aqenn
Apr 26, 2020
according to alternate universe theory there’s a universe where i do everything right and i can’t stop wondering about that
seravphs
May 5, 2023
ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — TEEN DAD! GOJO x FEM READER
When Megumi gets injured on a mission, you realize you’re not capable of taking care of a child.
wc — 1.8k
tags — misunderstandings; self doubt; the pitfalls of teenage parenting when you’re all child soldiers; mild angst with a happy ending; happens post sometimes a family is you, teen dad Gojo, and the six year old child he accidentally orphaned, part I of teen dad gojoverse,in which you and Gojo raise Megumi together.
You shove Megumi into his arms, a bundle of bloody black fabric and dead weight. Gojo doesn’t stumble - he never does - but it’s a close call as he instinctively wraps his arms around whatever you’ve pushed onto him.
“Teleport! Teleport!” You’re so frantic you’re incoherent. It takes a full minute, a minute you don’t have, before you realize that you can’t just say things. Gojo, as invincible as he is, can’t read your mind. You have to explain what’s going on, but how can you focus when Megumi is bleeding out? His little face is growing paler and paler by the second.
His hands are so tiny. Why is that the only thing you can focus on? They’re grasping the front of Gojo’s jacket for dear life as he coughs weakly.
“Teleport him back to HQ! Get Shoko!”
You resist the urge to shake Gojo by his lapels, slap some sense into him. It would only hurt Megumi. Why won’t he move?
“I can’t!”
“What do you mean you can’t? Go! He’s losing so much blood, you have to go now!”
You know you’re getting hysterical, but Megumi is dying right in front of you.
“I can’t teleport! There are conditions-“
“He’s going to die!”
“Stop- I need to think!”
In the back of your head, you can hear Shoko telling you in that cool and detached tone of hers that you’re hyperventilating.
Look, she says, you see that? You’re breathing too quickly. You feel lightheaded, right?
Gojo spreads his jacket out on the ground of the forest. “Help me get him ready. I’m going to sew up the cut.”
“Let me-“
“I’ll do it. I’ve done Getou’s before. You just focus on keeping him breathing.”
You can do that.
Hunched over Megumi’s body, Gojo gets to work. He looks so frail, spread on the grass with only Gojo’s jacket beneath him. His eyes are normally dark, but they’re blacker with pain, his pupils swallowing up his irises.
The first puncture of the needle makes him wail before he slaps his hand over his mouth. You peel it back and make vaguely soothing noises, trying to be comforting.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” you murmur, letting him rest his head in your lap.
“You can scream, Megumi. I know it hurts. Oh, honey, I know. I know.” He’s making this face that agonizes you. His nose is all scrunched up as he clenches his jaw. He’s the type of kid that would rather chew up his suffering and swallow it back down then let anyone see it.
This happened on your watch.
Sick self hatred rises in your throat.
Gojo would’ve never let anything happen to Megumi.
He whimpers quietly and you flinch. Without even thinking of it, you reach for his hand. You force yourself not to tremble. You’re an adult. It’s your responsibility not to scare him like that.
His eyes are closed as Gojo grimly works the needle through, but there’s a jump in his frantic heartbeat, as tiny as a rabbit’s. You can detect it through the pulsing vein in his wrist, funneling blood to the injury only to waste it on air.
He’s such a brave kid - your brave little boy. You smooth his sticky wet hair back from his face, damp with sweat. He moans in pain and twists away. Your heart crumples.
It takes so much for him to be vocal about anything that hurts him. How much pain must he be in?
“Gojo,” you say.
“I’m trying!”
You know. Going any faster is likely to have dangerous consequences. This is the only way. How cruel. You have to hurt him to help him, and isn’t that just the story of your parenthood?
You curl around him, protective as if your body can shield him from his own body working against itself. The more blood he loses, the harder his body fights to keep him alive.
It’s an infinitely long minute before Gojo proclaims the grim deed finished. Megumi had passed out long beforehand, his death grip on your fingers slackening as the pain pushed him into nothingness.
He wakes up on the long drive back to campus. Ijichi has never bent so many speeding limits in his life. Normally a careful driver, he shoots furtive looks at the kid staining his back seats red. You can feel his judgment of what kind of parent you are settling over you.
Shoko must be thinking the same thing as she patches Megumi up in your kitchen. Her reverse cursed technique seals the cut up in seconds flat, though a scar remains, puckering the flesh of his forearm.
“Just like Utahime,” Gojo tells him, pinching his cheek. “You didn’t cry either, so you’re better than her.”
“Don’t talk about your seniors like that,” you say absentmindedly, though your mind could not be further from disciplining Gojo for his poor behavior.
You can’t send Megumi to the Zenins. You know what they’d do to a sweet kid like him. They’d turn him into a monster like his father. You shudder, thinking of the creature from your nightmares who had stolen the life of a sixteen year old girl, and nearly taken Gojo with him. You could never let them do that to Megumi. They probably wouldn’t take care of Tsumiki either, unless to hold her over his head. But just because they aren’t fit caretakers doesn’t mean you are.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
Gojo’s been trying to get your attention for who knows how long. When he sees that he finally has it, he sends Megumi off to bed and jerks his thumb at the door. Wordlessly, you follow him to the porch. It’s dimly lit from a singular overhead bulb without a covering. The two of you stand in a circle of light, the night outside pressing in against the walls of your home.
“What is it?” He says impatiently. “I fixed everything, didn’t I? Why are you still upset?”
