#my hand is sore now but i’m proud of this :}
some romellura for mermay <3
(click or tap for quality or something ahahsjdbskdj)
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do you have headcanon’s on abbacchio with a s/o who has a fear of needles? specifically the ones at like the doctor/hospital and throughout the whole process, he has to comfort them? <3
as someone who is afraid of needles, i think this is the cutest
-You never told Abbacchio about your fear of needles, you thought he would make fun of you to no end
-But now, you kind of had to tell him, especially since the doctor told you that you had to get your blood taken
-Abbacchio asked what was wrong, why you were so pale and if you were okay
-You finally admit to Abbacchio of your fear of needles
-He rolls his eyes and cuddles close to you, holding your hand
-He also tries distracting you, which works surprisingly well
- “Baby, what color are my eyes?”
-What is the right answer to that question btw....
-You squeeze his hand, obviously because NEEDLES ARE SCARY
-And afterwards, he takes you out to get treats as a little surprise
- “You did so good, I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.”
-When you two get home, he tells you to rest while he gets dinner ready
-And if your arm is sore, he’ll even help you eat
-And of course the night ends with cuddles and sweet words
-If this was how you knew he’d react, you would’ve told him of your fear much sooner
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hi!! who would be the top three boys to have a thing for their partner praising them?
1 . DILUC — LIVES FOR YOUR PRAISE!!
“You’re doing so good, Diluc, my handsome boy.” You coo, pressing a soft kiss to his chest as you continue to stroke his aching, throbbing cock. “I know you can do it, you can do it one more time right? For me?” Diluc nods, tears forming in the corner of his eyes as his hips thrust up into your hand. “Good boy,” you hum, cupping his cheek with your other hand and looking into his eyes lovingly. He tries to keep eye contact but as you twist your wrist just the way he likes his head falls back and his eyes squeeze shut, his hips stutter up and cum dribbles out. Seems you’ve milked your boy dry! You clean your hand with a napkin before looking to see Diluc staring intently at you. You giggle, straddling his hips and cupping his cheeks before pressing a kiss to his lips. “You did a super good job, Di, I’m very proud of you!” Finally his body relaxes, melting into the bed and you know he’ll be a bit sore tomorrow so you decide to run him a bath for now.
2 . XIAO — Also lives for your praise, Xiao just wants to do good by you! 🥺🥺
“Did… Did I do good?” Xiao asks, furrowing his brows and staring up at you. Your features soften a bit, seeing how eager he was for your praise. You nod, cupping his cheek and smiling gently.
“You did very good Xiao,” You press a chaste kiss to his lips, “You never cease to amaze me– in fact, I think you deserve a little reward,” you inform him, his cheeks turning pink at your loving words. He doesn’t really care if he gets a reward or not, you praising him for doing a good job was his reward already. “I love you.” You whisper, your fingers trailing down his chest.
3 . CHILDE — He secretly craves praise, despite always acting out in those rare moments where he’s good, he wants to hear how much so from you!
“I’m surprised,” you say as you nibble at his thigh, looking into his eyes, “you’ve been so good today, is it that you maybe want me to… praise you?” Childe’s cheeks turn even more red and he looks the other way. He goes to deny your claim but you beat him to it, “Childe, you’re my good boy, aren’t you?” His eyes widen, heart skipping a beat as he looks down at you between his thighs. You kiss the tip of his dick and he groans. “Does my pretty baby like that? Hmm? You’re dick is always treating me so good, so let me take time to really ravish you tonight, okay?” Childe hides his blush with the back of his hand and he nods, whimpering for you to please keep going. God, he’s really happy you’re sucking him off because if you were to praise him anymore he might have combusted!
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how about a dom!fred smut with squirting and toys?
first for everything || f.w ✧˖*°࿐
summary: fred makes you squirt for the first time.
warnings: absolutely filth- like someone take away my account, fem!reader, dom!fred, sub!reader, toy(s), squirting, overstimulation, that one thing where you get off on someone else crying (tf is that called), UH i’m definitely missing something (OR A LOT OF THINGS) please please please tell me if i need to add something to the warnings
word count: 567
fred had you sprawled out across his bed with your hands tied above you, your legs shaking and chest heaving violently.
“f-fred, n-no more” you begged, legs kicking out and body jolting forward as he placed the tip of the pink dildo at your entrance.
“should’ve thought about that before you decided to act like a slut in front of everyone” he hummed, using one hand to pin you down while the other shoved the toy inside of you.
your head flew back against the mattress as you cried out in both pain and pleasure, tears streaming down your hot face as you sobbed against his touch.
“aw, poor baby” fred pouted, holding no sign of sympathy in his voice as he thrusted the toy in and out of you at a painfully fast pace, “such a pretty sight though, seeing you make a mess of yourself.”
your stomach twisted into knots as your thighs shook against fred’s hand, too weak to close them as the dildo practically destroyed your insides.
“h-hurts” you cried, eyes squeezed shut as tears streamed down your face. you tried grabbing his hand that gripped your thigh, but he slapped you away with a scowl.
“bad girls don’t get to touch” he spat, pinching at your sensitive bud as a punishment as you whined loudly in pain.
it hurt so much but felt so good, your body giving up on deciding what was right and wrong. even though you told him it hurt, you still couldn’t help but urge for more.
plus, fred wouldn’t be doing this if he knew you couldn’t take it, you and him both knew you’d use your safe word if you really felt like you couldn’t continue.
without any warning to either you or fred, you felt yourself release around the object that thrusted inside of you, your legs giving out as your mind went hazy. but you didn’t just release, you did more than that.
“i just made you squirt” fred said, his eyes glued to your overstimulated cunt as you laid there in his grasp.
“h-huh?” you asked, voice raspy and sore from screaming so much.
“you squirted” fred repeated, slowly pulling the now drenched toy from out of you as he held your thighs down.
you whimpered from the feeling of it leaving you, your walls now clenching around nothing but air.
“a-are...are you mad at me?” you asked after a moment of silence, your eyes fixed on fred who was putting everything away.
“for what? squirting?” he asked, the word making you cringe as your face heated up, “of course not.”
he came around to where you laid and slowly untied your hands, rubbing around the bruised skin after to sooth them.
“that means you did a good job, and i’m proud of you.”
“really?” you asked, your head titling up to look at him as your eyes stared into his, practically making fred melt in his place.
“you were a good girl for me, love” he whispered, leaning down to give you a sweet and passionate kiss before helping you up.
“and good girls get rewarded, so how does a bubble bath and then a movie sound?” he asked, having to pick you up bridal style since your legs had completely given out.
you leaned your head against his chest as your eyes fluttered shut, a smile taking over your face as he brought you into the bathroom.
fred weasley smut tag list 🏷 @90smalfoy @whipped-for-the-weasley-twins @ang9lic @malfoysbiitch @Harrypotter_Whore @aetheralist @miraclesoflove @amourtentiaa @fjorelaant @myloveforluna @bellatrixscurls @marrymetheonott @skaratjung @wh0re4blaise @dreamxnotxfound @pinkandblueblurbs
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Hey Nat! I saw that anons request, and I was wondering a scenario about Sukuna making reader his little pet, with reader being a sorcerer and just giving it their all until they completely submit but not without a fight, and maybe some spicy things including maybe knives????
this is nasty and i don’t care <3
Knowing Your Place - Sukuna x Reader (5k)
You really thought you could get the best of him?
♠ DARK CONTENT WARNING ♠
reblogs and comments always appreciated! <3 / my jjk masterlist
warnings: afab reader, no pronouns, not sfw. DUB-CON. power imbalance. knifeplay, blood, references to cannibalism, true form & double-dick sukuna, reader is a sorcerer who is beat down into becoming sukuna’s pet. use of the term ‘master’, slurs like ‘whore’, degradation, much talk about death/violence.
You did your best.
You tell yourself that, face pressed to the ground, breath coming in whispers and wheezes. You ache all over; an ache that has gone beyond the point of pain. You did your absolute best; you held your own longer than most sorcerers would have, you know it. If he had been anybody else--
No good thinking about it now. You tremble as your hands meet the floor. You had been so proud of yourself for getting past the defences, the loyal followers – even Sukuna’s eyes (all of them) had widened briefly, grin pulling at his mouth, that you had managed such an impressive feat.
You’re going to die.
The thought settles around you like a comfortable blanket. This is it. Sukuna is stepping closer to you, his feet echoing in the empty hall that you think must be the equivalent to a throne room. When he reaches you fully, you are going to be kicked off of the mortal coil.
You did your best. You had fought like a fury, as well as you could – called on every single reserve of cursed energy you had, and it was all going to be for nothing. If you had the energy, you would have laughed – as it is, though, all you can do is stare at the feet that come to a stop in front of you. You lift your head slightly to meet death’s gaze head-on – Sukuna is peering down at you, and the sight of it makes your stomach roll in a wave of pure terror.
One of his hands reaches down and takes hold of your hair. You think he is going to rent it from your head, or perhaps rent your head entirely from your neck – but he just tugs, so that you stumble onto two feet despite the aching and the weariness of your bones.
“You lasted longer than I thought you would, sorcerer.”
The word is dripping with derision. But . . . it’s dripping with something else, too. Something that makes your heart skip a beat, your body react to the buzzing intonation beneath his low, deep voice.
You clench your fist, willing some of your last reserves of energy – you must have some inside of you still, you have to! Sukuna seems amused, even as one of his other hands reaches out and grabs your own – faint embers of the pale lavender energy fading and sparking to nothing in his large fist. He snorts.
“Contrite even in the face of your death?” He asks you, mockingly. The hand wrapped around your hair has still not let go of it, and you are utterly at his mercy, even as a third hand reaches and strokes across your cheek. “You know. I enjoy some fight in my toys.”
“I—I’m not--” You say. Your voice comes out cracked and sore, like pushing through the final metre of a marathon; but it comes out, and that’s more than you were expecting.
“Not what?” He bares his teeth in a mockery of a grin. “Contrite? Or . . . oh, you’re taking issue with me calling you a toy?” The hand on your face moves to your chin, jerking it forward as he leans some of his own bulk down, his face too close to yours. The entire thing feels intimate, your skin crawling. You know what that it is, in his eyes – how many times have you seen it, on men who have wondered your capacity for a spouse? It’s interest, and the thought makes your blood run cold at the same time as it makes everything else feel hot.
It’s the adrenaline, you try and tell yourself. From the fight. It’s not – I don’t want--
“But that’s what you are, isn’t it?” Everything he says comes out condescending. “Even now, I get to dangle you in front of me and decide – shall I kill you now? Slit your pretty neck? Curse you, so you may spend an eternity not remembering what you were fighting for? Ahh! The decisions, that those who bear power must make--”
Too close. He’s too close, his mouth full of sharp teeth, all of his eyes sharp with hunger. He’s too strong, where his fingers are still on you. He’s too powerful, and you have nowhere left to run--
You don’t want to die.
You wonder if he can sense that. You wonder if he can see that your mind is replaying every choice you’ve ever made, cursing the day you took upon jujutsu sorcery as a path. You had always known you were going to be ended like this, but the actual threat before you now is more than even your own brain had been able to prepare you for.
He licks his lips, agonisingly slowly – his tongue sharper, longer, than a human tongue should be. You suppose nothing about Ryomen Sukuna is truly human any more.
You hate the bolt of heat that the sight of his tongue sends through you.
“I think I’ll keep you,” he says.
You blink at him, not quite keeping up with the decision. Your wide-eyed stare, on a face bruised and hollow from the invigorating fight, is nothing to him beyond foolishly adorable. You have no idea what he means, despite the fact that want is radiating off of you and he can smell your desire in the air.
You’ll submit easily.
“I don’t understand--” you whisper. “A-are you not . . . I’m--”
“Don’t get me wrong,” he says with that same grin, that same light in his eyes that at once intrigues and terrifies you. “I could snap you in half at any moment. I might still do that, if I get bored with you. But – little sorcerer, little morsel, little pet-- you don’t really want to die, do you?”
