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haeryna · 3 months

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the purest shade of white ↪ okkotsu yuuta x reader ⸙͎｡˚⋆ 𓋼

summary: yuuta looks almost like an angel, you think to yourself grimly, as you shift on the balls of your feet. you haven't seen your best friend in a couple years now, not since he left for africa. too bad he's attempting to kill the kouhai that you're trying to protect.

tw: manga spoilers! anime watchers, do not read. mild angst but happy ending. starts at the beginning of ch. 139. naoya zenin is here and he is his classic asshole self. reader is in the same grade as yuuta, both in age and in terms of cursed energy. swearing because reader is a bad bitch. mildly suggestive. unironic use of "senpai" and "kouhai." slight descriptions of blood and injury, everyone is subjected to the author's attempts at writing dialogue and fight scenes. not proofread but at this point that shouldn't be a surprise. it is blatantly obvious that the writer also does not know how to end stories

notes: thank you for 100 new friends! :) poll is technically still up but i'm impatient and yuuta was winning by a pretty decent margin so here it is lol. divider by @/saradika-graphics!

"Yuuji!" you yelp, slicing the head off a curse with a clean stroke of your katana. Purple ichor splatters to the ground as you whirl, searching for the familiar head of pink hair. "Stay close to me!"

Behind you, Choso grunts with exertion, sending out another bolt of Piercing Blood. Panting, you weave through the curses, letting their corpses fall behind you. Yuuji, where is Yuuji?

As the last body falls, you can't but let out an exasperated huff at the sheepish grin on Yuuji's face. "Don't scare me like that," you chide. "How am I supposed to protect you if I can't even find you?" Yuuji opens his mouth to protest but you shake your head. "I made a promise," you tell him, pain rippling through your heart dully. Gojo-sensei was long gone, stolen away by one of the people he had loved most in the world. Grimacing, you sheathe your katana, mindful of the blood that stains your palms, as you try to ignore the memory of his words all those months ago.

If anything happens, I need you to protect Itadori Yuuji. I know they're going to pull something on him once I'm not there to back him up.

"Senpai, what should-"

Yuuji immediately tenses as your hand flies to the grip of your katana. "I smell a rat," you mutter, nose wrinkling as you turn to face Naoya Zenin, standing atop a bridge. He bares his teeth at you in semblance of a smile. "How perceptive as always," he mocks.

"Cut the bullshit," you snap, hand still resting on the pommel. "What do you want?"

"Fushiguro Megumi," is his rather bland response, and you shift your feet into the opening steps of Flowing River.

"What do you want with Fushiguro?" Yuuji yells, and the way Naoya's face twists makes you want to vomit.

"I think I'll have him die."

Cursed energy fills your body as you leap. Naoya's resounding cackle burns through your ears as you swing, barely grazing his shoulder. Before you can push forward off your feet, a heavy presence rests on your shoulders, locking you in place. All four of you freeze. Yuuji and Choso look horrified, and Naoya looks as though he's broken out into a cold sweat. But you know this feeling, feel it settle back into your body as if it never left.

Okkotsu Yuuta steps out from the building ledge, dark eyes unreadable. Your body sings. Yuuta, Yuuta, Yuuta! His hair has grown longer, bangs sweeping over his forehead, eyebags a little darker than they used to be. You can feel Rika's presence, swirling around you in a mass of death and decay. You're used to it. You've grown to crave it, even. His eyes meet yours, and for a split second, his facade cracks. Confusion, fear, and...regret?

Yuuta leaps, slamming into concrete and sending shockwaves deep into your bones. "Who's with Itadori?" God, even his voice is different, so different from the boy who said goodbye to you so long ago. You open your mouth to speak, but Choso beats you to it, brows furrowed.

"So you're Yuuji's executioner."

Blood turns to ice in your veins, and you can tell by the pained expression Yuuta has that you aren't hiding your emotions as well as you think you are. Naoya laughs. "I was going to tell you that, but you were being too emotional like the bitch you are."

"Who're you?"

Yuuta's voice is cold, but as Naoya babbles on, you can feel the horror settle thickly into your chest. Choso and Yuuji are talking behind you but it feels like you're underwater, you're sinking, drowning, and Yuuta must have come to a conclusion because all of a sudden he's surging forward-

You move before you can even think, steel clashing against steel. "Yuuji," you say, through gritted teeth. "Run."

A horrible grating noise fills the air as you let cursed energy flow through your body, shoving Yuuta's sword away from yourself. "I won't let you kill him," you hiss, body already shifting into Jagged Bolt. Yuuta's eyes flash as you surge forward, katana in hand.

"How would you describe my cursed technique?" you had asked Gojo, mindlessly swinging your feet. Gojo hums.

"Have you ever heard of Newton's Law's of Motion?"

You had crinkled your nose at that. "No?"

"An object in motion, stays in motion. Except you are the object. And your cursed energy is the motion." You remember how Gojo's lips curved slightly. "In other words, once you start, nobody can stop you."

You're crying, you realize with a start, as you cut a line into Yuuta's chest. Moisture seeps from your eyes as you twist your forearm into a parry, katanas sparking with each strike. Belatedly, you sense that Yuuji, your foolish, stupid, loyal kouhai has stayed, trading strikes with his fists between the precise movements of your blade. Your heart drops as Yuuta reaches for the ring on his finger.

No. No!

He twists it, and Rika appears behind you. Claws sink into your shoulder and you let out a cry of pain as she flips you into the ground.

"Be nice, Rika," Yuuta chides, as you hit the concrete. Blood spurts from your mouth as you choke, fingers clawing at the ground desperately for your katana. A piece of scaffolding is practically crushing your legs; instinctively, you know that if you try to break through it, you'll tear your limbs right off.

As Rika holds Yuuji up, you lunge desperately, uncaring of what you have to sacrifice. Inumaki's arm, the way half of Nobara's face had been practically ripped out of her skull, the remains of Nanami-san, the way that you were the one to find Maki's charred body-

I can't lose anyone else.

You scream as Yuuta pierces Yuuji's chest with his katana, cursed energy building in your legs as you prepare to shoot forward. Yuuta turns, eyes filled with an unidentifiable emotion as he sees you about to tear yourself in half just to reach Yuuji.

With a wave of his hand, Rika dives for you, and everything goes dark.

Yuuta had known you were special from the day he'd first met you. That spring, when Gojo-sensei had dropped him (and Rika) into a class of unsuspecting first years, he remembers that out of the four of them, you had moved so gracefully that he hadn't processed the katana in your hand until you'd pressed it against your throat.

"Gojo-sensei," you'd hissed. "What is this?"

While Maki, Inumaki, and Panda had been subsequently bruised up by Rika, you had dodged every single one of her movements until Rika had been (barely) called back by Yuuta.

"Another Special Grade," Gojo had hummed. "Just like you, hm?"

Special Grade?

What he hadn't realized then, he realized later; you weren't just special to him, but to the entire rest of the Jujutsu World as well. Special Grade Sorcerers were rare, Maki had told him. "You only have it because of Rika," she'd scoffed, "but she deserves it."

You quickly became one of his closest friends. You were fast enough to dodge Rika's ire, even laughing whenever she tried. You'd shown Yuuta kindness that he didn't think he deserved. You broke him out of his shell enough so that when he left for Africa, he felt as though he was standing with his own strength. His first katana had been the sister blade of your own, forged from the same metal by the same hands. The way your eyes had lit up when you saw it was a memory he cherished.

Somberly, Yuuta eyes the chains encasing your wrists and ankles, each decorated with the slips of protective paper that would nullify your cursed energy. Most sorcerers required only one. You required at least twenty.

He knows you, knows the way you always take the strawberry daifuku, leaving him the red bean ones even though he knows you prefer the red bean. He knows that you push yourself hard, harder than he's ever seen anyone work. But most of all, he knows your loyalty, how once your heart finally lets someone in, you'll never let them go.

Did you miss him like he missed you?

