹🍉

[acourtofrue]

A Court of Mask and Life

Title: A Court of Masks and Life

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Tamlin x Female OC, Tamlin x Female OC x Other OC(s), Tamlin x Male OC, Male OC x Trans Male OC, The Inner Circle (Relationship), Feyre x Rhysand, Mor x Emorie, Azriel x Gwyn, Lucien x Elain, Nesta x Cassian, Azriel x Eris

Tags: Bisexual Awakening, Tamlin Redemption, War, Romance, LGBTQ+ , Drama

Summary:

Tamlin once almost had everything until he lost it to his anger and vanity, and most of all, his obsession with keeping a memory of what once was alive. Now, he has nothing. No Feyre. No stability in his court. No will to see himself as anything other than a beast, for despite his actions during the war with Hybern, he remains painted as the one who caused the mess.

Haunted by the voice of his deceased mate, one day, while roaming the woods, he comes upon a bright light beckoning him. And within the blink of an eye, he finds himself somewhere foreign, loud, and full of weird gadgets -- weirder than Lucien's glass eye. In other words, he finds himself in our world, specifically in the United States, Wisconsin, where a fearless woman named Ziva Schroeder finds Tamlin and takes him in. Our world is run by faeries, of which Ziva is half, and angels, which Ziva also carries in her blood.

While Tamlin gets to experience modernness through the help of Ziva and her inner circle, the tug to return to Prythian soon becomes a warning because a familiar foe plans to resurface, more potent than ever, worse than ever, and only Tamlin has such knowledge of the plans. However, he also must choose between our world and Prythian.

[hoshigray]

Satoru and Suguru having a competition over who can impregnate their sweet shared lover first, please?

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: oh my goodness???....you got my attention.

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Geto + Gojo x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - canon divergence; implied geto is still a jujutsu tech sorcerer - satosugu taking turns with you - kissing; making out - lotus (geto) + eagle (gojo) positions - breeding kink - scratching - multiple orgasms - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up, of get tf up) - cervix fucking - creampies - clitoral play (swiping) - pet names (angel, baby, my love, pretty girl, princess, sweetheart) - humor - mention of drool + heavy depictions of come/semen.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.1k

“Oooh—Haahh! Ohhh, God, Suguu, y’ feel so good…!”

“You feel good, too, princess...Hgghh! Shit, Y/n—“

“Yo, can you hurry it up? You know I’m not a patient guy, Suguru.”

Gojo sucks his teeth while watching you get it on with Geto. It was one of those nights when they’d come home and surprise you together. Usually, one would be assigned longer shifts or missions (that one mostly being Gojo), and the other would return home to eat dinner and sleep with you. But there would be those days when they’d arrive home in unison and try to do whatever they can to have you enjoy these rare moments with all three of you.

Sometimes, it would be Gojo taking you guys to some delicious café that sells parfaits that you’d probably like or Geto having the idea to have lunch at the park and enjoy the sun together. But, of course, there’d be those days when simply being inside the apartment, talking about each other’s day, watching a random movie, and then snoring while spooning would suffice. Because it doesn’t matter what they choose to do; all three of you being at the same place is always the best!

Tonight, however, was one of those nights where they’d pull you aside, drown you in kisses and gropes, and carry you to the bedroom for a more intimate occasion. For tonight, Geto and Gojo wanted to fuck you in the hopes you’ll be with child. And what better way for the two best friends to go about such an eventful issue than by a competition to see who can fill you up the most? 

Suguru has you propped on his crossed lap, your arms wrapped around his neck, and his hands kneading your asscheeks as you bounce on his cock and wail out his name in pretty notes. This was about the third round of the night, your cunt wet and filled with both Geto’s and Gojo’s cum. The fluids stream down with every jump of your hips from the base of his girth to his balls, the sounds of your union so filthy with the groans and moans that bounce around the bedroom walls. 

Geto sighs and burrows his chin into your shoulder. “Hahhh, oh, stop your crying, Satoru. You finished your turn and didn’t hear me heckle while you and Y/n were doing it.”

The white-haired man grunts with more complaints, to Geto’s dismay. “Yeah, well, I’m not the one who takes longer to finish,” he persists, even if his raven-haired friend frowns. “I don’t want you to be the reason my dick falls asleep.”

“Tch, what you should be worrying about is finishing too quickly when it’s your turn. You act like being faster is better…Heh, maybe you can’t handle Y/n better than I do.”

“You son of a—“

“Hey now,” you’re the one who mediates the growing childish tension between your husbands, turning your face to lock Gojo in a spell with your gorgeous, hooded eyes. “Be nice, Toru; it’s Sugu’s turn now, so you can have me however you want when we’re done here, okay?”

Like a heart-struck fool, pink shades creep into the helix of Gojo’s ears as he happily complies with your request. “Okay, my princess.”

Geto rolls his eyes at his friend’s display; what a total loser. As if he has room to talk because once you turn back to face him and kiss his cheek, his breath hitches. “Come on,” you whisper. “Don’t let him ruin your fun.”