You should be brave. You should accept your death graciously. Jujutsu sorcerers are supposed to die for their duty, after all. But you are not, now that death is standing before you with four arms and two faces and a grin on his face that makes wicked thoughts arise in you.
“No,” you whisper. You receive a pat on your cheek, a pleased hum – his hands on you letting go, so you are forced to stand under your own power. He steps back, making a show of eyeing up your form.
“Take off your clothes,” he says. “Don’t keep me waiting. You won’t like it if I get impatient.”
Your fingers are trembling. Exhaustion is still echoing through your bones – but with it, now, is something else. Need. Want. It’s so much easier to submit. And . . . you let the thoughts that have been threatening you since the moment you first laid eyes on him flood your senses. Despite his monstrous nature, despite the height and the muscle and the faces, the too-many limbs and too-many mouths and too-many eyes, there is something about Sukuna that makes you want to squeeze your thighs together and bite your lip.
“What did I say?” His voice is warning, but he has returned to the place he was sat when you had first entered his dwellings – a throne made of skulls. He taps one of his hands upon his knee, and you see the flash of something silver clutched between his fingers.
Your fear makes you fail to master the unknotting of your obi, and he sighs – a noise that goes through you completely, a noise that you swear could bring men to their knees.
It is not a question. You can barely stand, but you do not want him to go back on his word not to kill you – you drag your feet forward, step by step, your breathing sounding very heavy in the echoing room. He had already told you not to keep him waiting – who knew what he might do to you, now?
A soft laugh, as you finally reach his throne, and your ankles give out so you sink to your knees.
“Pretty position for you, pet.” One hand lazily leans forward and you see the flash of your own dagger in it; the one carved with protective symbols, that ought to have burnt his skin where it touched him. He makes a show of it, dangling the dagger, wagging it before your face. “Did you really think something like this would have any effect on me?” He sounds almost sorry that you’d fall for such lies.
“The-- the charms,” you say. “They should burn--”
“You would have burnt me?” He holds one hand to his chest in mock distress. “Ah! What have I done to deserve such contempt?” A wolfish smile. “Don’t answer the question.”
“I-it should have protected--”
He interrupts you.
“Foolish little thing. This won’t protect you a whit. In fact--” There’s that grin again, and suddenly his hand has moved faster than you can see and there is a stinging all across your cheek and your clothes are split, down the middle, revealing everything you have as the loose fabric falls to either side of you. The blade is sharp enough to have cut through every layer you are wearing, and if you still had the energy perhaps you would try and draw your body inwards to hide from Sukuna’s hungry eyes.
You do not have the energy – and less so, as you feel blood drip down over your cheekbone, onto your shoulder. Sukuna chuckles again, a finger coming to catch the droplets. His other hand lets the dagger drop onto the floor with a clatter, paying no mind to it, as if it’s just another worthless object and not the thing that has helped you exercise dozens of curses – as if you hadn’t walked into this room thinking it would exorcise him.
He raises the finger, glistening dark red, to his mouth – his tongue darting out again, your body responding to the sight of it with a throb as he briefly tilts his head back to savour the taste.
“Sweet. If I wasn’t going to keep you, pet,” he breathes, his eyes dark. “I would eat you alive.”
There are rumours, about Sukuna – ones that make you think that he means this entirely literally. Your mouth opens, but no words come to you. You’re completely gone.
“You’re pretty,” this one is off-handed, as he reaches to untie his own loose kimono, to let it fall from him. He is comfortable, as he reveals the muscles he is hiding beneath the fabric, the thick bands of his tattoos wrapping about bicep and wrist and thigh. Your breath catches as he casually moves fabric from between his thighs, and you see the two cocks between his thighs, on top of one another. “You’ll do nicely, little pet.”
One of his hands reaches around the nape of your neck, dragging you forward so your cheek bumps against the tip of the topmost cock, smearing slick pre-come into the blood.
“You’ve done this before?” He asks, sounding almost bored. You swallow back the choke of fear, as you shake your head. Jujutsu sorcery does not leave much time for such carnal pleasures, and even if it did – with what Sukuna has beneath his clothes, could anyone really say that they’d ‘done this before’? He has the cruelty to laugh at your confession, as if it’s one of the funniest jokes he has ever heard. One of his hands curls around the base of his upper cock, the one still on your neck pulling you back. You know what he wants, so you open your mouth – grateful, at least, that it appears he’s only going to make you suck one.
“Good,” he breathes, as you’re forced onto it, your mouth opened wide. “I hate it when a whore thinks that they know tricks. You’re going to learn exactly what I like, pet – and eventually, you’re going to beg to be allowed to choke on my cocks.” Another inch slides inside and you will your mouth open wider, your clogged up throat to relax. “I don’t think I need to warn you not to bite.”
The idea doesn’t so much as cross your mind, as your tongue works across the ridges and the veins of his cock. You might not know what you are doing, but you have been trained to learn quickly – and judging from the light hiss that escapes his too-sharp teeth, you have made the right gamble. The hand on your neck tangles through your hair, keeping you pressed close to him – preventing you from pulling back.
“Use one of your hands on the other one,” he says. Your trembling hand comes up. This does not seem so intrinsic as sucking his cock – your hands are careful, gentle, fluttering over the shaft in a way that makes him let out a huff of amusement. “Poor little thing. You’re pure as the driven snow.”
You cannot speak. Not with so much of his cock – too big, too wide, too long – stuffed down your throat. You make some kind of hum around it, tears beading in your eyes, as you drag your tongue over the slit in the cock head and receive a flex of his fingers on your neck for your troubles.
“That’s right,” Sukuna is practically cooing at you. “You’re doing well, for a dumb little whore-- more of your tongue, pet—”
The way his dark, deep voice caresses the word ‘whore’ makes you whimper through the full mouth, a curl of heat blooming in your lower belly. You know that you’re slick. You can feel it, every time he presses you forward a little more, and bare skin rubs against bare skin – the friction making your eyelashes flutter, your head swim.
You want to please him. A little submissive switch in your brain has been flipped – and as you look up at Sukuna with tear-darkened eyes, drool pooling at the corners of your mouth, you do not see a monster so much as you see a deity.
How far you have fallen, for the price of your life.
For the price of that constant beating between your thighs, an urge you had never felt until you’d looked at Sukuna – one he had sensed immediately, and dangled over your head with a smirk and a bargain. You know he is the King of Curses – you know you should want to murder him where he stands.
So, why, then, are you sucking his cock like a good little pet, when you could make one last-ditch effort for glory? Why is one of your hands sliding backwards and forth on his other shaft, thumb rubbing over the slit, to try and win a groan from him that feels better than any exorcism you’ve ever completed?
“That’s enough,” He tugs your hair backwards, pulling you off of his shaft with a soft ‘pop’. You blink up at him again, half-dazed – and oh, Sukuna cannot help but like the expression on you. He has seen every argument you’ve had with yourself – sensed the spike of your arousal in the air.
Two hands push on your shoulders so that you topple onto your back, utterly at his mercy. You should be afraid. You should be fearing he will drive the dagger right through your heart.
But you are not. You let your knees fall apart, displaying your sex – glimmering with wet, hungry arousal – for the King of Curse’s viewing pleasure. And view he does.
It feels so good, to be on the floor, the aches and pains from your fight catching up to you all in one go. Did you really try so desperately to kill him not an hour ago?
It seems foolish, now. That you could ever think to best him
“Look at you,” his voice is scornful. “Imagine the shame.” He nudges your calf with one of his feet, even as he stands from the throne and sinks onto his own knees. One set of his hands comes to grip your hips, the other set grabbing your wrists to pin them either side of your head.
You are utterly and completely at his mercy, and there is something comforting in the thought of it.
“Pathetic,” he says to you, but his voice is thick with hunger. “You bowed so quickly, sorcerer. As much as I love spirit in my toys –” He shifts, the hands on your hips sliding over your outer thighs, to the v between your thighs. Thumbs pull the plump lips of your labia apart, displaying your cunt to its fullest for his two sets of eyes. You burn underneath the wordless stare, the hungry way he devours the sight. “I prefer someone who knows their place.”
You can feel your own slick dripping from your hole, shaming you; the pulse of your clit as he remains there, drinking in the view of you helpless and at his mercy.
“Do you know your place, pet?”
There’s a low thrum of danger in the question, and you suddenly know – you know that if you give him the wrong answer, everything else he’s said will mean nothing. He will end you. This will be it. You swallow the panic that crawls up your throat, blink back the panicked blinding lights that threaten to overwhelm you.
You do know the answer.
“Yes,” you breathe out, your voice a whisper of wind compared to the way his seems to come from the very ground itself.
He chuckles, deep and dark. Your wrists feel like they could snap under his grip, if he wanted them to. He releases his thumb from one side of your sex, in order to swipe a sharp-tipped finger through the slit, your slick gathering beneath his digit with a lewd, wet noise that has heat rushing to your face and threatening to overwhelm you.
“Yes, what?” He asks, the scale tipping dangerously in his favour.
“Yes . . . Master.”
The hiss that escapes him this time is one of delight, as he shifts forwards.
“Good little pet,” he snarks, and you feel one of his cocks catch on the tight ring of muscle at your entrance, hands coming to gather your thighs and spread them even further. The sharp fingernail claws prick into the soft flesh of you, enough to draw blood – but you are already bleeding, and it is of no consequence compared to the sensation of his cock pushing forward, filling you, opening you up wider and wider as the hot heat of your cunt wraps around him and welcomes him as if it was made to take him. “Knowing your place is the most important lesson to learn. The others will come in time.”
“I—I’m a fast learner--” you manage, and your heart skips a beat as you surprise a laugh from the demon-God above you. He thrusts his hips further in, the stretch deep and inescapable. He had looked big, you thought, but it is no match for how he feels as he claims you.
You feel utterly taken, stretched to your breaking point and then some – and even as he continues to drive his cock inside you, you realise that he is not close to being done.
“A good pet,” Sukuna is saying, but his words sound far away. “Takes what their Master gives them-- you’re going to take all of my cock, aren’t you?”
You wish you could wrap your fingers around his shoulders for leverage, but his first set of arms still has hands pinning you to the ground. All you can do is let him push, your own nails digging into the soft flesh of your palms.
“Yes, Master!” Your voice is breathy, needy, hungry. He is so deep inside of you. The head of his cock seems uncomfortably close to bottoming out, before he has managed to do the same.
“Next time,” he growls, “you’ll take both at the same time--”
You think it would break you, but you would do it. You would let him break you, you think – his presence is entirely disorienting. Did you really once hate him, when he is capable of making feelings like this run through your body? You cannot imagine the feeling of defeating him would come close to the feeling of gratification as he finally reaches his end, and you realise you have taken him.
“Cute,” he sneers, staring down at you – and as you follow the path of his eyes, you see the bulge in your stomach – where his inhuman cock’s outline is so close to the surface he can be seen inside of you. “I can’t wait to see you stuffed with my seed too, pet. I wonder how much you’ll distend with both of my cocks inside of you? It seems almost too thrilling to wait to find out--”
There’s that savage grin again, the one with the teeth like fangs in his mouth – the one that makes your body clench around him, and Sukuna bark out a laugh.
“Little whore,” he says, but the term is affectionate as he pulls his cock out of you in one long stroke, before thrusting back in just as quickly and fiercely.
It hurts. It hurts, it hurts – but it feels so good. You wail aloud, the noise breaking and pitching, your entire body rocking with the motion of his thrusts despite how you are being pinned to the ground beneath you.
“You’ll learn to be seen and not heard, too,” he snarls, as he begins to establish a rhythm in his fucking. “Like a pretty little toy should be—”
You try your level best to please him, to press your lips together and not let the whimpers come spilling out – but you are too tired, and the sensation too new.