The chains are more for your own protection. He needs you to hear him out before you attempt to end his life for a second time. Yuuta knows now that Gojo must have asked you the same thing he'd asked him; to keep Itadori Yuji safe from the whims of the higher ups. Gojo, being the forgetful bastard he was, probably didn't alert you to the fact that he'd gone to Yuuta for help as well. Crouching, Yuuta eyes your body with a sad tilt of his lips. The injuries you'd sustained were immense, and it had taken quite a bit of his own cursed energy to reverse.

Will you forgive him?

You're asleep, breath hitching every so often. Yuuta wonders what you're dreaming of, before pushing the thought away. Tenderly, he cups your face in the palm of his hand, calloused fingers stroking your cheek.

"You need to wake up now," he murmurs, as your eyes flutter open, first in dazed confusion, before sharpening into panic.

"I'll miss you!" you'd cried, as you clung to Yuuta under the shade of the large oak. You were the first person he had told about his departure to Africa, and you took it hard. Yuuta had stood frozen as the first of your tears had dripped down your cheeks. It was the first time he'd seen you cry.

"I'll be back before you know it," he'd murmured, pressing a featherlight kiss to the top of your head. You'd looked up to him, eyes teary.

"Promise?"

"I promise," he'd said, interlocking his pinky with your own. A love like Yuuta's is a dangerous thing, you know, but in this moment you feel nothing but safe.

The first sensation you feel upon awakening is the dull ache in your (miraculously still attached) legs. The second is the warmth on your cheek. Yuuta is standing above you, hand gently resting against your face. Immediately you lunge forward, teeth bared. The rattle of chains stops you, and you swear. Of course he would have taken precautions. Yuuta looks almost hurt as you violently shake off his touch.

"Don't touch me, I swear to god I'm going to rip you apart."

Yuuta says your name sadly, but you're practically trembling with rage.

"He was just a kid, with the kind of power we wield, why the fuck would you listen to the higher ups?"

Yuuta echoes your name a bit more firmly, but you ignore him, tears building in your eyes.

"You're no better than the rest of them are you, you're just-"

"Senpai!"

Your heart stops as Yuuji pokes his head out from around the corner. They must have brought you back to Jujutsu Tech, you think distractedly. Just how long were you out?

"Yuuji!" you cry out, scanning his body for any injuries. He seems to be uninjured, but most importantly, he's alive. Tears fall down your cheeks. "Are you alright?"

Yuuji appears horrified by the sudden outburst as he hastily holds up his hands. "I'm fine, senpai, really, I'm sorry for worrying you. Okkotsu-san is actually on our side, I swear! It was a binding vow, that's why he had to actually kill me, but he did some really cool Reverse Technique shit and I'm all good now!"

Warily, you eye Yuuta, whose expression resembles that of a kicked puppy. "Okkotsu Yuuta," you say, voice hard. "Let me out of these chains right fucking now."

With a wave of his hand, the papers attached to the chains fall to the floor. Yuuta looks dejected as he looks away from you. "I'm so sor-"

Before he can finish you immediate tackle him into a hug, knocking the both of you into the floor as you bury your face into the soft slope of his neck. "You're such an idiot," you sob, unable to hide the rush of emotions going through you. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Tentatively, Yuuta wraps his arms around you, and you melt, pressing yourself closer to his body. "To be honest, I think Gojo-sensei is to blame. I think he forgot to mention to either of us that he asked us to do the exact same thing."

You let out a hiccupping laugh. "Of course he did. That forgetful asshole."

The sigh Yuuta lets out is shaky as he nuzzles the top of your head. "I'm so, so sorry," he tells you earnestly. "I must have scared you, and Rika's mad at me for making me hurt you like that. I think she likes you, even though she pretends not to."

You look up at him, really look at him, and see the look of adoration in his eyes as he stares back down at you. Thankfully Yuuji's escaped long ago, most likely understanding that you two would need privacy. "You came back," you whisper, and Yuuta's resulting smile makes your heart skip a beat.

"I promised you, didn't I?"

Before you can stop yourself, you pull Yuuta down for a searing kiss. He's so soft, and you nip at the plush of his bottom lip teasingly, pulling a whine from his throat. His large hands grip your hips, and in retaliation, you grab a fistful of his hair and tug. The breathy noise he makes goes straight between your thighs. You know he can feel your smile against his lips.

"I missed you," you breathe, pulling away. Yuuta looks dazed, lips kiss swollen, pupils so dilated that you can barely see the soft brown of his eyes.

"I love you," he blurts out, and your resulting laugh is airy as you press another chaste kiss to his lips.

"I've always loved you, Yuuta," you admit. "During Shibuya, I thought I wasn't going to make it. You were the only thing keeping me going."

The look in his eyes is fierce as he tugs you back into him, enveloping you in his arms. "You'll never have to worry about that again. You have my entire life. Where you go, I'll follow, and if I die, not even Death would be able to separate me from your side."

"Those sound a lot like wedding vows, don't you think?"

Yuuta's blush covers his entire face and you grin, pressing one last kiss to his lips. "Come on now. We have kids we need to protect."

As Yuuta leads you to where the others have convened, even under the dark circumstances you're in, the warmth of his hand clutching yours fills you with a giddiness you hadn't experienced in months. The sentiment is quickly dashed as soon as Maki opens her mouth.

"Fucking finally. Inumaki owes me 3,000 yen."

#haerinwrites #jjk x reader #jjk x reader angst #jjk x reader fluff #jjk angst #jjk fluff #yuta x reader #yuuta x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #i'm actually maki with the fucking finally #i love friends to lovers !!

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thefandomthings · 26 days

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Zuko x reader

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

Betrayal

Hurt prompt #11: "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

Pairing: Zuko x Gn!reader

Warnings: Angst, No comfort, Established relationship, !!SPOILERS¡¡, Takes place in Book 2. Ep. 18

Notes: Oh boy, I have so many avatar requests, it's amazing. Thank you guys for participating in my event it makes me so happy! Tell me if y'all want a part 2.

Prompt Event

All you felt was pain, deep inside your chest. Watching your boyfriend take sides against the avatar once again was brutal. What made it even worse was Iroh was to be imprisoned, you would hold the same fate if you were captured.

You stood next to Katara and Aang, Azula and Zuko on the opposite side of the cave. Azula held the same malicious grin on her face, watching the three of you with smugness.

"My, my Y/n. You seem so down, how sad." She mocks you with a slight chuckle. Zuko gives her a glare, his eyes wandering back to you. They are full of guilt, pleading for forgiveness from you. Practically begging you to understand why he did it, to come with him.

"Leave Y/n alone, Azula." Zuko grunts, getting in a fighting stance with his sister. Azula clicks her tongue and rolls her eyes at her brother.

"They're the enemy now, Zuzu. Can't protect them forever." Azula laughs, blue fire erupting from her fists.

The blue flurries of fire woosh past you fastly. Katara quickly blocks the fire with her water. Using her octopus arms she slashes and whips at Azula, both going back and forth. The ground beneath the five of you shakes and cracks.

Aang and Zuko are going at it hand to hand. You watch out of the corner of your eye as Zuko takes a hit by Aangs wind, sending him flying back into one of the crystal pillars. Your heart stops, skipping a beat as Zuko groans.

You curse under your breath and run towards him, Aang is calling your name frantically. You slid against the rock surface and get the few rocks that landed on Zuko off. He lets out a huff of air, the weight of the rock off of his chest allowing him to breath.

He's quick to sit up, using his hands, he does a walk over away from you. Your heart felt like it was stabbed, watching as he gets in a protective stance. He knows you'd never hurt him on purpose, and he'd never hurt you.

"Why are you doing this, Zuko? Why are you so desperate to gain your honor back?" Your voice is meek, tears gathering at your waterline, blurring his figure.

"You know why I have to, Y/n. This is my chance to prove to my father I am worthy."

Zukos heart physically aches, seeing your tears making him question everything. He never wanted to hurt you, never wanted to put strain on your relationship. You're his everything, you've been with him since the beginning along with Iroh. Loving him even when he didn't love himself.

"But Zuko, when you get home and see your father, will he even except you? What if he hurts you again, or what if he tries to kill you?" You plead, knowing this isn't him. He's just confused and fighting himself.