“It’s not you,” you say. It’s so cliche, but what else is there to say? “It’s my fault.”
“Don’t,” he says softly.
You pull your hand back when he tries to take it. There’s a perverse sense of satisfaction in denying both of you what you want. You don’t deserve this.
He’s silent for a long time. You let the silence stew, determined to outlast him. Quickly, it becomes clear who has the upper hand. You shift from side to side, nervous and tense, while he just waits with his hands shoved in his pockets. When you finally look over, he’s wearing his sunglasses again. His hair glows under the porch light, attracting moths. “Finally felt like playing nice?”
He’s attractive when he’s mean. You hate that about him, the way the cruel twist of his mouth ties knots into your stomach. It would all be easier if you could hate him, but everything he does only makes you love him more.
What a twisted little family you’ve built for yourself.
He sighs. “Stop that. Don’t-“ he waves his hand in your general direction in frustration. “You always do that. It’s not your fault.”
“He needs a real parent, Gojo. I couldn’t protect him.”
“I was there too,” he says. “You don’t see me agonizing over my mistakes. It happens.”
What mistake, you think bitterly. Gojo’s only fault is trusting you with Megumi. He’s the strongest. If it was him, nothing would’ve happened.
“It wasn’t your mistake. It was mine. If I hadn’t been there, everything would have been fine.”
“Again?” Gojo says quietly.
It’s a forceful reminder of how much you sound like Getou right now. He never recovered from what that monster - Megumi’s father - did to him. Even now, your class lives with the scars of that day. Gojo’s face is wistful for a brief moment, deluged by memories. Then it’s gone, wiped from his expression like it had never been there.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” you say, wondering if it’s too late to take it back.
Gojo never falters. He’s unreasonable and childish, but he’s as solid as stone. You’ve watched him shoulder every single burden he’s ever been asked to carry since he was a child, and now he’s taken on one more. You promised Gojo that you would watch his back, regardless of whether he needed you or not. The words you spoke in a fit of anger and self pity bring you regret now. Weakness isn’t just failing to shield Megumi from all the dangers of sorcery that you wish you and Gojo had been protected from. Weakness is running away when it gets hard.
Megumi’s your baby.
You’re not going to give him up.
A step forward has you pressing into Gojo’s space. He doesn’t yield, watching you with those ancient eyes.
“I know it’ll only get harder, but it has to be us, right? Who else will keep him safe from the Zenins? I won’t leave, Gojo. I promise.”
His relieved expression contrasts with his smug words. There’s a crooked smile on his face when he says, “I knew you wouldn’t just abandon us. You think Megumi wants to stay with me? You’re the one keeping him here.”
“I get it,” you smack his arm. “No need for flattery. I’m with you until the end.”
“I’m not kidding,” he protests. “There’s no universe in which Megumi likes me more than you.”
How can you stay upset when he looks so proud of himself for finally figuring out the right thing to say to get you to stay?
“He doesn’t,” you insist.
Gojo rolls his eyes. “Don’t lie to me. Here, I’ll prove it.”
It’s not uncommon for Gojo to put Megumi to bed. In fact, it’s a chore he fights you for. It’s probably one of his favorite parts of having Megumi around. He likes telling stories, and surprisingly enough, he’s good at it. He gives each character its own voice. More often than not, he ends up as invested in the bedtime story as Megumi is. Tonight, when he closes the book, he doesn’t leave. The soft light of the lamp on the bedside table shines through a crack in the door as Gojo and Megumi talk in hushed whispers.
“I want my mom,” he says quietly.
You lean against the door, pressing your head to the wood to try to keep yourself from falling to the ground. You want to try. You want to be there for him. But Megumi needs his mother, not some teenager who can’t even take control of her own life, much less a child’s. You’re all he has, though, and you have to make it work. You wish Mrs. Fushiguro was still alive, even if that means you would’ve never gotten to meet him.
“Then ask her to come in,” Gojo says.
Megumi makes a startled noise. You can almost see him burrowing into his blankets.
“Go on,” Gojo coaxes. “Oh, come on. Don’t be shy now. You really won’t? Fine.”
He calls to you. “Come in, sweetheart. Don’t keep us waiting.”
The first thing you see when you open the door is Megumi’s head buried beneath the covers. Gojo’s trying to peel the sheets back.
“What are you hiding for? I brought you your mom! You should be thanking me!”
“I hate you!”
“I told you,” Gojo says. “He loves you more than me.”