“Adorable,” he sneers again. “So obedient, little pet – but for now, make whatever noises you want. It will be harder with one of my hands around your throat, later on – so let me hear you now, so I might know what a pretty caged bird I’ll have for myself when you’re trained--”
You can feel his second cock, rutting into the space below your cunt – in another position, perhaps he could have penetrated both of your holes at once, and the thought has you all wet and needy. It has never occurred to you before then; something about his presence crawls all over you, like his evil - his sin - is catching.
You are making soft noises, whimpers-come-mewls, with every slick pump of him inside of you. You can feel wetness all over you – leaking from between your thighs, from the puncture wounds on your outer legs, from the cut on your face. Everything smells like blood, and sweat, and sex – you should be disgusted. You should be clawing at the hands holding you down.
But your hips are moving in time with his, the stretch of him rubbing against a spot inside of you that feels like you’re being petted all over by feather-light, gentle tongues. He can see that he’s hitting it – his face feral, lit by a grin and a light that’s nothing if not unholy.
He’s gorgeous, like a fallen angel. The markings on his face, the inhuman sight of four eyes blinking down at you. No wonder people worship him like a God, you think, through the dull ache of pleasure that he is bringing to the front of your consciousness.
“I can feel you tightening,” he says, a warning tinge his voice. “You do not want to come before I do, little morsel. You do not want to see me displeased--”
“Please—” you gasp out. “I—I don’t know how to--”
His hips still and you groan aloud, recognising the way that the ache fades from between your thighs, the heat dissipating into the ether. His voice is stern.
“You will learn.”
A command. It makes you shiver, even with his cock still buried inside of you. There is the King of Curses again – able to change from playful to imposing in a moment.
He lets go of your wrists, the arms that were keeping those pinioned to the floor scooping you from the waist, lifting you and carrying you as if you weigh no more than a feather. He turns with his cock still inside of you, perching you on the edge of his throne.
A raw edge digs into your bared rump, and you know it is the ragged jawbone of a skull.
“You may hold on,” he tells you, with a glitter in all of his eyes. “I am going to stop holding back now, little pet – and you are going to take everything I give you, and you are going to thank me afterwards.” A hand cups your cheek in a mocking echo of gentleness. Your eyes are drawn to the mouth on his stomach – the flash of teeth as it, too, seems to lick it lips as it looks at your helpless, prone body.
I would eat you alive.
“Yes, Master,” you say – and Sukuna did not need the encouragement to begin with, but oh, it sounds pretty falling from your mouth. That same mouth had cursed and hissed at him earlier that evening – and now, you are calling him Master and looking at him like he hung the moon himself, like he’s salvation come at the end of a long night praying on your knees.
Sometimes even he cannot believe his own power.
You’re fucked into with relish, Sukuna’s powerful hips thrusting in and out of you with the relish of an unnatural creature chasing his own release. Evidently, the sight of you so utterly possessed and on his own throne, like a tribute to a well-won battle, has stoked something deep and primal within him.
You are glad you are permitted to hold onto the broadness of his shoulders, your sensitive skin pushed against sharp edges and smooth bone with every hungry plunge of his cock inside of you.
He groans with pleasure, as the thrusts begin to blur into one another and time seems to stand still. He is still hitting that particular spot inside of you with every strike of his cock against your walls, but the pleasure is no longer threatening to overwhelm you – it’s a dull throb, as it works its way up to its former intensity.
He will come first, and the thought makes relief wash over you.
“I’m going to claim you, little pet,” he hisses, like a snake. “You are going to take everything I give you, like the fucking-- gift-- it is--”
“I-it’s an honour, Master--” you babble, lifting your hips, sensing the shake in his hips, the tremble in his muscular thighs.
His second cock comes first, the friction from where your slick arousal has pooled in the cleft of your buttocks enough to make hot ropes of seed splatter over your bare skin, painting his throne with his own seed. He groans, chasing the second orgasm through--
“I’m going to make you clean that with your tongue,” he hisses against your neck, the arms not holding your thighs open coming to cling to the back of his throne so you are effectively caged on it. “From now on, you’ll take my come even if you have to fucking lick it from a puddle on the ground like a dog--”
You whine at the words, once more clenching around nothing, and it’s that clench that in the end pushes Sukuna over the edge.
The noise he makes when he reaches completion is more roar than anything else, a dark, deep thing that seems to rattle the bones you are seated on and the floor beneath you both. The twitch of his cock releasing thick spurts of his seed deep into you brushes that spongy spot of your silky walls with a final pulse, and your own peak quickly follows his.
It is like something exploding behind your eyelids, all white noise and bright colours – a hook beneath your stomach that drags all of the breath out of you. You cannot explain it beyond the sudden all-encompassing pulsing of your body, the heat that seems to wash over you, the pleasure so taut that it may as well be pain.
You mewl, fingers scrabbling against Sukuna’s shoulders, even as his own thrusts are finally coming to an end. He seems satisfied that he has fucked his come into you, and that you have taken his release as he tells you that a good pet should have.
“M-Master?” Your voice sounds soft, reedy, desperate. Sukuna looks down at you – poor little (former) sorcerer, turned to nothing but a fuck-toy for their enemy. Your eyes are so dark, your mouth lolling open – you’re still bleeding, hair matted, bruises beginning to bloom. “Did I . . .?”
Ryomen Sukuna is not a soft man. Sukuna likes to crush his enemies in the palm of his hand, play with them, make them sob and cry and regret that they ever had even a lingering thought that they might be half of a match for the King of Curses.
But there is something about you. Something about how you had fought for your life despite how clearly weak you were. Something about the way he had scented your arousal in the air, the way that you had looked defeated and broken on the floor – certainly, there is something about the way that you had fallen to your knees and accepted him as your Master that had stoked . . . amusement within him.
Yes, that’s right.
You’re a pretty little amusement, and he feels that Kings deserve to have their amusements and toys and Pets.
“You did well, little pet,” he murmurs to you, brushing his lips across your cheek, savouring the taste of your blood – he was not lying when he said he could eat you alive. When was the last time he tasted something so sweet? “You may rest.” Your eyes, trying so hard to stay open, flicker closed, as exhaustion finally claims your poor, overworked body, and you pass into oblivion.
All of Sukuna’s mouths curl into smiles.
“I am going to train you so beautifully.”
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for when he wins - connor mcdavid
henlo, this is my first headcanon!!! i originally wrote this for my friend clary after her man scored a hatty during the game against jets and i got overexcited. i hope i’m doing this correctly lol
word count: 1.1k
warnings: language, slight nsfw
you were surprised when your boyfriend texted you that he’s coming home, he was supposed to stay on the road for the next four days
but your excitement drowned your confusion. connor just had his third hat trick this season, and you’re more than proud of him after how bad his last game against the canadiens went, not to mention violent and brutal
you grinned at the memory of what the two of you did after the said game
he brought his pent up anger to your bedroom—no, actually your couch first. and then the bedroom. but you made sure to talk to him about your concerns
he said sorry and spooned you and treated you like his queen as he should afterwards
now they handed the jets’ asses to them. maybe rough sex is really what he needed
you turned the tv off after the game ended and went to your bedroom, walking straight to your bathroom and picking up some candles from the cupboard
you rarely do this, but you thought that connor deserves a reward for being the best player and the best boyfriend ever
you just finished preparing when you heard the front door open. then the sound of his voice that always woke up something inside you. “baby, i’m home.”
you tangled the ribbon of the robe you’re now wearing before walking out to meet him
he smiled when he saw you coming barefoot with an unintentional messy hair. for him, it still feels surreal to be coming home to you. no matter how sore his body was after the game, everything feels better with the sight of you
you equaled his smile before tiptoeing to reach him for a hug, and damn his height, you cursed softly
he chuckled before leaning down to you and kissing your neck. and then your lips. he lingered there, giving you small, soft kisses like he’s been on the road for a year
“you did really well today, love. i’m proud of you.”
“that was for you.”
“uhuh?” you smiled sweetly. you have planned out everything that will happen for the rest of the night. but your boyfriend just had to pull you out of your thoughts with another kiss. “come with me.”
you lead him to the bathroom where the warm water was already running. you set up candles and scents and everything that made the bathroom peaceful and calming
you looked at him and found his mouth slightly opened in surprise, taking in everything that you prepared. you kissed his jaw and his eyes moved to you with adoration
“strip, love.” you smiled at him
he didn’t hesitate before pulling off the shirt he’s wearing. you helped him a bit until he’s completely naked in front of you
not a second later, he pushed you against the bathroom wall and dipped in to your lips
you raised your eyebrow, silently reminding him of the little talk you had about aggression and post-game roughness
he smiled and said a small sorry before making his way to your lips again, but you pushed him slightly and shook your head. this wasn’t what you planned
“save the rough sex for when you lose, babe. i’m going to take care of you tonight.”
you pulled him towards the tub but he didn’t bulge. instead, he tugged you back. he switched off the water and lead you towards the shower. you tried resisting him but he shushed you with another kiss. seriously, this man knows your weakness and would gladly use it against you
“no, no. tonight, i’m the one to take care of you. because you are the best. the best girlfriend, the best best friend — don’t tell leon i said that — and i’m so over the fucking moon just thinking that i’m the one with you right now. i mean it, baby. you could have anyone you wanted, but you had me. i don’t know what i did in my past life to have you in this.”
you stared at him in awe. for some reasons, you had the exact same thoughts earlier. that’s why you did this in the first place
his hands traveled to the ribbons of your robe before whispering to you, “may i?”
you nodded. he tugged it and let it fall. he discarded your robe and tossed it away, giving you another passionate kiss before turning the shower on
water dripped onto your head, down to your shoulder blades. connor kissed every part of your body that was touched with water
but that was only that. he reached for the soap, made foam, and lathered it in your body. you tried doing the same for him but he swatted your hands away. “i’m babying you tonight. not the other way around.”
so you resorted to occasionally kissing him whenever you got the chance. his chest. his chin. his jaw. he was so focused on your body that his forehead was scrunched. you found it adorable and kissed it too
he then proceeded to shampooing your hair. he lathered and massaged your scalp, making you close your eyes because of how good it felt
you opened your eyes and saw him looking at you with pure adoration. you couldn’t help but lean forward and reach for his lips. he didn’t swat you away, this time, and kissed you back
“i love you, you know that?” you murmured
“yes, but not as much as i do.”
eventually, he let you do the same for him. you massaged each other’s scalp and body, with the occasional— no, frequent making out in between. but it doesn’t go farther from that. intimacy doesn’t always mean sex, and both of you understand that
in the end, you rinsed and put on a new robe. you stepped out of the bathroom to sit on your bed. connor leaned against the bathroom’s doorway, looking at you intently while still half naked
his brows suddenly creased as if he remembered something
“i don’t agree with the whole ‘rough sex’s only for when we lose’, babe.”
“yeah?” you grinned, because he really looked so hot and bothered now
“i don’t think the team will appreciate it when i purposely mess up just so i could have you,” he said again. you shook your head while chuckling. but his face remained serious. “we have to do something about it.”
he removed the towel covering his lower body and walked towards you, removing your robe and pushing you towards the bed. he kissed you passionately. one look and the both of you know what’s about to happen next
maybe rough sex is for when he wins, too
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So a friend of mine is pretty insistent about the “True Selves” idea, in which Marinette’s true self is her civilian form and Adrien’s is his superhero form. There was a time in the early days I used to believe this a bit, but I’ve always seen the characters as a mix of both, that’s who they truly are. Though my friend isn’t a salter, they said that they don’t like Adrien in his civilian form and only likes Chat Noir. They’re a bit firm about the “true self” idea and I’m not sure what to say to counter that. What are your thoughts? I don’t agree with their point but I don’t want to start an argument with them.
Wow, I can feel you on that. I have a friend irl who is an extremely salty watcher of the show and no matter how much I try to explain things, they're adamant about believing what they want to believe.