The dark-haired one chuckles before claiming your lips with his, “Wouldn’t dream of it, angel.”

As you two kiss, you rock your hips more to create a steady rhythm on top of Geto. His girth stretches your vagina nicely, and with his pulsing veins, you can feel them rub on the velvety texture of your inner walls. It’s good that the pace is at a respectable tempo, allowing you to feel him at your wits and pleasure truly.

But the best part of this position is how easy it is to stimulate your clitoris. Every time you rock your hips against Geto’s, the bulb rubs against his body and has your frame jolting. It feels so fucking good, having your cunt stuffed with his girth member and graze your walls deliciously while your precious button is being pressed.

The pacing soon goes in sync, his subtle thrusts as you bounce your ass on him while kissing. Your mewls are taken by his hungry lips, sucking on your tongue to evoke more cute noises, your hand coming to the back of his head to massage and grab strands of his onyx hair. He’s so romantic with you and your body, the position making this intimacy so much more personal. Your chasm frequently clamps on his cock when you pull your waist up, making the man below you hiss at the grip.

He breaks the kiss, “Shit, you tighten around me so nicely…”

“Really?” You giggle, laying more kisses on his cheek and ears. It sends shivers down his spine. 

“—Khhh, damn it, I can’t...” Suddenly, Geto thrusts upwards in a faster notion, and you scream to hold on quickly and follow his cadence. “Fuck, you feel too amazing, sweetheart…!” You can’t reply to him appropriately; your only responses are narrowed down to high-pitched whines and squeals. His hands wrap around your back to keep your body close as he chases his climax, his hot face melting with the sweat of your shoulder while he pushes his cock to meet your cervix. “Hmng! Hmmnn, I’m gonna cum, baby…!”

“Ohooo, me too, Sug’ruu, me—Tahhh! Ohhh, Jesus…!” Your clit keeps bumping onto Geto, your nerves getting activated with every rut. Shaky moans leave your puffy lips, and your hand scratches his back at every jab of your delicate cervix. You bring him in for another kiss – this one a lot more rushed and steamy – and your orgasm hits you both from the erratic speed of your hips.

You two sigh heavily into each other’s mouths, your body sinking into Geto’s gentle hold as his cock ejaculates his semen into your throbbing slit. His hands massage your back while his pelvis rolls to grind his dick and have your walls clench onto him more.

With a soft sound, you remove your lips from his, smiling gently while you brush his bangs off to view his left eye. “You love to finish strong, Sugu.”

He chuckles before kissing your nose. “Can’t help it if you drive me crazy, my love—“

“Alright, round’s over!” 

Before Geto knows it, Gojo’s already on the bed, yanking you off his best friend’s lap and laying you down with your back to the sheets. He voices his discontent, trying not to appear too upset. “Excuse you? Can’t let me have a moment?”

“Nope!” He shoves a middle finger to Geto’s face, and the black-headed one almost pops a vessel. “I practically went limp after watching you two for so long. So obverse from the side and let me have my fun.”

“So annoying,” Geto mumbles under his breath, yet the milky-haired one chooses not to listen with a huff and places all his attention on you.

“Now,” Gojo turns to you with half-lidded cerulean eyes, a smile beaming too much that his dimples show up. He spreads your legs to evince your messy chasm; Geto’s come spilling down to the crevice of your butt as he massages your inner thighs. Fuck, so fucking nasty, it had him bite his lip. “You ready for more of me, baby?”

You titter, bringing your legs up your chest and spread to a V-shape. “Yes, Toru, thank you for being patient.”

He snickers while pushing his glans to meet your soapy folds, humming when the excessive come lubes your labia sufficiently for his cock to be inserted. The hug of your walls makes him moan, and you jerk as his left curve scratches the plush itch. “Fuuuuck, so warm and tight for me, baby.” 

His arms support your legs in the air, and the position allows him to initiate with slow thrusts. Your purr at his movements; the curve has you howl with every push, stretching your pussy when he propels himself into you and rubs the upper wall of your vagina. Oh God, feels so fucking good…

You peer to where his dick is plunging into your cunt, silently awing at the mussy display of cum ringing around the base of his shaft and stringing to where your folds are. Holy shit, you chew on your bottom lip and move a hand to finger your clit, silently howling at the swipes you dance around your bud. “OhhhGod, hmmmm, right there…”

Gojo looks down and sees what you’re doing, and he chuckles, “Shit, you enjoying yourself, pretty girl? Hmm?” He ruts into you with sudden haste, and an abrupt hit to your cervix has you almost choking on air. “Like being filled up, huh?”

“Ahhh, y–yesss, I lov—Mmmph!!” He grinds his pelvis down, drilling his length deep inside to scuff your smooth walls. “I love y’r dick so much, Satoruuu…!”