pinkeos
May 17
Dad!Sunday Headcanons
Warning/s: None and no mention of reader's gender, whether the kids are adopted or your own is up to you
Notes: our internet is deadge so imma post this real quick from the neighbor's wifi, hopefully it gets fixed soon😭
ena the order told me that sunday is a dad to twin boys, it's real it's legit not clickbait
we all know he likes to have control over things, so it'd be funny to see dad!sunday struggling to control the boys with how rowdy and mischievous they are
like, if he wasn't busy with work, he'd be carefully watching over the kids like a hawk, making sure they don't do anything risky both to themselves and to others around them. please, he'd rather attend a meeting with the boys next to him rather than leave them unattended, trying to ignore the amused looks he was receiving from the other family heads
dad!sunday would consider buying those child harness thingy after that one time the boys were with him in the hotel lobby, he only looked away for a bit and when he turned back to them, they were already running about bothering guests with their shenanigans
when it was you, though, the boys were so behaved he thinks they've been possessed. turns out, they just really love bullying their father
they're so full of energy sometimes that dad!sunday would have trouble keeping up, especially when he's just finished with his duties. he couldn't be any more grateful whenever you'd guard him while he rests so that the boys wouldn't climb over him (they once tried to throw his halo like a frisbee)
as much as they agreed on things, there were still days they couldn't agree on one thing and bickered quite a lot. dad!sunday would have to pull them away from each other lest they throw hands and scold their ears off about their behaviors and that they should love each other because they were family. these scoldings often lasted so long that the boys agreed they wouldn't fight as much or their ears might just actually fall off with how much he talks
all the childish shenanigans aside, dad!sunday is actually very proud of his little boys. they're smart like him, and even displayed a sense of leadership, and they're kind (when they're not feeling like they're invincible that is)
and they love their auntie robin so much, too! whenever she was around, they'd be glued to her side because they seldom see her with her being a touring singer and all. they also love her because she brings them sweets and trinkets from planets she's visited
they're also very protective, like when he's not able to be around you, dad!sunday can always trust the boys to watch over you
dad!sunday is such a family man (no pun intended)
it was one of those days that sunday could relax, with no agenda and nothing to worry about. surrounded by his loving family in the garden as he sipped tea with a smile on his face
the boys weren’t too far away, playing tag with their laughs and giggles echoing in the background as he shared how his days have been with you
while you were conversing with your husband, one of your children tripped and fell face first against the grass. this cut off your conversation as he began to sob while his brother laughed at him
sunday was quick to approach them, getting on one knee to gently help the boy back to his feet, “are you alright? what happened?”
“he fell!” the older one grinned.
“oh there, there.” you cooed, picking up the boy in your arms as he pointed and sobbed about his scrapped knee
sunday turned to his other child with a sigh, “you shouldn't laugh at your brother. he was hurt, wasn't he? you should have helped him up.”
the boy frowned, looking down, “sorry, father…”
sunday shook his head, tenderly holding his boy’s hand in his gloved one, “you shouldn't apologize to me, but to your brother.”
the halovian guided the child to where you were cleaning the other boy’s knee, comforting him. sunday couldn't help how proud and joyful he was as he watched the older twin apologize before they hugged.
“thank you.” he suddenly spoke up as he turned to you, a smile on his face.
“for what?”
he held your hand and kisses the back of it, “for having this family with me.”
before you could reply, two voices interrupted you.
“ew!”
“father is so sappy!”
it took only one look from sunday before the boys scampered off, giggling.
hotchfiles
Mar 5
↪ day four. sympathy for the devil — #marchhotchness — NSFW ; MDNI!
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ [last true mouthpiece] ❞
pairing: virgin!aaron hotchner x virgin!reader. summary: "i would battle all nine circles of hell to feel like that again."content warnings: major catholic church disrespect going on. some making out. m! receiving oral. MDNI! word count: 1.3k
God was supposedly pure, free of all sin, free of everything evil that scattered the earth. Free of carnal desires. Free of hypocrisy.
Church was supposed to be the place to be blessed with His kindness, His love, His overpowering goodness. For Aaron it was just another place to be a Hotchner.
Not Aaron, not Hotch, a Hotchner.
It was a place to be proper, to look attentive, to have his fingers pass through the beads of his rosary as if it really meant something to him or to most of the people sitting there.
It’s his first summer back home after he was unwillingly sent to boarding school.
If there’s a place he wish he wasn’t forced to be, it would be the place where everyone swore to be good, as good as God, but weren’t.
There’s at least three woman exchanging glances with his father, his baby brother is sleeping peacefully on his baby carrier, thanks to the nanny as their mother didn’t look at him for one second since they entered church, her eyes going from her friends to the priest only, making notes of what the ladies were wearing, how their kids were behaving. Nothing good came out of his family.
Not even him, he had his knuckles hidden under white bandage, band-aid on his chin. The signs of his rebellion clear, still his mother would tell the neighbors how sports were tricky for clumsy Aaron.
The only thing close to the pureness and kindness of a God inside that luxurious place was you.
The warm smile you gave him, the way your fingers brushed his skin to ask what happened to him. The way your voice said his name sounded like an angel. It made him believe in angels.
But the way you made him feel at times was pure sin. If you were an angel, you were a fallen one, beautiful, good, kind… sinful. Aligned with the devil and its desires.
But if it meant being able to be closer to you, Aaron would knee down and pray to God, or to Satan, or to any deity that could make it happen. He would believe anything your lips told him to.
He would sin in your behalf as you were the only true God he could believe, that’s why when you left your seat during Sunday mass to get water, he followed you, captured by the way your hips moved, it had been six months since the last time you two spoke, the flirtatious looks and words leading to nothing of substance.
“Boarding school not treating you well?” You ask him teasingly, but he can see the worry in your eyes as you touch his chin. He winces at the touch, but holds your wrist before you can move.
“Their therapist say I need to learn how to manage my rage.” You chuckle, you’ve never seen him angry, not at you or with you, he was always the softest, most polite boy, the most beautiful soul you’ve ever met. He was bigger than church, his presence made you feel surrounded by good. It’s a shame he doesn’t feel that way about himself.
You look around, knowing the cues by heart, most people have their eyes closed to pray, and you pull him by his hand quickly, knowing where the altar boys would change, he knew it as well, having been one for years as a child. You locked the two of you inside, breath heavy as you did so.
At this point the only thing that has ever happened between you two was lingering hugs, suggestive conversations and a quick kiss during spin the bottle. You wanted more of him, you wanted to make him feel good.