Zuko stays quiet, thinking over your words carefully. You have a point. His father could easily do all of those things, Azula to. Does he really want to go through with this? Having Uncle imprisoned, possibly you too?

He closes his eyes tightly, fists clenched at his side. He lets out a long breath, salty tears slide down his cheeks as he looks back up at you again.

"He won't. I'm sorry Y/n. You can't change my mind. I'm going home." He lifts his fists back into a defensive stance, hands trembling.

"Please...Please forgive me."

You let out a strangled sob at his words, heart clenching and shattering. Zuko grits his teeth, holding back his own cries.

"Get out of here, before Azula realizes I haven't killed you." Without realizing it, Zuko was beside you. Taking you into his arms, he holds you as close as he can. His lips pressing multiple kisses to your head. His nose buried in your hair, taking in your shampoo scent one last time.

"Does this mean you don't love me anymore? Since you're leaving?" You asked, face hidden in his neck, tears hitting his skin like rain. Zuko squeezes you softly, kissing the apples of your cheeks.

"That not what I meant, Y/n. And you know it." He pulls away from you, taking a few steps back to create distance.

Water then wraps around his waist sending him flying. You scream his name as Katara takes you in her arms. You sob holding onto Katara as she sees you down.

"It'll be alright, Y/n. I promise." She hugs you tightly, the sound of wind echos in the cave as Aang enters the avatar state. Suddenly lighting cracks, blue electricity shoots towards Aang. Shooting into his back like a spear.

"AANG!" You and Katara race towards him, watching as he falls, his body is lifeless. Katara catches him, tears falling from her eyes. You use your bending to keep the three of you protected as Katara holds Aang and bends up the waterfall.

Zuko watches as the love of his life disappears. He lets out a sob, his fist pounding the ground.

He's sorry. So, so sorry. He never wanted to hurt you, cause you this much pain. Yet he has, and he might never, ever be able to fix it.

He hopes you're safe, and he'll come and find you when the time is right before it's to late.

#thefandomthings #avatar the last airbender x reader #zuko x reader #fire lord zuko #prince zuko #aanga x reader #sokka x reader #katara x reader #the gaang #prompt event #writing prompt #atla #legend of korra #legend of korra x reader #zuko fluff #zuko angst #zuko smut

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fictionplumis · 2 years

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Listen, I know Dream winning his duel with Lucifer with hope is like... A BIG DEAL and super symbolic and beautiful, HOWEVER I have something that may not be better, but would definitely be FUNNIER.

Dream loses. He's been locked in a bubble and had his hopes dashed again and again, even though he's still fighting and still hopeful, it's harder for him to reach that and it doesn't come to mind in time for him to win against Lucifer. He's to stay as a servant in Hell and there's no Endless or divine being that can or will come to his aid. He's trapped. Again.

Only Matthew isn't Jessamy, Matthew knows when the best way to help is a tactical retreat to gather reinforcements. So that's what he does, going immediately to Luciene like, "Hey, so, uh..." And there has to be some way they can help him! Luciene makes it clear that none of the dreaming denizens can. None of the Endless can, no deity would be of any help there against Lucifer. There are Old Laws dictating that Dream lost fair and square and no one can interfere with that. And Matthew's like, "Well what about someone who can challenge Lucifer to win him back? Someone not bound by the Old Laws?"

"The only beings not bound by the Old Laws are humans. There's no human--"

Except there is. There's one. One human that Dream would go off once a century to meet, and it's a long shot, but--

That's how Hob Gadling finds himself being approached by a talking raven asking him to trek into hell to rescue his boss. "You know, Dream of the Endless? Lord Morpheus?"

Hob doesn't know who the hell the bird is talking about until Matthew describes him. "Oh, my Stranger!"

"...He seriously didn't even tell you his name?"

Now, the idea of setting foot into Hell itself to do battle with Lucifer Morningstar is, y'know... Not something he wants to do. He confirms over and over if Matthew is SURE he doesn't have to die to achieve this, because he's not ready to leave yet, and Matthew is like, "Yeah, buddy, shouldn't be a problem." He's lying. He has no idea if it's a problem. (It's not.)

Hob is like, "Yeah, but... I can't FIGHT Satan himself and expect to win, I AM still human."

And Matthew's like, "You don't actually have to fight her, it's like a game! But uh... Pretty sure you still feel all the pain and stuff." And he explains the rules, and like, okay, feeling the painful death of whatever kills whatever you decide to be in your round SUCKS, but Hob's been through that before. It's actually a pretty intriguing game, one he thinks he might win.

See, the way he sees it, it's a combination of the "times infinity" type of game (I love you, I love you more, I love you times two, I love you times a thousand, I love you times a million-- so on and so on) with that counting game where you either say one or two numbers, back and forth with someone, and whoever says 21 loses. Basically, there's one logical conclusion the game is going to reach. Someone is going to bust out the "times infinity" or in this case, "heat death of the universe" or some other completely life-ending thing. And like with the counting game, if you can get your opponent to say specific numbers on the way to 21, you can make sure they're forced to say it.

There's a strategy if you think ahead enough, and he has an entire walk through Hell to plan it.

(It SUCKS. He sees Robyn there. It breaks his heart. It's meant to, it's meant to keep him from reaching the palace, seeing his son in Hell, but they don't know Hob. They don't know the grief he's had to overcome in order for him to say, with absolute certainty, that he still wants to live even though it hurts. He reaches that citadel.)

Dream is, of course, horrified to see Hob there. Hob meanwhile is like a jilted exe all, "Yeah, yeah, we're not friends, you stood me up, but I'm still here for you because I'm the bigger person and I fucking care."

He challenges Lucifer for Dream's helm and their safe passage out of Hell. Lucifer is... Intrigued. She just beat Dream of the Endless, and this human thinks he can beat her when humanity's collective unconsciousness couldn't? His immortality has made him cocky, clearly. So she accepts, and bargains that if Hob loses, he has to give up his immortality.

There's a good minute where Hob pauses at that and has to really think about whether his arrogant, condescending not-friend is really worth that but yeah, yeah he is. Meanwhile Dream is off to the side. "Don't do this, Hob Gadling. It is not your responsibility to fix my missteps." Basically his version of pleading for Hob to leave and not risk this up until Lucifer is like enough out of you and shuts him up.

They play. Lucifer starts out with the wolf again, because it's a good starting point to see what direction her opponent plans to take, to get a glimpse into Hob's mindset entering this game. Her plan is, of course, to cause pain enough that Hob will have a hard time thinking, but Hob makes that really fucking hard from the get-go and throws everyone in the room for a loop when his answer is...

"I am the over hunting of the local deer population. Ecosystem destabilizing, predator killing."

Well. Okay. Yeah, sure. Fucking fine. It's hard to kill that painfully. Lucifer manages to come up with, "I am hunting restrictions, nature preserving, ecosystem balancing."

Hob, by that point, is like, I got this, actually. This might be fun. "I am the expansion of civilization. Forest destroying, hunting law nullifying."

Matthew, who had been feeling pretty iffy about calling this guy in to help, is no longer questioning that choice. Dream is a little starry-eyed.

Eventually Hob is the head of the Home Owner's Association. Lucifer is a bear, scrap hunting, person killing. Hob is family, revenge-seeking, bear euthanizing. Lucifer is Pride, argument starter, family destroying. Hob is friendship, blood covenant, thicker than womb water. Lucifer is jealousy, friendship rending, relationship ruining. Hob is personal growth, jealousy ending, apology giving. Lucifer is relapse, progress destroying, confidence killing. Hob is perseverance, step taking, progress rebuilding. On and on until finally Lucifer decides to end this the way she did with Dream and Hob leads her along until it reaches that natural conclusion, the death of all.

Now there's some temptation there to go with the obvious, since he can't die even if the universe was destroyed. At least he doesn't think so. But he had already decided that it was an obvious choice to go for and he could think of a few clever ways Lucifer might get around that. So instead, Hob goes the far better choice and personal insult of being God, universe creator, life giver. He's very proud of himself when the demons erupt into boos and Lucifer looks about ready to rip his fucking throat out with her teeth.