(You could try to explain this to them, and if they're still insistent on being stubborn....there's nothing you can do. You could try to avoid talking about this if it will end badly for your sake, but really, you're not responsible for the way they think, and don't let them interfere with how YOU want to enjoy the show)
True selves was never a thing. It wasn't in Season 1, and it definitely isn't now. People are multi faceted. You don't act the same way with your family the same way you do with a friend group. You don't act the same way you do with one friend group the way you would with another one. You would act differently around a significant other. That form of duplicity is something every human being has, and the fact that Marinette and Adrien have inherent reasons for those things is what makes them interesting and compelling characters. Reducing them to one type or persona erases that complexity completely and makes them caricatures rather than real people.
Maybe we could start with talking about how Ladybug's confidence when she puts on the suit isn't separate from Marinette's, it intensifies it and it's a huge part of who she is. Before Alya's and Chat Noir's support in Origins, Marinette wasn't just insecure about her abilities as Ladybug, she was insecure about herself as a person. Being Ladybug HELPED her grow into herself, it didn't separate her into two different people at all.
Really, this is the girl who said "I'm proud, I'm confident, I'm Marinette!" to fight off an akuma. Marinette is not the insecure, shrieking, dainty little thing true selves fanfiction makes her out to be. She's brave, she's talented and she knows it. Her moments of insecurity are born out of two things, her love for Adrien and her job as Ladybug.
She is absolutely terrified that Adrien would reject her and that is a sore spot for her.
But she has never ever resented Adrien for platonically showing her affection, unlike how the true selves trope has her downright hating both Chat Noir and Adrien for loving the perfect "Ladybug" and treating imperfect Marinette as a friend.
As Ladybug, she is more worried about how her screw ups will affect her responsibilities and thus the world she is supposed to protect than how those screw ups change how she sees herself.
Adrien on the other hand is slightly more complicated. As several amazing people in this site have told us before, Adrien is a pro at compartmentalizing himself. Adrien isn't any less real when he is himself or when he is Chat Noir, it is only what he is allowed to do or say that changes.
Adrien is sweet, kind, polite and reserved and obedient and all of that partly stems from Gabriel's strict upbringing. But he has all those qualities inherently. Gabriel didn't make Adrien the sweet kid he is. He went through more or less the same situation as Chloe and he came out of it being a good person. He does desperately crave for friendship but years of being isolated can leave you at least a little shy and introverted. He loves his father and also fears him, so being anything other than the good, obedient kid would get him trouble. All of these qualities, that though are in compliance with Gabriel's control over him, are still very much a part of who he is. Adrien isn't ONLY kind to a fault because being around Gabriel forces him to act that way, he is kind to a fault because he chooses to be that way too.
Chat Noir on the other hand can say what he wants, do what he wants and take courage in the fact that he would not let anyone can take his escape away from him, except for Ladybug, who he absolutely trusts and who has earned his trust. This, however, has an element of exaggeration to it, because it still is shy, reserved Adrien having the freedom to act out. That doesn't mean that the bravery and loyalty and boldness and heroism he possesses as Chat Noir magically disappears when he is Adrien.
I noticed how some people say that Adrien was more sarcastic as himself in season 1 but now civilian self has lost that quality. Nope. He's just gotten better at keeping the quips and puns and jokes to when he wears the mask. He's gotten better at compartmentalizing.
Chat Noir is Adrien and Adrien is Chat Noir. He may not realize that the two are one and the same yet, (unlike Marinette who is actively suffering because her double life is bleeding into one) because he keeps treating them like two separate people (the frequently used dialogue, "Adrien is grounded but Chat Noir isn't" hides a lot more than you think) but that's his journey this season. Figuring out who he is, somewhere between the two.
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Chapter Sixteen: Threat
Genre: Slow burn, I think
Pairing: Miya Osamu x reader
A/N: I’m not very proud of this chapter. I like the idea I had, but I think my execution of it could have been better and, of course, my big brain could not figure out how to be better :/
It didn’t take long for the bruising to heal, but the soreness stuck around for a while. Sneezing was still pretty painful. Have you always sneezed this much? Or did the gods enjoy your suffering?
The bruise gave you a reputation, both at your own school and at other schools. You relished in it. Players from other schools avoided you when the bruise was healing and whatever they told each other kept others away from you when it had finally faded. It was incredibly funny that all of these tall volleyball players were afraid of you.
It was also very useful. Most managers were girls and some schools had two or more managers. Putting a bunch of hormonal—and some entitled—teenage boys in the same space as a handful of girls was a pot ready to boil over.
“Oh! Hey!” A girl you did not know looked over at you, startled. The boy talking to her did not notice you at first. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you!” You pulled her into a hug. She was quick to return it, even though she didn’t recognize you. The boy standing in front of her did though.
“Ah...uh...well...I gotta go warm up!” The boy rushed off, not glancing back at you. You let her go and took a huge step back.
“Sorry, it looked like he was making you uncomfortable.”
“Don’t apologize!” She grabbed your hands. “Thank you! Thank you so much! I couldn’t get him to leave me alone.” The two of you exchanged names and numbers, letting her know that she can text you if she needs help again. You started wandering around the gym, weaving between fans and athletes.
You never looked at him, not directly, so he thought he was just being paranoid, but you were always there, standing at the edge of his peripheral vision. He didn’t have a real reason to be concerned about you—you were focused on the binder in your hands, doing your duty as a manager—but he heard rumors about you and he wasn’t sure which ones were true and he didn’t plan to find out.
Watching him slowly lose himself to his anxiety was a show you wish you could have captured on camera. He would look back at you, watch you fill out something in your binder, move somewhere else, look back again. You were strategic in your movements, only moving when he seemed to relax. Maybe a few more minutes of this and it’ll be time to call it good.
“What are you doing?” Kita had been watching you for the past several minutes.
“The usual: putting fears into the hearts of men.” You were still watching the boy out of the corner of your eye. “And I’m updating some information.”
“Scaring our opponent isn’t going to help us win.” Your hand froze.
“Oh shit.” You looked up at Kita. “I didn’t realize he’s on the team we face next.” If you hadn’t been the team’s manager and had to spend as much time as you did with them, you would not have picked up on the flicker of confusion on his face. “He was harassing one of the other managers earlier. I thought I could get under his skin a little to help him think twice before doing that again…” A little extra fear should mess up his playing, which would be good for your team, but you couldn’t help feeling guilty now. You wanted them to win, but not like that.
“Why is he looking at you like that?” Aran’s eyes switched between you and the boy. You knew who he was talking about, but you glanced over anyway, before returning to finish the line up for the game.
“Oh, ya know.” A silence followed, Aran waiting for an answer, but you never gave him one.
“Do you know him?” He followed up, hoping to coax an answer out of you, but he only got a shake of your head.
“Do I need to go have a talk with him?” Atsumu pulled his water bottle from his mouth; you snorted, lifting your head from the clipboard.
“You’re cute, thinking he’s a threat.” You made eye contact with the boy at the other bench; he nearly gave himself whiplash looking away from you. “If anything,” a smirk played on your lips as you looked back at Atsumu, “he’s the one that needs the help.”
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Dickinette - The return from patrol
In the dark, he slid his leather clad hands over the cave wall. He’d just came back from patrol and the pain in his side rippled through him. The Penguin had managed to pitch that horrible umbrella of his right into his side. The man could probably do well at baseball with a hit that hard. Of course, he couldn’t show his pain at the time. Pushing it past the wall of determination and adrenaline to finish dealing with the criminals. Bruce would be proud.
His Kevlar suit absorbed some of the force, but the impact still may have broken a few ribs and he was at the very least going to have a very noticeable and tender bruise tomorrow.
He smiled at the light voice that echoed quietly through the cave.
“what are you still doing up love?” he asks, eyes searching out the source. A smile showing when they catch sight of her bundled up in a blanket at the bat computer.
“Couldn’t sleep. Thought I would wait here for you to come home.” She said, getting up from the chair, blanket dropping as she made her way over to him. “Are you okay?”
He smiled and wrapped his arms around her waist once she reached him. “I’m fine Marinette. Just a little sore. We’ll see how I am tomorrow.” He said, then pressed a kiss into her messy bangs. “What did I do to deserve you?”
Marinette smiled, “you were a handsome and charming hero that swooped down to try and save me.”
Dick scoffed, “Not that you needed it. You had that thug on the ground before I even landed.”
She looked up at him with her stunning cerulean eyes. “Still. I decided I was going to keep you after that.”
“and thank god you did.” Dick said kissing her and resting his hands on her cheeks and threading his fingers back into her hair. He pulls back slightly. “now how about we head to bed?”
Marinette nodded, reaching up to entangle her hand with his before dropping it between them.
“have the others already come back?” Dick asked as they take the stairs up to the manor.
She smiled and rest her head against his shoulder. “yes, Robin was the last in about an hour ago. You were out the latest.”
He hummed as they entered the hall. “we should make a curfew for him on school nights. It’s almost four in the morning.”
Marinette nods. “maybe. But you can do that tomorrow.” She said as they reached their room. “For now we should go to bed.”
“of course Mar.” he chuckles and reaches to unzip his suit, hissing as it pulled at the sore spot at his side.
Marinette batted his hands down again. “Let me help.” she said, working the material off and hissing at the darkening spot. “You should get that checked.”
Dick stepped out of his suit and hummed, grabbing her by the waist again. “Later. Right now i just want to go to sleep next to my gorgeous fiancé.”
Marinette narrowed her eyes at him, “Fine, but you get that checked as soon as you wake up tomorrow, got it?”
He chuckled, “Yes ma’am.” he said pulling her over to the bed. “Sleep now?”
Marinette sighed, “Sleep now.” she agreed, letting him lead her to the bed, waiting until he was in before joining him. “love you.” she muttered, laying on her side and facing him.
Dick turned his head and smiled. His injury would have him sleeping on his back tonight, but he still stretched out a hand to take hers and bring it to his lips. “and i love you too.”
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So a thousand years ago some lovely folks tagged me in a game to share the first lines from 20 of my fics! That seems like WAY too many so I’m going to share 10 instead. Thank you to @saretton and @ineffable-houseplants and @racketghost for inviting me to play!!!
And I’ll be honest, I’m always so scared to tag people for fear of leaving people out so I’m giving anyone who sees this carte blanche to do this game too (tag me in it if you do, I’d love to read it!)
Ok, so here’s the most recent 10:
1. Not everyone who attends a magic show is a person of faith. From Gods in the Gaslight, which we published last week. Full disclosure, @redfacesmiley, my amazing co-author, wrote this line. But I think her writing lifted me up and I’m proud of this fic in a way I’m not of anything else I’ve done (Alexa, play You are the wind beneath my wings.)
2. Two weeks after the world hadn’t ended, Crowley warded Aziraphale’s bookshop with a web of subtle demonic power. From Vapour in Your Love, which is ... a silly PWP IDK I am not very good at PWPs so they tend to turn into PWPs with 11 special plots and spices.
3. The bookshop wasn’t haunted, but it might as well have been. This is from The Ordinary World aka 25,000 words of Crowley having a very bad time. I’m proud of this fic but I know it is a lot of angst.
4. They came with the smell of ozone and the crackle of lighting. Neither Flesh nor Foul, which is another PWP with too much plot and probably not enough other P?
5. Somehow he’d forgotten it was today, even though it was all over the papers and all the radio announcers spoke of. An Ending, Ascent. This is my not abandoned 1960s Doctor AU. I think about these two versions of Aziraphale and Crowley all the time, and I’m hoping to get back to it really soon.
6. Aziraphale slid down off his horse and stretched his back, easing the sore muscles with a tiny miracle. And No Birds Sing. Naga Crowley, the middle ages, a curse, a spooky tower... I am trying to get the next chapter of this done right now, and it’s SO CLOSE to being finished but apparently I’m incapable of writing anything quickly these days.
7. Antonio burst into the saloon through the swinging doors like an angel of vengeance and Zachariah knew at that moment that there would never be another man for him. Romancing The Tome aka my cheesy romcom. I am proud of this fic even though it feels like someone else it wrote it? It’s been a long year.