Brushing your lips against his chin, you pinned him to the nearest wall, taking his hurt hand and placing soft kisses against the bandage as well, the way he left soft sighs at your touch made you feel invincible, still, you stop yourself for a minute, looking at him for approval, Aaron slips his hand behind your neck and pulls you closer for a kiss years in the making, as hungry and needy as you.
You’re both desperate to feel each other, to feel something real when you’ve been raised in a community where nothing was, his lips are chapped against your strawberry tasting soft ones, his hands are rough and on your waist under your shirt and he smiles at the thought of you having to fight off not wearing a dress to mass.
Aaron’s cheeks flush at how aroused he’s feeling, ashamed to be feeling like that in a place of adoration of everything non carnal, he feels sinful, but the way your body is glued to his, hardening his co*ck even more, makes him forget about it as he moans into your mouth.
His belt is unbuckled with ease by your hands, but he stops you before you can do anything else.
“Wh–What are you doing?” Making out, having someone straddle him, feeling the friction over his clothed crotch–that's the most he had done with someone until now, and there you were with your godly eyes, your red bitten lips and your hands about to make him sin even more.
“I–I want to make you feel good.” You don’t have much experience either, but still before he can protest to anything you shove your hand into his pants and boxers, feeling him fill your hand and twitch at your touch.
He nods in a frenzy, helping you by pulling his bottom clothes down to his thighs as you lower yourself, taking him in your mouth delicately at first, feeling the different taste in your tongue as you bobbed your head slowly, your hand holding his co*ck at the base.
Touching your cheek with one of his hands to catch your attention, he gets you to glue your eyes to his instantly, your mouth still at work as you did so, his other hand guides yours, telling you to move it along with your mouth, showing you what felt good to him.
Aaron can faintly hear the priest citing scripture, telling children to respect their parents in the Lord, and he almost feels bad for what he’s letting you do to him, but your mouth may be the closest he has felt to the divine and if God has a problem with that than maybe he wasn’t worth praying to.
The confidence he gets from the lust in your eyes leads his hand to your hair, pushing you and softly, to the best of his ability, holding you down, it’s clear he doesn’t want to hurt you but he can feel his org*sm building up, he knows it well from the nights jerking off in his bedroom to the image of you, before he can warn you between the moaning mess he is trying to bite inside his lips, you feel his co*ck twitching inside your mouth, the warmth of his cum filling your mouth.
You swallow it down in a reflex, the hollowing motion of your cheeks making him whine. You only let him go when he pulls you up by your hair, and it’s your turn to moan.
His lips and yours feel like two magnets, glued together as soon as you balance yourself, sharing with him his own taste, his tongue meddling with yours made you tingle.
“I just got us both a free ride to hell, right?” You laugh into his lips and he nods, dropping your arms only to pull his pants up.
“I think I would battle all nine circles of hell to feel like that again.” His citation of Dante’s Inferno feels silly along with his teenage hormones filled attempt to flirt, you don’t mind it, his brain was the second most attractive thing about him after all, losing only to the eyes that didn’t leave you as you both got out, again taking advantage of a prayer to get back to your seats.
lovelybrooke
Apr 7
Hey, can you do romantic yandere sally face headcanons especially when they realize they're in love with the reader?
Yandere Sally Face Concept
There aren't any good Sally Face gifs so no gif for this one. This is going to be based on this act I got a while ago, you don't have to read it to understand it but just in case.
I've been watching Invincible so that's what's been taking up all my time, sorry.
Tw: for general talks of death and hints to murder (including child murder). Please don't read if that makes you uncomfortable.
masterlist
---
Life was always hard for you. From a young age you started to see things. Shapes of things that weren't there, people that would disappear a second after you saw them. When you were little you thought you were special, that this--thing--made you different. But as you got older, you started to regret that feeling.
You were ten years old when you realized that the people you were seeing were dead people. A little girl appeared in your room, her hair nappy and long. Her skin was pale white, covered in bruises, and there was a large red mark on her head. You were scared, terrified even, but the only thing that kept you from calling out for your parents were her cries. She cries for her mom, for her dad, and for help. They were so loud, so overwhelming, that eventually you couldn't take it. You cried and cried until your voice went raw, your parent's couldn't even console you.
The next few years were filled with doctor visit after doctor visit, all which didn't help. You kept seeing the same things, hearing the desperate cries of people from beyond. Your parent's tried to help, but there was only so much they could do. Eventually, you got used to it, you even made some friends out of these ghosts, the ones that weren't as mean. Your parents, however, remained concerned. They were scared of what was happening to their child, of the things they were seeing. They didn't know what to do, so they thought a fresh start would be the best option.
Nockfell was a small town, and you were just about to start a new year of school. Maybe you would make some new friends, maybe you'd forget about all these silly little things you were seeing. Moving was relatively easy, it was a distraction to everything, something else to focus on. Your parents encouraged you to make friends when you first moved to Addison, but it was hard. You were always shy, couldn't relate to other kids for...obvious reasons. Your parent's never pressured you but it worried them.
All good things come to an end, however, and eventually, you started seeing them again. It didn't help that you moved in during a murder investigation, it felt as though everywhere you turned spirits were popping up left and right. It got to the point where they were your only friends, meeting a little girl named Megan who reminded you of the one you met all those years ago. That's how you met Sally.