“Awww, look at you playing with yourself,” the view excited him more, increasing his speed to pound into you. You cry out at the poke of your cervix, clamping onto him in response. “Ahhhh, there it is,” he coos while adding more weight onto you, making his rocks precise where he wants to hit. More shrieks fly out your lips, “Wanna be bred so bad, princess? Want me to fill you up again?”

Your head aches, ears ringing from the sloppy sounds of his dick rutting inside you, his balls smack your grundel with every push. “Ahhnn, mmoohhh, ye’sss,” you whisper.

“C’mon, angel, let me hear you.” Gojo places his forehead on your sweaty one, azure eyes examining your expression in a haze. “You want—Nnngh! Fuck…Want me to fuck a baby into you, yeah? Make you a mama? ”

“Yess, ’Toru, yesss!! Give me y’ur babiess, make me all fat and full!!”

“Heh, good, pretty girl; so good for—Khhckk!! Shit, shit, I’m gonna cum…” He brings his lips to yours, moaning to the kiss with you while his hips turn up to a volatile rate. Your whimpers are sucked and drunk by him, your eyebrows furrowed from the cyclical hits to your cervix and rubbing on your silky tunnel.  

Your arms come around to his shoulders, beckoning him to deepen the kiss as your body gets ready for the orgasm that hits you like a train. Trembles climb up your frame, whines muffled, and drool slips out your mouth down to your chin. Your cunt contracts around his length, milking him into his own release and filling you with his essence, adding to the pile that squelches and trickles down to the sheets beneath you. 

Gojo nibbles on your lip as he pumps every last bit of his load into you, his tongue twirling with yours until he removes his face from yours. He smiles, dimples greeting you with disheveled strands of snow-white hair sticking to his forehead. Too distracted by his charm for him to sneak in more harsh thrusts to your aching frame. 

You gasp aloud, “—Ohooo! Satoru, nooo! I’m too sensitive nowww..!!”

“Mmmm, sorry, princess,” an apology with a smile doesn’t match, placing a kiss on your forehead as you wail for him while he ruts into your vulnerable slit. “You just feel too good, can never get enou—Owwww!!”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Witness to the entire thing, Geto smacks Gojo with a house slipper before pulling him off you and throwing him to the side. The blue-eyed man looks at the other with an annoyed face. “I should be asking you the same thing, you psycho; what’s with the assault!?”

“Did you forget? Your turn is up,” indigo eyes narrow with a dark glint. “So why are you still moving?”

“Oh, quit yapping, giant earlobes! Can’t a guy squeeze in a few more before I get off…Or what, you scared I’d make them pregnant first? Your frail soldiers can’t compete with mine, is that it?” 

“Hah, you tell me, blue-eyed snowflake; you’re the one still trying to fuck into them like you’re afraid your load isn’t enough. Poor guy; can’t be a sore loser too early, now.”

“Choke on my dick!”

“You first.”

The two bicker back and forth while you observe, unable to find the right cue to intervene as you’re still in a daze. You sit on your side, feeling the liquids inside you exit your frame and slide down your thighs.

As they fight, you remember that you had forgotten to tell them that you took a birth control pill earlier today after they texted about returning home together. It wasn’t until after dinner that they said they wanted to try and fuck and fill you to the brim, practically dragging you to the room before you could utter a word to them about the contraceptive.

…Oh well, surely they don’t mean to have a baby right this moment. Plus, there will be other times! So, for now, you watch your husbands argue before you while shaking your head with a smile.

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/benkeibear.

[joelsdagger]

only then, i am good || one shot

joel miller x f!reader

masterlist || ao3 || follow @joelsdaggerupdates for fic updates!

pairing: daddy jackson!joel x f!reader summary: you have a bad day in which it makes you question your worth. only joel can make you see the truth. warnings: jackson era [well into the tlou2 timeline but nothing bad happens], implied age gap [i warn you, joel is old old], angst [in the form of internal turmoil], feelings of guilt/burdening, established relationship, dd/lg dynamics, soft daddy dom!joel, daddy kink, praise kink, size kink, finger sucking, pet names galore [baby, sweetheart, little girl, angel] size kink, reader is hella needy, reader has pubic hair bc i said so, smidgen of cockwarming, just the tip mention, dubcon*, dacryphilia, unprotected piv, nipple play, belly bulge, creampie, joel is reader’s personal weighted blanket, fluff, aftercare. *reader is not in the right headspace to properly consent to piv but she’s a-okay with it! word count: 3.8k

a/n: i’ve been to emotional (and physical) hell and back (are we back? who knows) these last few weeks and it had me yearning for daddy jackson!joel. so this is what this is. it’s a tad different from my typical style of writing and it’s not betaed and very very loosely proofread (barely looked thru it while in the waiting room lol), so it’s probably shit but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless xx

You should’ve double-checked the lock. Triple-checked it. As always. Hand to God, it slipped your mind. You were tired. Achy and sleepy, and you just wanted to go home. Back to Joel. Curl your spent body into the thick, burly warmth of his and let him cradle you until the whole day wipes itself from memory. 