8. It happened sometimes when he slept. Bite The Hand, another PWP with too much plot, good god I should stop trying to write PWPs. If I was writing this fic now I’d change this first line and probably all the lines that follow it, but anyway, rewriting fics from ye olden days (of 2020) is madness.
9. Crawly was hanging around the markets, causing the fruit in the most expensive stalls to go rotten, encouraging fleas to migrate from stray dogs to the prettiest of the women gossiping by the fountain, and upping the alcohol content in the beer in the hopes of starting a few fistfights as the day wore on. A Complete Beginner’s Guide to Understanding Human Sexual Behaviour. Gosh that’s a long sentence, innit? Get this, this is another PWP with a stupid elaborate set-up.
10. The first time Aziraphale made holy water for Crowley, he’d taken it straight to the porcelain sink in his back room and dumped it out of the pitcher immediately, and had stood trembling with the horror of it, unable to move. Left With No Trace. This is a 1920s Berlin ... PWP with too much plot again. Surprise! Insert Janet cactus meme here.
Ok I lied, here’s 11: In the beginning was the sword. This is from A Hell of His Own Making, which was the very first thing I wrote for Good Omens, and the first fiction I’d written in more than a decade.
Right yeah that’s about it! A smol dog is chewing on my chair so I’m going to wrap this up here.
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Fluffy/Angst Prompt List
Here is my prompt list, please reblog/credit if you wish to use this list. Also if you do use this list, tag me so I can see some of your work. I hope you like my lists. Let me know if you want me to make any others.
1. I love you
2. Never leave me please
3. I can't face the thought of not having you in my life anymore
4. I I I'm pregnant
5. Hold my hand
6. Hold me tightly
7. "Imagine loads of mini me's running around"
8. Look at those chubby cheeks
9. Are you crying?
10. You don't know when to stop talking, do you?
11. I hate you but I can't lose you
12. Such a sore loser
13. We are having a baby
14. You have lipstick on you
15. I can't do this
16. I'll see you in the morning
17. I'll never forget you
18. You're so beautiful
19. You do have feelings for me then?
20. Are you on your period?
21. Will you stay with me?
22. I'm so proud of you
23. I can't unsee that and I'm not complaining
24. The baby is kicking
25. I can't wait for the day I can call you my wife
26. Why are you so cute?
27. Are you ignoring me?
28. Ever heard of personal space
29. I'll die without you
30. What's happened?
31. Are you okay?
32. You make me go weak at the knees
33. You're not listening to me!
34. You're so annoying
35. I will throw this at your head if you're not careful
36. Fight me
37. I dare you
38. We are not starting this now
39. We are never getting back together
40. Let's run in the rain
41. You're in such a bad mood
42. Don't start
43. I'm tired
44. Why are you awake?
45. Why don't you strip off and lie down?
46. You look good in my shirt
47. You are a lucky boy
48. Did you just flash your bum at me?
49. Cuddles? Pretty please
50. I'm just so excited
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something with joel where reader says something like ‘i’ve never wanted to suck your dick so bad’ to him and then it escalates:))
nsfw under cut :) luv u caitee <3
part of my 510 event
the atmosphere inside of the wells fargo center is electrifying. the penguins are being incredibly aggressive with making dirty hits and drawing penalties, since it’s a playoff game and tensions have been high all season.
it all comes to a high point when kris letang checks joel into a board and joel hits the ice. jvr and coots drop gloves with the other penguins players as joel gets up off the ice and drops his own gloves with letang, laying right hooks and jabs onto letang’s face while letang punches him back. you’re pretty sure you saw blood on joel’s white jersey, not sure if it’s his own or letang’s. all you know is that this fight sent your blood rushing to your cheeks and an all too familiar throb in your core. joel rarely gets aggressive on the ice but when he does, it awakens something in you. you watch as he skates to the penalty box, fire in his eyes, and you know you’re going to be treating joel later.
the flyers end up winning, with joel getting 2 assists. he’s very happy and wound up from his performance. he comes out from the presser room, practically bouncing as he hugs you and kisses your lips.
“babe how are you feeling?” you ask, taking his hand and walking out to the parking lot.
“so good babe. like i’m on top of the world.” he smiles, opening the car door and getting behind the wheel.
“you looked so hot out there, i’ve never wanted to suck your dick more,” you bite your lip, cheeks burning already.
joel quickly turns in his seat to face you, his cheeks dusted pink. “babe…” he groans.
“can i?” you whisper, hand slowly reaching towards the bulge in his sweatpants.
“fuck babe, yes.” he breathed.
you cup joel’s cheek in your hand and kiss him, dipping your tongue into his mouth, making out with him while working him up with your hand over his sweats. you break away from the kiss to motion for joel to finally take off his pants. he removes them, erection springing free from the confines of his boxers. you lean over the center console, lips parting to take his hardened cock into your mouth.
“babe your mouth feels so good,” joel moans, hand tangling into your hair. it’s always a stretch to fit him into your mouth so you bring your hand to pump the lower part of his shaft that was left unattended. hollowing your cheeks around him you bob your head, coming to wrap your lips around the sensitive head, tongue swirling around, collecting joel’s salty precum, making you hum in satisfaction. joel throws his head back into the headrest and moaned.
“babe i’m so close,” he practically sobbed as your hand moves to play with his balls.
“let go hun” you rasp, throat sore from exertion.
he whimpers as you take him into your mouth once more making eye contact with him. you continue to fondle his balls, creating the perfect amount of stimulation for him.
“i’m cumming,” he warns, the grip on your hair tightening. you moan from the slight sting of pain and the vibrations from your moan on joel’s dick sends him over the edge. hot cum paints your mouth, joel groaning and thrusting into your mouth to make sure all of it goes down your throat. you remove your mouth from him with a satisfying pop, looking at him and swallowing
“now how do you feel?” you smirk, looking at joel’s dumbed out expression, proud of your work.
“like i just got the best post game blowjob of my life,” he breathed, “i think that was the hottest thing you’ve ever done.”
let’s just say post game blowjobs will never be the same after that.
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hi baby how are you?!
I’ve been feeling kinda down lately and your writing seriously cheers me up so much 🥺 I was just thinking about how mean!stevie would be so good with aftercare - like after he’s spanked you and fcked your ass he’s just so 🥺 with his angel - 🌷
hi angel! i’m good! hope you’re doing a little better today 🥺💓
but yes, mean!Stevie needs to have some great mf aftercare to make up for how mean he can be. he’s instantly wrapping you up in his arms, just holding you close as you try to come to sense of the fucking he had just given you. you know one hand’s at the back of your head with the other running up and down your back, shushing you gently 🥺
“shh shh shh, s’okay, s’over now. it’s all over now, angel, it’s done.”
will run you a bath afterwards to help with any sore muscles (including yer poor bum :() with bath salts to help with the pain and will sit behind you with you in between his legs and laid back against his chest. the most soothing feeling to be surrounded by the warm water and with Stevie holding your hand and rubbing your tummy 🥺🥺
“you did so well, i’m so proud of you. took it like such a brave girl, i know it was a lot, but you’re such a good girl for trying your best.”
rubbing ointment onto your bruising ass cheeks with careful hands, trying to get as much of the area he can without causing you too much discomfort. will dress you in warm jammies from the radiator which just makes you sleep sleep 💤
“come on, sweet angel, let’s go to bed. i love you, my angel.”
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🖐 tracing fingers against your muse’ skin or over a scar/other
Soft Affection Meme - Still Accepting
Billy didn’t show off his scars ever. He made sure even when he and Max went swimming that each one of them was covered up. Luckily they weren’t too difficult to hide, and as such sometimes he even forgot about them. The one thing he did bare with pride that marred his skin, was the dumb tattoo on his right shoulder. It wasn’t much, and it certainly wasn’t good by any stretch of the imagination. It wasn’t even the tattoo itself that Billy was most proud of, rather the meaning and what it represented for himself.
It had been what he could afford at the time, with a guy who was offering cheap tattoos if you didn’t mind someone not quite ready for the big leagues to practice on you. What it meant to him though, was standing up to his father who had told him under no circumstances was he to get a tattoo and disrespect his body that way. Billy had promptly said fuck that and gotten one in whatever way he could. At sixteen, a skull smoking a cigarette had been cool, but more than that had been his father’s reaction to seeing it more than a month after he’d first gotten it. It wasn’t sore anymore, and had mostly healed, and there was absolutely nothing his father could do about it. Sure he’d had his ass handed to him but it was something Neil Hargrove couldn’t take away from him.
He thought about that now as Amelia’s hand smoothed over the skin of his shoulder, fingers tracing the contour of the skull now that he’d removed his jacket, and was in a sleeveless shirt for the hot weather outside. “The beginning of my rebellious years.” He explained to her, lips quirked upwards in a smug smile, “Never really grew out of them either I’m happy to say.”
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break my face
a/n: I was just kinda proud of this, so I wanted to post it for the hell of it. I literally wrote this at like 4 am.
word count: 949
pairing: dick grayson x oc
summary: The injuries Dick sustains each day start to worry River, but he does his best to reassure her.
Getting seriously injured made it unnecessarily harder to get home. River and Dick were both sore, bleeding, and unbelievably tired.
The moment they were safely back in their apartment, River made quick work of patching up Dick's injuries. Thankfully, he wasn't suffering too badly, but he took the brunt of the hits during a scuffle with some criminals.
Seeing Dick worn out and beaten up, dark bruises already forming rather quickly, broke her heart. This was a normal sight, though it wasn't one she hated any less. Crime fighting was dangerous, that she was more than aware of, but it was hard to see him like this. Even more so when he seemed to be so used to the pain and stiffness.
River helped Dick change and limp over to the couch once they were both patched up. She was just about to head to the kitchen when he pulled her into his lap. Whether the effort pained him or not, he didn't show it.
"Dick, you're gonna hurt yourself," she protested. River tried to move so he didn't make his bruises any worse, but he whined and tightened his grip around her waist.
"No, just stay here," Dick pleaded. "I just wanna hold you for now."
"Dinner can wait." It was impossible to resist him when he gave her the cutest, saddest look that he knew would make her stay.
Sighing in defeat, River rested her head on his chest and wrapped her arms around him, careful not to hurt him. "If my stomach starts growling soon, I'm blaming you."
Dick chuckled and brushed her hair from her face. "You love me too much to move," he said. "You're trapped now. I've trapped you, and there's nothing you can do about it."
Even when he was hurting, Dick's humor shined through brighter than ever. Especially when he was hurt, now that she thought about it. As much as it worried her, it at least made her feel better knowing he couldn't be brought down so easily. Part of her couldn't help feeling bad for not helping him more than she had. He might have suffered a lot less if she'd paid a little more attention.
Amazingly, as was apparently his superpower, Dick seemed to sense her sour mood. He glanced down at her as she fiddled with the fabric of his shirt, trying her best to busy herself as she let her bad thoughts fester.
Dick placed a hand on her cheek, smiling weakly as she looked up at him. "Hey, I'm fine," he said. "You don't have to worry about me so much. I'm a tough guy."
She knew that. Deep down she knew he was tougher than even some of the stronger metahumans they knew. It didn't make her worry any less.
"I know," River sighed. "I just can't help but worry every time." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "Sometimes I wonder if I could be doing more to keep you safe."
With as powerful as she was, she should be able to keep from harm much easier, but it was so easy to forget that he was just human, unlike her.
River averted her eyes knowing Dick wouldn't let her sit with that thought for too long. It was always hard for him to hear her be so self-critical.
"You did the best you could. That's all I, or anyone else, could ever ask for. I'm fine, and that's what matters."
Deep down, River knew she should be happy he was alive and breathing. And she was happy. God, she was so happy he was okay and here with her. If anything happened to him, she wasn't sure she could bear the sorrow she'd undoubtedly feel.
Sensing that she wasn't totally reassured yet, Dick wracked his brain for a joke. He hated seeing her so distraught. If he could do anything to make her smile, he would do it in a heartbeat.