It was awkward at first, it's hard meeting someone while talking to a ghost in a bathroom, but eventually you two bonded. You both knew what it was like, to feel ostracized. You never asked about his prosthetic, you just...accepted him for who he was, he liked that. One day, Sally introduced you to Larry, his other friend. Larry was more open than Sal, in nearly every way. But you understood why they got along so well. It wasn't just the music or the hobbies, they both understood each other in a deep way, in a unique way.
Explaining to the both of them that you saw dead people was definitely...not fun. It was when Larry took you to his treehouse for the first time. Sal came with, and at first, it was fun. It was the first time you laughed in--years. But then, it was like a chill ran up your spine and suddenly you couldn't breathe. The treehouse felt small as you struggled to catch your breath. For a second, it felt like there was someone else with you three, and it terrified you. You spend the next hour explaining everything to them, and honestly, if they were anyone else, you probably would be out two friends.
You spend the few weeks before school helping them with their goal to figure out what happened to Mrs. Sanderson. It was weird, spending your days searching for a murder, just to go home and pretend like nothing weird was happening. Your parent's thought you were getting better, which you were. Sal and Larry eventually introduced you to their other fiends, Todd and Ashley. Todd was more quiet than the others, and you related a lot to him on that part, while Ashley and you tended to draw together. For the first time in your life, you had actual friends and a community.
Growing up with them, your dynamics changed slowly. High school was difficult, it always was, but it was nice having people there to keep you safe. Larry never let anyone make fun of you, and Sal was always there to comfort you. Ashley was always the one you went to when times got tough mentally. She'd sit and talk to you for hours, and she'd listen. You and Todd would study a lot together, and he'd rant to you about whatever new thing he's making.
But things got weird, around the time Sal showed you his face for the first time. It was a random night when you were hanging out in your room when he told you he wanted to show you his face. He was obviously really nervous, stuttering and talking quietly. You accepted and told him to do whatever he was comfortable with, and a few moments later, he took off his mask. It definitely was awkward, but you thanked him for feeling comfortable enough around you to share this with you, you couldn't even finish before he hugged you. You should've known something about your relationship would change after that.
You think Sal told Larry what happened that night, because you talked about it the next day at school. He thanked you for being so kind to him, that Sal was building up the courage for weeks to share that with you. After that, you were almost always with the two, and if you were alone, Sal never had his Mask on. He told you he felt comfortable around you and Larry. You slept over at both of their apartments all the time, spending all night listening to music, catching the two staring at you for a little two long.
As you got older, you and your friends only got closer. You moved in with Todd and Sal after graduation, and while you were sad to see Ash go, it was nice knowing she was following her dreams. Even while away, she talked with you all the time over the phone, and would even sometimes send letters detailing how school was going. Even though you were older, you still occasionally dealt with seeing ghosts. Someone was always there for you, but it was still always a shock when you saw them. It was better though, now that you were out of the apartments, but it still lingered. It didn't help that you could tell something changed between you, Sal, and Larry. They whispered to each other when you were around, shared looks. They were touchy even, and it confused you. Somedays you wanted to go back to how things were when you were children, but some days, you liked the change.
---
A/n: I didn't add stuff from the later acts (the cult stuff) since it would be too much and I don't want another Hazbin Hotel situation.
jasntodds
Nov 21, 2023
Broken Heart Of Gold [J.T.]
Pairing:Jason Todd x GN!Reader
Request:yes,here
Summary:After Jason messes up on a mission, he goes to you
Warnings:Swearing, hurt/comfort, mentions of injuries, self-deprecating thoughts (jason), mentions of previous homelessness, mentions of death
Words:2,514
A/n:I was listening to You Are Enough by Citizen Soldier and Broken Heart Of Gold by One OK Rock so here we are lol I also have another fic similar to this here because I will write this concept a million times if no one stops me. If you wanna be tagged in my fics, you can click the link below, send me an ask/comment, or follow my library blog@jasntoddslibraryand turn on notifications if you prefer that!!
masterlist|request info|tag list
He’s been doing this for years. He was just thirteen when he first put on the Robin suit. And it was magical.
Being Robin always made Jason feel like he was magic. He was invincible and strong and worthy and enough and important. He had a purpose. For so much of his life, he was the one taking care of his mom and then she died. She died and it left him cold and alone and on the streets. But Robin brought him importance and safety and warmth. Being Robin meant he lived in a home where he was cared for and never asked to care for them. Not that he ever minded caring for his mom because he never did. But it was nice not having to take care of himself, even if he always did anyway. Being Robin gave him freedom and he got to kick ass. He got to go out there and he got to help Batman bring down some of the worst of the worst. He was enough and important. And worthy. But he wasn’t invincible. Because the Joker killed him.
He died and that was that. Robin wasn’t magic or invincible. Robin was just some kid in a mask and cape. But, then a betrayal to death and fate happened and Jason’s alive again. He came back and became Red Hood because the Joker was alive and well, Bruce had a new Robin, and the world left Jason behind.
He came back and it’s as if he wasn’t even wanted. He became Red Hood for people like him. The ones left behind. The ones Bruce won’t help in the way he should. Jason became Red Hood, knowing this life only leads to pain and death, to do what Bruce is too cowardly to do. He became Red Hood to be the voice for all the victims like him. That could have been saved if the hard choices were just made but weren’t. He is their voice and their protector. So, he’s been doing this for years. And the missions that go south, still never get any easier.
