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chaepink · 2 days

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Money, Money, Money! | sub!izuku midoriya

wc: 1.3k+ words | masterlist

dom!gn!reader, sub!pro-hero!izuku, sugar daddy x sugar baby relationship (reader is the sugar baby), degradation, bondage, financial domination, shoe humping, use of vibrator toys, gagging/choking, not really proof read

note: anon wanted the character to be changed to delu for context

AND GOD DAMN AM I PROUD OF THIS ONE

"Do you like it, baby?" izuku lifts his head up, his hazy, glassy eyes staring at the way the new outfit you just bought today looks on you. it looks incredible but he isn't able to voice that thought out, not when you've attached a ball choker around his head and in his mouth which prevents him from saying anything.

You smile when he nods eagerly, taking your sweet time to pose for him so he could see the entire outfit. Though you take longer than usual to do so, just so you could tease him.

You walk towards him, each loud step of your shoes on the floor making izuku's heart race at what going to happen next.

When you've reached him kneeling on the floor in front of the bed, you lick your lips at the delicious scene in front of you.

Drool is dripping down izuku's mouth as it drips onto his legs and even on his leaking cock. a vibrator toy sits attached to his hard dick, waiting to be turned on. his hands are tied behind is back and you dont even need to tie his legs apart, izuku is obedient enough to do that himself. His body is fully revealed to you and if you were to see him from behind, you would be able to see a vibrator toy in his ass too.

You coo at him. "look at you, already leaking like a whore when i haven't even touched you yet." Izuku whimpers but you see the way his dick twitches at your words, his face flushing a bright red. He’s been in this position for a hour now and his dick has been hard almost the entire time. everytime he moves, his dick bumps against his stomach and he can't help but let out a moan each time.

"what? don't lie, you really are a whore for me." You stand in front of him, looking down to stare at the hearts in his eyes. "after all, you let me do all sorts of stuff to you." You chuckle before remembering something.

"oh right! i almost forgot about the toys on you, let me just grab the remote it came with." You reach for the nearby remote before reading the instructions carefully. You just bought the toy today for him and you were eager to test it out, wanting to see all the reactions it would emit from izuku.

"they both came together so i assume they're connected somehow." You quickly scan the paper.

"it says here.. that if i press this button-" You press a button and izuku sudden jerks forward, his eyes widening and tears immediately prickling his eyes. He whines and shuts his eyes. You can hear the sound of vibrations and when you glance at the one attached to his dick, you see the way its vibrating.

Holy shit. You assumed it was going to work well since it costed quite a lot but you didnt know it would work this good. Izuku’s face scrunches up and you realize you started the vibrations on high but you don't move to lower it.

A muffled gasp escapes from him as the toy in his ass immediately hits a spot in him that makes pre cum spurt out of his dick. You watch in amusement as izuku quickly falls apart at the feeling of being played with from both sides. He can't think properly on whether or not he focusses on the pleasure coming from his dick or his ass.

Drool escapes through the openings of the choker and he stares up at you with glassy eyes, pleading you to take it off. And so you do, you want to hear all the adorable noises he lets out obviously.

Though when you move towards him to do so, you purposely bump your leg against his dick, pressing it against his chest. Izuku lets out a cry at the friction.

You’re then surprised to see cum shoot of his dick, staining his chest. You watch in shock and disbelief but izuku is quick to apologize now that the choker is off him.

"s-shit [name] ah!" Izuku whimpers when his dick immediately becomes hard again and he realizes you haven't turned off the vibrations. If anything, he feels you increase them, making him widen his eyes.

"wait! i-i didn't m-mean ngh to c-cum!" You narrow your eyes at him and you suddenly grab a fistful of his hair to yank his head back.

"but you did cum anyways, didn't you? without my permission too like a brat." Izuku hisses at the pain and shuts his eyes. He slowly nods, not wanting to disobey you.

He feels you let go of his hair and stare down at him with narrowed eyes. You’re looking at him like he’s some dirty plaything for you and while he is, fuck do you look hot doing it.

You feel some movement against your leg and you stare down, seeing his dick move against your leg. Izuku must be doing it subconsciously because when he follows your gaze, he gasps and stutters out another apology but you quickly cut him off.

"what, you want to hump my shoe or something? you want to be a dumb whore for me?"

Izuku bites his lip but he then nods eagerly and you let out a small laugh. It’s addicting, really. The feeling of having such power and control over someone who could easily overpower you. He could break out of the bondage right now but you know he won't. You know he wants to be a good boy for you.

You stick your foot out in front of his leaky dick, presenting your new fancy leather shoes that izuku assumes are really expensive.

Well he knows they were expensive actually, he bought them for you for you twos anniversary recently.

With almost no hesitation, Izuku begins grinding his dick against your shoe, groaning at the friction of the rough material against his sensitive member. He can’t help but lean forward to lay his cheek on your thigh and stare up at you as he falls apart from your shoe. You feel the way his dick vibrates from the toy attached.

“F-Fuck ah! Y-Your shoe feels s-so good, baby.” You giggle and lean down to wipe the drool from the corner of his lips, making his eyes flutter.

Since he’s still sensitive from his first orgasm, his second one quickly approaches and he’s quick to warn you. He lets out a groan as he stares up with you with glassy eyes and you already know what he’s asking for as his mind is probably too foggy to even ask or think properly.

You play with the remote in your hand before turning the toys to its highest setting, making Izuku let out a choked whimper.

“Go on, baby. You’ll be a good boy and cum for me right? You finally asked for permission this time.” Izuku nods rapidly as his pace against your shoe speeds up even more. He suddenly lets out a cry as cum shoots out of his dick and stains your shoe along with your lower leg.

You feign a pout. "my shoe is all ruined now!" Though izuku doesnt seem to care, only continuing to rut again your shoe even though he just came for the second time. The pleasure must've gotten to his head, you think as you watch in amusement. You glance down and see as his cum drips down your shoe and onto the floor underneath.

You use a finger to tilt his head upwards towards you, a small grin on your face. "but you'll buy me a new pair right? you'll be a good boy and do that for me, wont you?"

Izuku stares up at you dumbly, hearts practically in his eyes. He nods eagerly.

"anything for you, [name]."

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

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hopelesslyromanticshark · 2 days

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first i wanna say that the royalty au fic was soo enjoyable to read!! and can i request platonic!headcanons with piper mclean x daughter of hades?? where the readers like kinda scary and off putting and they somehow create a bond with piper😭 i’m also sure ur inbox is going to be flooded with requests so take ur time !!

⋆⭒˚.⋆ platonic! piper mclean x daughter of hades! reader hcs

𝜗𝜚 content...platonic! piper mclean x daughter of hades! reader hcs 𝜗𝜚 warnings...lanauage and (technically) sexual innuendos 𝜗𝜚 letter's from the author...ta da!!!! After doing this, i realized i have a negative grasp on piper's character lmao- (pretty sure I didn't like her as a kid but tbh i dont really remember as for the whole of the lost hero i was completely distracted by leo and jason-) so, i don't know how good or bad this is but uh it's here!! so enjoy ig but if you don't no worries we'll just forget this ever happened!!

────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

-`♡´- "hey, you look cool and lonely. wanna be friends?"

-`♡´- what an opener, am i right???

-`♡´- i don't think piper is one of those people to be like, ashamed lmao

-`♡´- so im sure she had no problem marching right up to you and asking to be friends

-`♡´- though, this is a little jarring at eight in the morning over your bagel, but you let it slide because she seemed to have good intentions

-`♡´- and also, she called you lonely...which was true, but most people don't just say that.

-`♡´- especially not to a kid of the big three (mother fuck the big three, it's just big me-)

-`♡´- you simply shrugged and nodded, which caused piper to nodded back before returning to her table.

-`♡´- you didn't think anything of the interaction, shrugging it off and nearly forgetting about it, until piper came up to you later and started talking to you about your earrings and your clothes and basically everything else under the sun

-`♡´- and, strangely enough, you didn't mind the daughter of aphrodite, not one bit

-`♡´- in fact, you found her company...endearing.

-`♡´- from that point on, it was hard to find the daughter of hades with out her bestie daughter of aphrodite

-`♡´- she brought out a fun side in you and sometimes you were able to keep piper from going completely crazy

-`♡´- hang outs in the arena is a must

-`♡´- partially to train but also to watch all the other cute demigods get sweaty and flustered

-`♡´- i know you guys talk about crushes like you would not believe, code names and all

-`♡´- but the code names are always like 'abe lincoln' and 'angel food cake' which def have a meaning that only you guys know

-`♡´- ALSO big on the whole 'sweet treat' thing

-`♡´- i know daddy tristan mclean be keeping piper's credit card MAXED

-`♡´- and i also know piper would only enjoy spending it on her friends

-`♡´- sometimes, just for shits and giggles, you and piper trade aesthetics

-`♡´- they aren't super dissimilar but it's noticeable enough

-`♡´- ummmm matching pjs for the sleepover??? YES YES YES

-`♡´- obvi pipers are pink and yours are black, duh!

-`♡´- but they are still matchy matchy

-`♡´- and horror movies are BIG at these sleepovers, which also includes themed snacks

-`♡´- "should i be concerned about whether or not the blood in these cupcakes is real?" piper asked, eyeing them and you suspiciously

-`♡´- "it's not animal blood if it makes you feel better," you teased back.

-`♡´- "that does, in fact, not make me feel better."

-`♡´- that being said, you are the biggest defender of piper and her vegetarian

-`♡´- will fight anyone who tries to give piper meat, even on accident

-`♡´- but, you've also DEF bought piper a shirt that says something along the lines of 'the only meat i eat is roast beef ;)' or 'eat pussy, it's organic!"

-`♡´- piper wears them, unironically

-`♡´- AND SHE FUCKING ROCKS THEM STFU-

-`♡´- you guys aren't really known for your raw moments, but late at night, when you're both lying in bed after a sleepover, the strong sense of girlhood just takes you over and you can't help but spill your guts.

-`♡´- "you know, you're my best friend. thank you for, uh, calling me a loser basically."

-`♡´- "of course. i'm glad you were being a total loser that day so that we could be losers together from that point forwards."

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #pjo #hoo #pjo fandom #heroes of olympus x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #piper mclean #toa #pjo hoo toa #heros of olympus #the lost hero #platonic! piper mclean #platonic! piper mclean x reader #x reader #platonic

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kunikinnie · 3 days

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a/n: oddly specific prompt as it's based on recent experiences lol lemme indulge (also lowkey a mess but whatever HAHA) warning: some profanity

comforting you after a breakup (and you getting sick in the process)

featuring: Kunikida, Akutagawa x GN!Reader

Kunikida Doppo

He'd drop by your place more often that he should. But it's not that it was uncalled for (although of course he was worried that he was overstepping boundaries). In fact, you were always grateful for his help.

"How are you feeling?"

"A bit better," you'd reply with a weak smile. It was always like this every visit and for every other visit to come. He'd bring you some food, sometimes those which he cooked himself, your favorite snacks, and whatever it is you requested from his previous visit.

While you were glad you had a friend around to brighten up the place in your darkest moments, sometimes the guilt would get to you. Wasn't he spoiling you a bit too much?

Perhaps he was, but to him, this was hardly anything at all. Yes, he was doing it for you, but he was also doing all of these things to ease his own guilt and pain from seeing you like this.

He promised he would always be there for you. It shouldn't have been hard, given how loyal of a friend he was (and given how deeply he had fallen for you) , yet he'd failed at looking out for you when you needed him most.

Maybe if he'd acted sooner, you wouldn't have fallen for that bastard. Maybe if he'd tried a little harder, you wouldn't have to sacrifice so much for a man who would never have done the same for you. Maybe if he'd had been more honest, you would've realized that you were loved - so greatly loved, really - even if that came from a person so unworthy such as himself.

The moment he found out your bouts of illness weren't just unlucky coincidences was the moment everything crashed down for him. There was nothing more painful for him than seeing you in pain, whether it be emotionally or physically. That's why he couldn't take it anymore when everything started going downhill for your health and your relationship.

He's glad that at least the initiative to break up with that scoundrel came from you. However, the temptation to strangle him if Kunikida ever bumped into him always lingered in his mind. Perhaps it was fate that spared both of them the headache; he never ran into him since you two broke up.

How could your ex waste your love and affection like that? Why did he leave you hanging in the air when you needed him most? Why did you have to fall for him anyway?

Of course he didn't want to think of himself as being the better choice as he also has his own weaknesses and issues to work out, but at least Kunikida knew he'd never let you second-guess or tire yourself to death.

He'd never force you to fit his ideal because he's learned to love you for the person you are.

"Thanks so much for all this."

Your smiles alone made all his worries vanish into thin air. Didn't you notice how much brighter they are now? It's the only reward he could ever ask for, even if sooner or later those very smiles would be reserved for someone else.

"I'll come again tomorrow. Just let me know if you need anything."

"Nah, it's fine. Your presence is more than enough."

Words couldn't encapsulate the joy he felt from hearing that. If only he could return those same words with the same level of honesty...

"Aww, he's happy to hear that."

W-was it really that obvious? Then did you also notice-

"Okay, okay I'll stop teasing you. You should go home now, it's late."

"I'll be fine. You should be fine too. Don't forget your meds. Also you can heat up the-"

"Yes, yes, I got it. Don't worry about me too much. I think you should be worrying about Dazai-san's latest case instead-"

Ah, right. Sometimes he wished that his partner would at least spare him half the trouble so that he could visit you more often...

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

He couldn't understand anything of what was happening to you, and to some extent, to himself as well.

He was aware he had no idea nor any intention as to knowing what "love," let alone being in a relationship meant. So when he learned that you had been dating someone else, he had been largely unaffected.

Well, at least that was what he said. It was obvious to anyone close to him that he was, in fact, extremely affected. The mere mention of your name was enough to shake him and sometimes even sour his mood.

But if this so-called "love" was the reason your smiles seemed to be brighter, then he had no right to feel the way he did.

As time passed, he distanced himself from the very thought of you. There was no point in dwelling on something that causes you pain, he claimed. Sure, sometimes you'd bump into each other and he'd feel lighter when you greet each other, and maybe he'd look out for you during missions as he always did, but they were just out of duty as your superior.

Yet the moment he found you one night crying in the middle of the rain, his resolution had been all but forgotten.

He used Rashoumon as an umbrella for the both of you before (awkwardly) asking what had happened. You suddenly hugged him tightly, despite being drenched from the rain, and continued to sob into his shirt.

"I guess he has no place for someone weak like me," you barely managed to say.

That statement puzzled him. You? But you were one of the most capable members the mafia, not just in terms of power and agility, but also in intelligence and strength of character.

It was not until he finally brought you to the hospital (because of course you got a fever from crying in the rain, dumbass) that everything was made clear.

You were diagnosed with a rare disease that had no treatment. Turns out you found a few days ago and were about to tell your partner that night, until he left you (literally) stranded in the middle of the rain for no good reason. He must have been tired of dealing with your symptoms - that was your conclusion.

"And still you refused to seek shelter like the idiot that you are," he said with great annoyance, but with no harshness in his tone. He could understand where you're coming from, of course, but compromising your health as if you were seeking death over something like that irritated him.

But what angered him more was your ex's (he supposed he was already your ex) behavior. To someone like Akutagawa who didn't even claim to truly know what "love" meant, it was disgusting to see someone abandon their lover like that. Worst part was that had to be you.

You having an illness, terminal or not, was not an excuse. If anything, that should have made him more determined to be by your side until the very end, right?

He hadn't realized you had already drifted to sleep. Despite your pale and reddened face and your puffy tear-streaked eyes, seeing you at peace for even just a moment brought him some peace of mind as well.

He was caught in a flurry of thoughts, ranging from wanting to choke your ex to coming to terms with the idea that he himself had fallen in love with you, and even to wishing that he could take your illness instead.