You’ve been asking them for more responsibilities — a more serious role within Jackson, for months. After today, you’re sure they’ll never take you seriously. Never see you as one of them. They’re so much older and wiser — experienced. And you…well, you are not.

They never fuck up. Never make mistakes that would risk losing an important asset to this safe haven. And today you have. You fucked up. You don’t know how you forgot. It’s been your only job here, the only thing they let you have, and still — you messed it up. 

You forgot to lock the stall door to the stable for one of the horses. And not only did the horse escape but now the town is technically down one patrolman. You have completely thrown off the patrolling schedule, one that was meticulously crafted and has been in place long before you arrived in Jackson. It very rarely changed. 

You offered to lend a hand, practically begged them to send you out with the rest of the search party. But Maria, Tommy, and Joel all told you to go home while they sent a group (of which included Joel and Tommy themselves) outside the gates, well past dusk, to go looking for him. You felt entirely useless.

Begrudgingly, you scurried home, a beaten puppy in need of licking one’s wounds. Feeling the weight of the day and the frustration that has accumulated over months suddenly seeping into your bones, and you just…broke. You crawled into bed, alone in the dark, and you cried for hours, your mind spiraled, turning over the mistake you made, again and again and again. 

When it stops and the wracking sobs slow into shuddery hiccups, it’s only because you hear heavy footsteps in the hallway. Slow. Tired. But steady — sure. And that nauseating sensation in the pit of your stomach returns as the footsteps grow closer and closer. 

The door creaks open slowly, pale yellow light from the hallway spills through the crack, your puffy eyes squint and flutter against the sudden light, shape of him vague in your blurry vision, but you know it’s him: tall frame, broad shoulders, pale skin, and dark features.  

Joel. 

You curl your body tighter, making yourself as small as possible. Close your eyes, and bury your tear-stained face back into the damp royal blue of his linens, the piney scent of him everywhere: his pillows, his sheets, his mattress, clouding your mind. You hear his footsteps as he rounds the bed, feel him reach over and switch on the lamp beside you. He grunts, his joints creak as you feel his weight sinking the edge of the bed, settling himself down in the ‘c’ shape your body had formed.

“We found him. Fella was out by Hidden Pines,” voice soft, almost cautious. 

You nod silently, but you don’t look at him, not wanting to embarrass yourself even more, not wanting him to see how pathetic you look after spending hours upon hours sobbing into the pillows over a mistake you made.  

A heavy hand cups your knee over the sheets, thumb stroking bone through the fabric there. 

“It wasn’t your fault, baby.” He says, surely.

But you don’t really believe him. 

You sniffle and tilt your face away from the tear-soaked pillows just enough so he can hear you. “Yes, it was. I was the last one in there. It’s my job to take the horses back and settle them in for the night. My job to make sure they stay in the stables. It’s been my job, my only job all this time, and I can’t even do that right,” you ramble, voice breaking, bottom lip wobbling, fat tears pricking your red eyes once again. 

“No. You listen here,” he says sternly, feeling his body turn beside you, bed covers bunching up around your knees. “You did lock it, but the latch was loose, honey. Tommy and I tried ‘em. They’re due for a fixin’ n’ we should’ve been checkin’ ‘em, but that’s my job, not yours. This wasn’t on you, darlin’. You hear me?”

You avoid his eye and stay furled on the bed. Silence swells between you, and you fiddle with a stray thread in his sheets.

“He wasn’t supposed to take off like that, but he’s a younger horse,” he shrugs, and a sigh falls from his lips. “It happens. Whoever was mannin’ the wall tonight should’ve seen him. Many things were at play, baby. It wasn’t your fault.” He says in a matter-of-fact tone.

Your head snaps over your shoulder in a fury. “I could’ve helped fix it. I could’ve made it right,” you bite, shaky voice laced with venom. You don’t mean for it to sound so harsh, but it manages to stifle the sob that threatens to claw up your throat. And for a second, the irritation in your voice doesn’t rattle you until you notice Joel’s shoulders tense, and you regret it immediately. 

A whirlpool of emotions swirls in your belly. A weird noise squeaks out from your lips as you try to fruitlessly blink away the sleep and salt in your eyes. You don’t want to cry in front of him. You bury your face into the pillow again, trying to muffle the sob-like groan as you cringe away from Joel, ashamed. 

His hand drifts up your thigh, broad palm splayed across your flesh, his touch unwavering. “Sweetheart, the only reason I told you to stay here s’because it ain’t safe out there. The amount of infected may be less this time o’year but the cold…” He trails off, his grip tightening around the meat of your thigh unconsciously, “makes people meaner,” his voice grows unsteady at the thought. 

You shiver, and you suspect he feels it. He clears his throat, and tender fingers brush the strands of hair out of your face, then they trail down, and you feel the cold roughness of his skin against the warm softness of yours as his calloused hand cups your jaw, tilting it to face him, forcing you to meet his eyes. 