There’s a loud thud coming from your window, snapping you from your shallow sleep on the couch. You sit up quickly, your head slightly spinning with the sudden movement and you look over to your window, seeing the reflective red helmet shining back at you in the low light of the city and your apartment.
Jason takes the helmet, a mild quiver to his fingertips. “Sorry.” Jason mutters. “Did I wake you?”
You shake your head, moving to your knees so you can get a better look at him. “No, I was just lying down.” You lie, knowing he hates waking you up and you hadn’t been asleep more than twenty minutes anyway.
“That’s good.” Jason clears his throat but he hasn’t made any attempt to get up off the floor or make direct eye contact with you.
It’s all feeling heavy. His head, his eyes, his limps. Everything around him feels like it’s starting to close in. The adrenaline is crashing and everything feels like it’s about to suck the last breath from his lungs. It all hurts and aches and he usually handles it well, the injuries just come with the territory. He’s used to the pain but then nights like tonight happen and everything hurts. Every passed injury is echoing in pain, coming back for vengeance. The autopsy scars burn even though they shouldn’t, his face feels numb even though those injuries have been long healed from the pit. Every haunted injury comes back with a shattering echo.
“Jay?” You ask softly, trying to get him to look at you.
Usually, when Jason comes back from patrol, he's injured in some capacity. But, most of the time, he has this grin anyway that could light up Gotham's darkest alleyways. It's always a little cheeky and always a little arrogant. And charming. Because he went out and he did something good, for people who can't help themselves. His eyes are usually bright, blue and bold with enough energy to power your apartment. Those are the times he usually comes to you but then sometimes, like tonight, it's like every ghost comes back and takes over. The light is gone from his eyes and it's as if he's physically incapable of managing even a fake reassuring smile. It's these nights that are always the most worrisome because you know Jason has a habit of beating himself up relentlessly when something bad happens.
For a second, he’s not sure why he showed up here. You always clean him up and stitch him up. You’ve been doing it since he was Robin. A routine because you always understood when he needed to talk or sit in silence. But tonight, he’s not even feeling like he’s worthy of the kindness that radiates from your unbroken bones. He doesn’t think he deserves the help you always offer and the understanding because he failed tonight. And it was his fault. It was so bad that his jaw clenches as his heart starts to thunder.
"Are you okay?" You keep your voice soft, just above a whisper as if speaking too loudly will shatter him entirely.
His breath hitches in his throat with the question. He nearly shatters into a billion pieces right into your carpet. Jason Todd, on a good day, is rarely ever really okay but tonight it’s so much worse. He’s trapped in a harsh reality of what he does every night and he’s trapped in his own head, haunted by every passed mistake he’s ever made. Is he doing the right thing? Is this the only way? Is Bruce right? Maybe he is f*cked up and maybe he never should have been brought back. Maybe those people would be alive right now if it weren’t for him.
Jason swallows his own heartbeat, a task that feels more like swallowing river rocks. "Yeah, I'm fine." His words are short and brittle while a redness starts to wash over his eyes.
You nod slowly before you get up from your spot on the couch. Jason watches you carefully and he knows you’re about to offer him the care he swears up and down he does not deserve. You crouch in front of him, resting your hands on his knees. Jason nearly pulls away but he knows it would hurt you if he did and he doesn’t want to cause anyone else any more pain. Not tonight.
“You don’t look fine.” You say softly as you tilt your head to the right. “Are you hurt anywhere?”
“Uh, yeah.” Jason nods as his mouth runs dry. “A few places.”
“Okay so I’ll get the kit and you can move the couch.”
“You don’t have to f*cking help, alright? I don’t know why I came here.” Jason huffs but it's weak and ragged, forced as if speaking is too much of a task.
“You always come to me for help, Jay.” Your voice is kind and gentle as your thumbs lightly run over his knees.
“I know but I’ve already stained your carpet and couch. It’s late and you have work. I’ll just go home. It’s fine.” Jason shakes his head, his eyes plastered where your hands meet his knees.
“I don’t mind.” You shrug as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Taking care of you, I mean. It doesn’t bother me.” You offer him a soft smile once he glances up to you. “And Alfred told me how to get the stains out so…you really wanna use that as an excuse or you gonna let him help you?”
Jason lets out a sigh. “I don’t know.” There's a quiver in his voice.
You tap his head lightly with your finger, Jason's eyes finally locking on yours. "What's going on up there?"
You were on the streets together before he got lucky, well, depending how you want to look at it. You've known him for years and Jason has always been the one who wants better for people, Robin and Red Hood just gave him the opportunity to actually help those people. But, with that, he's also been the person who doesn't really know his worth or believes he's enough. A lot of things have happened, a lot of people have come and gone to nail those thoughts into the deepest parts of his mind. Those are always the thoughts that tend to be the ones that stick, even if they aren't true and you know they aren't.
You know Jason has a heart of gold and always has, always will. He thinks dying charged a part of that because sometimes, it feels like he should still be dead. So, he beats his heart out of his chest until he shatters into pieces, the shards always ricocheting back at him. He breaks his own heart because he thinks he deserves it, scattering the pieces in hopes the pain will always be true to what he deserves. But, you come around and pick up the pieces anyway because you always knew he was enough and worthy and important. You always knew that Jason would do what was best, for him and for other people who needed help.
"I got a damn cipher wrong and I was too late." Jason's voice finally cracks, his words harsh and aimed at himself.
His eyes always turn to almost a navy blue whenever he starts crying. It doesn't happen often, at least not around you, but you notice it. It's as if the emotional turmoil takes over every part of him stripping him of the liviness he usually has and that includes the brightness of his eyes. And it breaks your heart every time.