None of those really mattered right now, at least. The one thing that was clear was that you had to recover quickly and fully. If that meant he had to distance himself even further, then so be it. But if him being around would help in any way at all, then he'd swear to never leave your side and nothing - I mean nothing - can deter him from that.

taglist: @stygianoir, @irethepotato, @kisara-16reblogs, @thatdazaikin, @dazaee, @menshusband, @celestair, @bloobewy, @renaxnnas, @kunikida-simp

#bsd #kunikida doppo #akutagawa ryunosuke #bsd x reader #kunikida x reader #akutagawa x reader #kunikida x you #akutagawa x you

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chocolate-milk-enthusiast · 1 day

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[5 𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙨]- Rin Itoshi

hey hey hey! so this is my first fic (that's getting posted) but i had a lot of fun writing this and i am pretty proud of this icl, it was hard and abit awkward to write at some points but i hope you enjoy it!^^

Rin x fem!reader word count: 1530 warnings: eating/drinking, kissing, reader is referred as 'girlfriend' and 'goddess' and implied to be a girl, but you can always think of it as gn or male. if i missed anything else please lmk!

Sight.

Rin wasn’t the most grateful person; he often complained about many things, especially on the field when a pass was sloppy or when his or his teammates' dribbling was under par. He wasn’t one to appreciate the scenery around him, whether it was a beautiful sunset on the beach or a rainy day seen from his living room window.

While he wasn’t particularly responsive to his surroundings outside of the field, that didn’t mean he wasn’t observant. Quite the opposite, in fact. He noticed every single detail about you (and his surroundings), even the smallest ones. It could be as simple as a different shade of lipstick or a new pair of earrings, or something more noticeable like a recent haircut or new shoes. He noticed everything.

It was now 5:24, twenty-four minutes past his usual time to start the day. Why was he keeping count, you might ask? Because of you. Twenty-four minutes ago, when he tried waking up, he saw you shifting in your sleep. He took it as a sign that if he moved, you’d wake up, and he couldn’t let that happen. Not when you were overworking your pretty little head so much. So he chose to lay back down, looking at you. He couldn’t help but feel his heart warm at the sight: messy hair, slightly parted lips, eyelashes resting on your cheeks, a tiny amount of drool pooling at the corner of your mouth. To anyone else, you might have looked like a mess, but to him? He found himself in awe.

To him, you were absolutely gorgeous, whether you were dressed up for a night out, in pajamas when he showed up unexpectedly, or simply sleeping in his arms. He found himself grateful for the ability to see. To see you smile brightly after eating your favorite dessert. To see you pout when he teased you for slipping on a puddle.

This is when he truly realized: he had to be grateful for the little things in life (in this situation his ability to see). How else was he supposed to worship you like the goddess you were?

Hearing

Rin was always a listener. In contrast, you talked a lot more, openly expressing what you felt. Being with Rin allowed you to do that more than usual because he never did, or never will, mind sitting there listening to you talk about something so mundane. If it were anyone else, they would have probably left, but he didn’t. He patiently listened to your feathery voice because he truly enjoyed listening to you talk.

It was 3:18 AM. Usually, at this ungodly hour, Rin would be sleeping. But today? There you were, sitting on his couch, talking about something. He couldn’t exactly figure out what; his mind was hazy, your honey-laced voice overwhelming him. What brought you both to this situation? A nightmare, one that Rin had. Nightmares weren’t unusual for him, pretty frequent and normal if you’d ask him. But the one he had today? Saying it scared him was an understatement. To Rin, his brother Sae and you, his childhood best friend and now girlfriend, were the most important people in his life. His relationship with his brother was extremely strained, and he knew their bond might never return to what it was. So when he had a nightmare that you left him for his brother, it terrified him. Even now, an hour after waking up, the thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. But there you were, sitting in front of him, talking about your week because he asked you to. He wanted to distract himself, so what better way than to drown in the comfort of your embrace and your sweet, melodic words? Talking about how you saw a new cat cafe on your way from work might have seemed boring to him at any other time (though he would have still listened just to see you happy). But right now, it made him happy because it meant he got to hear your angelic voice that lulled him back to sleep.

Touch

Rin wasn’t the most affectionate person at first, but with time, he started to crave your touch. A simple brush of your shoulders when you were standing next to him made his heart pound and head spin. Before long, he was practically attached to you whenever he could be, regardless of the time or place. He tried to control himself more in public for the sake of his ‘tough boy’ persona.

He couldn’t explain why your touch brought so much comfort to him, but it did. It made him feel complete, even if just for a moment. He believed he was enough and deserved love. Even if he wasn’t ‘Rin Itoshi: Star striker of Blue Lock,’ he knew you would still be there.

Now, here he is in a new cat cafe, grumpily staring at you as you pet a cat comfortably laying on your lap with one hand while sipping your coffee with the other. Rin couldn’t believe he was jealous of a cat, but he was. He shot daggers at the cat until a sudden touch on his cheek shook him out of his trance. You sweetly asked him if anything was wrong. He shook his head, knowing you didn’t believe him. But what was he supposed to do? Tell you out loud that he wanted so badly to be in that cat’s place? He’d kill to lay on your lap, having you thread your hands through his hair.

It was almost as if you read his mind. You shifted closer, whispering in his ear, promising him that you’d cuddle with him when you got back home. The thought made him all giddy inside. It was laughable, really, but at that moment he didn’t seem to care. When it came to you, he could throw away all his ego just to be held by you.

Taste

Rin wasn’t a confused person. In most spheres of life, he was clear about what he wanted to achieve. But when it came to you, it was as if someone flipped a switch. His usual calm and collected self could become putty in your hands with just a simple kiss. His past self wouldn’t be caught dead behaving like this, but how was he supposed to resist your sweet kisses?

It was almost laughable. You had recently bought a new lip gloss and made the grave mistake of putting it on in front of him. He stared at your pretty lips as you applied a generous coat. Being the oh-so-generous girlfriend you were, you offered some to him. Instead of reaching for the tube, what did he do? He grabbed your face, cupping your cheeks and placing his lips on yours, transferring the gloss from your lips to his. He could taste the vanilla, and he craved more, the sweet taste overwhelming his senses. He pulled away to let you breathe, muttering about how sweet it tasted, before pulling you back in for another kiss.

He knew that if he really liked the taste and feel of the lip gloss so much, he could just directly put it on. But that wasn’t the case at all. It was how you tasted and how your lips felt against his. That pleasant taste and feeling was something he could always get used to.

In those moments, with the flavor of vanilla still lingering, Rin realized that no matter how composed he was elsewhere, with you, he didn’t need to be. He could let go, savor each kiss, and simply enjoy the comfort and joy you brought into his life. And as he held you close, he knew that this was where he belonged—wrapped in your embrace, tasting the sweetness of your love

Smell

Everyone had their peculiar preferences, and for Rin, it was the way you smelled. Whether it was the allure of your new perfume, the lingering aroma of coffee from your dates, or the comforting scent of cinnamon and honey when you baked, each fragrance spoke to him in a language only he understood. It wasn’t just about the physical scent; it was about the sense of comfort and belonging you exuded.

After a grueling week, where every challenge seemed insurmountable, Rin found a small piece of heaven the moment he stepped into your shared home. The comforting aroma of vanilla and sugar greeted him, a welcome respite from the absolute hellish his day was. Despite the clutter of flour-covered countertops and scattered utensils, the sight of you kneeling in front of the oven, tending to cookies, filled him with warmth and inexplicable joy. Before he could fully process the scene, he found himself enveloped in your embrace, melting into the feeling of home.

Amidst the chaos, the lingering scent of citrus enveloped him, a familiar fragrance that grounded him in reality. It was a subtle reminder of the little things he cherished about you, whether intentional or not. As he savored the moment. Rin knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as he had you and your comforting presence, everything would be okay

#rin itoshi #rin x reader #rin x you #blue lock #bluelock x reader #sanawrites #rin fluff #bllk x reader #bluelock fluff

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thecuriousquest · 3 days

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Yandere Alphabet: Yuji Itadori

Yan!Yuji Itadori x Fem!Reader

@murderofravens

Warnings: NSFW (NO SEX MENTIONED but does contain slight sexual themes), Yandere themes, dominant behavior, clingy behavior, delusional behavior, ass worship, spanking punishment, kidnapping, breaking of Darling, various kinks (ass kink, ass worship, etc.), blood, violence

Master List

It’s been a while since I’ve done an alphabet prompt. Thinking about doing Choso and Sukuna next (😝 that’s what she said).

—————————————————————————

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

He shows his love through protecting you. He’s fucking up curses with those heavy hands. He goes to great lengths to stand up for you and make sure you’re safe. His overprotective tendencies can get pretty intense. Forcing you to be with him or stay home may very well end up being what you’re dealt.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Yan!Yuji is very willing to cover his hands in blood if it means keeping you out of harm’s way. Whether it is a human, half curse, or full fledged curse, he doesn’t really give a damn. To him, an enemy is an enemy. It’s all the same. He’s lost too many people to lose you as well.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Yuji treats you like glass at first, but then he becomes a little bit rough with you once the “honeymoon” phase ends and he starts finding reasons to discipline you. He would never mock you, though. Yuji might accidentally patronize you from time to time without realizing it, but he would never be so cruel as to mock you intentionally.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

If you want to wait for marriage, that’s fine. Yuji can wait. But just letting you know, that marriage is going to take place pretty damn quickly. He’s not waiting a year to see what it’s like to be…so intimate with you. And whether you want it or not isn’t something Yuji is necessarily concerned with. Don’t get me wrong. He wants you to want it. But if you don’t, then he will just have to make you love him in return. He will also force you to kiss and hug him.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

He’s such a guy. Like an actual guy who doesn’t really talk about his feelings like that. He tells you he loves you and that he wants what’s best for you, that he’s doing everything he can for you. That’s about all you’re getting.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He wouldn’t be too thrilled, but there’s a very small chance that he could forgive you and turn it into a game if he’s in the right mood. Either way, he’s stronger than you in every way possible. He’ll just pin you down on the floor, your wrists bound with one large hand above your head. He’ll mount you, and he’ll wait like a lion cornering his prey. “You done? Tired? Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

It’s not a game. 100%. I repeat: NOT A GAME. Fighting him is very different from running out the door. He doesn’t like that you’re actually trying to get away from him like that. He doesn’t appreciate it either. After all, he’s just trying to keep you safe from a terrifying world! How could you do this to him? It’s not like it takes much to catch you anyway since he’s so fast. That’s not even the point. You’re supposed to stay and be a good girl for him. No, this is not a game, and he does not enjoy it.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Making him so mad to the point where he’s not yelling, he just goes quiet. That’s the worst possible situation to be in. He’s got his eyes solely focused on you while his heart palpitates with rage. This might have even occurred the first time you tried to escape and he had to drag you back. This is the worst because he’s not even saying anything to you, and you have absolutely no idea what he’s thinking or what he plans on doing next. You have to sit there and wait, and that’s what kills you the most.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Yuji wants to marry you. He wouldn’t necessarily mind having kids at a later age, but he would only want kids if you want them. Other than that, a nice little house with you would be the ideal picture.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

He gets jealous, and he lashes out at you. There’s no way to sugarcoat it. Yuji is a man who isn’t afraid to speak his mind. He will tell you when your actions are pissing him off, even more so if your actions involve interacting with a man that isn’t him. He will lay everything out quite plainly: you do not get to hang around other men, especially if he’s not present. If he finds out you were, there’s going to be hell to pay.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Oh, Yuji loves anything that has to do with affection. He loves having you sit on his lap, kissing you, hugging you, play wrestling with you, giving you light spankings, anything that involves putting his hands on you. He’s shameless about it, even in public. He’ll grab the fat swell of your ass and jiggle it out on the streets. Man loves your butt.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Chocolates and roses. Need I say more?

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Absolutely. Looking at this guy, you would never in a million years think Yuji is capable of the things he has done to you. He will sneak into your apartment and place a hand over your mouth, scaring the absolute fuck out of you. He will leave you notes about how he “saw you with someone” and “will deal with you later”. He puts on this innocent and chipper facade around others, but alone with you, he’s a dark and dominant yandere with only you on his mind.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Yuji’s preferred method is spanking, obviously. He has your ass on his mind all day. He just loves jiggling, slapping, pinching, and grabbing your butt. So when you decide to mess up and act defiant or out of control, Yuji has the perfect way to reel you back in and make you understand you are not to act out of line. He likes a bit of bratty behavior here and there, but when bratty becomes bitchy and it happens too often, then hell bare your ass and drag you over his knee, pinning you against his thigh with an arm draped over your lower back. Maybe learn to keep yourself in check next time so Yuji doesn’t have to, but he doesn’t mind. Really. That’s what a loving boyfriend is for.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

You have zero rights with this man. He takes away everything from privacy and personal space to even letting you choose what you wear. Yuji likes to pick things for you, it’s his way of extending that little bit of control even further until it slowly wraps around your neck like a noose.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

He can be patient. He can be very patient…a little too patient in fact. However, he has his limits. He doesn’t like when you push him away. That’s the one thing that always breaks him. He’ll yell at you, grab your wrists and pin you down. He’ll snarl in your face as spit spatters your skin, his cheeks heating up from so much anger he’s exhibiting. And you have to lay there and take it all.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Nope. He’s going to remember you for the rest of his life. He’s going to think about you every night before he falls asleep. He’s going to hold onto hope that the universe will find a way to bring you back to him.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

It’s highly unlikely that Yuji would feel guilty about abducting you. You’d have to really cry and beg for Yuji to let you go. Now, he has a big heart, so that’s not what I mean. It’s just that Yuji is a clingy and slightly delusional Yandere, so he’s probably going to think you’re actually upset over something else, and he won’t really feel guilty about kidnapping you because now he has access to you 24/7.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Jennifer Lopez aside, he has a fascination with women who notice his darker desires. This is different from noticing him. These are the women who look at him and can tell that something is off. And he knows when this happens, can sniff it like a bloodhound. He savors it like a delicious meal. If you notice him and act a bit scared, you might as well just be asking for it because you have his attention now, and he doesn’t plan on letting you go.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Again, this goes back to Regret. Yes, he hates seeing you cry, he would rather you be happy because he’s at his happiest when you are at your happiest. However, he thinks you’re upset over something else. His mind doesn’t understand you crying because of his actions or something he said. Isolating yourself never goes over well. He just wants to be around you…all the fucking time. It’s another behavior that he doesn’t understand.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

He would actually have posters of other girls on his walls while holding you captive.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

His soft heart. Play the part of his good girl. Sit on his lap, smile at him, give him kisses. He will let his guard down eventually.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Sometimes, it’s on accident. Aside from a punishment spanking or a warning smack, if he gets really angry, he’ll push you. I mean like push you-push you. You’ll probably get knocked out from conking your head against the wall so hard.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He likes to kiss your ass. Leave sloppy, wet trails from his lips, sometimes leaving little bite marks. His type of worship is more of an ass kink than anything. It’s not an actual worshipping because he sees you as his little love to control rather than an actual goddess to worship.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

It doesn’t take long. Yuji falls in love with you pretty quickly, and he would probably spend a few weeks to maybe one month before he starts revealing hidden parts of his personality to you.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

He likes a broken little bird that he can take care of. He’ll snap your wings just to make sure you don’t fly away. He will break you if that’s what it takes to make you realize that you belong to him, that you were made to be his, and that there’s no one else to go to.

#yandere #triggering content #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #triggering themes #yandere x darling #yandere themes #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen yuji #yandere yuji itadori x reader #yandere yuji itadori #yandere yuji #yuji jjk #jjk yuji #yuji itadori #yandere itadori yuuji #itadori yuji

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thesilmarillionblog · 3 days

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𓏲 ANOTHER LIFE

Summary: You find out that you're pregnant with Soldier Boy’s child, but knowing what Butcher’s wife has been through and that you won’t make it like her, he doesn’t want you to keep it. You try to convince him that you’ll be okay, but you need to face what’s to come.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Pregnant!Reader

Warnings: +18 (MINORS DNI), angst, hurtful, language, pregnancy, threat, pregnant sex, blood, mention of abortion, mention of death, angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 5807

A/N: English is not my first language.