Your eyes pinch shut, and the dam breaks. You can’t bear to look at him. Your heart sits heavy in your chest, feeling the guilt creeping back in at his touch. His hands, usually warm, are now icy cold, and all you can think about is how you are the cause of it. He had been out in the cold longer than he needed to be because of you. You and he both know his worn bones can’t handle it, and yet, he went out there in the dead of winter as nightfall cloaked over Jackson to right your wrong, and it makes you feel terrible. 

“Baby. Look at me,” he whispers softly.

You do, and through bleary eyes you meet his weary gaze. His lips are downturned into a frown, and with a twist in his brows, that worry line in the middle of his forehead materializes. You hate being the cause of it. Your heart plops to your stomach, your throat goes thick, something rising at the base of it. 

“What do you need, sweetheart? Tell me,” he implores, his voice stern but soft, eyes shifting back and forth between yours — dark amber irises so warm, pleading.  

Teach me to be good. “Just you, daddy – just need you,” you blubber, your voice innocent and small. Weak. 

He knows exactly what you mean. You have been together long enough that he reads you like an open book. You watch as he wordlessly toes off his boots with a thud. Watch as he moves to stand to unbuckle his belt, dropping it to the floor with a soft clink, his jeans, jacket, and flannel following shortly after. Watch as he shifts onto the bed, bones crackling as he lowers himself and presses his broad form into you, his knees popping as they coax yours open. Watch as one of his hands drifts south between your bodies to grip the thick root of his cock while the other bunches up your nightgown to your navel, revealing your unobstructed cunt to him.  

You whimper when the leaky head of his cock notches at the already slippery entrance of your cunt. He glides the wide cockhead between your folds, up and down, up and down, while the warmth of his breath fans across your face when his lips part to murmur, just the tip tonight, baby, s’not a good idea for you to take all o’me right now, alright? 

You nod numbly. You don’t care how much he gives you — you just need to feel him. Need him to fix you. Need him to make the hurt you feel inside go away. Need him to search for the good. Maybe it’s there, buried deep in a place only he can find. 

His hands find yours, pins them firmly above your head, and with his dark gaze holding yours, he very gently pushes his tip inside your tight, wet hole. His mouth pops open in a deep groan, and you catch it with a soft gasp of your own. 

“There you go. S’that feel better, pretty baby?” He murmurs, his jaw ticks, brows twitch.  

You nod desperately, your wide, glassy eyes going hooded. Your thighs tense around him, causing a little more of his cock to push inside, making you whimper and squirm beneath him.  

“Good. Now just listen to my voice. Just focus on me, right here,” he grunts haggardly, voice so low and commanding. And that alone makes your brain go fuzzy. 

You try to focus all your energy on his voice and the heavy weight of him on top of you and the fat tip of his cock stretching your too little hole open, but suddenly, he pulls out, and you almost whine at his absence.

But Joel doesn’t give you enough time. 

Your body moves up the bed with a jolt, gasping when his hips push forward with more force, filling your cunt with the head of his cock, and then some more, only to slip out of you again immediately after. He’s toying with you, and he’s doing so because he knows you really need this. 

He slips his cockhead gently back inside you, and you whine at the soft squelch your slicken pussy makes. The two of you revel in the lewd, wet sounds that ricochet through the room, all while never breaking eye contact. 

“My little girl just needed me to fuck all the bad thoughts away, hm?” he breathes, his nose brushes against yours.

“Mmhm,” you sigh, cunt flittering around him. 

“Needed me to stretch out her sweet little hole and make everything better, s’that it?” 

You nod frantically, moaning breathlessly. 

Joel growls. “Say yes, daddy,” he commands you softly, his fingers squeezing yours.

“Y—ye—yes, d–daddy.” Your words come out broken in between the slow rolls of his hips, but by the smirk that tugs on his lips, you know he’s proud of you anyway. 

“Good girl,” he praises, his touch featherlight as his fingers push the stray strands of hair away from your forehead, and the scruff of his chin tickles your nose as he lays an open-mouthed kiss between your furrowed brows.  

“But daddy—” you start to protest, scrunching your nose. 

Joel harrumphs as he pulls back. All of his features pull into a stern look, and to stop you, the pad of his roughened thumb sweeps across your cheek and sinks between your parted lips. 

“Na-uh. No fightin’ with daddy,” he presses gently. 

By instinct, your lips close around his digit, sucking it into your mouth and swirling your tongue around the thick of it, tasting the salty, woodsy flavor of him, and it only feeds the foggy haze in your mind more. 

Spit pools at the corner of your lips. His thumb moves in and out of your mouth, matching the rhythm of his thrusts as he fucks his cockhead in and out of your hole. Your mind begins to blur, but there’s still a storm stirring in your swollen eyes, and Joel, as always, can see it. 

“Alright, this ain’t workin’,” he sighs exasperatedly. 