Jason has always had a thing about not being enough. He wasn't enough for either of his parents to stop using or enough for his dad to stick around, get a legal job. He wasn't enough for Bruce. A lot of people have tried over the years for him and tried with good intentions to just genuinely help because he deserved to be happy and healthy and safe but for some reason, it was never enough. Something else would happen and it'd mess it all up and the only one who ever got hurt in the mess was Jason. He's mentioned, a handful of times, maybe it was just him. Destined to like this forever. But you never saw it that way.
"I'm sorry, Jay." You brush the white streak of hair out of his eyes. "Do you wanna talk about it?" You ask, your brows pulled together.
You never saw him as not enough or damaged. He's an asshole, sure, but he's also kind and forgiving. He just wants to help people. Even when you were kids, questioning where your next meal was coming from, he'd try to help other kids if he could. It's what he did. It's what he does. You found out he was Robin and all you could do was laugh because the whole vigilante thing really fit him. Maybe not the way Bruce wanted things done, but helping people who the GCPD can't or won't help. But, even beyond being a vigilante, he's your favorite person. And you wouldn't trade him for the entire world. You desperately wish he could see himself through your eyes. Maybe it would help on nights like tonight.
"No." Jason scoffs, shaking his head. "No, I don't wanna talk or think about it anymore."
"Okay." You shrug casually, knowing he'll talk in bits and pieces later. "So, why don't we get you cleaned up and stitched up then we lay down. We can watch something or I can read to you until you fall asleep. Your choice." You offer him a gentle and kind smile.
"I don't wanna keep you up later. You'll be late for work again." Jason huffs, guilty pulling at the pit of his stomach.
You shrug, giving him a cheeky grin. "Eh, yeah, I can take some PTO." Your face suddenly lights up. "What if I take PTO and we go to Petsmart tomorrow, pick up some food and we go see the kittens at the shelter? If we bring in food, we can hang out with them for a little while."
The excitement in your voice gets Jason to crack a small and fragile smile. You know how much he likes cats. It's a silly offer, maybe, but it is nice and Jason will never understand why you try to hard to make him feel better, even when he thinks he doesn't deserve it. But, he does know, he is thankful for you anyway,
"That's how you wanna spend your precious time off?" Jason's voice is rough this time but it doesn't crack.
"With you and like twenty kittens? Yes." You nod quickly. "And I think you need it, anyway." Your smile falls into something comforting and honest. It feels like home. "Hanging out with animals is good for your mental health."
"Really?" Jason raises a brow at you.
"Oh, are you gonna tell me you're not beating yourself up and thinking you're the worst? You're not. I think you're the best but I know you well enough to know you don't think so when something happens." You suck in a breath, your hands sliding over his knees a few times. "So, we go hang out with some kittens and you'll feel a little better to tell me what happened and then I'll tell you that you still did your best."
"How do you even know that?" Jason scoffs, dodging your eyes again as the guilt starts pulling on his vocal cords.
"Because you always try your best." You answer simply. "It's not always easy, Jay and it's not always gonna work out. But, you always try and that's enough." You place your hand on his cheek, getting him to look at you. "So, what'd ya say?" The corner of your mouth perks up into a gentle and hopeful smile.
The last thing he wants to do is disappoint you, let someone else down. But, he also knows, deep down, that you do it because you care and you really believe everything you tell him. All you want to do is be there for him and maybe it does take some of the weight off of his shoulders. When he's carrying the world, you stand under it with him. And when he's taking a hammer to his own heart, you yank the hammer away and swap it out with glue, helping him put it back together. And on nights like tonight, he's not sure where he'd up if it weren't for you.
Jason nods softly, taking your hand in his. "Yeah, alright, thanks." Jason leans closer, resting his forehead against yours.
"Of course, Jay." You press a quick kiss to his nose. "Now, come on, lemme help you." You get to your feet and offer your hands to help Jason up.
He shakes his head, his chest still feeling heavy but knowing you'll always be here makes things easier. So, he sticks out of his own hands and encompasses yours in his before he stands up.
Tag list: @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @dgraysonsss // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @vivian-555 // @kebonita // @deyja-the-duckk// @jasontoddslover // @captainmarvels-blog // @totallynotkaibiased // @scarlovesyou // @whydoyoucare866 // @littlemeowmeow1000 // @septixtrash // @kplatzman // @killxz
gooppoo
Jan 25, 2023
mean.
Requests Open!
mdni.
warnings: yall f*ckin hard, degradation, swearing, mild choking, spitting, mentions of oral (both receiving), size kink
I know Jake is mean when he's f*cking you.
"Awe, is it too much? Good thing you like it, whor*."
You're absolutely breathless. Like trying to catch your breath for a second seems impossible with the rate he's drilling into you. Drilling.
You don't even know what prompted this massive sex session.
But first you were on his face, then he was in your face, then he was in you...
Now you were on your back, ankles over his shoulders, him upright on his knees
"How are you still f*cking tight? Goddamn-"
He's slamming into you like two feral animals fighting to the death, his thumb occasionally abusing your cl*t, until you get close to cumming and then he takes it away
"Jake please please ple-e-ease...!" you sob like a spoiled child
"Nah. You cum when I'm ready. Open up."
As you were told, you parted your lips and stuck out your tongue
He spat into your mouth so angrily, distastefully like you had insulted him
"Yeah - f*ckin' swallow it too, mmhmm. You'd do anything I'd say wouldn't you? Hm? Answer me."