With a bashful smile on your lips, you looked at Ben, whose eyes were locked on the positive result, while you joyfully looked at the pregnancy test with your hands stopped on your tummy. Since you were already married and had been living together for a while, you were confident that this news would strengthen your bond even more.

He merely stated, “We are not keeping it,” glaring at you and clenching his jaw when he saw your hands halt on your tummy. “I'll find a doctor for the abortion.”

You stood up, gently inquired, “Why?” and put your hand on his arms to stop him before he could leave the room.

You didn't understand why he was acting this way at all, because you knew he had always wanted to start a family. Right now, you ought to be enjoying the news.

Your touch tightened his muscles, and he took a deep breath. In an attempt to ease him up, you stroked his cheek, but it felt as though he was building barriers between you, just as on the day of your first meeting.

“We already know Butcher's wife's fate, don't we? You wouldn't survive such a thing.”

You smiled at him a little, realizing that he wasn't against the baby; rather, he was only worried about you. He was upset by your ease with the issue, though, as he could see that you didn't give a damn about what he said.

“Becca did not pass away during childbirth.” You attempted to comfort him. “For me, it won't be any different with good doctors.”

You glanced at him, hoping that, for the moment at least, he wouldn't be obstinate about this and would instead trust you.

"Are you even aware of what you're saying?" He questioned you in a disapproving tone, pushed your hands away from his face, and spoke out. "Just because she made it through doesn't imply you will too. What will happen, do you know? You'll be torn apart, limb by limb, by this nasty beast. You will fucking die and suffer.”

You said to him, “Ben,” in an attempt to soothe him. You gave him a hug, despite the way he shoved your hands away. “Together, we've overcome many obstacles and established a family of our own. Despite what we've been told, there was no possibility that I would become pregnant.” You squeezed his hands and remarked, “This baby is a gift.”

“A gift? It is a fucking punishment and a fucking pain on my ass already,” he grunted and hugged you back tightly.

“Stop calling the baby 'it',” you snapped out of nowhere. “Why are you being like this?”

“It is just an annoying fetus, a virus, not a baby,” he said harshly, looking at your stomach with irritation as if you were sick. “You’re going to get an abortion.”

You pushed him away from you, tears welling up in your eyes, and he withdrew his hands. You had doubts about whether he would ever reconsider.

“I won’t, Ben,” you said firmly. “I won’t just fucking murder my child. You cannot force me to do such a thing."

“You won’t murder it, but it fucking will murder you,” he yelled at you suddenly.

You took a step back, your lips parted in shock at the expression on his face. He hadn't yelled at you in such a furious manner in a very long time. You put your hands on your tummy as if he would hurt you.

His attitude toward you and the baby was crushing your heart, so you sat down on the bed. How could you even kill your own child by going under the knife because Ben believed you wouldn't survive? You were aware that childbirth always carries some risk, even in cases where the kid turned out to be normal and not a supe. Any woman who aspired to motherhood was ready to take a risk.

You said, “Why do you think I'm weaker than Becca—that she survived but I can't?” You were unsure of which was worse—his hatred for your unborn baby or his perception of your weakness.

Seeing your wet eyes, he softened his tone and said, “It's not that I think you are weak or something. It, fuck, I mean the baby, will most highly have the exact power I have; the baby will do anything to get rid of from your womb when your water breaks,” he continued, sitting by your side and taking your hand in his. “Just like I do when I'm really furious or stressed, the baby will explode if it becomes even slightly stressed or when it senses your distress. The reason Butcher's wife survived is that the baby didn't explode to escape her womb; instead, it just wanted to be out. It will be worse for you.”

You listened to him with terror, not having a single idea how and when he did learn the details about Becca’s childbirth. You were overwhelmed trying to imagine the scenario he created. That must be the reason he was acting so strangely and coldly in the last two weeks.

“How do you know such things?” You whispered, not knowing how to react.

“I already knew that you were pregnant before the stupid test. It was clear from your scent and all,” he said, looking at your locked hands. “And I searched for details about Butcher’s wife’s childbirth. We should be glad that we have an example in front of us.”

“I can’t do this, Ben. I want to keep the baby,” you sobbed, feeling pressured. “I can’t go under the knife.”

“Why are you so fucking selfish?” he asked. “Did you even fucking listen to me?”

“We don’t even know it for sure. What you’ve said is just a theory,” you said, hoping he would change his mind or at least listen to you a bit.

“It’s a fucking possibility, a high one, and it’s enough for us to get rid of this monster as soon as possible.”

“I won’t do it, Ben. I can’t have an abortion based on what you think is going to happen in the future,” you answered with a firm voice.

Even though he was able to control his abilities and the power hidden in his chest, he felt as though he was losing control of himself and his temper after witnessing your selfishness and obsession with a tiny fetus. Ben stood up and moved away from you.

He sternly remarked, “If anything happens to you, if you die in childbirth, I will kill the baby, I fucking swear.”

“Have you gone insane?” You sobbed as you realized how serious he was, and your eyes widened in terror. “How are you even able to say something like that?”

“I don't give a fuck.” He was very serious as he snapped, “I won't even blink.”

Whispering softly, “But then I’d die for nothing,” you looked at him with pleading eyes. He was not giving you a chance, but he was not giving a chance to your unborn baby either.

“Huh,” he said, biting his lip, giving you an insidious smile. “That’s something we can both agree on, sweetheart.”

After a few months, Ben spent most of his time at Vought, or God knows where, rather than respecting your decision, accepting the situation, or having a conversation about it. Despite all your efforts to talk to him, he hardly spent any time with you in the house. After two months, he no longer argued with you. He scared the shit out of you when he nearly blew up the house during your argument. Though it was selfish of you, you made the decision, knowing that he was very concerned about you and that it was hurting him to consider the uncertain future that lay ahead of you. If only he knew how much the distance in his eyes hurt you.

Your belly started to show up, and it was already too late for an abortion, which was something you didn’t even consider once. It was almost the fifth stage of your pregnancy, after all. Ben had stopped fighting with you, and you went to the hospital all alone, even though Annie and Kimiko offered to come with you.

You waited for Ben to come home the day you learned that you were pregnant with a boy. You thought that would make Ben’s heart at least a bit soften and make him a bit more eased or even glad when you shared the news as he lay beside the bed. However, he didn’t even say a single word. He just closed his eyes and let you stay on his warm chest. You were too close yet too distant.

“At least, could you say something?” You whispered to him, and he just took a deep breath and wrapped his powerful arms around your body. You begged him again, “Please,” but he kept his eyes closed and put a bit distance between your belly and his, trying not feel the growing life inside you. He considered your baby like an enemy, a monster.

Even though you were eager to enjoy your pregnancy together and fix things with him, he was acting as though you were waiting for your execution day. You knew that he was still angry with you, and he was right about it considering your uncertain future in front of you, but there was no need to live like strangers while you were married. His support and tenderness would mean a lot, at least to ease your distress.

Your unbalanced hormones weren't helping at all, as it had been a while since he touched you, and he had avoided doing so since your belly had begun to swell.

“I’m tired. Sleep,” he said firmly.

“Could you please at least come with me to the hospital for a regular check once a month? You don’t have to be inside of the room.”

“I don’t want it.”

He probably didn’t have an idea about how much the way he talked so sharply and coldly broke your heart, but you didn’t give up.

“Why not?” you asked softly, lifting your head to look at him, trying to talk about it.

“It’s just that I don’t want it,” he said with an irritated voice, cutting it short. “Are you going to force me to do something I don’t want to do again?”

You approached him and again pressed your cheek against his muscled chest, whispering, “No. But I'm so lonely.”

It was impossible to get through to him because of his stubbornness, even though you needed him to show you his love and care—at least to touch your belly and comfort you.

“How come you would feel that way?” He asked in a mocking tone, “You have your baby boy, right?”

“Can you believe that I don't even experience nausea? The doctor says it's nothing out of the ordinary, but he's not making this pregnancy physically more difficult for me or anything. He's going to be a docile boy.”

You occasionally told him about your baby, even though he didn't want to discuss anything except your personal health.

After a moment of silence, “Good for you,” he simply said. “He will be ready to blow your womb up with kindness when the time comes.”

In an attempt to soothe him and set the tone for this conversation, you added, “Ben, I won't die in childbirth, I promise you. Let's try not to make things more difficult for one another than they already are. It won't be easy, but everything will work out in the end. We must confront our future together as a married couple.”

“I told you to get rid of it, but you made every choice by yourself already, selfishly, and now you want me to act like everything's okay when it's fucking not,” he said angrily.

“Ben,” you puffed, and faintly gently stroked his muscular chest, saying, “You're not even listening, and I'm tired of arguing.” Actions speak louder than words, after all.

His eyes narrowed, and he followed your hand as it slid down his strong chest. Feeling the firmness of his body through his sweatpants, you glanced at him expectantly. All you could do was stare with anxiety as you worried that he would stop you again. But he was, you could say, enjoying himself there.

You moved quickly to go on top of him, and as you dropped the nightgown's hanger, exposing your breasts to his view but not your swollen stomach, you waited anxiously for his response. Although he didn't enjoy being the bottom or letting you ride him, he wasn't going to stop you at that moment. Your skin trembled from the cold, even if the room and his body were warm.

He was watching you with an undreadable face, not even touching you, but you knew he desired you. His shaft under you was proof.

“I’ve missed you a lot,” you said as you started to move on top of him, rubbing your pussy against his hardness.

“I can see that,” he said with a rough voice, and he urged your hips to go faster while his eyes were fixed on your breasts. “Do your best, and I might consider fucking you deep and good.”

As your hormones were kicking you hard in the last few days already, you were lost in pleasure and felt yourself getting wetter each second, and your nipples got hard while you were grinding on his hardness with swift movements.

When you sensed that your climax was approaching, you let out a loud moan. It didn't take you long to lose yourself in pleasure because he didn't touch you soon enough. But just as your lips parted with pleasure, he pushed you away from him and got on top of you. You groaned in protest as you lifted your hips to create friction again, but he stopped you turned you so that you were facing the sheets.

With a quick motion, he tore off your panties, and you could feel him taking out his hardness from his sweatpants. Your stomach wasn't flat, so you tried to move a little to find a more comfortable position, but his powerful hands and massive body prevented you from moving even an inch.

You felt he was stroking himself into your wetness from behind, and he groaned, “Stay still; don't move.” With a forceful motion, he spread your legs, and under his strong hands, your pussy throbbed with eagerness.

You pressed your face against the sheets and moaned desperately. You tried to move your hips a bit, urging him to take you already. You didn’t need him to prepare you at all because your body was already craving his presence.

“Ben, please,” you begged him, trying to face him, but he pushed your head and chest a bit hard against the sheets.

“If you want me to fuck you properly, you’ll do as I say,” he said as he pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance and pushed it inside with a rough move.

When he swiftly pushed his shaft inside of yours, you both moaned loudly. Your moan was half in pain because of his roughness and the way he pressed you against the sheets, even though you were wet enough to withstand his hardness.

He placed his bisceps on both sides of your head as he began to rapidly fuck you. He groaned as he fucked you and you felt your pussy already clenching around his cock. You arched your ass up feeling his hot panting on your neck.

You tried to concentrate on the pleasure; you kept your eyes closed, trying not to ruin the moment as he was finally taking you. Even if it hurt to feel your swollen belly pushed hard to the sheets by his heavy waist as he fucked you harder every second, you didn't stop him, tried to endure the pain.

However, as he was moving on top of you, he slammed his massive body into your back even harder, lost in pleasure, and his harsh motions and weight caused you to groan in pain. You shut your eyes, and your hands frantically grasped his wrist. You tried to comfort yourself by holding your belly with your other hand.

He instantly stopped, swearing as he allowed you to take a moment after sensing your discomfort and hearing your agonized gasp. You could feel the pleasure and pain in your legs shivering a little.

“Fuck. Are you alright?” he asked in an anxious tone as he became still within you.

You quickly nodded to him in response, saying, “I am; don't stop. Just try not to press your weight, please,” you said, keeping one hand still on your stomach as you shifted under him a little to allow to catch your breath.

Ben cursed and gazed at your hand, still on your swollen belly, as he came to his senses. As he moved on top of you to a more comfortable and safe position, he apologized in a quiet voice and gave you a firm kiss on the forehead. Your heart warmed with his tenderness for you and you smiled. Maybe you should force him to hurt you a little bit sometimes to make him show his tenderness.

One of his hands stopped on your stomach after he waited a little longer on top of you to give you a moment. Now you were waiting for him on your hands and knees. That was the first moment he touched your belly. Feeling his large, warm hand, you gasped and laid your hand on his as he began to pound into you again, more gently but still rough.

When he shifted a bit and hit your sensitive spot with a rough move, you moaned loadly and your walls clenched tightly around his cock as you orgasmed as soon as he groaned on top of you, saying, “Don’t come yet.”

Your walls continued to clenching around his cock, and he immediately began to spill inside of you as he kept cursing. He filled your pussy with his thick white ropes, and he said, “You can't even fucking listen to me just once, right? I might start to think that you're doing it on purpose to make me crazy, sweetheart.”

He pulled out his cock very carefully when it softened inside you. You felt incredibly satisfied, and bliss came over you because it had been a long time since he took you like this.

He turned you back and gave you a firm kiss on the lips. You couldn’t stop smiling between his warm kisses. You felt your body and hormones finally ease.

“Rather than keep fighting, we should have been doing this, you know,” you murmured, and you put your hands around his back. “These hormones are making me crazy.”

He chuckled softly, gave you another kiss on the forehead, and looked at your swollen belly with an unreadable face.

“I don’t even know how to fucking kill myself if anything happens to you,” he said, looking into your eyes with a pained expression. “I can’t live without you.”

You felt your heart broken under his sincere confession. You knew he was extremely concerned about you, and that was the first time he was this honest with you. Shifting under him and taking his hand, putting it on your belly, you kissed him as you said, “Why do you still have trust issues? I’m more strong than you think. I promise you, Ben. This baby will change everything in a good way. You’ll be the best daddy. You’ll see it.”

You gave him a playful smile as he moved his hand vaguely on your belly.

“Yeah,” he sighed and raised his eyebrows, looking to your body. “Best daddy to threaten an unborn baby with death and murder. What a start, right?”

You chuckled and gave him a quick kiss before you shifted under him and leaned your back to his chest.

“Well,” you said, taking his hand and putting it on your low belly. “It is a start at least.”

You closed your eyes when a sudden tiredness came over your body, and you held his hand tighter.

He pulled you to his body like you would vanish at any moment and murmered, “I’m sorry for everything I have done to you.”

“I am not,” you said with a smile on your face. “Stop overthinking, Ben.”

Ben hardly left the house, and you two began to spend the entire time together. You were worried by Vought's extreme interest in your pregnancy, and you and Ben took steps to ensure that the media was kept informed about what was going on. It was frightening and distressing to think that Vought and other devils looked after your child. That was one of the reasons you needed to endure childbirth and be strong.

You were taken to a special Vought hospital, which was a bit far away from the capital, when you reached the last stage of your pregnancy. His energetic and unpatient kicks started to hurt a lot, but you didn’t tell Ben not to stress him out any further. The energy in his chest was getting out of control lately, and there were times he nearly blew up. So, it was suggested that he not come to the hospital until you delivered the baby. You needed him to be with you so badly, but it was better for him not to see your pain.