And you think he’s utterly fed up with you not obeying him. He unsticks his body from yours, and your eyes search his face — the lines beside his eyes, the hairs in his brows, the muscles around his lips — trying to decode the emotion that flits across his features. Though, as expected, it’s near impossible to read him. Joel may have been able to crack you open, and although the years he has spent in Jackson have managed to soften him up — tiny cracks in his stony exterior over time — he remains inscrutable. 

For a moment, you think he’s going to scold you. Tell you you’re no good for him anymore. You wouldn’t blame him. You can’t seem to do anything right. Maybe he thought he wanted to take you apart, bit by careful bit. But what if he peered through the gap and saw something he didn’t like? What if he had a change of heart — now that he stepped back and assessed the damage? What if the severity of it was too much to mend? Burden too heavy to carry. He doesn’t deserve that. He deserves someone good. Someone not in need of fixing. Someone unbroken. 

But Joel surprises you. His hand retracts from your face, and instead wraps his arm around your middle, maneuvering you onto his thighs so you're straddling him. His free hand fists the hem of your nightgown, and in one swift motion, tugs the fabric over your head and tosses it aside to join his pile of clothes on the floor. His heavy hands find your waist once again, and with the head of his cock still buried deep in between your legs, he sits up and back against the headboard, grunting a low, alright, c'mere, as he takes you with him with ease.

You cling to him like a koala, body putty and pliant as he brings your weak arms to wrap around his neck. And then, a firm hand moves to cradle the back of your neck, lets you nuzzle your wet face into the dip in his shoulder, and breathe in the comfort of his scent while his other traverses the line of your spine.

Slow but steady, Joel bucks his hips up, up, up, until the entirety of his thick length works its way into the slick slide of your cunt. Your soft thatch of curls meets his, softly grazes your clit, and you writhe in his arms, sniffle, and whimper brokenly against his shoulder, but sure, gentle hands pull you into his chest tighter. You feel the strong drum of his heart against yours, thrumming against each other: ga-gung, ga-gung, ga-gung, pace quickening, like they're trying to catch up, trying to sync. Your body melts into his. Skin to skin, heart to heart, heat of your cunt to the heat of his cock; and then suddenly, two become one.

“Shh, shhh, I know, baby, I know. You got it,” he whispers, as he begins to rock you back and forth, back and forth, lulling you gently back into the haze, and everything finally fades away. 

He presses a kiss right behind your ear. “Therrrre we go, just take it, good girl,” he murmurs as a heavy hand pets your hair. And whether he’s talking about his cock or his praise, you obey regardless. Your cunt sucks the heat of his cock in deep. Let him fuck himself into you; let his warmth smolder you until your cunt ignites. Let it roar and burn and spread through your system like wildfire. Let him make you good.

The tips of his fingers move through your hair in small ministrations, gently scratching away at your skull. “Daddy—s–so big—” you whimper, your fingers pulling the hair at the nape of his neck, tears welling up in your eyes as something low in your belly begins to churn. 

“Shhh, angel, it’s okay. I know, s’a lot,” he soothes, feeling his deep voice reverberate against your chest. Your cunt contracts at his praise, and the steady pace of his hips falters briefly; he groans deeply when he feels his tip choked tight within your walls, “you’re doin’ so good for me, sweetheart, so good.”  

He continues his shallow thrusts while he rocks you in his arms. There’s a low static buzz in your ears, but you can still hear the perverse chant that manages to fall from your lips — one that grows louder with every roll of his hips, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy. And in turn, he murmurs incessant blabbers of, you’re okay, angel, daddy’s here, daddy’s gotcha, into your hair, punctuating every one of his words with a soft kiss to your temple and a slow buck of his hips.  

The tip of his cock nudges that soft ridge deep inside you, and he feels your cunt flutter around him. “You gonna come for me, angel, hm? You gonna be a real good girl for daddy and let me feel this drippy little pussy come all over me?” He coos.  

“Uh-huh,” you murmur. 

Deft fingers curl around the back of your neck, and with the slightest of pressure, he squeezes once, gently instructing you to use your words. A silent command. 

“Y-yes, daddy, I prom–I promise, I wanna be good. I wanna be good,” you mewl.

His nose drags along the side of your face, down, down, down, until his heated lips meet your pulse point. “Go on, baby, let go n’ get daddy all messy. Show daddy how good of a girl you are,” he rambles, his voice a low vibration, goosebumps prickling in its wake.

With your tight cunt full and impaled on his cock, your clit throbs, eager for more friction. You rut your hips against his, humping him like a dog in heat as you rub your puffy pearl against the graying curls there, smearing him in your slick just as he insisted.   

And within seconds, your body constricts, navel pulls taut, and then something fiery in your belly erupts. Your body begins to tremble as stars burst behind your eyelids, liquid heat turns your mind and body molten, melting away completely with the force of your release.

“Daaaddy,” you cry, lips quivering. Your muscles go lax, and your body slumps in his hold, feeling the last of your energy leaving you. Your head lulls back, and his hand slides up the base of your neck in time to catch it in his massive palm.