"Yes-" how you managed to garble out, your response was a mystery for science to uncover
"Mm that's right," his large hand flattens out and pressed against the bulge he's making against your lower stomach, "f*ckin' look at that. Just takin' it."
His next actions are quick and stern enough to almost settle a genuine worry in your chest
He grabs your neck, his fingers almost wrapping around it entirely, forcing you upwards to get a real good look in his eye
Jake is completely unhinged. He's puss* drunk and feels invincible. What is supposed to be his bright yellow irises is nothing but pupil. He looks...dangerous.
And it makes you reel.
You clench around him, seeing him so crazed by your c*nt and the org*sm that's nearing both of you with ferocity
"f*ckin' look at me-" you're trying so hard to keep your eyes open, "I said look at me bitch!"
Your eyes widen as much as they can in the delirious state you're in, quick to lull back into your skull, only to be forced back out when Jake squeezes
"Wanna get a good look at you when you cum for me."
His fingers are all over your cl*t: messy, clumsy, determined
He's sitting back on his heels to f*ck up into you, surely prodding that spot he nudges when he's knuckles deep in your c*nt
Your breathing picks up, despite Jake's hand grasping at your throat to keep you upward
Before you expect, your cumming, again.
You're trembling, loosely reaching for Jake to cradle you through the intensity of it all - but in reality, the deranged look in his eye is doing a number on you
"f*ck kid-"
He throws you back on the mat to finish himself off in you before you're done clenching and tightening around him
Jake Sully is mean.
xjulixred45x
Jan 6
I know I have to work on the requests, but I have to get this out of my head because now I have a rediscovered love for Invincible, bear with it.
(SOMETHING LIKE A CONTINUATION OF THIS)
SOME SITUATIONS WITH YANDERE AU MARK GRAYSON/INVINCIBLE
okay, I can definitely see that you two were a couple or at least liked each other before everything went to hell.
and although you were fine with Mark at that time, when he was being convinced to join the Viltrum empire, he was somewhat seeking your approval. although using very vague assumptions, such as "would you accept an alien race if it meant world peace?" "or if that would help with the development of medicine?" You know, like what Nolan wanted to do at the beginning with Mark. and obviously since you didn't have the context you said yes without hesitation, further fueling Mark's crazy ideas.
I may not have made it very clear in the first part, but you and Nolan definitely don't get along. I mean, he's nice to you in a way, but he treats you like a little kid who needs discipline, so he tries to push Mark into that. Not only that, but you also indirectly blame him for the sudden change in Mark's personality, you know that if Nolan hadn't gotten him into that sh*t, he wouldn't have so much blood on his hands. The Mark you knew wasn't like that. HE WASNT.
The main reason this Mark doesn't feel angry because of your traditional escape attempts or why he's so soft is because of something our Invincible doesn't usually have, and that's his ARROGANCE. This Mark does not believe that you are capable of running away from him, you are not capable of defending yourself from him, you are not capable of harming him and above all you are not capable of HATE HIM, because he sees you as a soft creature, who should be treated as such because you are confused.
He is delusional, SpongeBob and Squidward level of Delusional. You could perfectly tell him that you hate him, that he's the worst thing that happened to you in your life... and he thinks it's reverse psychology.
"f*ck you"
"Is that an invitation?😚"
"I hate you"
"I love you too babe🥰"
"If we were trapped on a desert island I wouldn't hesitate for a second to make a raft with your limbs"
"Silly you, I would take you out flying😘"
Do you see what I'm saying? For the same reason, if you end up hurting him, he would be proud that now you can definitely defend yourself from the Revolutionaries who "kidnap you every now and then" (it's you on the run). dang it, if you hurt him probably even NOLAN would compliment you for doing it despite being "so weak" and would completely approve of you.
(I can already imagine you with a wedding dress and a bouquet of knives...you want to throw it at Mark...in the face)
I think the most Mark does to scare you into escape scenarios is to threaten to throw you and not catch you next time, that's the best he goes. He can't stand the idea of leaving you paralyzed because it would be very boring and sad to see only a shell of you.
He wouldn't kill Eve, but he would never hurt you...physically.Did you see that in the end in their universe they manage to imprison him and get rid of Omniman? you totally didn't let go of Fem! Cecil(Cecilia?) all the way to her base and thanking her with all your heart and tears. Cecilia comforted you awkwardly, but she understood that you must have definitely had a hard time with Mark.
Meanwhile, with Mark already locked up, even if the world is a bit messed up, you can breathe easy for the first time in years, you can leave the base without fear of what happens to the people around you, you can eat without a problem, you can CHAT with people! it's magic! It's like you don't even remember anything before Mark! out of pure fear!
Meanwhile, Mark in prison always asks about you AT LEAST once a day, even if they give him proof that you are WELL and HEALTHY, he just doesn't believe it and DEMANDS to see you to prove it, which they obviously deny him and only makes him think that even more. The guy thinks you must be dying of hunger and cold or being eaten by collotes while you live your best life🤣
"MY POOR BABE! She must be so confused and scared without me! How do I know they're not torturing her for information!? She must be so worried because we're not getting home!" and it goes on and on...meanwhile Darling:"happy~ happy~happy~""OHHHOOOhhOO, I'M SO f*ckING HAPPY!"
For now that's all. I hope the Viltrum empire doesn't come to sh*t on Darling's happiness☠️