The way he sees it, there are two choices for her there, unless she really pulls something unexpected out of her ass. Option one is the whole "what's a god to an atheist" thing in which Hob would have then been a miracle, faith affirming, god-proving. Not much can destroy a miracle.

But Lucifer, livid and prideful, goes with option two. "I am Lucifer Morningstar, God defying, His Kingdom ripped sunder!"

And Hob has the absolute glee to grin and go, "I am Hob Gadling, clever, death defying, and triumphant over Lucifer Morningstar."

He and Dream are promptly kicked out of Hell on their asses, Dream's helm is thrown at his head with a force strong enough to break the sound barrier, and the gates are slammed shut behind them. The whole thing is so humiliating that Lucifer has to change their gender and moves to LA to open a nightclub.

#the sandman #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #morpheus

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thedevilssinner · 7 months

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I wanna share something because I don't want to suffer alone with my thoughts 😅

It's one of the scenarios where Tav knew Astarion before he was turned, but I've never read anything where it played out like this.

I apologize if something is wrong, English is not my native language.

Imagine that Tav is an elf and Astarion's lover before he was turned.

They're devastated when they finds out that Astarion has been killed. Mourning his death for a very long time and even moving away from Baldur's gate because everything reminds them too much of Astarion.

They know that all their happiness and love are gone. No one can fill the void that Astarion's death has brought them.

And now, two hundred years later, they stand on the beach, the sun beating down on their head, the burning Nautiloid at their back and before them... Astarion?

Only it's all wrong, his eyes are red and he's pale... paler than he's ever been.

Anger rises up in Tav. How dare some shapeshifter even take on Astarion's form after their beloved has been dead for 200 years?

And do a bad job at it!

Before the pale creature could even call for help again, Tav lunged at him with an angry cry, surprising the imitation and truckling it to the ground, dagger pressed to it's throat while they straddled his body. "How dare you?! How dare you to take his form?! Show me who you really are... now!" They command, surprising even themselves with their actions. But they couldn't stop... not when someone is using Astarion's face for gods knows what.

"Darling, there seems to have been a little misunderstanding. I don't know what you're talking about, and I'd appreciate it if you'd remove the dagger from my neck." The shapeshifter replies, his voice smooth and flirtatious and so unmistakably Astarion's that it hurts, and Tav presses the dagger a little harder against his neck.

"Shut up, shapeshifter!" Tav shouts at him, gaze anchored on that so familiar yet different face. "Where did you even get his face?! His voice?!" They ask angrily, the hand holding the dagger starting to shake. "You have no rights to pretend you're Astarion when he's... when he's gone. And to do it badly!" They continue, still angry but deep seated sadness linger behind.

The shapeshifter's eyes widen, opening his mouth as if he wants to say something, Tav noticing the fangs there and even worse idea that him being a shapeshifter, starts to creep into their mind.

"Tav?" Fake Astarion finally speaks, saying their name as if he were saying it for the first time in a long time, tasting it on his lips. The previous flirting gone. Instead he looked confused and as if just now he remembered something that was hidden in his mind. "You are them, aren't you? Gods, how could I forget... so beautiful." His red eyes glide along Tav's face, his voice nothing than a whisper. He's clearly lost in his head and Tav swallows thickly, realisation slowly grasping their mind but they fight against it.

"No, stop! Stop it! You can't be him. You can't... he's dead and your eyes are wrong. You're wrong." Tav says, their body starting to shake all over, threatening to cut him by mistake with the dagger still against his neck.

But now it's easy for 'the shapeshifter' to take Tav's wrist and move their hand away from his neck, easily wrenching the dagger from their fingers and tossing it aside. His lips stretch into a sad smile.

"That's what vampirism do to you, my love." Astarion says ever so softly, the deepest pain and sadness etched in his voice and Tav knows, feels it in their soul, that he is telling the truth.

So that's how Tav meets Astarion again, this encounter more painful and bittersweet than anything else.

They stay on the beach for a little while, Tav crying their heart out and Astarion trying to hold back his own tears. Both of them not expecting something like this to happen.

(Sorry if Astarion seems ooc.)

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x gn tav #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x gn reader #baldur's gate tav #baldur's gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #tav bg3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 writing #bg3

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darqx · 21 days

Text

Snakes on a post

Another particularly long answer dump since i, once again, have a backlog of things to potentially answer |D

❗️For commonly asked qs please see my BTD FAQ

Got jumpscared with my own old art for a hot minute there LAUGHS.

(For those wondering, the naga doodle from here was attached to the ask)

That is every other Royal that exists in the Nether and also at least some of the demons that challenged him for his Royal title lol.

Believe me, no one was or is more surprised then me XD;

So, the thing about where Rire's ichor manifests is that it kinda exists and doesn't exist at the same time. Meaning that his upper back is where the manifestation point is anchored, BUT it can still manifest with a bit of space in between it and his back hence why it will manifest over his clothes and not through them.

So if you touch where the manifestation point is sans the ichor, than you are just straight up touching his back. With the ichor, he still gets sensory input from the tentacles to his back but it's a lot more soft and muted esp the further away it gets from him. As you've seen implied though, he would feel a very sharp pain if a great deal of damage was done to the ichor where it clusters at the manifestation point, since he'd DEF be feeling that straight in his back lol.

He is definitely a top and the only way he would bottom for anybody is if they somehow forced him to.

Ah i knew i'd answered this a long time ago [finally found it]! Holy crosses (those that have been blessed) can also burn him but they would need to be in contact with him the entire time. Being a Royal he also has more of a tolerance to these than normal demons.

Well, unless said person actually has the undeniable ability to make good on their words, Rire would just stand there rather genially with that little smile he sometimes has and let them finish.

And then he might use them as reverse suggestions for dealing with said person (why would you give him any ideas!!?)

both

In BTD canon it is quite possible that they actually haven't in person. But we are using creative license here haha.

Rire heals a lot faster than a human. Cain is not my character so I don't know how his stacks up.

I've grouped these asks cos they kind of have similar answers - 360° (jk sorry sorry to the second q that is just a very common spelling mistake and I couldn't resist XD; )

Now, even though we mashed all the characs together in BTD, they all actually come from different storylines and so their canons outside the "BTD canon" may differ. This tends to bleed in. With this in mind:

The rules of Rire's canon (eg the concept of Battle Royales and how to become a Royal) don't apply to Cain. Anyway, they don't live in the same place either.

Cain is canonically the oldest and most OP character in BTD lol so yes he is stronger than Rire - you might've noticed, but Rire is never in the same drawing as Cain voluntarily. I play with this along with the "natural weakness" aspect - which I've also referred to as scissors-paper-rock rules XD Basically; demons beat humans, angels beat demons (purely because demons have weakness against holiness).

It would (be insane) but I hope you are not looking at me to fulfil this :d

Not really

His coronation day is a public holiday in his sector so yes XD

Aww thank you very much for your interest! ≧(´▽｀)≦ It's really cool that some of you guys want to actually fund such a thing - I'd have thought you'd have enough of him killing you in BTD1 XD Unfortunately, I have no plans for a Rire game at the moment as I'm working on a webcomic which looks like it will take up all my free time (that being said, he will be in the webcomic at some point).

Nope! Although i can kinda see why you might think that lol.

Whatever that one is where he doesn't particularly care what someone else identifies as. It really makes no difference to him or how he will act.

There are viruses in the Nether that if contracted could potentially kill you, yes. Part of being a Royal is becoming a lot more robust than normal Demons though. As for if/when Rire dies, I dunno maybe either in a Battle Royale somewhere thousands of years down the line or by old age (which is rare for a Royal but not impossible if you play your cards right).

If you are asking if he has a heat/rut of some sort, he does not |D

#boyfriend to death #art #rire answer dump #answer dump #doodle #long post #decided to actually redesign what a naga rire would viably look like since the old design was bad XD

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cordeliawhohung · 1 month

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i was wondering if i might be able to put in a request, if possible? simon riley mafia/guard dog vibes? i can absolutely expand with more ideas on that too if you’d like but just overall those vibes are amazing and your mafia works are immaculate ♡ ♡ ♡

sorry this took forever work was killing me lmao. but vibes are perfect! gives me a bit more freedom in writing. hope you enjoy (and thanks for getting me to write more mafia!au stuff lmfao) (:

mafia!141 masterlist

cw: violence, simon beats the fuck outta someone, crude comments, slight in limbo spoilers/foreshadowing but only if you squint? terrible cliches but oh well

It wasn't your first time seeing the glint of a knife in dark light, but it was your first time having a blade brandished at you in a threat.