Thankfully, Kimiko and Annie were there for you and took care of you. You didn’t want to be alone with those doctors at all. They were Vought’s doctors, after all. The boys made sure Ben didn’t blow up, and they watched over him all the time. Annie told you that Ben wanted to come nearer to the hospital at least, but you knew it wasn’t a good idea, but he kept calling you every hour, checking on you if you were doing okay though it was you that reassured him everything would be alright soon and as though he was the one to deliver a supe baby.

When your water broke in the middle of the night, there was no pain like it. Annie and Kimiko did their best to help the doctors while you were being prepared. You screamed at her not to call Ben.

As you saw the doctors prepare to cut open your stomach, Kimiko held your hands firmly above your head. Ben's theory about the baby blowing up inside of you crossed your mind as you tried to remain composed and control your breathing. You also tried to keep your mind off the pain, but before the doctors could do anything, you felt powerful kicks on your lower abdomen that tore you open and made it clear he was done with patience and wanted to be out as soon as possible. You weren't even slightly helped by anesthesia. Even though you clamped your jaw and closed your eyes so you could ignore the blood all over the bed, you couldn't help but scream.

You heard Annie gasping in shock and saying, “Oh, god. I can’t watch this.”

The knives in the doctor’s hand were everywhere in your stomach while they all tried to calm you down, but your pained screams filled the whole hospital. You felt you were losing your consciousness, even if you did your best to keep your eyes open. All you thought about was Ben at that moment and the whole thing you'd been through together. You didn’t want to prove him right about you being weak. You wished he was there with you so badly that you cried even harder.

“Take him out!” you screamed at the doctors while you were crying, and you fisted your hand till you bled your palms while Kimiko watched everything in terror in her eyes.

You watched in amazement while you saw the baby finally coming out of your stomach, which was ripped open, but you couldn’t stop smiling despite all the pain. His little chest was glowing a bit, but he wasn’t crying. You overcame the worst, you told yourself.

The room was filled with blood, and so was your baby. You wanted to reach for him, but you couldn’t manage to find the energy. You heard Annie, and the doctors were saying stuff, though you didn’t understand what it was about at all. Losing your consciousness, your eyes shut. You needed a long rest.

While doctors did their best to keep you alive for hours, it was already morning. Annie finally found the courage to call Butcher and tell him about your condition. She didn’t know how Ben would respond through the phone and wasn’t even sure if he listened to her completely, so she thought it would be better if Butcher talked to Ben.

“Congratulations, Soldier Daddy Boy,” said Butcher with an anxious voice to Ben as he entered the room. “Annie just told me Y/N delivered the baby last night.”

Butcher gave Hughie an exchange of looks while Ben’s chest started to glow as he shut his eyes.

“How is she?” Ben growled, waiting to hear the worst.

“Hey, calm down,” Billy said, putting a hand on his shoulder. The smoke was already rising from his chest, ready to blow up the whole building. “She’s not dead.”

“I’ll fucking kill you all if you are lying.” Ben pushed Butcher, with a harsh move, to the nearest wall as he tried to calm himself down. He didn’t know how long it would take him to wake up if he blew up right there. All he needed was to see if you were really okay.

Hughie gave Ben an awkward look and murmured, "Congratulations for..." but before he could say anything more, Ben pushed him against the wall next to Butcher and said, “Fuck you.”

Ben looked at the doctors, who were attempting to explain that it would take two or three months for you to fully recover, with a homicidal glare when he realized that you were dead asleep on the bed. But it wouldn’t take long you to get your consciousness back. He wouldn't even consider twice about killing those fuckers in an instant if you didn't need them.

They all told him that you were pretty strong, but it didn’t mean anything to him right there while you were half dead on the bed. His supe ears focused on your weak heartbeat behind the glass. He struggled for hours to stay calm and not explode, but it was getting impossible.

“Hey,” Annie said with an anxious voice while she gave a look to your motionless body on the bed and the look on Ben’s face as he stood without doing anything, lost in thoughts. “Would you like to see your baby? He is pretty cute.”

“Fuck off,” Ben simply said.

Hughie and Butcher approached Annie, and Hughie said, “May I see the baby? I already bought a toy,” with a shy smile on his face.

Annie gave him a warm smile and a nod and led him to the room at the end of the corridor.

At the end of the three weeks, Ben finally relieved himself a bit, seeing that your condition was getting better and your heartbeat wasn’t weak anymore. He refused to see the baby until he was sure you were finally recovering. Butcher and the others didn’t leave Ben alone, since his nerves were pretty sensitive. In addition, he knew Hughie and Kimiko were spending their whole time with the baby in his special room. Though he didn’t see the baby once, he kept asking doctors about his health and everything else. He knew he was doing alright; he was a supe baby after all.

Annie had already left the hospital a few days before. The current state of Vought worsened by Ben's sudden disappearance. The public and media weren't informed. Butcher, Hughie, and Kimiko stayed with him and with you to make sure Ben didn't lose his temper.

Ben sighed and went to visit his son when his supe hearing focused on his small mumbles. Even though it was becoming late, it didn't appear like he was sleeping. He knew you didn't suffer for hours only to see you ignore your own son, since it wasn't his fault for being a supe baby after all.

Ben saw his son watching the spinning toy reach up to his crib when he came into the room. Based on the silly lullaby that came out of it, it was most likely Hughie's present.

The moment his son began to make little noises, Ben's heart warmed. When their gazes connected, he smiled, as though he recognized his dad. He stretched for his arms, his little chest glowing. It's likely that his son sensed the familiar scent of his father.

“Hey there,” Ben murmered, his eyes fixed on his son’s chest, which kept glowing and lightening the dark room. He took him from his cradle carefully. “You’re not going to blow your daddy up, right?”

However, his chest started to return to normal as soon as Ben took him in his arms and gave a kiss to his little forehead.

“You know,” he said with a playful tone as he touched his son’s cheeks. “You are lucky your daddy’s the strongest supe in the world, but you are even more lucky your mommy is pretty strong too.”

Ben chuckled when he saw his son begin to play with the small eagle symbol on his suit and quickly rip it off. “It seems like you're a strong little man. I wonder how I'm going to sew it now.”

Ben took one of the toys from his son’s cradle, and he kept kissing his little forehead while he left the room. “Do you want to see your mom?”

Butcher and Hughie were eating sandwiches in the middle of the corridor, and Butcher smirked when he saw Ben approaching with his son on his chest and a toy in his other hand.

"Well, well, well,” he said, giving Ben a side smile. “Big bad daddy finally remembered he has a son.”

“Call me daddy again when I’m deep in your throat,” Ben murmered as he looked at your sleeping form behind the glass.

“Are you kissing your son with that mouth?” Butcher said while was drinking coke.

Ben simply said, “Fuck you,” as he led his footsteps to your room.

He didn't feel comfortable or at peace at all when he spent weeks keeping watch over your tired body in bed. But at least you were alive and would be well soon enough. Your heart was starting to beat stronger already. Last week, you even opened your eyes twice, but you fell back asleep right away.

Ben's small son's head turned as if he sensed his mother's presence before he moved his body from his chest to yours. Perhaps it was like his dad's scent that drew him in, or his supe senses in general.

He reached his little arms to your body on the bed immediately as he mumled excitedly, but Ben kept him in place.

“Hey,” said Ben, trying to distract him with the toy. “Let your mommy rest, little eagle.”

While Ben tried to calm his son down, his son's small chest started to glow while he still tried to reach his small hands to your body. He was trying to get rid of Ben’s hold. It made Ben a bit nervous for the first time in his life. So that was how people felt about his blowing-up issue when he was about to lose his temper.

“You really want to challenge me?” Ben asked. He chuckled and got closer to your body, letting his hands touch your cheeks. But he held his hands carefully, remembering that his son was a supe who didn’t have any control over his strength. “So be it.”

Feeling soft hands on your face, your eyes started to open again. You didn’t know what day it was or if you were alive or dead. You frowned at your eyes, feeling tired as hell. Your stomach also hurts a lot.

“Ben?” You murmered with a small voice, trying to stay awake and not fall asleep again.

All you heard was him arguing, but you didn’t understand what was going on at all. Then you heard him saying “fuck” and pushing a button beside your bed. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Your eyes met with the most beautiful face you’ve seen in your entire life, and you gathered your whole strength to touch your son’s face as he kept mumbling while his hand was touching your cheek as though he were trying to talk to you. He was worth everything you've been through.

“I am okay, just tired,” you murmered as your eyes watered. “He’s so beautiful. I can’t believe he’s mine.”

“Actually, ours. He is and is also pretty strong. He ripped off my fucking suit,” Ben chuckled as he stilled your son with his big hands, sitting on your bed carefully. “I have missed you so fucking much.”

“I’ve missed you too,” you said giving him a smile. “I told you I would survive, right?”

“Yeah,” he said proudly, squeezing hand hand softly. “I’m so fucking glad you were right about everything.”

“Stop swearing, Ben. The first word he’s gonna say will be ‘fuck’ because of you,” you giggled. “Are you kissing our son with that mouth?”

He chuckled and said “I’ll do worse things with that mouth,” as leaned and gave you a firm kiss.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

A/N: My idea was to kill the reader from the very beginning, but she convinced me not to do it. I always thought fanfiction and the characters had power over the writers, not vice versa. I guess fanfictions write themselves; maybe we, as writers, create nothing at all.

Comments and reblogs are very appreciated! Check my masterlist for other Soldier Boy / Reader stories. There is still much to come. Sending love and kisses. <3

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vienssunshine · 2 days

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Good Luck!

pairing: Maki Zenin x fem!reader nsfw/cw: dom!Maki Zenin, hate/breakup sex, alcohol wc: 3.3k author’s note: this is inspired by good luck babe by chappell roan description: a bad breakup compels a male distraction, that is, until you run into your ex.

You stumble into the corner of the hallway and the man you’re pulling along doesn’t even ask if you’re okay. Or maybe he does, you can’t hear over the music blaring through your friend’s apartment. Either way, it doesn’t matter, you’re fucked up and need to be touched, now.

The door of the closet barely closes before you shut your eyes tight and pull him into a kiss. Immediately he slams the tip of his tongue against your sealed lips, demanding an entrance that you concede, opening your mouth up to him and the wet thick muscle that he plunges in and out of it. Only then you realize you’ve been holding your breath, and you shakily release it through your nose while his palms land on your waist, fingers slipping under the fabric of your going-out top.

His hands crawl up to your breasts, pawing them, and he groans your name into your mouth. You go to moan his back, but you think you’ve forgotten it. Shit, did you even ask? It doesn’t matter, you don’t need to know it. There’s no feelings, no hard conversations, no real connection. He’s just a man, and that’s what you need him to be.

You don’t want to think about it anymore, and your tug at his shirt prompts him to pull it off fast. So easy. Too easy. You rake your hands over his chest; the hair covering it is rough and prickly. So you move your hands to his head instead, knocking off his ugly baseball cap so you can spread your fingers through his short hair. He grunts, pulling your hips close to his. The raging hard-on pushing through his pants stands in stark contrast to the fact that you’re not wet—it just isn’t the same. No, you push the thought out of your head, you’ve got to keep trying.

Hand in his hair, you bring him down to your neck, having him kiss and suck at it. It feels okay, you could make it work. You tilt your chin up, close your eyes, and think of–

“Are you kidding me?” A voice pierces through the haziness of your head.

You pull the guy off of you and look over to see a figure leaning against the doorframe. Your drunken state does little to buffer the feeling of your heart plummeting into your stomach.

Maki crosses her arms. “What, only a week since we broke up? And you’re about to fuck some dude?”

Said dude puts his hands up. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to get in between anything.” His voice is laden with vocal fry and a lot more nasal than you thought. Well, you were preoccupied with doing things that didn’t require it.

Maki nods her head to the party, “Why don’t you go join everyone else? I need to have a little chat with my ex here.”

Defiant, you grab his forearm. “No, stay,” you coo. You spare Maki a seething glare when you say, “We were just starting to have some fun.”

He looks to Maki, whose gaze remains icy and strong, leaving no room for opposition. Decided, the man scrambles to get his shirt from the floor and side-steps past Maki, giving you only a glance as he says, “Uh, I’ll just…I’ll see you later? Okay?”

He doesn’t wait for your response before he’s gone.

You scoff and begin fixing your disheveled shirt. Just as expected for a man, to be entirely useless and not give you what you want.

“Get that out of your system, then?” Maki taunts.

“I would have, had you not-so-kindly interrupted,” you retort.

“It was more like your hookup was interrupting the party.”

“It was not,” you counter.

“The door was wide open. It’s like you were begging me to see.” She scoffs. “Is that what that was? A set-up to make me jealous?”

You refuse to let yourself ask whether it did in fact make her jealous.

“I didn’t even know you were here,” you respond, “And not that I need to defend myself, but it wasn’t a set-up, it was real.” With a flippant shrug you add, “He’s really hot.”

She raises an eyebrow. “I thought you weren’t into men.”

“Well, I’m definitely done with women,” you say, “Men are just easier.” You press your lips together before finishing with, “You don’t get hurt.”

Maki watches you, evaluating your statement. You might have given a little more insight than you meant to.

She takes a breath and says, “So you’re just done with women, then?” She steps forward. “I have a hard time believing that.”

“You don’t know what I want,” you return, leaning back against the wall.

“I think I do.” Maki closes the closet door behind her, dimming the room so the only light is what’s coming through the crack of the door. Even if it was pitch-black, you would know her eyes are trained on you; you can feel their weight. She moves forward and places her hands on the wall behind you, her palms planted just above your shoulders. You don’t want to admit it, but it flicks on a small flame in your lower stomach. It makes you actually feel something.

You glare at her, “Even if you do, it doesn’t matter. We’re broken up.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t care anymore.” She leans down into the crook of your neck, her breath ghosting over a now racing pulse. You stiffen, careful to not move an inch; you’re not sure what you’ll do if the lips you’ve been missing for days meet your skin. She moves to the other side of your neck, as if a puma circling its prey and deliberating where to strike. “I don’t like seeing you in pain,” she whispers the words against you, “Seeing you frustrated.”

“Fuck off,” you snarl, but your voice wavers. “You’re the reason I’m like this.”

Maki hums. “Then I should take responsibility.” She closes the gap, running her lips up your neck to your jawline until they’re right in front of yours. With her face so close, you’re able to feel her words: “If you’ll let me.”

You’d like to blame it on the alcohol, you really would, but you’re clear-headed and resolute when you smash your lips to hers. Like a hit of a drug, in a second your body fills with bliss. It’s so natural, fulfilling. It makes sense. She’s been gone only a week, but it feels like an eternity passed.

Maki’s hands drop from the wall as she draws you into her, deepening the kiss. One arm snakes around your waist and the other up your back so her fingers can tangle into your hair. You let out a sigh of pleasure, but it’s really one of relief. Then, with a firm grip on your roots, she pulls your head back, exposing your throat so she can duck down and greet it with eager lips and experimental bites. The sensations, unpredictable and delightfully rough, have you melting into the wall behind you, the arms she has wrapped around your body keeping you upright.

“Fuck, Maki,” you gasp, trying to hold your little moans back. Her attention on your neck, especially your pulse points, is sending sparks of pleasure down into the rest of your body. Your head falls back even further into her hand and she tightens her grip on your hair, sending tingles radiating all over your scalp.

“Yeah?” she says, certainly leaving a mark just above your collarbone, “Gonna say you missed me yet?”

Your hand lands on the back of her head, pushing her further into your neck, not willing to entertain her with a response. She grins against your skin before sucking another mark onto your collarbone, hard. Your hips shift, thighs rubbing together subconsciously, affected by the warm desire building between them. And with her body pushed into yours, Maki’s able to feel every squirm, every indication that she’s got you worked up and needy.

She releases your hair and brings her face back up to yours. You draw her into a kiss that quickly becomes open-mouthed and messy. The hand around your waist comes up and pulls at the bow tied between your breasts, undoing it with one swift movement so the top falls open, revealing more of your chest.