Dick placed his hands on her cheeks, suppressing a laugh at her cute, squished face. "You know what I always think is the best part about being in recovery for a few days?" River thought for a moment and shook her head. "I have my wonderful little angel to nurse me back to health and keep me company."
Though it wasn't the answer she expected, River blushed, smiling despite her flustered state.
"There's that smile I adore so much," Dick whispered, his thumb brushing over her lower lip lightly. He wanted to commit that smile to memory and never forget how adorable she looked. Every time she laughed or smiled, it made his heart soar and his brain melt in the best way possible.
"Dick," River whined, burying her face in his chest. She tried to hide how red her face was, but it was impossible to hide from him now.
"What? You're so cute when you smile like that, babe."
"Alright, you dork. You already got me flustered, what more do you want?"
Dick pretended to think for a moment, that beautiful bright grin of his making her heart skip a beat. "Well, now that you ask, I'd like a kiss. Or two. Maybe five for good measure."
River laughed, shaking her head. His strange sense of humor never got old, and she loved it so much. "Fine, but then we get up so I can make dinner. I'm starving."
"Fine by me." Dick puckered his lips expectantly. Snorting, River leaned in and gave him a few kisses, just as he asked for.
Even though they'd have to get up eventually, she was content to stay in his lap and savor this moment for as long as possible.
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Hi I fell realty sick, like I have a fever, chills, sore throat, I can barely breathe out of my nose, and bora is my comfort character and I’m wondering if you could please write a one shot where bora is sick and jumin and saeyong take care of her please? The juciel ship is one of my favorites
Bora was exhausted. That was putting it lightly. She hadn't caught cold in such a long time so it was a little tedious to have one now.
The last thing that she ever wanted to do was to be surrounded by doctors or nurses. So when she felt the cold coming on she didn't try to tell the others. It just wasn't something that she could hide though. She was caught sooner rather than later, and nudged back into bed where she could rest and recover.
Her skin felt flush and warm to the touch. Jumin knew that she felt the worse when she was alone like this. So, he was proud of Elizabeth for being able to trust into the room to help. The feline had a way of relaxing Bora when she was anxious, so he was more then glad. In and out of her delirium she would coax and pet the cat to feel at ease at the very least.
Her dad would've taken off of work at the moment he realized that she wasn't feeling well, and left the daily duties to Assistant Kang, but he had a full schedule. Against better judgment, he decided that the best bet was to allow someone to stay with her for the day.
The only person that was available to do so was Luciel.
Not his ideal case scenario, but the tension between the two of them had been getting... harder to ignore and to cope with. The last time that he was here, he had bordered on the very dangerous because the second Bora was asleep in her bed, he had gotten impossibly close to Jumin and he... it had gotten... to put plainly, they'd kissed.
The tension between them had been brewing more and more because Bora valued spending time with everyone in the RFA. Seven included, and the redhead did everything by the book for her sake.
It allowed Jumin to see something that he'd been blind to before. Seeing the way that Luciel was able to soothe her worries with a little laugh stole his heart away.
"She'll be okay," Luciel reassured him with a late nod. In all honesty, he could have hired or asked one of the maids to help. Why he kept calling out to Luciel... "She just needs to sleep it off. It won't do you a lot of good to pace around while she's gotta sleep. You should head back to work. I'll make sure that she's got what she needs."
"...Quite. I just worry. You know how easy it is for her to become frightened. But, I trust with you around it will be easier to tend to her needs. She deeply enjoys having you around," Jumin said, his hand lingering against Luciel's shoulder, dark eyes watching him. There was warmth to his face that went quiet.
And I enjoy having you around.
It went unspoken.
Luciel hesitated, his mouth dry. "Of course, Jumin. Bora's safety is important to me, too. Try not to be hard on yourself. This stuff happens to kids. Not your fault."
"I see. Make sure she has anything she needs, then. I'm not far. I can drop things if her fever doesn't break. The last thing that I want is for her to be feeling miserable when we can do something about it."
"I get it... she'll be okay. Elly is a certified purrse and a helpful lil lady. We'll take care of the patient for you, Jumin. Nothing to worry about, right, Elly?"
"... I'll hold you to it."
"You can repay me afterward."
"I can think of a few ways, Mr. Han. But we can talk about a family outing once Bora feels a lot better. We just have to wait now."
With her family looking out for her, she felt safe and sound. Even if she was so tired that she had to sleep most of the worst parts away. She let her tired body while she gazed in and out, knowing that Jumin and Luciel were there to protect her.
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Congrats on 100+ followers!! Here's my request,
Tartaglia + Espresso
Venti + Butter Tea
Xiao + Negomi
Ty if you write it!
Espresso: “You haven’t slept in days. Please talk to me.”
Butter Tea: “I’m not going to leave you like this!”
Negroni: “Are you afraid of me?”
TW: Mentions of sleep deprivation in Tartaglia's, Angst in Venti's and mentions of blood and injury in Xiao's
With worried eyes they stared at him, watching from a distance as he snapped at a recruit that was shadowing him. He tended to have a shorter temper when was sleep deprived. They heaved a sigh, walking in his direction, gingerly putting a hand on his shoulder as they approached him. With a vice grip, he grabbed their wrist, turning his head to look over his shoulder with a murderous, icy glare. When he noticed who it was however his expression turned tiredly apologetic and he pulled them into a hug.
They looked over their shoulder at the recruit behind him and motioned for him to leave. He nodded eagerly and did so in a hurry. They shifted their gaze to Tartaglia.
The two swayed slowly back and forth in their embrace and they gently rubbed circles on his back. He was putting most of his body weight on them and they were holding him up with their arms around his waist.
“You haven’t slept in days. Please talk to me.”
He let go of them and stood up straight with a stretch, "There's much to be done. Harbinger business." He smirked before walking past them but they grabbed his wrist to stop him.
"Now now." They clicked their tongue, "If one of her royal highness' best keels over from exhaustion what would she do?"
His movements ceased and he lightly tugged his wrist from their grasp. He rolled his eyes, knowing they were half mocking him, but he also knew that they had a point. His feet stood planted as he mulled it over.
"I'll rest on one condition." He proposed with a smile
"And that is?" They had their hands on their hips as they leaned toward him
"You rest with me."
Aqua eyes stared at the sky, his melancholy carried on the wind all around Mondstadt. He sat upon the edge of Starsnatch Cliff, a wilting Cecilia resting in his palms. He had plucked it from its stem in the early hours of the morning when he first arrived, but now the sun was beginning to set yet here he still sat. It seems as though the reminiscence of time longs past had carried him away.
They had sat down beside him long ago, but it was as if he hadn't noticed, too lost in the archives of his memories. The normally childish bard was overtaken by his thoughts and that was fine. They would wait as long as it took for him to come back to them and come back he did.
He glanced over at them and they flashed me a smile only for him to look away again. With a frown they grabbed his hand but he said nothing.
"Venti...? Are you alright?"
He glanced over at them again with a reassuring smile, "I'm ok. I'm just... thinking."
They gave his hand a small squeeze. "I'm not going to leave you like this. I will stay here as long as you need me to."
He hummed, squeezing their hand in response before returning his gaze to the dusk sky in front of him. He was silent momentarily.
A single tear slid down his cheek, "I wonder if he would have been as proud of Mondstadt as I am."
They looked over at him. Despite the downcast tone he spoke with, he wore a smile. Of course they knew the storym He'd told them long ago about the bard whom had once been his friend.
They pulled him so he was leaning on them. "More than proud."
He wiped his face, looking forward once more, "Thank you for staying with me."
They sprinted, lungs burning and legs sore. Leaves and grass alike crunching under their feet as they continued as fast as their legs could carry them. Their bowstring had snapped in twain when they had tried to defend themselves and the monsters chasing them were unrelenting in their pursuit. Hot on their heels, the monsters didn't let up.
It wasn't until an arrow pierced their back did they stop. The force behind it sent them falling forward, sliding in the dirt. With ragged breaths, they tried to stand only for another arrow to pierce them, this time in the shoulder. Bile rose in their throat as anxiety coursed through them.
The monsters approached them slowly and it was then that his words echoed in their head. 'I will be here when you call'. A harsh cry escaped their lips as they called out his name.
A faint rush of wind alerted them to his presence and when he saw the state they were in his blood boiled. Without hesitation, he donned his Yaksha mask and his spear appeared in his hand as he lunged towards the vile creatures that attacked them.
His rage was so tangible they could feel it and it shook them to their core. Blood stained the grass and the green metal of his polearm. He showed no mercy, massacring the monsters without pity. They trembled. From fear or the adrenaline wearing off they didn't know.
Before they could register what happened he scooped them up onto his back, carrying them back to the Inn where he could dress their wounds. Upon feeling them recoil from his touch, however, he wanted to pause.
"Are you afraid of me."
With a groggy look of surprise, they slowly shook their head, "Although that was brutal I could never be afraid of you. No matter what you did or who you killed, I'll be by your side."
He hummed as he felt them place a kiss upon his shoulder. Relief washed over him and he noticeably relaxed. The last thing he wanted was for them to fear him. He let out a sigh as he picked up the pace to the Inn.
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Nightmare (Part 4)
summary: Tim will always catch you if you fall, are you too late to return the favor?
word count: 1430~
I am so proud of the new Multichapter Masterlist, took forever but it looks so cool!
Prev Part | Multichapter Masterlist | Next Part
“Do you trust me?”
“Are you quoting Aladdin right now, now of all times?”
“How do you know I’m quoting Aladdin and not Titanic?”
“Because I went to the Titanic expedition with you and got an extensive rant about how much you hate that movie.” You said, glaring straight at Tim from across the gorge - Tim glared straight back.
“Just because I hate a movie doesn't mean I can’t quote it.” His hand floated in the air, still outstretched from earlier when he attempted to offer it to you, “Besides that’s no-” Your eyes flickered down, taking in all the crumpling rocks falling down from below Tim’s feet.
“Eye’s up, Y/n.”
Blue eyes pierced into your soul, his hand had fallen sometime in between his rant about inaccuracies (that you accidently tuned out) and noticing your line of sight. “Just picture a flying carpet in between us.”
“So you were quoting Aladdin,” The silly subject chipped away at your nervousness slowly.
Tim shrugged half-heartedly, his hand raising again, “Never said I wasn't.”
You scowled, “You just like to picture yourself as Aladdin, don't you?”
While Tim was crouched at the edge of the gorge, his small smile adjusted his position, letting him relax onto his heels.
“Wouldn't that make you Jasmine?”
The inside of your cheek made its way in between your teeth, a small bit of control over the blush that crept up your neck, “You didn't answer the question.”
“And neither did you.”
You slowly walked backwards, allowing yourself some room for a running start, “Next thing I know you’re going to get a monkey as a new pet.”
“I doubt the Demon Spawn would mind,” He quickly reached his arm out as far as he could over the ledge, his other arm gripping the bridge railing beside him - a small luxury you didn't have. If you looked close enough - although your stomach wouldn't let you - you could see half his shoe hanging over the wood, tiny splinters breaking off with each movement he made.
“It would add to your narrative, I’m sure a monkey sitting on your shoulders would scare plenty of bad guys.”
“Absolutely not, I will never let a monkey sit on my shoulders,” Tim swallowed harshly, willing his hand to stop shaking so much by hyperextending each joint.
You couldn't think of a reply, eyes too focused on Tim’s hand.
“I trust you,” was all you could muster.
Tim counted each of your footsteps as they pounded towards the last piece of bridge before it broke off, each step making his grip on the railing tighten. He watched as you took your last step, leaping towards him with an outstretched hand. He knew in the back of his mind he would have to get used to this feeling, this soul crushing pressure of watching you risk your life. You two would have to do this countless times to succeed; he’d even have to watch you fall at the moment he was forced to inevitably fail, helpless to do anything but comply with the bumbling mess of plot.
Tim didn't want to think about that just yet.