Really, this was all your fault. Innocent intentions of wanting to bring your boyfriend some takeout from work was what got you caught in that mess, and had you been better at following instructions you would have been inside. Instead, you botched the directions to the VIP section the bouncer up front had given you, leading you into a trap straight out of a horror movie.

You had hardly gotten the chance to round the corner before this man, some wanna-be mugger, slapped your to-go box out of your hand. Still warm and fresh steak, along with a ridiculous amount of chips, flopped out of the container and onto the ground just as you felt your back collide with the wall next to you. Brick wasn't exactly the most comfortable thing to have shoved against your spine, but it certainly beat the wicked curve of the knife that was used to threaten you.

Everything in you urged you to run away, to scream, to fight, to do something, and yet all you could do was stand there like a deer in headlights. The only thing you could focus on was the man's eyes, and how he glared at you so sharply you were certain he could kill you with his gaze alone. He pointed the knife closer to you with his other hand outstretched, waiting for it to be filled.

"Are you fucking deaf?" the man snarled. "I told you to hand over your shit."

Those were the first words that fully registered in your brain, and you couldn't get your voice to cooperate. Your hands raised in an attempt to put some more distance between you and your assailant, yet that seemed to do nothing but only aggravate him further.

"Do you think I'm fucking around? I'll kill you and take it off your damn body if that's what you want," he urged further.

"I don't... I don't have anything."

Those were the first words you were able to stutter out, and you hated that it was the truth. There was nothing on you worth taking; no cash or card, not even any expensive jewelry. Worst of all, you didn't feel scared. A terrible numbness settled over you as your eyes stayed locked onto the blade that threatened to embed itself into your body, and all you could think about was that you hoped it didn't hurt when you died.

"You bitch, don't fucking lie to me. I don't have time to-"

That wretched man never got the chance to finish his words before a metal clinking cut him off, followed quickly by a crunch. The pure silence that followed was then interrupted by a piercing, guttural scream, and it was only then that your mind was able to make sense of the events that took place in front of you.

Simon, your big, beautiful bastard of a boyfriend, found you. How, you weren't quite sure, but you were thankful nonetheless. Most of what took place happened too fast for your brain to fully comprehend it, but you were able to figure out that the knife was no longer in the mans hands, and in fact, his hand no long seemed fit to hold anything at all. Several of his fingers twisted inhumanly, sitting at awkward angles that you knew no fingers could naturally position themselves. He gripped his wrist with his uninjured hand as if he could choke off the pain, but all he could do was sniffle and grovel.

"Watch your choice of words when you're talkin' to her, yeah?" Simon warned.

His huge frame slipped behind the man as he grabbed a hold of the back of his neck where he pushed him to the ground. His knees collided with the cement ground with a sound so sickening you could nearly feel the pain he felt. Even then, Simon didn't let the mugger off easy. His hand slipped into the mans short hair where he yanked his head back, forcing him to look up at you.

"Apologize," Simon demanded.

For a moment, the man couldn't get any words out. It was as if your positions had switched too violently for him to get his brain to work properly, but after a not-so-gentle nudge from Simon, his thoughts seemed to sort themselves. He sniffled as pained tears welled in his eyes, and you hated yourself for almost feeling bad for him.

"I'm sorry," the man sputtered out.

Despite the pain in his voice, it wasn't enough for Simon.

"Sorry for what?" he urged, grip in his hair only growing more forceful.

"Sorry for... for hurting you, I'm sorry," he winced.

"Yeah, I'm sure you are," Simon grumbled.

With a final shove, the man fell forward onto his good hand, nearly missing the now ruined steak and chips that was supposed to be Simon's dinner that night.

"C'mon, sweetheart," Simon urged, bringing your attention away from the crumpled mess of a man in front of you. "Let's clean up."

You didn't start crying until you realized Simon had been hurt. With clothes darker than night itself, his blood had blended all too well into his shirt, obscuring the cut he had gotten on his side. The only thing that had calmed you down was him bringing you into a private bathroom and letting you sit on the counter as he cleaned himself up. Seeing him hurt wasn't something you ever wanted to witness. Really, you never thought a man like Simon Riley could get hurt. Yet seeing the minor cut he had gotten compared to the major wound you would have endured was enough to quell your worries and halt your tears.

"How did you know where I was?" you asked.

Your legs didn't quite reach the floor as the counter was higher than most average bathrooms. You swung your feet as you watched Simon clean his cut with careful eyes. It wasn't deep, thank goodness, though it took him more gauze than imagined to stop the blood flow.

"One of the guys called up saying you were headed through the VIP entrance, and I came down to meet you. When I realized you weren't there, I knew somethin' was wrong. Besides, the cunt's demands weren't quiet," he explained.

Any other time, you would have been flustered being in such a situation with Simon. Behind closed doors in a bathroom of a club together would have already been nerve wracking enough, and the fact he had shredded his shirt was cause for you to be more abashed. But in that moment, you couldn't help but be eternally grateful he had been there, even if he had shattered a man's hand over it.

"I see why John has you hired as a bouncer," you admitted humorously. "I've never seen anyone... dispatch another person like that."

Simon's dark eyes flickered up to you as he finished bandaging his wound, and he moved to the sink to quickly clean his hands of the blood. Once he was clean, he moved in front of you where he stood between your legs, though not at all sexually. His hands came to rest against your side where he gave you a gentle and reassuring squeeze.

"I'd do anythin' for you," he said.

You wanted to explode into monologue. Wanted to tell him that he shouldn't be so willing to do things for you, even if he was capable of it. There were a million reasons why you didn't deserve him, why he shouldn't try and protect someone already damned, yet you couldn't get yourself to speak them.

Noting your silence, Simon pressed a caring kiss against your forehead before pulling away and snatching his ruined shirt off the counter.

"C'mon," Simon urged as he put the soiled clothing on.

Intrigued, you hopped off the counter. "Where are we going."

"To get dinner," he replied. "Bastard ruined my meal, and your night. Figured we could make somthin' back at my place."

The smallest of smiles graced your lips as Simon straightened himself out in the mirror, and when he looked at you again, he nearly smiled, too. You quickly wiped at your eyes as you silently prayed they weren't too swollen, and then with some sort of bravery you didn't know you had, you reached for the sleeve of his shirt with a quiet chuckle.

"I'd like that."

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #mafia!ghost #mafia!simon #f!reader

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13eyond13 · 2 months

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Remember how Griffith immediately told Guts he wants him and Guts was like are you gay and Griffith was just like "..." and then Guts was like ok if you beat me in a fight you can have me as whatever you want including sexually, and then Casca was like wtf Griffith NEVER says he wants anybody like that, and then Griffith won and says Guts belongs to him now and then repeatedly risks everything he has ever worked for to save Guts' life, and then Guts tells all his pals that literally all he cares about is if Griffith pays attention to him and likes him, and even though he has sex with a hot girl he is still like nah I still care more about Griffith tho, and then was so into Griffith that he left him so that he could eventually become more appealing in Griffith's eyes because he thought Griffith looked down on him, then Griffith tried to fight him again and was like if I can't have him nobody can and went and lost and then ran off and had sex with the princess to numb the pain and got caught and tortured over it, meanwhile the whole time was holding onto Guts in his mind as the only thing he cared about still worth staying alive for, then once he got rescued by Guts and decided to go full evil and sacrifice it all he tried to use Casca horribly against Guts and then Guts dragged her on an epic journey to find healing, meanwhile thinking to himself "isn't this obsession of yours because she represents the wound Griffith left you and keeps you bound to him and longing for him," and as soon as he sees him again he forgets his urge to kill him and Griffith's frozen heart starts beating again watching Guts fight, and whenever Guts gets asked about Griffith after finally reaching Elfhelm he gets shy about it then talks about him and his amazingness like he's the world's proudest mom, and clearly is still obsessed with trying to prove himself an equal to Griffith

And NONE of this is subtext btw it's just blatantly written to say all of this right in the text...