“Wearing something so easy to take off? Yeah, you really wanted to get fucked tonight.”

You huff. “So hurry up and do it already.”

Maki pushes the loose fabric away, indulging in the sight of how your bra lays over your exposed chest. If you weren’t feeling so impatient, you would be pleased at how long it takes for her to drag her eyes over you, drinking in every detail like it’s the first time she’s ever seen your body like this.

“I think I’ll take my time,” she concludes, kissing just above your bra, making your breath hitch, “Been so long and all.”

“More reason why we shouldn’t wait,” you grit out, running your hands over her neck and into her hair. It’s so hot in here, do closets usually get this hot?

She pays no mind to your argument, kissing along the lining of your bra and letting her fingers roam over your breasts. It feels so nice, her lips on your sensitive skin, especially with the occasional swipe of her thumb over your hard nipple pushing through your bra. It’s just that you’re aching much lower than where she’s kissing.

Maki’s not going to go down there, at least not yet. Her sadistic streak will drag this out at a glacial pace until she gets what she wants: the admission that you’ve been missing her as much as she’s been missing you. It doesn’t make you very happy to give into her, to admit you were wrong about breaking up with her and your pursuit of male affection. But you’re really struggling here. You’ve been so worked up, so sexually frustrated and pissed off that you turned to men. Men! And that idiot couldn’t even get you wet, let alone make you finish. Now you’re with someone who can, and, after a week of frustration and bitterness, god do you want to feel better.

You fold. “Maki…please,” you say, “I need it. I need you. I’ve…missed you.” The words ring dangerously true, and, for a second, you worry that’s all she wanted, to be able to say “I told you so.” She could leave right now, entirely satisfied by your desperation.

Maki tortures you with the few seconds she stays quiet, savoring the words she’s been trying to get you to concede. “Glad you admitted it,” she finally says, looking up from your chest with a glint in her eye that can only be described as devilish before she sinks down to her knees, hands traveling down your waist to your hips as she goes. Her attention elsewhere, she misses your equally devilish grin, so pleased with her decision. Even at the cost of your ego, you love getting what you want, and with Maki, it’s worth it.

You shudder when her fingers unbutton your shorts and then dip into the waistband and pull them down. Your hands settle on her shoulders as she runs her hand down the fabric of your underwear to nestle into the crevice between your legs.

“So wet already,” she says, rubbing the wetness seeping through your underwear between her fingertips. “So fucking desperate.”

“Put your mouth to better use,” you say, tugging your underwear down to mid-thigh.

“If that’s what my girl wants,” she says, finishing your movement, pulling your underwear down to your ankles with your shorts.

“I’m not your girl,” you argue, kicking off the fabric pooled at your feet.

“We’ll see how you feel later.”

Her fingers splay out over your hips, holding you still as she admires the mess she’s made out of you. Her hot breath fans against the wetness spread between your thighs, only reminding you of how soaking wet you are from hooking up with her for just a few minutes.

Maki puts her hand in between your thighs, once again running her fingers over your folds, only, this time it’s without the buffer of your underwear. You squirm a little, but her hold on your hip keeps you in place. She doesn’t make any attempt to avoid your clit, brushing against it as she dips into the wetness of your folds. The sensation is raw, and you squeeze at her strong shoulders every time she does it.

Then her fingers, thoroughly coated in your wetness, move back to your aching hole, circling and prodding the entrance with her fingertips. Your lower stomach tenses, anticipating the moment she’ll fill you and bring about the sensation you’ve been so desperately trying to replicate.

Instead, she leans forward, placing a kiss on your mound, before opening her mouth and latching it onto your clit, giving it a harsh suck.

“Maki!” you cry out, either from the shock or the pleasure, before slamming your palm over your mouth. You drop your voice to a whisper-shout. “You can’t surprise me like that, we have to stay quiet,” you say, eyeing the door.

“Keep it down then,” she mumbles into you, fingers digging into the softness of your sides. Her eyes flutter closed and she leans forward to encircle your clit with her mouth again, resuming her licking and sucking. You fight with yourself to keep the reactions internal, but it’s a losing battle, forcing you to clamp your hand over your mouth as you pant and moan.

This is a reason why you broke up. She’s always pushing you past your limit, like fucking you loudly in a closet at your friend’s party. It’s why you went after a man, because it would be quick, emotionless, and quiet. But, you don’t think that kind of hookup would have turned out to be nearly as hot as this one.

Her tongue swipes over your clit, lathering the bud with its delightful wet texture. Heated pants from her mouth warm your mound and folds. The hand not tasked with quieting your noises tangles into her hair as she goes down on you, leveraging a handful of her dark locks to move her head along with the pace that’ll get you there.

Tingles shoot through the sides of your abdomen when she presses her tongue flat against your clit, applying a pressure that has the dormant energy in your stomach making itself known. The sensation only intensifies when two fingers slip into you—with no warning, of course—but you find it hard to take issue with it because of how quickly they begin massaging your insides in the exact way you like.

“Bet that man wouldn’t think to touch you here,” Maki says, pushing her fingertips against your g-spot. She seems pleased when you moan from it. “Wouldn’t know how you like it, either.” She resumes licking you while pumping her fingers in and out, the sound of wet slick and moans filling the closet. The two-front stimulation has your thighs shaking, your poor body barely able to handle how good she’s making you feel.

“Fuck, Maki,” you moan. Your fingers covering your mouth have fallen open, the gaps letting your shuddery breaths through. Head clouded by lust, you don’t make an effort to muffle yourself again, every thrust of her fingers pushing any rational thought threatening to form from your head.

“I missed this,” she whispers between licks. She grins against you, “I know you did too.”

“Fuck–ah–fuck…you…” you get out.

“Mhmm,” she hums, amused.

“This is so…god, it feels so good–m’gonna…”

“Gonna?” she prods, “Keep talking if you want me to keep going.”

Your head falls to the side. “Gonna cum, I’m gonna cum for you. I feel it…I’m almost there.”

Her fingers curl deep inside you, pushing against the walls, intent on realizing your words.

“I feel it,” you repeat, delirious, “It feels so good, fuck, Maki, you make me feel so–”

Your fingers knot into her hair when it happens. A wave of pleasure slams into you and your head falls back against the wall, whole body shaking and surging with pleasure.

“Fuck, ohmygod,” you moan, ecstasy pushing up through your abdomen and down into your thighs.

You whine her name, begging for reprieve, but she doesn’t listen. Her tight grip on your hip offers you no escape, and she keeps licking and sucking until she gets every drop of pleasure from your orgasm out of you.

When she’s finished with you, only then can you crouch down against the wall, unable to remain standing. Your breath comes out rapid and uneven and you clutch Maki’s forearm until you can speak again.

“Too much for you?” Maki says, brushing your disheveled hair out of your face, “Still want a man instead?” She punctuates the taunt with a kiss to your cheek.

Though your instinct is to tease her back, to deny what you feel, you get out a ‘no’ before turning your face to meet her lips and bring her into a breathy, undoubtably sincere kiss. “I don’t want that.”

“Good,” Maki responds, before kissing you again.

There’s a knock on the closet door. You both snap your heads towards it; the crack of light shining through is now obscured by a figure outside.

That man’s familiar voice, entirely unpleasant to hear again, travels through the door. “Hey, sorry, I just…uh…can I come in real quick? Are you done talking?”

“What the fuck?” Maki whispers to you.

You pull your shirt back on, hurrying to tie it. “I–I don’t know–” you raise your voice to call out to him, “Just one second!”

“Uh…okay,” the man answers.

You drop your voice back down to a vicious whisper, “I told you we were too loud!”

“We?” Maki questions, grinning.

You huff, yanking your underwear and shorts back on. “Yes we were too loud,” you say to her, moving on to fixing your hair. Why did Maki have to make such a mess of it? She stares back at you, smiling and unconvinced. “Just…whatever,” you say, taking Maki’s hand and standing up.

You crack open the door, still flustered, with cum dripping down your legs that you have to hope he doesn’t notice.

“Hey, how’s it going?” you say, playing it as cool as you can. Maki snickers.

“Hi,” he responds with a wave. Then he drops his hand back down to his side before peering past your shoulder to notice Maki behind you.

You force a smile. “So…can we help you?” you ask.

“Uh, yeah. I left my lucky hat in there and I need it for beer pong.”

“Your hat?” you say.

“My lucky hat,” he corrects.

“Right,” you say, turning to look into the closet. Sure enough, there’s a baseball cap upside-down in the corner of the closet. “Oh, yeah, it’s just right over there.” You step out of the way so he can reach over and grab it.

He puts it on—backwards—and says, “Thanks for the help, ladies.” His eyes flick from your face to Maki’s and he clasps his hands together. “Y’know, you’re both pretty hot.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Thanks?”

“So…would you like…want to have a threesome?”

Maki rolls her eyes and with a dry laugh says, “You’re not our type.” She wraps her arm around you and pushes past the man in the doorway.

He watches you both head back to the party. “Uh, so is that a no?”

#jjk smut #maki zenin #maki zenin smut #maki zenin x reader #maki x reader #zenin maki #maki zenin x you #maki x you #lesbian jjk #maki zenin lesbian

51 notes · View notes

cupidisaliar · 11 hours

Text

Bound by infinity ♾️

Gojo x student reader

No warnings i guess. Let me know if there are any I should add. Second fic from a long ass hiatus of one post haha.

Sorcery training wrapped up, and you pack belongings and bid your peers farewell.

It was Panda's bright idea to have you and the rest of the first years run around the track, making you realize how out of shape you are.

It's hard work, you must admit—the whole sorcerer thing.

You navigate the familiar halls exhausted, heading to your dorm room, and unintentionally collide with your sensei, Gojo Satoru.

Unbeknownst to you, his technique, infinity, remains in place.

"Oops," you chuckle breathlessly. "Sorry! Bye, Sensei!" Your words accompany a slight bump, making him step slightly to the right. With an awkward smile, you turn to leave.

Gojo is in front of you again.

'Well, he can teleport…' you recall, 'and he's annoying.'

You look up, and although his blindfold remains around his eyes, he appears to be staring right at you. His eyes seem to pierce through the black cloth, through you. A slight chill crawls up your spine.

"…Are you okay, sensei?" you inquire.

Gojo doesn't move an inch, his gaze still on you. Neither of you says a word as the silence becomes deafening. A leaky faucet, a bird's chirp, and an unmoving Gojo suddenly become the focus of your attention.

After what feels like forever, a light smile graces his emotionless face.

"I'm just testing my infinity, that is all..." he finally speaks, a light smile still adorning his face.

You blink, "Okay, what about it?" You sigh, assuming he wants you to humour him; he always thinks he is funny.

"I was curious whether the effects of my infinity technique would be negated if a force bumped into me by accident." He says flatly.

"Doesn't it always?" you shrug.

The gears begin to turn in your head.

Doesn't it always…

"My infinity has always negated forces that approach it. Someone has never bumped into me... At least not that I am aware of." He crosses his arms.

You say nothing, and the words won't come out. They aren't even there.

'Did I just…'

After a moment, Gojo seems amused by something. "Well, let's keep it between us, and the rest of the school shall not know about this." He says with a slight chuckle.

Gojo smiles. "Don't worry about it, it doesn't affect me. And I won't say anything. But..." he pauses. "I am just curious... How did you get past my infinity?"

You shake your head. "I...I don’t-I don’t know…” You stammer.

"Well, I guess I'll keep my curiosity in check..." he chuckles again. "Have a good day, Y/N ."

He then proceeds to walk away.

'Should I also leave, or should I continue to the dorms? What should I do? Infinity? How does that work again?' Your thoughts dance and taunt you around as you watch your sensei leave.

You snap out of it when he's out of sight and run to your dorm. Exhausted from training and the interaction with Gojo.

'It all feels like a bad dream. Gojo Satoru is the strongest.' It was probably just a slip-up. His infinity wasn't up, and he assumed it was.

Changing into sleepwear, you are about to settle into bed when there is a knock at the door.

You open the door only to find Gojo sensei standing before you.

"I have a question for you," he says, walking in without waiting for an answer.

"Uhm..make yourself at home, I guess—"

Ignoring you, he walks to the center of your bedroom and looks at you.

"Why can you bypass my infinity technique? My curiosity got the best of me," he says, not blinking.

He's blinking? Oh..his blindfold is off. You notice it hanging around his neck. Blue eyes peer at you, and he seems eager for a reply.

"Sensei..." you start. I honestly have no idea."… I'm sorry," you say. It's all you can manage; a worried look plagues your face.

"It is alright; you don't need to worry." He smiles, almost in an odd manner. I just wanted to know how you managed to do it. But... if you don't know how you did it, then I am even more curious," he muses, walking over and leaning on your wall.

"Honestly, it was probably a one-time thing… maybe," you shrug, attempting to grasp a coherent sentence. "You're tired…maybe it wasn't even on—"

"Nah, It was definitely on," Gojo replies flatly. "But, I am still curious…" he says; he seems to peer at your soul without that blindfold.

"Do you want to try again?" You cut him off.

Gojo is silent, his eyes widened slightly. A small smile slowly comes across his face.

"Yes," he agrees, his eyes still glued to you.

You slowly reach your hand out, your palm outstretched.

Gojo looks back at your hand, then back at your eyes.

He steps away from the wall, still smiling. "So…you want to try this?" he questions, his tone serious.

"Yeah, is your infinity on?" You fail to hide your nervousness. Your voice shakes, as does your hand.

Gojo pauses for a moment to think about his answer. "It is, yes," he says without blinking as he watches you.

Your hand lingers in the air, shaking slightly as you wait for him to move. You take a deep breath, inhaling through your nose and exhaling through your mouth.

"You know what this technique is, right?" he asks, stepping closer to you. It means nothing can touch me, nothing can hurt me." He is so close to you.

"I know," you barely whisper.

Gojo lets us have an airy chuckle, breaking the tension in the room. His eyes seem so bright, brighter than ever.

You can't seem to see what's boiling underneath.

“Try it.” he challenges, his hand almost touching yours now, the other in his pocket.

You move your hand toward him, touching it effortlessly and going through his infinity.

Your hand is touching Gojo’s, and you keep your eyes glued to the back of your hands touching. You expected nothing to happen. It has always been an impenetrable technique, but for some reason, your hand is touching his during his infinity.

You hear Gojo gasp. “Incredible,” he whispers.

You swallow air, and your blood runs cold. Why do you have such a bad feeling about all of this?

Gojo looks straight at you. His eyes look curious as if he's studying you. “Can you pull your hand back?” he asks.

“Yeah..” You pull your hand back and put it back to your side.

“And nothing happened to you?” he asks, unblinking. “I feel fine, sensei.”

“I see..” he smiles, looking down at his hand. You wonder why he seems so giddy. Is he okay? You have to ask. “Gojo, are you–?”

He’s laughing. Laughter filled with joy and excitement.

“Sensei..” you try to talk to him.

Gojo is laughing joyously; you've never heard him laugh like this.

“Sensei, are you okay?”

“I've never seen anything like this... Y/n.. you can get past my infinity!” He beams. “You didn’t feel anything, did you?”

You shake your head. “N-no, I didn’t,” you mumble.

Gojo smiles. “Well, that settles it. It seems to me you have an immunity to infinity.”

He pauses for a moment, looking–no staring at you, like that would help him understand the reason behind all of this.

“I must say, I find you very interesting. I have never met anyone like you.” He comments, his unblinking eyes filled with fascination.

“What do you mean?” You question.

“Just as I said, it’s rare that I meet someone who can neutralize my technique. In all my years, I have never seen someone with that ability. It’s only been objects.”

You nod. You’re worried. You want to know what all this means. You look back up, and Gojo looks off to the side. You follow his gaze to a jewelry box in your room.