He clutches you tight, marveling at your fucked-out form in his arms while babbling praises of,  ohhh–that’s it, that’s it, good job, baby, such a good fuckin’ girl— daddy’s so proud of you, as warm tears roll down your face. And it only spurs him on. 

His languid strokes speed up, your body jolts above him violently, weeping cunt fluttering repeatedly around him. Your mouth falls open, wanton moans escape past your parted lips as he fucks you harder. “Christ, that’s it, that’s my girl. Look at you, perfect little thing,” he pants, coaxing you through your orgasm. 

His eyes drop quickly to watch the bounce of your tits, nipples peaked and gleaming with beads of sweat. He dips his head to one sticky breast, and with a flick of his hot tongue, he laps up the salt on your skin. 

It elicits a sharp gasp from you, your chewed fingernails desperately trying to claw at him, your body arching against his mouth, and you feel him grin against the curve of your breast. His mouth drifts, wraps his whiskered lips around your other swollen nipple, tongue swirls the pointed bud, teasing you with a graze of his teeth across the wet peak before nipping it, tugging the stiffened point ever so slightly between his teeth.  

“Daddy��oh!” You choke on a moan, and your spent pussy clenches around him so tight, your cunt is almost forcing him out. His hips buck into you harder in response, his thrusts growing more erratic as he seeks his own release. 

Joel hisses, mouth releasing your tit with a wet pop, “sweet Jesus, m’gonna give it to you real good, baby—like you deserve, fuck—”

He's cut off by the strangled groan that rips through his chest, his back arches off the headboard, and you feel him twitch. His grasp on your enervated form tightens, and then a blazing heat spreads inside you. His sweaty forehead falls to your dampened chest, the swell of your breasts cushioning the drop of his head, his body convulsing as he pumps upwards into your core. Cock pulsing and spasming within your walls as he continues to spill inside you, your belly swelling and set to burst full of his seed.  

Joel slumps back against the headboard, his arms loosen, but they don’t release you, just holds you there on top of him as he presses hasty kisses and whispers shaky sweet nothings into your hair while his hot seed dribbles out around his length, turning the hair at the root of his cock into a pool of sticky milky white.  

You don’t know if it’s minutes or hours that pass by as you stay limp in his lap, breathing in the sweat and sex on his skin as you snuggle back into his neck, the heat a low simmer. But when he runs a warm, wet rag between your legs and uses the same one to wipe your mixed wet off of his shaft before he tucks you in with a peck to your lips, the tip of your nose, a long kiss to your forehead, and lays himself on top of you with the full weight of him, pulling the comforter up to trap the heat of your bodies between you, sore cunt plugged with his softened cock once more, you know that he makes you feel whole. Not ruined or broken. Not stupid or useless or helpless. And in truth, it's all you’ve ever known with him.

As you slip gently into the waiting black, small fingers that draw circles into his silver curls come to a slow, you think you hear a quiet sigh — feel his lips lazily form around the words against your tacky skin — something of, you are good, angel tucked away into the valley between your naked breasts like a secret. And you think you believe him, and for now, that’s enough for you.

[yzzart]

YOU'RE RULING THE WAY THAT I MOVE... ── KENJI SATO

── summary: Kenji was insatiable, they say.

── content warnings: F!reader, 18+, nsfw, fiance!kenji, oral (f!receiving), finger marks, petnames, dirty talk, explicit words, explicit content.

── word count: 1.206!

Oh, Kenji Sato was, unconditionally, insatiable. — Perhaps, mentioned in countless reports and comments and rumors from journalists, a little voracious and avid. — Making it clear that he looked for satisfaction around him, wanting to end this thirst on the court.

Being one of the biggest, and best, baseball stars, he had the reason, and right, to cause this. — Everyone could agree, right?

But this feeling remained in his chest, covertly, off the court; of course, trying not to show it in the public eye. — There was a mixture of need and lack that only Sato could admit; poorly, dramatic.

Kenji felt hungry, needing to be close to you, causing any physical contact, wanting to enjoy every inch of your body; aspiring to press it around you. — He wants to feel, touch and delight you. — And that drove the young boy crazy.

At the same time that you drove him crazy, leaving Sato thirsty, greedy for your smell or just seeing your gaze against his, you also directed him to the light; being a guide on your troubled path. —Kenji was grateful, and, gods, as he was. — The possibly true meaning of walking through heaven and hell in one walk.

He was trapped, connected to you; always keeping, like a magnet, his strong, long arms around your waist, pressing himself against you or fitting his face into the crook of your neck, nudging his nose into the back of your neck. — Sometimes, his teeth run through your skin, a sensitive spot, marking the area and then kissing it; conveying a loving and ironic action when saying “sorry, my love”.

Also, Kenji remained, pleasantly, surrounded between your thighs and holding them, with such precision and rigidity, leaving, in the future, marks of his long fingers; unable to avoid the possessiveness that coursed through his veins. — Delighting, relishing in the taste of your pussy; keeping him even more addicted to you, being certified as a starving animal.