#berserk #berserk spoilers #griffguts #p

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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 3 months

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The Bet

Part one

Eddie is desperate to talk to you but will you ever be able to forgive and forget after learning your friendship was nothing more than a bet? Especially as you had fallen in love with him.

Do you still love him after all that anguish?

Part two.

Warnings: A lot of angst and you'll see..minors shoo! 18+

Don't copy, translate or repost my work.

❤️

A bet. That's all you'd ever been to Eddie, a bet to get one over on your now ex boyfriend, on Jason and the rest of the dark side as Eddie's friend had put it.

Had they spent this whole time laughing at you? Did Eddie get some kick out of stringing you along, stealing your heart piece by piece.

Was everything just a lie?

You had broken up with Bryan a week ago. Sick of his horrible nature and drawn to Eddie, head over heels for him. God you felt like such a fool.

The night you found out about the bet you cried yourself to sleep, walking to school on autopilot. Thank goodness for your friends because you struggled to get through the first day.

Mostly everyone was sympathetic but there was some people who sniggered when you walked past, whispered to their friends only it was so loud that you could hear.

I can't believe how gullible that idiot was

Imagine knowing the freak only got close to you for a bet

Serves that bitch and all the rest of Jason's idiots and the cheerleaders right for thinking they are so hot.

About time someone took them down a peg

Each thinly veiled barb cracked your already bleeding heart and you hurried to get away from the gossip.

It trickled out a couple days later, once the people had finished finding your pain hilarious, how anyone could find someone in pain to be funny was a mystery to you.

Whenever you saw Eddie you rushed away before he could speak to you, wouldn't look at his face because all you knew from him was lies.

Everything was a lie. He didn't love you, he never did. Your heart throbs with that realisation and you do your best to walk around school, head held up high and the heartbreak tucked up inside.

It was all an act but you were a great actor, you had to be to pretend like you weren't in agony on the inside.

...

It was the worst few weeks that Eddie could remember in a long long time, Dustin was disgusted with him and took a long time to talk to him.

His heart felt like it had been ripped in half and it was all his own fault, you wouldn't even look at him.

If he even attempted to try and speak to you it was to no avail.

The longest sentence you uttered was when he begged you to talk to him, even just one word.

All you said was ''goodbye Eddie" or that ''you didn't believe a word he said"

Steve picked you up from school with Robin every day, wouldn't even let Eddie go near you. Threatened to beat the shit out of him if he made you cry again.

He tried to speak to you again a few days later when Steve had eased up on guarding you, it was agonising weeks of you avoiding him.

You were coming out of cheer practice with Chrissy and another girl, Chrissy glared at him and the other girl looked like she wanted to kill him.

"Can we talk please, princess?'' he pleads and you ask your friends to give you a second and they do, very reluctantly still scowling at Eddie. He deserves that.

"I can't Eddie. I don't have anything to say to you" he swallows, his mind going a mile a minute, trying to think of what he can say to express how sorry he is.

''I messed up. I made a stupid mistake. The worst mistake, because I hurt you. I made a dumb bet to try and get back at assholes who bullied and made my friends and my life hell, it was mean and selfish and I wish I'd never done it" you listen to what he has to say and his heart aches when tears pool in your eyes.

"But you did do it, you couldn't even tell me the truth. You lied to me Eddie and all the time I was...I fell in love with you" he moves forward to cup your cheek, desperate for you to know that he loves you too.

"I love you, I fell in love with you and that's why I couldn't tell you. I couldn't lose you" you stare at him and don't speak for a few seconds, when you do the words split his heart in two.

"That's the thing, you lost me anyway" you walk away from him and he can't think of a single thing to say to stop you. Then he steels himself and runs to catch up with you.

"What Eddie?" you snap and he talks quickly, tripping over his words and anxious to get the words out.

"I hurt you badly, I fucked up and what I did was just fucking awful. I know that. I also know that I'm so in love with you, never thought I could feel this way for anyone but you snuck into my heart and it belongs only to you" you don't say anything but you don't rush away either, so Eddie says one more thing before you do decide to leave.

"I'll wait for you sweetheart, for however long it takes. I don't care how long I have to wait, you're worth every single second"

Tears pool in your eyes and you nod slightly. Ever so gently you squeeze his hand just a tiny bit then walk away, leaving Eddie determined as hell to win your trust again and maybe somewhere along the line your heart too.

💕

It took a while for you to even speak to Eddie for longer than five minutes, but he was nothing if not determined and patient, he's was not screwing this chance up.

At first, you didn't think Eddie was serious about waiting for you, but he was. Endlessly patient and sweet. Big brown eyes full of tenderness and joy when you spoke to him.

It was hard not to find him endearing, but he had hurt you badly and there was still a small part of you that held back, that was hesitant to get close, trying to protect your fragile heart that ached for you to give Eddie a chance.

It's Friday now and after an intense week of cheer practice, you can't wait to relax for the weekend.

Chrissy had been watching you looking at Eddie with longing, the exact same way Eddie looked at you for weeks now. To be honest it was beyond frustrating, the both of you loved one another, it was killing you both to be apart.

So that's why she was saying something to you today. More than anything she wanted you to be happy, if Eddie hurt you again just even a tiny bit then she would kick his ass.

That's before Steve go there first.

"Honey, what Eddie did was wrong and I'm mad as hell at him but anyone can see how sorry he is. He's so in love with you, maybe you could give him a second chance" Chrissy says to you as you sit down for lunch.

You rest your head on Chrissy's shoulder and let out a sigh. ''I want to, I want to so badly but I don't want to be heartbroken again''

Something tells Chrissy that Eddie wouldn't dare. That he would keep his promise to never hurt you so badly again.

She squeezes your hand reassuringly and it calms your anxiety down.

"Babe, he wouldn't dare. He's not stupid. Plus everyone might think I'm a sweetheart but I'll kick his ass if he did and Steve would too. Eddie won't lose you, not again"

The words play on your mind all day and when Eddie is hurrying to his truck at the end of Hellfire Club you pluck up your courage and go to speak to him.

"Eddie" the minute he sees you it's like his whole face lights up. A dimpled smile and brown eyes full of adoration greet you.

"Hey, sweetheart" longing fills the air, stifling you both and honestly you're pretty sick of it. So you take a leap, walk up to Eddie and take his hand.

"Would you mind if I asked you for a ride Eds?'' his hand tightens around yours and he grins, rushes to open the door to his truck and almost trips over his feet in the process. It's cute and you can't help but giggle.

He holds the door open for you. "Princess, your carriage awaits" you head inside.

The drive is short and sweet, Eddie once again being a gentleman as he opens the door for you to step out.

You thank him for the ride and before Eddie can head back into the truck, you kiss his cheek gently, then leave a sweet, chaste kiss on his lips.

The kiss leaves him looking dazed, he touches his cheek then his lips and there's that smile again, the one that melted your heart the first time you seen it.

"One more chance Eddie, if you hurt me again thats it. I mean it" he nods, his face serious as he takes in what you say.

"I swear you won't regret this princess, I love you and I'll spend every day proving that, do you... do you still love me?" he whimpers after a few seconds, his expression wide with worry and fear.

"I've never stopped" you answer back.

After your confession he practically does a little dance as he goes into his truck. Just before you open the door to your house, you hear his whoop of delight before he drives off.

The smile doesn't leave your face all night.

❤️

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson angst

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softlyspector · 6 months

Text

sated

Summary: Joel just wants you to eat well.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!vampire!Reader

Word count: ~5.2k

Warnings: love as being consumed, blood drinking, smut from start to finish (piv, f!receiving oral, fingering), Joel's praise kink, talk of eating, consuming, drinking, hunger, etc, vampires you get it.

A/N: This came of an abandoned work I posted, which you can find here. Thank you all for always being encoraging and lovely. I hope you enjoy my vamp and please let me know what you think! Thank you for reading! 💕

Devotion comes naturally to him, maybe that’s why this is so easy.