“Now then!” he clasps his hands together. “For now, this will remain our little secret..” You notice he speaks in a light-hearted tone now.

“..Until it is necessary to get more people to know.” He says, letting out a small chuckle.

“Why would they–” You start.

“Don’t worry,” Gojo says. You aren’t sure if he is reassuring you or himself. “It is simply because I know some people would definitely want their hands on that technique you have.

What a scary thought.

“But… we can cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, don't worry, my Y/N.

You almost miss it.

My Y/n?

You swallow… “Sensei, are you okay? I want to know because you are the strongest, but I can get past your technique.

“I am perfectly fine.” He replies sternly.

He notices your worried expression.

“I’m fine, Y/n. I know you are probably confused right now. This will all make sense in time.” He crosses his arms.

He walks towards you, towering over you.

“Now.. do not let any doubts creep into your mind,” he says, pulling his blindfold up. “You will be fine. Just leave everything to me.” You watch as he ties his hair up with it, and it obscures those piercing blue irises.

You nod. “Yeah,” you reply. Of course, you trust Gojo. You always have.

Always.

Gojo sensei smiles back, his expression filled with assurance. He knows you have doubts.

“Let me give you a piece of advice,” he says, dropping his hands. Now, he looks like how he usually does, hidden from the world.

“You seem very kind. In our world, sorcerers are not always the best people. But you…you have a kind heart. I can see that.”

“Do not let anyone change that. You hear me?” He adds, raising his voice slightly.

“I promise,” You reply.

“...Good…”

Gojo pats you on the shoulder. “I trust you. You can trust me?” He asks. You can’t tell whether it was a question or a statement. He sounds almost remorseful.

You feel a sadness brewing inside him, the calm before the storm. He’s troubled.

“Isn’t this so weird?” you blurt out; it's your attempt at lightening the mood.

Gojo smiles, seeming relieved.

“It is weird, isn’t it?” he replies in your light-hearted manner.

“It feels as though destiny crossed our paths. Maybe fate brought us together,” he says thoughtfully and slightly sad.

“Maybe it did.” You say.

He pats your back.

“Now, I have something to attend to. Come to me, and only me, if you need anything.” He says, walking to your door.

“Goodbye, Y/n.” He says, back still turned

He leaves, shutting the door.

He left his worry in the room with you; it’s suffocating. You feel like you can’t breathe.

That terrible feeling in your gut never went away.

You don’t think it ever will now

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x student reader #gojo x student #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #yandere gojo #gojo #gojo saturo

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bloodylullaby · 1 day

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Grief

Pairing: Noah X Reader

Word Count: 712

Author's Note: I am having a tough time today, so I wrote this short story. I hope you enjoy ❤️

While it's commonly thought that grief becomes less burdensome over time, for some, the pain only intensifies. Today marks three years since you lost a close friend, a friend whose soul brightened not just your life but also the lives of others through their everyday actions and words. Every day, you carry their license in your wallet just so you still have a piece of them with you, have their name tattooed on you, and constantly keep their memory alive. Most days, it does seem like the grief has become more manageable, but when it comes to the anniversary of their death date, that is when time stops, and the pain becomes too much.

This year, the anniversary caught you off guard; amidst the hustle and bustle of a hectic week, you had yet to consciously keep track of the date. The day began strangely, a heightened sensitivity nagging at you without apparent cause. It felt like everything was out of sync until you stumbled upon your sibling's social media post and suddenly realized the day's significance. That was when time stood still, and the tears began to spill. Thankfully, your job let you go home early when you told them about the situation.

One significant source of solace in your life is Noah. He remembered the date and understood its significance. With thoughtful planning, he ensured that you felt safe and that the household responsibilities were taken care of, allowing you the space to rot in bed and tend to your emotions for the day. He was surprised that you got up and went to work, but he didn’t want to say anything due to not wanting to see you hurt and in pain. So, as he watched you head out for the day, he got ready and went to the store to buy you a few things.

On his little shopping trip, he went all out; nothing was off-limits when it came to you. His first stop was the greenhouse, where he selected a new plant and the perfect pot to complement it. Next, he headed to the grocery store, stocking up on your favorite snacks and drinks, anticipating that you might need them to snack on your feelings throughout the night. Finally, he stopped by your favorite place to stop by and got you a gift card, knowing how much you appreciate retail therapy during tough times.

Halfway through your day, you finally realized the date. After your boss granted you an early release, you called Noah to let him know you were heading home, the reminder of the day's significance heavy in your voice. Noah offered nothing but reassurance and comfort during the call. Once you hung up, you found yourself sitting in your car, tears streaming down your face, grappling with guilt and questioning whether you were a bad friend for forgetting.

As soon as Noah heard your car pull in, he was already prepared to provide comfort. As you walked through the door, he opened his arms wide, and you practically collapsed into them, sobbing with the weight of your emotions. Pouring out your feelings to him, Noah gently rocks you, planting kisses on your head and soothingly rubbing your back to calm you down. He shares his own personal tips for coping with grief, drawing from his own experiences of loss.

Once the flow of tears subsides, you gaze up at Noah with gratitude, expressing your heartfelt thanks for the love and support he has shown. "I love you more than the moon and the stars," he whispers tenderly as he runs his fingers through your hair. When you finally feel ready to leave his embrace, he guides you to the bedroom, where he has arranged all the thoughtful gifts on the bed, a tangible reminder of his care and thoughtfulness. Noah stays by your side so you don’t feel alone.

As the day slowly fades into the evening, Noah remains steadfastly by your side, a reassuring presence in the midst of your grief. Together, you find solace in each other's company, finding strength in love and shared moments of quiet understanding. In Noah's embrace, you feel a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness, knowing that no matter the challenges, you will face them together.

#bad omens band #noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens fic #noah sebastian davis #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens fanfiction #fanfic #noah sebastian x you #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fluff #bad omens cult #bad omens fluff

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matttgirlies · 2 days

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Matt & Me Final🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - get some tissues..

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 24

In time, it became evident that he was letting his health go. His behavior at times was deliberately self-destructive. On a few occasions he’d say, “I’ll never make it much beyond forty.” We’ve all made such statements, but with Matt the thought was deep-seated and chronic. Mary Lou had died at forty-two and, like Mary Lou, he wanted to go before his father, sensing that he himself couldn’t bear another loss.

From time to time, I’d hear that he had checked into the hospital. Concerned, I’d call, asking, “Are you all right?”

“Sure,” he’d say, laughing a little to show me it was all a big joke. “I just need a little rest, Sattnin.” Then I realized he’d gone to the hospital for the same reason he had during his Army days. It was his way of taking a little rest; he needed to get out of Graceland and away from all the pressures.

By 1976 everyone was becoming alarmed over his mental state as well as his physical appearance. His face was bloated, his body unnaturally heavy. The more people tried to talk to him about this, the more insistent he became that everything was all right.

The Colonel was even concerned about Matt’s actions while onstage. Matt started forgetting lyrics and resorting to sheet music. He was acting erratic by ignoring the audience and playing to the band. A few shows were canceled and no one could predict whether or not he’d appear onstage.

In the absence of any significant professional challenge, Matt created his own real-life dramas. His fascination with guns was now an obsession. He became paranoid over death threats, and from his association with the Boston local police, he had access to lists of local drug pushers. He felt he personally should get them off the streets. Phoning me late one evening, he said, “y/nn, you have anyone you want taken care of? Strictly top secret.”

The style, grace, and pride that for the past eight years had been the hallmark of a Sturniolo live performance now bordered on self-parody. Frustrated with the lack of challenge of each passing show, Matt resorted to sheer flamboyance, symbolized by his costumes, each more elaborate than the one before, loaded with an overabundance of fake stones, studs, and fringes. There were voluminous capes and cumbersome belts to match. He was performing in garb that added thirty-five pounds to his weight. It was as if he were determined to upstage himself instead of relying on his raw talent.

There were times in his final year that he would be criticized on how he related to his audience. Some people observed that he joked around with his band too much and left his songs unfinished. Once Matt even complained from the stage about “bad management” at the hotel, citing a certain employee at the Hilton who was being fired. The following day Colonel William asked Matt to stick to his own business—entertaining—and let the hotel handle its help. James tended to take Matt’s side on this as on every issue, but the Colonel had a right to be concerned.

One of the guys actually told Matt he was beginning to look more like a Liberace act in the hope that Matt would take the hint and come to his senses and rely on just his talent. But from the beginning Matt had insisted: “I just want to read positive reviews. I don’t want to hear any negativity.” As a teenager he’d been shielded by Mary Lou from criticism. When she’d filled her albums and scrapbooks, she’d used only the favorable clippings. If he hadn’t been so sheltered, he might have had a better perspective on his career. At least he’d have been aware of what was being written about him and possibly used some of the comments constructively.

No matter what he did, his fans still cheered him on. They were faithful to him through good performances and bad, and eventually their love was the only real gratification he received. They endorsed everything he did. Maybe as long as he was getting their cheers, he thought he was doing fine. But in fact Colonel William was right when he told Matt that he’d better get himself straightened out or his whole career would go down the drain.

His personal life was not helping the situation. He was seeing Ginger Alden, who was twenty years his junior, and the difference in their ages was becoming more and more of a problem. He’d say, “I’m tired of raising kids. I don’t have the patience to go through it all over again.” There were conflicts—many. Ginger did not like touring, one-night stands. She was close to her family and didn’t want to leave them. Matt tried bringing half her family with them, but that only created other problems. “She spends more time with her sister and mother than she does with me,” he complained.

In discussing his dilemma, I asked, “Do you think you can really live with just one woman?”

“Yes,” he answered. “Now more than ever. I know I’ve done some stupid things, but the stupidest was not realizing what I had until I lost it. I want my family back.”

I wondered if there was some way we could make it work. “Maybe it was just too early in life for us, Sattnin,” I said. “Maybe one day there will be a time for us.”

“Yeah,” Matt laughed. “When I’m seventy and you’re sixty. We’ll both be so old we’ll look really silly, racing around in golf carts.”

In April 1977 Matt fell ill and had to cancel his tour and return home to Graceland. Charlotte and I were there visiting Dodger. He called me up to his room. He did not look himself; his face and body were bloated. He was wearing pajamas, which he seemed to prefer these days when at home. He held Cheiro’s Book of Numbers and told me there was something he wanted me to read. His curiosity for answers had not abated. He was still searching for his purpose in life, still feeling he had not found his calling. If he had found a cause to espouse, whether a drugless society or world peace, he would have had the role he sought in life. His generosity was evidence of this part of his nature—his legendary penchant for giving, even to the countless people he didn’t know.

But he never found a crusade to pull him out of his cloistered world, a discipline strong enough to counter his escape into drugs. That night he read to me, searching for answers, just as he had done the year before and the year before that and the years before that.

It was August 16, 1977, overcast and dreary, not a typical Southern California day. When I walked outside, there was a stillness, an unnatural calm in the air that I have not experienced since. I almost went back into the house, unable to shake my uneasiness. I had a meeting that morning and by noon I was racing to meet my sister Michelle. On my way into Hollywood I noticed the atmosphere had not changed. It still seemed unusually silent and depressing and it had begun to drizzle. As I drove down Melrose Avenue, I saw Michelle standing on the corner, a look of concern on her face. “y/nn, I just got a call from Dad,” she said as I pulled up. “Nate’s been trying to reach you. It’s something about Matt in the hospital.” Nate Doe was Matt’s road manager and right-hand man. I froze. If he was trying to reach me, something must be terribly wrong. I told Michelle to take her car and quickly follow me home. the hospital all year; there were times when he wasn’t even sick that he’d check in for a rest, to get away from pressures, or just out of boredom. It had never been anything too serious.

I thought about our daughter, Charlotte, who was visiting Matt at Graceland and was supposed to come home that very day. Oh God, I prayed. Please let everything be all right. Don’t let anything happen, please, dear God.

I ran every red light and nearly hit a dozen cars. At last, I reached home, and as I swerved down the driveway, I could hear the phone ringing from inside the house. Please don’t hang up, I prayed, jumping out of the car and running toward the door. “I’m coming,” I yelled. I tried to get my key in the lock, but my hand wouldn’t stop shaking. Finally I got into the house, grabbed the receiver, and yelled, “Hello, hello?”

All I could hear was the hum of a longdistance line, then a stricken, faint voice, “y/nn. It’s Nate.”

“What’s happened, Nate?”

“It’s Matt.”

“Oh, my God. Don’t tell me.”

“y/nn, he’s dead.”

“Nate, don’t tell me that. Please!”

“We’ve lost him.”

“No. NO!” I begged him to take back his words. Instead, he was silent. “We’ve lost him—” His voice broke and we both began to cry. “Nate, where’s Charlotte?” I asked.

“She’s okay. She’s with Grandma.”

“Thank God. Nate, send a plane for me, please. And hurry. I want to come home.”

As I hung up, Michelle and Mother, who had just arrived, embraced me and we cried in each other’s arms. Within minutes the phone rang again. For a moment I hoped for a miracle; they were calling me back to tell me that Matt was still alive, that it was all right, that it had all been a bad dream.

But there were no miracles. “Mommy, Mommy,” Charlotte was saying. “Something’s happened to Daddy.” “I know, Baby,” I whispered. “I’ll be there soon. I’m waiting for the plane now.”

“Everybody’s crying, Mommy.”

I felt helpless. What could I say to her? I couldn’t even find words to comfort myself. I feared what she would be hearing. She didn’t yet know that he had died. All I kept saying over and over was, “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Try to stay in Grandma’s room, away from everyone.” In the background I could hear a grief-stricken James moaning in agony. “My son’s gone. Dear God, I’ve lost my son.”

Fortunately a child’s innocence provides its own protection. Death was not yet a reality to her. She said she’d go out and play with Laura, her friend.

I hung up and walked around in a daze, still numb with shock. The news hit the media instantly. My phones did not stop ringing, with friends trying to cope with the shock, members of the family grasping for explanations, and the press demanding statements. I locked myself in the bedroom and left instructions that I would not speak to anyone, that I wanted to be alone. In fact, I wanted to die. Love is very deceiving. Though we were divorced, Matt was still an essential part of my life. Over the last years we’d become good friends, admitting the mistakes we’d made in the past and just beginning to laugh at our shortcomings. I could not face the reality that I would never see him alive again. He had always been there for me. I depended on him, just as he depended on me. We had a bond: We’d become closer and had more understanding and patience for each other than in our married life. We had even talked of one day . . . And now he was gone. I remembered our last phone conversation, just a few days before. His mood had been good as he talked about the twelve-day tour he was about to begin. He even laughed when he told me that, as usual, the Colonel had papered the first city they were scheduled to hit with his posters and that his records were being played constantly in advance of his arrival.

“Good old Colonel,” Matt had said. “We’ve come a long way. He’s still puttin’ out that same old stuff. It’s a wonder people are still buying it.”

I loved hearing Matt laugh, something he had been doing less and less. Just days before that last call, I’d heard that his spirits were down and he was contemplating breaking up with Ginger Alden, his girlfriend. I knew him well enough to realize that this was not an easy move for him to make. If only I’d known that would be the last time I’d talk to him, I’d have said so much more: things I wanted to say and never had, things I’d held inside me for so many years because the timing was always wrong.

He had been a part of my life for eighteen years. When we met, I had just turned fourteen. The first six months I spent with him were filled with tenderness and affection. Blinded by love, I saw none of his faults or weaknesses. He was to become the passion of my life.

He taught me everything: how to dress, how to walk, how to apply makeup and wear my hair, how to behave, how to return love his way. Over the years he became my father, husband, and very nearly God. Now he was gone and I felt more alone and afraid than ever in my life.

The hours went by slowly before Matt’s private plane, the Charlotte Grace, arrived. Behind closed doors I sat and waited, remembering our life together—the joy, the pain, the sadness, and the triumphs—from the very first time I heard his name.