That mouth, so bold and sharp, that responded and argued everything that came to mind, in fact, was smeared with taste and pleasure; sucking, kissing your folds, incredibly wet and mixed with his saliva, in an unruly way. — Attacking your sensitive and pulsating clitoris, his tongue surrounding it with slow circles and tracing lines across the region. — Rarely threatening contact with his teeth.

The damned man knew how to torture you and thought it was funny, he had, unquestionably, a talent for it.

“Ken, holy shit…!” — The environment, unstable, dark and poorly lit by the small bands of light that came from the huge windows, covered by curtains, was filled with the moans and whimpers that came out of your beautiful, dirty mouth. — “Ngh!” — You choked, trying to breathe.

Kenji would like, would love, to live with his face between your thighs; he could forget about baseball, save the city from monsters, everything. — Everything to devour you.

“My little princess with that mouth…” — A pop, made by his mouth, when sucking one of your folds was exclaimed. — “…so dirty.” — Pretends false hurt along with a pout, quickly licks his lips. — "So good…"

Raising his shiny orbs of desire and lasciviousness, Kenji witnessed, or rather, enjoyed your dazed image, hazy of the purest pleasure you received, feeling in a cloud of delight. — The large t-shirt, which belonged to your fiencé, lifted up to your collarbone, showing off your perky breasts and your messy hair spread across the pillow. — A magnificent work of art, somewhat angelic, apollonian.

Your little face manifested the lost between lust and excitement, being a sight for Sato's eyes. — You looked wonderful, as always.

“You know, hmm…” — The heat of his tongue returned, moving, slowly, to your entrance, tasting, ambitious; Sato's name was begged, almost inaudible, landing in his ears. — “I would spend hours eating that pussy.” — He had already confessed to that filthy curse so many times, but that's not a complaint. — “Oh, but, you know, don’t you?” — He growled.

“Hm, hm…” — This was an attempt to state what I had heard. — “Ken, please…” — You didn’t know what, in fact, you were begging, you didn’t care about blurting out disconnected words and things; the older one raised his eyebrows, mocking you.

“Fuck, baby.” — Kenji exclaims, almost breathless, closing his eyes and tracing a line with his tongue to the small, quivering dot, focusing on it; impatiently, wanting to enjoy your orgasm. — "I know, i know." — He babbled, clicking his tongue and increasing the speed of his licks; distributing a messy, clumsy, obscene kiss to your pussy.

A scream, thin and tearful, with a melodic tone, and considered music for the player, broke free from your mouth. — Being caught off guard during the change of promptness. — Without delay, one of your hands fell on Sato's black hair, pulling it sharply. — And you swear you felt a dirty smile, then a giggle, which sent a wave of shock through you.

When you felt a hot, scorching sensation of pleasure and voluptuousness boiling in your stomach, accompanied by the impression of numbness dominating your extremely sensitive little spot, you knew you were close. — Kenji too. — Your chest burned, rose and fell, trying to regulate or catch a breath, and your back arched; whining, immorally, even more so for Ken.

Holding your thighs, feeling a mediocre courage in trying to close them, which were increasingly trembling, Kenji's hands slowly caressed them; wanting to reassure you. — The coldness of his engagement ring ran across your skin, giving you goose bumps. — From the movement made in his mouth, Ken had said something, but, covered with exultation, you was unable to understand; probably words of encouragement.

"Oh, Ken, Kenji...!" — You screamed, frantically, while miserably moving your hips against Kenji's mouth, warning him; even if there is no such need. — Understanding what was going on, a growl came out of the older man's mouth, maintaining his rhythm. — “I’m close, Ken…” — You cried, feeling tears invading your eyes.

Suddenly digging your nails into Sato's scalp, as tears, witnesses of desire, fall from your eyes, you cum in Kenji's mouth; deliciously releasing all your pleasure. — Your head resting on the pillow, your chest rising and falling under pure exhaustion. — Therefore, you continues to be devoured by your lover.

Kenji, by gently opening your thighs a little, gets drunk on your orgasm; persistently tasting, tasting and eating your pussy. — Now, unshakable and extremely high level of sensitivity. — The tongue cleaning, searching and not leaving any drop of your cum with his greed and thirst to be quenched.

You were being adored, worshiped —even ecstatically— and you appreciated it. — Sato never tired of making you feel this way.

“Please,” — As he start to pull away, Kenji lifts his head, to get a clear view of you, and the glow on his chin and mouth, caused by your cum and his saliva, sends butterflies to your stomach. . — "you're so perfect." — He murmured, stunned and swallowed dryly. — “I wanted to stay buried in your thighs, like, forever.”

Your hand, which was still between his locks, immediately messed them up; mercilessly finding his change in personality ridiculous. — Addressing a low "i love you” to him.

“Me too, love” — He took a deep breath. — “But, i’m serious.”