When you lean over his proffered wrist and sink your teeth into his skin, pleasure fists itself around his spine. The gratification is instant and complete. There’s no wondering if it’s right, if he’s giving you something you really need.

A desperately hungry moan rumbles in the back of your throat, grip tightening on him like you’re worried he might pull away. Already, everything is hazy.

Your hand curls around his forearm, while the other grips his fingers tight, locked between his.

There’s nothing prettier in the world than the way you look when you lift your head after a moment or an eternity passes, eyes full and satiated. Mouth a red slash of his blood. “Stop letting me.” Desperation, pain.

“No.”

He doesn’t want you to have to hunt, or fight, or seduce, your way to what you need. You have him now. You have his blood and body and him and he doesn’t want you with anyone else anyway, even if it’s just to eat.

Even if it’s for nothing more than food.

“Joel—”

The room is dark, lit by the glow of a lamp too far away to cast much light on either of you. Your expression is clouded with want, with lust, pupils blown so wide your eyes appear entirely black.

His blood is leaking in little rivulets down his wrist, over your fingers. It stains the white, satin sheets. The headboard of your bed digs into his spine where he leans against it, still in his jeans but removed of everything else.

Everything is bloody, everything is you and him, stained and caressed and creased, brined, torn into. It would be butchery if it weren’t so beautiful.

Each time you pull away from him, he expects to see flesh in your teeth, his heart on your tongue still beating.

You kiss him instead, his own blood in his mouth. To him, it’s just iron and salt, like sucking on a penny. A little bit gross on its own.

You tell him, sometimes, that he tastes sweet. Like candy? He’d asked one, a joke, a haze of pleasure pulled like wool over his eyes.

No, you’d said, not that strong. Like fruit, I guess, if I remember right.

He doesn’t know how old you are, how long it’s been since you tasted fruit. Doesn’t matter, will never matter.

His blood on your mouth, though, is intoxicating. He’s already woozy with the loss of it, with the quiet injection of something that makes everything go foggy and needy. It’s a reminder that you are a predator choosing not to kill him, that whatever poison came with your bite was meant to make him easy to slaughter.

Joel pulls you in tight, slides his tongue into your mouth. It’s sticky. Blood dries quick and tacky, it pulls at his skin where you fit yourselves together. It’s messy on your mouth, stains your hands and his.

He pulls you into his lap and you move easily with the tug of his hands. Knees fitted to either side of his hips, you pull away to lick up the blood on his forearm, the slide of your tongue causing an ache to open up in the pit of his belly.

Joel asked you, once, what being hungry felt like.

You’d hummed and stroked his cheek, eyes considering and far away. You’d told him it didn’t feel much like the human hunger you remembered, but like pain. It hurt, burned in your chest like a hurtful fire that could not be put out.

And maybe that had been your mistake. Admitting to the pain.

Maybe he wouldn’t be so keen on sacrificing himself if he wasn’t aware of how much it hurt you to be hungry.

Joel pulls your head up, away from his arm, and tilts his own back, exposing his throat.

The tip of your tongue runs over your lips instead, something desperate and famished in your eyes.

It’s not so much an offering as a welcoming, a demand. He wants you to. He wants you to feed until you can’t take anymore, until that bright burning finally fades away and you aren’t hungry anymore.

“No,” you say and shake your head, voice despairing, want fading from your gaze. “I can’t, Joel, I—” Your eyes flick to his open invitation, his throat, his collarbone. You wince and glance away. Guilt eats away at your expression. His throat is purple with bruising from the night before when you had refused to take more than one tiny drink. Starving yourself for reasons he won’t make himself understand.

It bothers you, the bruise, he knows it does, but it shouldn’t. It’s just evidence that you’re eating good.

“Yes,” he says, voice hoarse. “If y’need it.”

“I don’t,” you snap suddenly, the snarl in your voice another reminder. You could decide he wasn’t worth the trouble anymore and drain him dry, snap his neck. It’s an odd feeling. He’s not used to being at someone else’s mercy, not used to being so obviously the weaker of a pair. “I used to go months without,” your voice hitches, like you might cry. “I’m fine.”

“Y’don’t have to go without anymore.”

He feels frenzied about it. He needs you to believe it, that he can be useful to you.

You do this all the time. You do this every time. Fret about him when he knows he can take it, he knows that he can give you this.

He moves, curls over you, presses you flat back onto the sheets and you let him. Mouth nestled against the hollow of your throat where no pulse beats. There is only slightly cooler than normal skin under his lips, smooth and perfect and firm. Joel curls his fingers around your wrist, pins your hand to the bed.

“I can’t, Joel,” you moan. The sound vibrates against his lips. You might not have a heart that beats, but your lungs still fill with air, the desperate pump of them more than enough to know how badly you’re affected by him, how much you want and how much he can give you. “I can’t. I’ll. . .I’ve taken too much already.”

He doesn’t get to answer, your mouth is already at his throat, the sharp, sweet pang of your bite sliding into muscle and sinew. You suck harshlyand his vision goes blurry, eyes rolling back at the pleasure that chases the pain. He just manages to catch himself on his other hand before he can collapse fully against you.

Maybe he’s just a little selfish with it, with the need to give mixed up with how fucking good it feels. That’s the pure awful truth of it. It feels good. Every feeling, every sensation is heightened.

He’s letting you eat but it's for him, too. And that’s just fucking shameful but he can’t stop either.

You’re wearing something silk, something with lots of skin showing, something pretty and now stained with his blood. Your skin is soft and impossibly smooth beneath his hands, the plush curve of your thighs parting to let him nestle against you, the bowl of your hips accommodating him.

Joel presses his hips against yours, slowly ruts against your core, the heat that bleeds out of your body. Heat that will fade over the next few hours, heat that he’s given you with the blood from his veins, that you still take from his body with needy swallows, and pleased whimpers.

He works at his jeans with one hand, fingers clumsy with the black that encroaches at the edge of his vision as you feed. You thread your fingers through his hair, keeping him tucked close, hips chasing his, rolling up to meet his.

You pull away from his throat with a pained groan, and the ache returns immediately.

He wants you to keep going. He could survive, he thinks, with just one drop. That’s all he needs.

“No,” you say. But your eyes are glutted, satiated. You sound drunk and maybe that’s what makes him realize he’s a poison to you too, something you have to try very hard not to sink your teeth into and rip, tear. “No more, Joel. Please.”

He can be good for you, give you everything you need so you never want again. That makes him delusional with giving.

Your fingers wrap loosely around the base of his cock, guiding him to your entrance, dripping with need and want of a different kind. He slides into you slow, the hug of your body around him addictive, until you’ve taken him to the hilt and there’s nothing but you. “Christ, darlin’,” he mutters, vision going properly black now, consciousness fading. “Feel ‘s good.”

“Hey.” Concern in your voice, knee pressed to his hip, the strength of your body turning him onto his back. “You did good,” you praise, gentle, blood soaked fingers against his bare chest, the underside of his jaw where the flesh is soft. “So good. Take a second.”

Your hand is pressed delicately to his cheek; you’re beautiful and sleek above him and he has the sense that some time has passed when he’s able to focus on you. “Hey,” you say again, the cushion of your voice soft. You cradle his bloody hands in yours, fingers stroking his wrists slowly, before you press them to your waist, hips moving slowly against his again.

The tight clench of your cunt around him is nearly painful, the rock of your hips so slow, like you’re testing the waters of him.

He’s good, he wants to say. Fine. But your praise is ringing in his ears. Your mouth is red with blood, teeth stained when your lips pull back. “Good,” he echoes, the word settling heavily in his chest. You think he did good.

“Yeah. Really good,” you say. “That’s what you wanna hear isn’t it? That you did good for me?”

The tangle of pleasure coursing through weak limbs only curls more firmly around his spine and knots in his belly when you lift his wrist to your lips again, mouthing away the blood, but not biting. “I’m so full,” you murmur against his skin, eyes flickering closed. “You’ve fed me so well.”

“Jesus,” he mutters, watching you suck the blood from his skin, eyes closed, body never faltering in the pace you set grinding against him. The tension has faded from your shoulders, your skin is warm with the glow of life, so he knows you’re telling the truth. When you bite him this time, wrist cradled to your mouth, the pain is dull and far away.