We boarded the Charlotte Grace around nine o’clock that evening, just my parents, Michelle, Jerry Schilling, Amber Doe, and a few close friends. At first, I just sat alone, in despair. Then I went to the back of the plane, to Matt’s bedroom. I lay there, unable to believe that Matt was really dead.

I remembered the jokes Matt used to make about dying. He’d say, “It’d really take something for me to leave this earth.” Yet he wore a chain around his neck that had both a cross and a Star of David on it. He would joke about it, saying he wanted to be covered in all areas, just in case.

He’d had a fear of flying, but he never showed it. Matt never showed any of his fears. He felt he had a responsibility to make everyone else feel secure. So he gave the impression he was self-assured, because he didn’t want to let any of us down.

I thought of a time when we were on a flight home from Los Angeles. There was a lot of turbulence, and the plane was shaking badly. Everyone on board was frightened. Everyone but Matt. When I looked at him, he was smiling, and then he took my hand.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “We’re gonna make it.” Suddenly, I felt safe. There was a certainty about Matt. If he said it was going to be, then it was going to be that way.

The trip seemed endless. By the time we reached Boston, I was numb. We were ushered into a waiting limousine, to avoid the crush of photographers. Then we sped off to Graceland, where we were met by frantic, disbelieving faces: relatives and close friends, the maids—the same people who had been around us for so many years. I had spent most of my life with these people and seeing them now was devastating.

Most of Matt’s close family—James, Grandma, her daughters, Delta and Nash, and others—congregated in Grandma’s room, while his friends, and the guys who worked for him, were mostly gathered in the den. Everyone else seemed to just be walking in and out of the rooms, silent and solemn, glancing around in disbelief.

Charlotte was outside on the lawn, with a friend, riding around on the golf cart that her father had given her. At first I was amazed that she was able to play at a time like this, but when I talked to her, I realized that the full impact of what happened hadn’t hit her yet. She’d seen the paramedics rushing Matt away, and he was still at the hospital when I’d arrived, so Charlotte was confused.

“Is it true?” she asked. “Is my daddy really gone?”

Again, I was really at a loss for words. She was our child. It was difficult enough for me to believe and confront Matt’s death myself. I just didn’t know how to tell her that she would never see her daddy again.

I nodded, then took her into my arms. We hugged and then she ran out and started riding around in her golf cart again. But now I was glad she could play. I knew it was her way of avoiding reality.

The night seemed endless. Several of us sat around the dining room table talking, and it was then that I learned the circumstances of Matt’s death. I was told that Matt had played racquetball with his cousin, Billy Smith, until four o’clock that morning, while Billy’s wife, Jo, and Matt’s girlfriend, Ginger, watched them. Then they all presumably retired for the night. But as Ginger slept, Matt stayed up to read. He called down to his Aunt Delta for some ice water and said he was having a hard time sleeping.

Matt was still reading when Ginger woke up at nine o’clock that morning, and then she went back to sleep until about 1 p.m. When she awoke, Matt was not in bed. She found him lying face down on his bathroom floor.

Ginger called downstairs, and Al Strada and Nate Doe came running up. After calling the paramedics, Nate gave Matt CPR until they arrived. As the paramedics were leaving to rush Matt to the hospital, his personal physician, “Dr. Joe,” arrived and rode in the ambulance, working on Matt all the way to Baptist Memorial. There the staff tried for another half an hour to revive Matt, but it was all futile. He was pronounced dead on arrival of heart failure. James then requested an autopsy. The body was taken to the Boston Funeral Home to be prepared for viewing in Graceland the following day.

As I sat listening to the events leading up to Matt’s last hours, I became more and more disturbed. There were so many questions. Matt was seldom left alone for any length of time.

Suddenly I knew I had to be alone. I went upstairs to Matt’s private suite, where we had spent so much of our life together. The rooms were more orderly than I’d expected. Many of his personal belongings were gone; his nightstand was bare of books.

I went into his dressing room and it was as if I could sense his living presence—his own unique scent filled the room. It was an eerie sensation.

From the dining room window I could see thousands of people out on Matt Sturniolo Boulevard waiting for the hearse that would bring his body back to Graceland. His music filled the air as radio stations throughout the nation paid tribute to the King.

Soon the casket was placed in the entrance hall and opened for viewing. I sat in Grandma’s room most of that afternoon as thousands of mourners from all over the world passed by, paying their last respects. Many wept; some men and women even fainted. Others lingered at the casket, refusing to believe it was him. He was truly loved, admired, and respected.

I waited for the right moment for Lisa and me to say goodbye. It was late that evening, and Matt had already been moved to the living room where the funeral was to be held. It was quiet; everyone had left. Together we stood over him, emotional. “You look so peaceful, Sattnin, so rested. I know you’ll find happiness and all the answers there.” Then I joked, “Just don’t cause any trouble at the Pearly Gates.” Charlotte took my hand and we placed a sterling silver bracelet depicting a mother and child’s clasped hands on his right wrist. “We’ll miss you.” I knew my life would never be the same.

Colonel came to the funeral wearing his usual baseball hat, shirt, and slacks. He disguised his emotions as best he could. Matt had been like his own son. From the old school, the Colonel was considered a coldhearted businessman, but in truth he had stayed faithful and loyal to Matt, even when his career began to slip. This day he asked James to sign a contract extending his position as Matt’s manager. He was already planning ways to keep Matt’s name before the public. He acted quickly, fearful that with Matt gone, James would be too distraught to handle correctly the many proposals and propositions that would be in the offing. James signed.

At the service, Charlotte and I sat with James and his new fiancée, Sandy Miller, Dodger, Delta, Patsy, my parents, Michelle, and the rest of the family. George Hamilton was there. Julia Ernst attended with her husband, Roger Smith. Julia expressed her sympathy so sincerely I felt a genuine bond with her.

J.D. and the Stamps Quartet sang Matt’s favorite gospel songs. James had chosen the preacher, a man who hardly knew Matt and spoke mostly of his generosity. Matt would probably have laughed and told his dad, “Couldn’t you have got a comedian or something?” Matt would not have wanted us to grieve.

After the service we drove to the cemetery, Charlotte and I riding with James and Sandy. It was three miles away and for the whole three miles both sides of the street were lined with mourners, and at the cemetery there were thousands more. The pallbearers—Jerry Schilling, Nate Doe, George Klein, Steven Wright, Billy Smith, Charlie Hodge, Dr. Joe, and Gene Smith—carried the casket to the marble mausoleum where Matt was finally laid to rest. There we held a short ceremony and, one by one, walked to the coffin, kissed or touched it, and spoke a few words of farewell. Shortly after, for security reasons, he was moved to Graceland in the meditation garden, his final resting place.

Before Charlotte and I returned to L.A., James called me to his office. He was overwhelmed with grief. Did I know anything that would help him to understand why his son had died? He never fully accepted it, and I believed his pain led to his own death, just as Grandma later never recovered from James’s death.

When Charlotte and I returned home I was torn, trying to decide what was best for her. Many conflicting stories were coming out in the national publications and I knew these could have a lasting negative effect on her memory of her father. I decided to send her to summer camp. There she could be protected from radio, TV, and newspapers and could be with her many friends, including Debbie and Cindy, Nate and Amber’s children.

By the time she returned, I’d already made plans with Michelle for a long trip to Europe. Anything to get away from the constant reminders that filled the media.

Matt’s death made me much more aware of my own mortality and that of the people I loved. I realized I’d better start sharing a lot more with the people that I cared about, and every moment that I had with my child or my parents became more precious.

I learned from Matt, often—sadly—from his mistakes. I learned that having too many people around can sap your energies. I learned the price of trying to make everyone happy. Matt would bestow gifts on some, making others jealous, often creating rivalries and anxieties within the group. I learned to confront people, and to face issues—two steps Matt had avoided.

I learned to take charge of my life. Matt had been so young when he became a star that he was never able to handle the power and money that accompanied his fame. In many ways, he was a victim, destroyed by the very people who catered to his every want and need. He was a victim, too, of his image. His public wanted him to be perfect while the press mercilessly exaggerated his faults. He never had the chance to be human, to grow up to be a mature adult, to experience the world outside his artificial cocoon.

When Matt Sturniolo died, a little of our own lives was taken from each of us who knew and loved Matt Sturniolo, who shared in his music, his films, who followed his career. His passion was entertaining his friends and fans. His audience was his true love. And the love Matt and I shared was a deep and abiding one.

He was, and remains, the greatest influence in my life.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - sad endings actually kill me. i cried multiple times. thank you so much for all the love & support on this story i really enjoyed it. let me know what kind of writing you would like to see next🎀

#matthew sturn #matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #Spotify

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kennyieeee · 3 days

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knock knock moshimoshi ! may i make silly req bout how fuuta, mikoto & john (separate) react when timid shy fem!reader confess to them. like…they’re not so close just normal stranger with the occasional encounter but then have feelings towards them lol ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°. situation when they come off from milgram. and how their relationship is where the 3 of them become yandere boyfie (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧. bout john, they know he’s just an alter but they just like john himself (•‿•). lmao sorry this is too complicated & cringe ew

Delectable

Yandere! Fuuta, Mikoto and John x Shy! Fem! Reader

(ft. noone.)

(Kenny: idk if you wanted to separate Mikoto and John but I separated them anyway, sorry!! I also I kind offfff didn't understand the John knowing alt ego part I'm stupid, again, sorreyyy, I did my own thing. Fyi I don't bother to check the deep lore, I just do minimal research and remember stuff at the top of my brain soooo, idk what Mikoto's ideal date is becuz I don't remember. Also it's okay I'm cringe too let's cry together.)

Info/TWs: drabble type, fem reader, tooth aching fluff, japanese formalities, yandere themes, (mentions of) murder, smoking, kidnapping, overbearing behavior, twitter :skull:, fuuta and mikoto is cute and wholesome but john is... um, extreme yandere themes for john(? ,i got carried away tbh), written in 2nd perspective

𝐒𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: After they were finally scott-free from the Milgram prison, they can finally move to to love life problems instead of... Homicidal problems, good thing there's this shy girl who had their eye on them but she's so precious that they might as well go back to their homicidal problems. (wc: 2,035)

Yandere! Kajiyama Fuuta

My poor boy was traumatized after the Milgram incident happened.

Then he returned to college as if none of that ever happened.

Thankfully though, the incident made him realize his own wrongdoings, and quickly went to apologize to the people he had harassed online, so on and so forth, he genuinely wanted to repent.

Things went by normal after that though, he was slowly but surely healing.

Until one day YOU came.

With your meek posture and nervous expression, you politely asked him if the two of you could talk in private.

Someone he hadn't really taken note of, a classmate of his, just asked him to talk in private suspiciously.

"What's the big deal? We can talk here." He puffed out gruffly to you and you flinched.

Then your face turns beat red. Whether he could see it or not. Your eyes showed that you're visibly embarrassed about something.

You pleaded with him, and he just sighs and agrees.

"W-Would you uhh..."

"Get to the point."

"Would you umm..."

"Would I what?"

"Would you...like to go on a date with me?" Your voice turned down to lower octaves and he couldn't hear it.

"I couldn't hear ya."

"I love you! Would you like to go on a date with me!?"

Well it came out just great, in your own ways. It didn't take long for Fuuta to realize you were a little... Timid.

Fuuta, though surprised and equally embarrassed himself, decided to give you a chance. You seemed... Capable enough.

Café date it was.

Of course, it went great too, in your own ways... Again.

It was an open space, but you just couldn't refuse when Fuuta requested it.

The receptionist asked for your order. Looking at the menu still, you shuffled and stuttered about what you wanted to order. You anxiously think of ways to talk it out quickly, you figured it would be easy if you just said that you'd have the same order as Fuuta.

And to your surprise, Fuuta was actually quite gentlemanly.

He noticed you looking at some part of the menu you liked and ordered it for you, then got a different one he liked on his own.

He noticed you weren't good at conversing, so he talked to the receptionist on his own just to cover you.

That just made you fall deeper.

You sat at one of the tables across from Fuuta.

There were some curt conversations that ended very quickly. Until he asks a question, that is.

"Why do you like me anyway?"

You now put your yapnology on the line. You may be shy and meek, but when it came to the things you love, you can ramble on for days.

"That's because I like that you're fierce, you put on a brave and courageous act, what is not likeable or admirable about that!?" You tell him in delight.

"Even when you put on a fearless face, you're still kind and loveable, even people like me can tell that you have a big heart. Oh, and despite you being gruff and grumpy, you're really gentle too—" You conversed on and on and on about what you liked about him. If he hadn't told you to stop, you probably wouldn't have.

That left a blushing mess of a tomato, which was Fuuta.

The way you talked about how you loved him was so endearingl that you might've made him fall deeper than yourself to him.

You both came in contact for a while.

Fuuta liked it when you happily talked to him about something, a video game you both liked, or even himself, which still made him flustered to this day.

The person being you, always shy to others, afraid to talk to others from your nature, now looked completely different when you smiled at him with those pretty lips of yours.

Which looked delectable. By the way.

Although he didn't like it when others start to be comfortable to you.

Not fair.

The smile you give off, the adorable ramblings you do are all supposed to be his.

Don't blame him when he gets a little jealous.

Don't blame him when he starts to go back to toxic hell twitter to bash on the people who tried to be "friends" with you.

Anyways, he's your lovable, fierce, but kind boyfriend that totally doesn't have a criminal record.

Just a little reminder that he proclaims that he owns you, for some reason.

Yandere! Kayano Mikoto

Oh sweet dear, Kayano Mikoto...

Kind to you once and now you're here, head over heels.

Him too, though. You just happened to make the first move.

He had quit his job for the company he's working on which was draining him, and now he's aware of it, so for the sake of his sanity, he tries to find for something else more casual.

So he made a dressmaking shop! Right next to your bakery...

The shy, little squeaky baker that you are, kindly welcomes your neighbor, with a pastry gift.

He accepts it and thanks profusely, and boy was the pastry bread the most heavenly bread he had ever eaten in his life.

Someone had a little crush.

He visits your store once to get another bread or any pastry but he sees you struggling to carry boxes and immediately offers to help.

One time his hand brushed against yours and you jump and cover your face.

Other than being acquainted, to the others in the outside, you both were only kind strangers to each other, busy on their own jobs.

But you just took your shot one day and confessed about your little crush.

Mikoto happily accepted your offer and took you in a date.

Cinema?

Cinema.

Horror movies? Not so much, but you were too shy to refuse.

The way you shrieked at the movie was just too low of a shriek that it almost made Mikoto laugh.

But it was cute.

The terrified you just looked adorable. Your expression was like a treasure he found. What else besides your kindness and adorableness could you possibly have?

He can't lie that he's not curious. It makes him want to dig up more about you.

He gives you a warm smile at the cinema that had a sinister feeling underneath.

The date went well and you acquired his number! Yippie!

Days went by. Don't get yourself wrong, your boyfriend is sweet, caring and kind, what more could you ask for?

But sometimes he's just... Too sweet.

In a bad way.

To the point that, you can't even have any time for yourself because it was occupied by you hanging out with him.

And there was no, "no", option.

He's just dying to know what kinds of delectable pastries and expressions you make with that adorable meek face of yours. He can't wait.

Besides, he's kind right? He's sweet, he gives you kisses, tells you that sweet things you need to hear, and takes care of you that you could even call him a malewife.

It's only fair that he gets something of a reward in return.

Yandere! John

Even after in Milgram, John didn't disappear.

Even though he knew he wouldn't have to kill anymore for Mikoto, he still stayed.

Now he woke up, being himself, as an alter ego, at night.

Now he doesn't have much of an idea on what to do.

If he still exists, then that must mean that Mikoto held some stress.

One of ways to ease stress other than murder is break your lungs.

Even though Mikoto already does it. He finds it fair and fine if he does the same.

So he sat in the alleyway near his office, smoking.