With a clenched jaw and white knuckles, his hand clapped into yours (He’d be damned if he let anything else happen). The force of your body weight tipped his upper body forward, tender pain licking at the socket in his shoulder, his bones grinding together like his teeth were.
His grip on your wrist was bone crushing, if you weren't so preoccupied freaking out about how far away the ground was, you’d cry out to the soreness of having the bones in your wrist bend towards one another. “I got you,” He gasped out, bangs covering his eyes as they squeezed together in concentration.
Ever so slowly, Tim pulled you up. The second one of your feet could slide onto the wood, you propelled yourself away from the edge, both hands gripping Tim’s like a lifeline (at this point he was one).
“You quoted Titanic,” Tim laughed from underneath you as he spoke, chest rumbling against your forehead.
Both sets of hands were shaking against each other, neither truly wanting to think about another possible outcome of the previous moment. Your head rose, making eye contact with Tim, “Maybe I did, doesn't mean I don’t believe in what I said.”
Tim’s lips parted slightly. Before you could stop your eyes from wandering, you noticed the miniscule pieces of dirt that speckled his jawline and before you knew it, you were analyzing each of the dips in his lips.
Tim cleared his throat loudly.
It was enough for you to jerk your eyes up to his, only to see his blue irises dead set on looking off to the side - the deep red dusting his nose and cheeks made you quickly let go of his hands.
“Right,” came his stiff reply. You two awkwardly untangled your legs and began walking, you leading this time.
As you two came up to another cabin, Tim stopped you with a hand on your shoulder, “I want you to go first, I can be the Hunters primary target so you can get inside.”
Your head whipped to the side, “Why would I let you do that?”
“We both know I can handle a bullet wound if it gets to that, dodge one at best.”
“Not at our size,” You reasoned, “one shot from his rifle and you're -” You turned your head away from him, knowing he understood what you meant even without finishing your sentence.
You were both glum for a second, you not wanting to be the liability that Tim got hurt, and Tim not wanting to repeat what happened just a few moments prior outside the Hunter’s house.
Tim’s hand fell off your shoulder, opting to lightly tap your forearm instead, “You trust me don't you?” A shy, dopey grin fell onto his face; a small bout of light in this dark moment, the two of you surrounded by trauma in the making.
“Is this your attempt at a pep talk?”
Tim snorted, “Is it working?”
You shook your head, smiling up at the night sky for a blissful moment, “A little bit.”
Your eyes locked, neither of you saying anything until Tim broke the silence, “Whenever you’re ready Y/n, I’m right behind you.”
“Don’t you dare get shot on me you dork.”
“Wouldn't dream of it,” Tim whispered out in reply as you softly jumped down from the grassy ledge, landing on a soft patch of grass. You immediately darted for the first crate, holding your breath for a moment.
Nothing happened. Not even a light shining over you. Wasting no time, you ran for the side of the house. You refused to falter, even as you used horizontal wooden planks as a ladder to scale the barely-kept-together cabin. Your hand connected to one of the planks just as the first gunshot fired, the noise bouncing around in your head. A moment's hesitation and you looked below you, seeing Tim running towards the ladder, another gunshot whizzing passed him, “Keep going!”
Without having to be told twice, you continued to climb. Just as you were slipping through the wall of the building, another gunshot fired, making you tumble all the way into the second story of the cabin.
You didn't look back - refused to. Not until you made it to a safe spot.
A singular plank connected the two sides of the floor. As quickly as you could, you tiptoed your way across right as the third gunshot rang. Gunshots were a good sign. That meant Tim wasn't killed yet… right?
You turned back once you made it to the other side, the same moment Tim fell through the hole in the wall - the one you crawled through just a second earlier. Each of his steps pounded against the wood, you couldn't tell if the whole cabin was shaking under your toes by the force of the Hunter, or your body withering under the crushing pressure of what comes next.
Tim’s steps faltered as he walked across the singular plank bridge that marked his path to you, his sprint slowing to a fast walk. For a moment you thought he would tell you to turn around and run, that he would be fine since he was so close to the other side. But with the house shaking and the wood splitting underneath his weight, the last thing you saw was his dazzling blue eyes shining with fear before the wood completely fell from under him.
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Hunter Biden Claims He Has 'No Recollection' of Woman With Whom He Fathered a Child
President Joe Biden’s youngest son, Hunter Biden, cheated on his late brother’s widow, fathering a son with a former Washington, D.C., stripper Lunden Alexis Roberts. Last year, a judge ruled that he was the biological and legal father of the child in question. In his forthcoming memoir Beautiful Things, Hunter Biden pays Roberts the ultimate insult, saying he has “no recollection” of his relationship with her.
According to an advance copy of the book provided to Fox News, Hunter Biden recounts his struggles with drugs, particularly after the death of his older brother Beau in 2015. Hunter Biden describes “more than four years of active addiction” following his brother’s death, and his relationship with Roberts took place during that time span.
The president’s son claims that he has had very few meaningful romantic relationships in his adult life.
“It was my first actual date in 26 years,” Hunter said of a blind date with Kathleen, who would go on to be his wife of 20 years. “My relationship with [Beau’s widow] Hallie belonged to a whole other category, and the other women I’d been with during rampages since my divorce were hardly the dating type. We’d satisfy our immediate needs and little else.”
“I’m not proud of it. It’s why I would later challenge in court the woman from Arkansas who had a baby in 2018 and claimed the child was mine — I had no recollection of our encounter,” Hunter Biden claims. “That’s how little connection I had with anyone. I was a mess, but a mess I’ve taken responsibility for.”
Contesting his paternity in court seems an odd way of taking “responsibility.”
In May 2019, Roberts had filed a petition for paternity, child support, and a request for Biden to foot the bill for the child’s health care. She said she and Biden had conceived the child, who was born in August 2018. In November 2019, a DNA test confirmed that Hunter Biden was the child’s biological father. In a January 2020 court order, Circuit Judge Holly Meyer wrote, “This Court finds and declares Robert Hunter Biden to be the biological and legal father of NJR,” the initials of the child in the case.
Hunter Biden had finalized his divorce from his wife of more than 20 years, Kathleen Biden, in 2017, after she accused him of spending money on drugs and strip clubs. Later that year, he started dating Hallie Biden, widow to his late elder brother Beau Biden and mother to his niece and nephew. He broke up with Hallie Biden in April 2019.
This means the child now linked to Hunter by DNA was conceived during his relationship with his late brother’s widow.
Yet the story became even more bizarre. In May 2019, Hunter Biden, 49, married Melissa Cohen, 33, in a surprise wedding.
It seems likely that Hunter Biden mentions Cohen elsewhere in the book, but the Fox News article does not include that section.
The paternity scandal seems a sore spot for President Joe Biden and his wife, Jill. The pair refused to mention Hunter Biden’s love child while listing their grandchildren in April 2020.
A little boy out there is really the grandson of the president of the United States, and he likely has no idea.
Hunter Biden notoriously raked in cash from foreign business deals in countries where his father served as a point man under President Barack Obama, including Ukraine and China.
Hunter Biden’s lucrative China deals arguably came at America’s expense.
Hunter Biden also appears to have left a laptop with sensitive information with a computer repairman. The repairman handed the information over to the FBI and The New York Post, which reported that Hunter Biden’s business deals implicate his father, Joe Biden. A former Hunter Biden associate confirmed that he has “firsthand knowledge” and documents showing Joe Biden’s involvement in Hunter’s Chinese business deals.
Yet Big Tech and the legacy media worked to bury the story, falsely claiming it was misinformation. Studies after the election suggested that if Biden voters had known about the story, they would not have voted for Joe Biden and Donald Trump would likely have won the 2020 election.
Hunter Biden appears intent on restoring his public image through this memoir, but his insistence that he has “no recollection” of his relationship with Roberts may end up digging his hole deeper.
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Turning Out | Jack Hughes
long story short: I made myself extremely emotional with this song, told @nazdaddy about it, and together we made it worse. over two months later, this fic was finally born. title from the AJR song of the same name. (are we really surprised it’s a song fic at this point?)
tagging: @marcoscandellas @stlbluesbrat21 @dembenchboys @poltoncarayko @robthomissed @letmeplaytheblues @troubatrain @ayohockeycheck @blackwidowrising @aria253264 @antoineroussel @starswin @glassdanse @ch-ristiane @majdoline @nazdaddy @hockey-more-like @thebestoffanfiction
I thought I'd recognize when love was true
But I'm confused
It was summer in Michigan, and you were laying in the hammock in the backyard with Jack. You could feel your nose getting burned, and you were sure his was already on its way to burnt, too. School was out, the summer stretching endlessly before you.
Well. There was the matter of the draft. It was only a couple of weeks away now, and all conversations led back to it.
“I’m proud of you,” you murmured during a lull in conversation. Your head was on Jack’s chest, one arm draped around your shoulders and the other behind his head.
He laughed. “Wait until I actually get drafted by someone first, eh?”
You scoffed and twisted to look up at his face. He was blushing. “Okay, sure, whatever, Mr. Hotshot Top Prospect,” you teased, reaching up to poke Jack right beneath his arm where he was ticklish. He flinched, and the hammock swung wildly.
Jack grabbed onto your hand and wrenched it away from his side, tightening his other arm around your shoulders.
“You’re so mean to me,” he complained, but he was grinning at you. He didn’t let go of your hand.
“I mean it, though,” you said.
“God,” Jack groaned. “Stop it.”
It wasn’t that the draft was a sore subject, exactly, but you knew Jack was getting more than a little tired of hearing about it constantly. You just couldn’t resist teasing him a bit more.
“Are you gonna forget about me once you’re off in some big city, being an NHL star?” you asked.
Jack scoffed a little and wrinkled his nose at you. “I could never forget about you, Bug,” he said softly.
Bug. You called each other that, had for years, but you’d mostly grown out of it. It was nice to hear it again. You poked Jack again, for no real reason, just to get him to squirm, maybe.
“You mean it?” you asked, just as softly. The birds and cicadas were loud around you, but you two were in a little bubble of your own in your hammock.
Jack scoffed again. “You’re my best friend. We’re gonna be together forever,” he said.
Forever was a long time, but Jack sounded so confident, so sure of the future, that you let yourself believe him.
Am I ready for love
Or maybe just a best friend
You might’ve cried a little as you watched Jack get called first overall, but you were still in Michigan while they were all off in Vancouver, so there was no one to call you out on it. Jack texted you almost immediately, just a row of exclamation points, which made you laugh. He called you later, too, but you couldn’t hear much over Turcs and Cole yelling.
With the craziness of it all, you ended up having to wait to have a real conversation with Jack until after he was back in Michigan, and he ended up at your front door, looking a little like he hadn’t slept since before the draft.
“Hey, you,” you said, but Jack was already stepping forward and pulling you into a hug, burying his face in your neck, despite the fact that he was definitely taller than you. “Wanna go on a walk?” you asked him.
Jack grinned and nodded eagerly at you, which is how you ended up strolling through the familiar streets of your neighborhood, not really talking, just a comfortable silence between you.
Until you got to the local park and Jack flopped down in the grass with a sigh. You laid down next to him, looking up at the white clouds skidding across the blue late-June sky.
“I thought I’d feel different for some reason, you know?” Jack said finally. “Like being drafted first would change me somehow or something.”
You laughed. “Don’t worry, you’ll always be our Jacky,” you told him, just for the way he rolled his eyes at you. Still the same Jack, same blue eyes and floppy hair, same kid you’d known for years. Jack was still looking at you, serious in a way he never was, and you just wanted him to smile again, because then everything still would be the same. “Jack,” you said, made him look at you.
“You know I love you, right?” Jack blurted, and the words you’d been about to say died on your tongue.
You were going to say that nothing had to change, but maybe you were wrong. You’d fallen in love with your best friend a long time ago, but you’d long since resigned yourself to being nothing more than a best friend. It was easier to keep him in your life that way, rather than risk ruining everything.
“Duh, you’d be lost without me,” you joked instead. It made Jack smile, just for a moment.
Jack sat up then, leaning his weight back on his hands so he could keep looking up at the sky. “I wish you could come with me,” he said quietly.
You sat up and mirrored Jack’s pose. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” you tried to joke. It fell flat. You weren’t really sure you knew how to get through life without Jack by your side. Maybe it would be a good thing to get some distance, actually.
Jack was staring at you. You couldn’t read his face. It turned out that you didn’t need to, because the next thing you knew, Jack was leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours. It was a quick kiss, and you’d barely had time to react before Jack was pulling away again.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, but he looked more apologetic than regretful.
“Oh,” was all you could say.
“It’s not fair,” Jack said, and you weren’t sure where this conversation was going anymore. “We’re gonna be so far apart, and you deserve better.”
You were at a point in your life where you were expected to be more grown up, but Jack had never looked younger. You had never felt more lost.
“I just don’t wanna break your heart,” Jack said. It was a little late for that, you thought, but you didn’t say that.
“Yeah,” you murmured finally, which didn’t really make sense, but Jack accepted it.
He laid back down in the grass next to you, and after a minute of watching him yourself, you laid next to him again.
You say I turned out fine
I think I'm still turning out
The first time you visited Jack in New Jersey was over Christmas his rookie year. He picked you up at the airport, wrapping you up in a hug like no time had passed at all. He took you back to his apartment, and it was like you were in high school again.
You went to the game the next night, and meeting everyone else was mostly a blur of names and faces. It wasn’t until you were all heading down to the family room after the final buzzer that you realized that you didn’t know who Isabella, who’d been talking to you all night, was dating. You never quite got the chance to ask, either, but it didn’t matter in the end. Jack emerged from the locker room and made a beeline for you and Isabella. He gave you a quick hug before turning to Isabella and giving her a hug and a kiss.
Ah, so that’s how it was. You felt your heart stop in your chest, but you forced on a smile and let Jack wrap an arm around each of your shoulders. You’d been expecting this, you could handle it.
You loved Jack, and he loved you, just not in the same way. He’d fall in love with someone else, and you’d get used to it eventually.
When Jack called you a few months later and told you they’d broken up, you comforted him, tried to pretend that you weren’t a tiny bit happy. You just reminded yourself that there would always be someone else.
I hope you stick around
We're gonna figure it out
Who can I turn to now?
Your phone was ringing. It was late, and there was only one person your phone rang for after midnight. You fumbled for it in the dark, eyes still heavy with sleep, and answered it without looking at the screen.
“Hi,” you said, or tried to say. Your voice hadn’t quite woken up with the rest of your body yet. You rolled onto your back, blinked up at the dark ceiling.
You heard Jack let out a sigh on the other end of the line. “I woke you up,” he said. He sounded tired.
The Devils were somewhere on the West Coast, and you’d fallen asleep before the game had ended. You probably didn’t want to know.
“I hadn’t been asleep very long,” you lied. Jack made a noise like he definitely didn’t believe you.
It was quiet for a moment. Then, “Did you watch?”
“No,” you admitted.
Jack huffed. It might have been a laugh, except you knew your best friend, and he was fighting to keep his voice from breaking. “Good,” he told you.
“You should stay off Twitter,” you said mildly, and this time Jack did laugh at you, but there wasn’t any humor behind it.
You’d seen the comments, the tweets, the articles. You know Jack saw them, too, stayed up too late reading them, even when you all told him not to. Jack Hughes: first overall draft pick, USNTDP scoring phenom, underdeveloped, too small, and, well, a bust.
“What if they’re right, though?” Jack said quietly. You wondered if he was in his hotel room, curled up against his pillows, trying not to wake his roommate, or if he’d wandered out into the hall, found somewhere to be alone.
“Oh, Bug,” you said. It slipped out really, but you heard Jack’s shaky breath. You didn’t know the last time you’d called him that.
“I miss you,” Jack blurted. You wiped at your eyes. The Devils had hit Detroit just before healing west, and you’d made the trip down to see them. It had only been a few days. But this was more than not seeing each other for a while. It was growing up too fast, the world changing whether or not you were ready for it, not realizing that everything was different until it was too late.
You missed Jack, missed seeing him every day, trying to help each other with homework and then laughing too hard to actually get anything done. You missed hockey games and the certainty that you’d be friends forever. Forever was a long time when you were young and naïve.
You tried not to think too much about forever these days, or how you’d still turn to say something to Jack, even though he hadn’t been by your side in a long time. He didn’t need to know any of that.
“I miss you, too,” is what you said, feeling it aching in your chest. Your eyes burned, and it wasn’t because you were tired.
I'm a little kid, and so are you
Don't you go and grow up before I do
He was always the first person you called. When you failed a test, when you were sick, when you got your heart broken.
You hadn’t stopped to think about where Jack might be, and you panicked a little when the phone rang endlessly. You were about to hang up and give up when Jack answered, just before it went to voicemail.
“What’s up?” He sounded like he’d been laughing, and it was loud around him. You were pretty sure you could pick out P.K.’s loud voice.
He was out with his team, having fun, and you were crying alone over a broken heart. You shouldn’t have called.
“Never mind, you’re busy,” you said, already pulling the phone away from your ear to hang up. You didn’t need to bother Jack with this, not now.
“Wait, wait,” Jack stopped you. He paused, and you heard a door close, and then it was quieter. “I always have time to talk to you,” he said, and you cried harder. “Hang on, are you crying? What happened?”
You took a steadying breath. Tried one last time to get the tears under control. “He broke up with me, Jack.”
Jack swore under his breath. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he told you.
It hadn’t been a great relationship to begin with, you’d always known that. There was no real future in it, but it had been fun for a while, something to distract yourself from the fact that the guy you really wanted to be with was on the other side of the country. But it had fallen apart, just like it always did. Somehow it had still blindsided you, in spite of the missed calls and blown off dates, which is how you found yourself shattered on your bedroom floor now.
You weren’t sure how much longer you could rely on Jack to pick up the pieces.
“Talk to me,” Jack said quietly, and you choked back another sob.
“I hate this,” you murmured. Hated being so far away from your best friend, hated crying over a guy you didn’t even love. “I miss you so much,” you added. You felt like you’d been saying that more than anything since Jack had been drafted.
Jack hummed, distracted. You could still hear his teammates yelling somewhere on the other side of the door. “You should come visit,” Jack said after a moment.
You laughed. There was no way you’d be able to drop your life and fly out to New Jersey, no matter how badly you might’ve wanted to. It just didn’t work like that.
“I should let you get back to the guys,” you said instead of answering. Jack made a protesting noise on the other end of the line, but you hung up before he could get a word in.
I'm a little kid with so much doubt
Do you wanna be there to see how I turn out?
Your cap and gown hung on the back of your bathroom door. You stared into the mirror for a minute before you reached to tug them on. It felt strange to be graduating college. You still felt out of your depth most days, and now you were being let loose upon the world. Supposedly you were ready for it now. You weren’t sure you’d ever be ready, really.
You searched the crowd for your parents as you made your way to your seat. You had hoped Jack would’ve come, too, but he’d hit you with some excuse about how he’d still be stuck in Jersey. You tried to pretend like it hadn’t hurt.
The graduation itself passed in a blur. You hadn’t tripped over anything when you’d gone to collect your diploma, and honestly that was all that mattered.
You were searching for your family in the madness outside when you heard a voice yell, “Hey! Bug!”
You spun around, clutching your cap to your head so it didn’t fall off. There was only one person who’d ever called you that. Jack was making his way towards you through the crowd, hair windswept and smile bright.
“Jack!” you yelled back, already launching yourself at him. He caught you easily, sweeping you up in a tight hug. You buried your face in his neck, no longer caring if your cap fell off. “I thought you weren’t coming.”
Jack pulled back to give you a look. “You didn’t really think I’d miss your graduation, did you?” You shrugged, and Jack frowned a little at you. He bent over to pick up your fallen cap. “You dropped something,” he said, but when you reached to take it from him, he just grinned and shoved it on his own head. It was crooked, and the tassel was falling in his face. “C’mon, your parents are over here,” he told you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and tugging you along with him.
“I’m proud of you,” Jack said later that night, laying next to you on your bed. The TV was on, but neither of you were really watching it.
“I’m supposed to say that about you,” you said, poking him in the ribs. The Devils had had a good season, led to the first round of the playoffs by Nico and Jack. (They’d gotten their asses kicked, but they’d made it.)
He squirmed away and grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together and resting them both on his chest. “Whatever,” he scoffed. “You’re all smart and graduated now,” he told you.
It was your turn to scoff. “That doesn’t mean I know what the fuck I’m doing.” Jack turned to look at you, one arm behind his head, and you were suddenly reminded of a moment just like this, so many years before, with the summer and the rest of your lives stretching out before you. “I have no idea what I’m doing,” you admitted. With life, but also right here, lying in bed with your best friend.
Jack turned fully, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at you. His hair flopped in his face, and you reached up absently to push it back.
“You should come to New Jersey,” he said, face dead serious. It was far from the first time he’s said that to you. You’d always laughed or brushed it off, unwilling to admit that, while terrifying, back by Jack’s side was the only place you’d dreamed of being for years.
“I-” you started. You didn’t know what was going to come next. Jack was still staring down at you. You reached up to poke the mole next to his mouth, just to see if you could get him to smile.
He did, but he batted your hand away before you could do it again. “I mean it,” he said. You rolled your eyes.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you said. You tried to roll away from Jack, away from this conversation, but he grabbed your wrist, settled his weight on your legs so you couldn’t escape.
He was frowning at you. “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re my best friend.”
“Yeah, exactly.” Jack’s frown deepened, and the crease between his eyebrows was frustratingly adorable. “I’m your best friend. And that was enough while I was in school, and you were still trying to figure out the NHL.” Jack did let you roll away from this time, and you curled up against the wall, not meeting his eyes. “But I don’t think I can be in the same city as you, watching as you find some pretty girl to fall in love with until you leave me behind. I don’t think I can watch as you become everything I want for someone else.”
“There isn’t anyone else,” Jack said slowly.
You huffed out a sigh. “Not now, maybe. But there will be.” There always would be, for you and for him.
Jack rolled his eyes at you, and that hurt a little. “There hasn’t been anyone else for me but you, not for a long time, not really,” Jack told you.
You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or cry. You were pretty sure he’d had a girlfriend at the beginning of the season this year. It had been years since that day he’d kissed you in the park, long enough that you nearly forgot about it. You didn’t think his feelings had really changed after all these years.
“Don’t give me that look,” Jack said, flicking you on the leg. “I mean it. It just- we were still kids and then I was off in Newark, and one of us always seemed to be dating someone else, and I could never ask you to just fucking move across the country for me-” Jack was rambling, and you cut him off by poking him with your toes. He grabbed onto your foot and looked up at you. “I’m not sure I know how to love anyone else but you,” he admitted.
“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” you asked. You reached over to grab a pillow so you could hit Jack with it. He spluttered and looked offended. “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids, Jack.”
Jack’s face softened. “Did you listen to anything I just said? I had reasons!” he tried, but he was grinning at you now.
“Please just come here and kiss me,” you said.
Jack didn’t need any convincing, and then he was leaning forward and tangling a hand in your hair to pull you in for a kiss. He pulled back and rested his forehead against yours to catch his breath; you whacked him with the pillow one more time for good measure.
“Hey! What was that one for?” Jack asked, already trying to wrestle the pillow away from you.
“Got a lot of years to make up for, Jacky,” you said.
Jack gave up on getting the pillow away from you and settled for pinning you to the bed with his hands on your wrists. You kneed him gently in the ribs.
“I hate you,” Jack sighed, but you knew him too well for that. The look on his face was just fond. You’d seen that look a lot over the years, and now you were realizing that there was something else to it. Love.
“Nah, you don’t,” you said.
Jack smiled at you and bent down to kiss you again. “Yeah, you’re right,” he said. “I could never.”
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