Until someone had to approach him.

"K-Kayano-senpai? You're smoking again?"

John puffs out a smoke and turns his head to you. You say meekly, you were dressed seemingly as an office worker.

Now John has no idea on who you are, but even the likes of him can realize that you're an acquaintance with Mikoto, and you possibly work in the same place as him.

"...Yeah." He says, tone indifferent.

This didn't sound like your co-worker Mikoto, you knew it was him but you just can't help but feel that something is wrong.

Just when he sounds so... Different.

"Y-You can tell me all about your problems, I'm here to help out..."

You sat beside him, trying to reach him out, metaphorically.

"It's nothing."

"But... You told us everyone that you're gonna try and stop smoking, I m-may not be in the position to ask stuff like this but as your co-worker I'm just... A b-bit worried..."

"Well, why do you care anyway?"

"B-B-Because I um..."

As it seems like it, you don't know how to hide the fact that you're embarrassed.

"Because I- I- I like you... Kayano. Ever since I started to work in the office as your kohai, you always guide me so kindly, I was too intimidated by all my co-workers but you..."

John heard you talk about things you liked about Mikoto. Even found out some things he didn't know about him.

Hearing you talk about him in such a way, when almost all of his co-workers treated him like trash... Made him feel comfortable.

Not all people deserved a hard smack at the cranium with a bat. Not you, especially.

You were genuine. You liked Mikoto with all your heart.

John should relate to you, but he didn't understand why he somehow felt a twinge of jealousy.

"We can meet up at this place again." John stands up, ready to go home, he smoked enough outside. Which was unhealthy, but it was refreshing hearing you talk.

"A-At this time?"

"...Yeah. And also... Call me John if I'm gonna smoke here some time again." Though you'd rather not have him smoke, this side of him was new... Almost different from the usual him and you wanted to know and help more the best you can.

A nickname his warden had given him once, but it was his actual name. You didn't even ask why you should call him that.

After that, it just became a routine.

The morning Mikoto was kind to you, but he was a bit confused when you called him John.

You visit a different Mikoto at night, however he may be a bit cold and uncaring, but he seemed aware of everything.

You were too shy to ask what happened in the morning. Other than that, you and John bonded comfortably to each other.

John liked you even though he didn't seem like it.

This daily meet up routine at night made you think that you got closer to Mikoto. Not someone else.

One day, you couldn't meet up with him.

"You were absent yesterday." John stated.

Then you tell him that your manager had you overworked that night.

John was barely able to have brushed it off until you started to visit less and instead focused on meeting up with the Mikoto you meet in the morning.

You visit only once the week and you tell him that all the blame is supposed to go on your demanding manager.

He sees the deep eyebags in your eyes and you tell him that you don't have much courage to stand up for yourself.

That's fine, he'll be your protector.

After that night, your manager never saw the light of the day ever again.

Let's say, miraculously, you found out or suspected John to have killed your manager. Of course you're weary.

But despite that, John wouldn't be afraid to use your own shyness to his advantage. 'Why would you tell everyone that your sweet, kind, all helpful senior was the cause of your manager's disappearance? A nobody like you who can't even meet a person in the eye? Psshh, stop kidding.'

No more meet ups? Guess you'd just have to switch the meet up place.

Maybe a basement that Mikoto couldn't hear and know would be good.

Look at you there chained up, crying and wailing to be let out.

But why would he when those tears of yours just looked absolutely delectable. You might as well call him your boyfriend while you're stuck here.

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writingquestionsanswered · 1 day

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I am in a pickle with writing. I do fanfiction and put out a few duds, aware they weren't exactly my best work so not severely disappointed when they failed to perform. Then I spent months on a longer more involved work that I thought was better. It also failed to perform. This time my confidence was shattered. I took time off writing to recover but now I just don't know how to get back at it. My ideas feel either stale or too big and typing is like pulling teeth.

Confidence Shattered by Under Performing Stories

I'm not sure whether these three duds stories and one more involved story are your entire body of work, or whether you mean that you're a seasoned fan-fiction writer with lots of stories and positive feedback, but you also have a few duds and this more involved work that also under performed.

It matters, because if you're a more seasoned fan-fiction writer with a large body of work behind you, and you're saying those three duds didn't bother you but this more involved work does, I'd say not to be discouraged because more involved works are a whole different beast, and your first one isn't going to be your best one. But keep at it, because your next involved work will be even better.

If, on the other hand, the few duds and the more involved work are your whole body of work, you haven't done enough yet to lose hope. Writing is a craft, after all, and you can't write a few stories (no matter how involved) and hope to be doing work that's good enough to do really well. (And, the caveat here is that yes... some people can write one story and it's their best work, but most of us don't have that natural talent.) So, here again I'd say don't be discouraged, because honing any craft takes time and practice. You may even want to find a critique partner or utilize beta readers so you can get some feedback and know where you need to improve.

As for the confidence and motivation, those will come back. Your confidence will rebuild as you realize you were holding yourself to unreasonably high expectations, and as you're able to credit yourself with the time and effort you've put in and the growth you've already done. The motivation will build as your confidence heals, too.

Some things that might help: write for yourself for a little while. Do some story prompts and write some fan-fiction or short stories. See if you can find some beta readers or a critique partner who is familiar with the source material and see if they'd be willing to read your stories and offer feedback about what works and what doesn't. You might also try reading the feedback/reviews of others' stories to see if you can see parallels with your writing, and maybe get an idea of where you could improve things.

Also, have a look at my Motivation master list, as it has some posts that deal with self-doubt, building confidence, and rekindling motivation. ♥

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

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figsnpassionfruits · 17 hours

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Paint Away, My Little Dove - Chapter 6

word count: 2.2k tags: arthur morgan x fem!reader, fluff, kisses, mentions of sa, mentions of death, canon-typical themes, mentions of human trafficking dividers by: @strangergraphics-archive pictures are from pinterest

“What do you think, Arthur?”

Both of you were back at the Heartlands, close to a nearby farm you had seen last time you rode past. Arthur came up with the idea of letting you practice sketching animals. You wanted to include them in your art; it was just that Arthur could not be around all the time to sketch them for you. So, he came up with the idea of teaching you.

He leaned over, eyes scanning over the cow you had sketched. “Aghhh-“ He started. “If I saw a cow like that I would’ve shot if out of pity.”

“Arthur!” You yelped, slapping his arm in a playful way. “You’re horrible.”

“m’sorry, dove. But we gotta keep on practicin’.” Arthur had a big smile on his face, his voice erupting with laughter as he kept teasing you.

Both of you had missed this. Just sitting on the dry grass, a soft blanket underneath you to protect the clothes from the dirt and a can of dried peaches for the missing sweetness in your mouths. After the past few times you had met, it had been nothing but bad news. This? Yea, Arthur had missed this. The joy you would bring him would make him feel young again. Slowly, his doubt was starting to vanish. Maybe the age gap would not mean that he, an older man, was stealing away your youth. Maybe you were just ready to share a chunk of that.

Arthur had allowed you more insight into his life. The morning after your nightmare he had made the decision to tell you about his upcoming. You had poured out your heart to him. It was only fair to you for him to do the same. Thus he started talking about his camp and the people who brought it to life. He told you stories about each of the members and the adventures he had lived through with them; good and bad. It was heartbreaking hearing him talk about the deaths they had to endure at Colter. Arthur was such a good man, always trying to protect and defend his loved ones. Even without all this knowledge, you had a feeling that he was a hard shell with a soft teddy bear inside. On that morning, he proved you right.

Laughter after laughter you had leaned onto one another, shoulders and arms grazing each other each time the sound would fill the air. His deep voice would harmonize pleasantly with your higher one. Gosh, anyone watching from afar would think that you were on your honeymoon.

Without realizing you had bit your lip, drifting your upper body closer to his, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth as you did so.

Arthur had caught on to your motion. His laughter died down along with yours as he analyzed your movements, trying to predict the next. To him, it seemed like you were leaning in for a kiss. Whether you had comprehended it or not, he did not know. Either way, Arthur was not backing up.

Pecks on shoulders, hands, cheeks and foreheads you had done. Touching each other’s lips, however; not.

And so you stopped. In order to come over the awkwardness, you let out a small cough and plucked an imaginary feather from his hair, mumbling something about that it had annoyed you before he replied with a small ‘thanks’ in return.

“So, ehm- when will I get to meet them? Your camp, I mean.” A pitiful attempt at changing the topic, but it was better than silence.

“I don’t know, Y/N. It’d be safer right now not to. You know now what kinda bastards are looking for us. Not the kind to take it easy on folks. I just don’t want you to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

You hummed to his response. He was right. From what Arthur had told you before, the Pinkertons were constantly on their tails, just waiting for the right moments to strike. How the gang dealt with the stress, you could not explain to yourself. But you could relate to being on the run. That feeling of constant anxiety and fear was nothing you would wish on your worst enemy. The toll it could take on someone could end with death. Paranoid people throwing themselves on train tracks or jumping off cliffs was not rare at this time. And no one could blame them. Folks would rather meet death than whatever else life had in store for them.

“What about that Charles? You always speak so highly of him?” You asked, moving loose strands out of the Arthurs face. “I’d just be at ease knowing you’re around someone that I know as well. That’s all.” You explained, softening your voice, hoping to receive a positive response.

Arthur smiled as he put his rough hand on your cheek, covering most of your soft skin with his. “Alright, darlin’.”

Hours after asking more about the social circle around Arthur and poor attempts of drawing various deformed animals on paper, it had become nighttime. Crickets were making their presence known as coyotes barked all over the Heartlands. Sleeping together in a tent was not unknown to you both anymore. Rather, it had become a routine whenever you spent more than a day with each other. Your body knew who was next to you. Therefore, it was not uncommon that you would snuggle his arm in your sleeping state. Arthur was no different either. Every once in a while he would find himself having a meaty arm around your form, squeezing it tighter instead of letting go when he caught himself doing so.

The chirping of the birds and the warm rays of the sun beamed through the thin fabric of your tent. Arthur was usually the first one to be awake. Today it was no different. As you stirred around, humming soft and quiet sounds, Arthur was leaving soft kisses on your forehead, travelling his lips from that very spot to your nose to give its tip a peck as well, refusing to ignore it. As he was roaming his blue eyes over you, he thought about the conversation you had. Arthur wanted to keep you safe. But at the same time, he was refusing to let you get involved with the gang. There was no way he could be at two places at the same time. If you were at Hamish’s, he was either there or not. If you were at the camp, at least someone else could keep an eye on you. Now that Bronte knew you were still alive, you basically had a target on your back. Minutes and minutes passed as Arthur weighed out his options, pondering about what was the right decision to take. Nevertheless, he could not find an appropriate answer. No matter what it would be, he had to hurry finding it. Time was ticking and Bronte was just getting started.

………………………………………………

Arthur was sitting in the wagon along with Dutch, Bill and Hosea. The four were on their way to Angelo Brontes mansion who was hosting some sort of party. The Italian had invited them to join and so Dutch accepted, assuming it would be casual business. Arthur, however, felt different. None of the others could figure out his mood. For them, he just looked extra grumpy today, not knowing the devastating reality behind it. Keeping his cool was something Arthur never had to struggle with. Tonight, oh god, he did not know if he could.

“Y’okay, boy?” Hosea questioned, sensing Arthurs energy deficiency as the rest of them were laughing over the suits they were wearing. Never had they imagined to be dressing fancy like this while being on the run from the Pinkertons.

Arthur nodded, not facing the older man, staring out of the window instead.

Upon arrival, the four removed their weapons and handed them to Brontes guards at the gate. It seemed like an eternity as they strutted through the massive mansion, following a man who was leading them to a balcony a floor or two above to meet with Angelo Bronte.

Once Arthur set his eyes on him, he could not turn away. Every single thing you had told him about what that man did to you was now being envisioned. No matter how hard he tried to block it out, the rage could not be filtered.

Thankfully Dutch took care of the talking.

To calm himself down, Arthur accepted a cigar given to him, bit off the tip and started inhaling the tobacco within. Every word said by Bronte was igniting the fire within him. ‘Why the hell did I agree to this?’

Angelo Bronte had mentioned something about a trolley station that he would allow to be robbed, whatever that meant. Now being able to recognize the Italians false facade, Arthur did not believe him. Not a bit. Dutch however, gave into it right away, making Arthur curse under his breath, just loud enough for himself to hear.

After what felt like hours of torture, the four had managed to act normal and socialize with the rest of the guests. Arthur had poured drinks here and there, Bill succeeded in stealing a letter from the mayor to Bronte and Dutch and Hosea blended in with the high society.

“Dutch, we gotta leave. I’on know how much longer I can stay here without doing anything stupid.” Arthur said to Dutch as he looked around the garden, faking a small smile to the guests passing by.

“Whatchu mean, Arthur?” Dutch questioned, raising a brow at his statement.

“Ain’t you realizin’ what’s happenin’’ here?” Arthur whispered in a quiet, yet harsh voice. “That man was about to traffic little Jack to sick people and out of a sudden we are fine with him. Who knows how many children are involved.”

Dutch let out a sigh as he put a hand on his shoulder. “Arthur, this ain’t our fight. Senior Bronte just offered us to rob a station in the middle of Saint Denis. He is basically handing us money. We gotta take it.”

“The hell it ain’t, Dutch.” Arthur brushed off his hand off him, taking a step back, shaking his head in disbelief at Dutchs words. “This is wrong and ya know it.” Arthur was pointing a finger at him, venom spitting from his tongue with the way he was accusing him.

Just as they were about to leave, Bronte stopped them at the gate, saying his farewells as he watched the outlaws grab their weapons from the chest they had previously placed them in.

“Mr. Morgan!”

Arthur did not look at him. If he did, he did not know what he would have done to that man, if you could even call him that.

Bronte came up to his side, putting a hand on the taller mans shoulder, standing close enough to Arthur so only he could hear his words. “Did you think about my negotiation?”

His touch felt disgusting. If this was under normal circumstances, Arthur would have pushed his slimy hand off and ground pounded him until he was choking on his own blood. But they were on his property. If he would not get pulled off right away, he would have been shot. This was neither the time nor place.

Arthur joined the rest of the gang, letting Brontes hand fall from his shoulder with the large steps he took. He did not even care enough to look back at him as he stepped into the wagon. Arthur was not going to pretend. That man made him sick and he was not going to allow Bronte to believe otherwise.

……………………………………………

Arthur had returned in the middle of the night, declining the thought of letting you sleep by yourself at the camp you both had set up.

The tents dark fabric was flowing along with the slight wind. Arthur pulled the opening apart, seeing your sleeping form rising and falling in the same slow pace. Even after all the anger he had felt, he could not help but crack a lazy smile at your sleeping position. Your hair was all over the place, mimicking a snake attempting to strangle its prey. After taking off his coat, he crouched down to your level, removed your hair from your face before delivering a kiss to your nose once again.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Stirring at his words you gently fluttered open your eyes, smiling at the sight of him. Even if it was late, you did not mind being woken up by Arthur. Especially in this way. “Hi.”

“You sold enough art in Rhodes t’day?” He asked while getting under the covers which you had slightly lifted up for him.

“Mhm.” You nodded. “Enough to get by for some time.”

Arthur mimicked your nod, putting his calloused covered hand underneath his head, placing his other on your waist to pull you closer to his broad torso.

His shoulders were a dream to sleep on. If you had been the slightest bit more tired, you would have already fallen back asleep.

“What was your most expensive sell?”

“Today?”

“Yea.”

You snuggled further into him, intoxicated by his scent as you smiled to yourself. “Fifty-three.”

“Jesus, woman.” Arthur chuckled, pulling you even closer to him. “Tomorrow ya gotta go back to O’Creagh’s, alright? Don’t wanna risk things if someone followed me.”

“M’kay.”

- 🍯

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #paint away #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan fluff

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