There’s no hunger as you take this time, no desperate pull; you eat because you can, lazily and slowly; tasting.

He drags his free hand up your side, cups the weight of your breast in his hand, before he tugs the strap of the silken gown down your arm. You release his hand, so he can pull the fabric slowly down your body until it pools around your hips.

Blood smears across your skin in shiny streaks, his open palm pressed flat against your chest dripping red again.

Your body reacts to his, supple and soft, moving with him when he cants his hips up, chasing something just out of reach.

He thought you’d be hard, the first time. That your skin would be solid, like nipping into stone. But it’s not, and right now you’re flush with warmth he gave you, shiny and bright. The curves of you are soft in his hands.

Joel wants you to say it again. Wants to hear that you’re satisfied, that he gave enough for you to feel full. His vision wavers and tunnels again. You rub his wrist between your fingers, gently staunching the flow of blood.

“You gave enough.” Fingers planted on his chest, hips lifting and falling, pleasure like a tide, like the salt of the ocean. His mouth tastes like the blood you put there, the venom that leaches from your teeth, saccharine sweet.

You lean over him, one hand on the headboard, the other beside his head. “Good for me,” you murmur, mouth pressing hungrily to his, the point of your tongue laving against the seam of his lips. He groans into you, fucks up into you so you gasp into his mouth.

He’d let you take a chunk of his heart out, wrap his veins around your fingers and tug them out of his body one by one, gnaw on a rib, if it meant you weren’t hungry anymore, if it meant you were never in pain.

There’s no pain in your face now, nothing wan or drawn about you. No hollows beneath your eyes or distance in your gaze. The clench of your expression is undeniably pleasure. He leaves bloody fingerprints behind on your skin, cups your breasts in his hands, thumbs stroking the taut peaks of your nipples until you whine.

The weakness that comes with the loss of blood is a drug all its own. He feels closer to you, further away from his own body, the thrum of need a sensation that doesn’t belong to him, that curls firm and hard in his belly and spreads slowly out into the rest of him, like lazy vines of an invasive species.

“Joel,” you say against his mouth, all copper and iron, like the touch of a blade to his throat.

It’s better, for both of you, when you’re feeding. He wants you to bite him again. Just one more time.

He pushes you back, rolls until you’re on your back.

“Joel—”

And this time your voice is sharp and reproving. You think he’s too weak with the blood loss, he knows it.

He thrusts into you and your mouth pockets into a little o, fingers scrabbling at his biceps. He sets a brutal pace, makes you forget whatever protest you might have had.

You’re so good for him, tight and wet, thighs slick against him when you hook your knee against his hip. Joel slows, drags his cock slowly out of you, just to push back in all at once, right to the root.

“Feel s’good,” he mutters against you, mouth lowered to your chest to sucks one tight nipple into his mouth. You jolt and arch into him, a moan tearing out of your throat. “Shit,” he thrusts again and again, pushing you up the bed before he curls his forearm over the top of your head, his other hand cupping the back of your neck, gently turning your head. “Bite, baby,” he says, desperate. “Bite.”

You shake your head, hips rolling up to meet his. “No.”

“Yes. One more time.” The sound of you is sloppy, his cock soaked in your needy cunt. His vision is blurring again, the effort to keep fucking you killing him, figuratively and maybe literally.

His heart feels like it's going to beat out of his fucking chest, a warning from every instinct a person should have warning him danger danger danger predator predator predator.

He doesn’t heed it, doesn’t have the good sense to run away. Danger and predator sounds like understanding, sounds like kin and home and acceptance, to him.

“Makes it better, y’know it does. You’re so good for me. Give it here, honey. Just this. Just bite, nothin’ else.” He sounds delirious and deranged but you whine and he’s reminded again, has that thought again, he’s as much a drug to you as you are to him. You just need a little coaxing. “C’mon, baby. Please, darlin’.”

He urges your head closer, feels the brush of your mouth, the prick of your teeth, and then finally that wonderful fucking rush of your incisors sinking deep into his skin.

There’s pleasure, and there’s sex, and then there’s this.

And he knows you know it too, blurred vision going white from how hard he comes inside you, the fist of your pussy clenching around him as you follow him over the edge. You cry out against his skin, a sound he’s never heard before, the points of your nails digging into his shoulders until he’s sure he’s bleeding there, too.

He feels the release of your teeth from his bicep, the gasp of your mouth, and then he collapses against you and kisses his own hot blood away from your mouth, open wounded vein spilling red across both of you.

Joel sleeps and when he wakes, he knows he isn’t done with you. You consume him, he wants to do the same to you.

He slides his tongue through your soaked folds, the mess of himself leaking from you. He presses his nose against your heat and then your thigh.

It must be some predator thing, the way you smell, to attract that which you should kill. If he could, he’d bite you there, the vein that runs under the skin of your thigh. He’d sink his teeth into you there, and drink. If he was like you, that is where he’d take from you. But he’s not, and if he was, he would not take from you.

He’d starve first.

“You don’t want that,” you say, hands in his hair. “You don’t want this.”

He doesn’t answer.

“It’s terrible, Joel,” you murmur. “To be this lonely.”

“I’m lonesome anyway,” he presses his teeth against your skin again. “And gettin’ older and lonelier every minute.”

He doesn’t want to be like you, not really. But he doesn’t want you to leave him either, and he doesn’t want to die one day and leave you alone. He wants to tangle his fingers inside your chest, bring the beat of your heart back to life. He wants to dig two graves, yours and his, next to each other.

Joel doesn’t say any of that, and before you can say anything, he shoves your legs back toward your chest, spreads you open wide. The muscle in the back of your thigh twitches, a lazy moan slips past your lips when he repositions on aching knees to suction his mouth to your pussy.

He closes his eyes and presses his hands against the backs of your knees. Your fingers dig into his hair, drag him closer, push him further into you. A broken groan slices through the air when he pushes his tongue into you.

He thinks about your teeth locked around his throat, like a wolf with prey. His scalp smarts with how hard you’re tugging at his hair. It’s good to be at your mercy.

“Joel.”

There’s a drag in the vowels of his name, a desperation, a burning in his chest with the sound of it. He pulls back to look at you, to skim his fingers along the backs of your thighs.

“Hm?”

“What do I taste like?”

He lowers your hips to the bed, presses his fingers inside you instead.

Before he can answer, you look at him with big, thirst slaked eyes. “Do you like it? The way I taste?”

“Mm,” he hums. Your cunt clenches around his fingers. He fucks you like that laguidly, feeling every part of you, the inside of you soft against he pads of his fingers. “Yeah. I like it.”

Joel leans down, presses his forehead to yours, eyes never leaving your gaze. The essence of you is caught in his beard, and it’s only when he rubs his chin against yours, that your eyes slide closed. This close, everything smells red. Like blood and come and sex; your breath is cool and sweet, like fresh air against his mouth.

He wants to drink the air from your lungs. Instead, he kisses you long and soft, pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy, rubs his thumb across your messy clit.

You still taste like life, but he hopes you can taste yourself, too. A gasp catches in your throat, fingers hooking against the back of his neck, twisting up into his hair.

“Tell me. I want you to tell me.”

It’s different to anyone else he’s ever tasted, probably another predator-prey thing. Intoxicating, addicting. “Bitter,” he replies. “N’ sweet.”

Your mouth opens against his, and he pulls away to slide down your body again, tongue against the bitter-sweet of your slick. “Like you, then,” you mumble. “We taste the same.”

Wouldn’t that be something? “Ain’t like that, most like.”

You are more bitter than sweet, he’d say, opposite to how his blood is for you. Opposite to how he’d describe you and him, if pressed. For a self described monster, you are sweet.

He feels when you come against his tongue, the pulse and clench of your pussy, dripping against his lips. He likes it too much, how you taste like him, too, that his come leaks from you with the second and third waves of pleasure that arch your hips from the bed

The exhaustion sneaks up on him, sudden and painfully demanding, real. And all at once, he feels like a man that’s lost too much blood.

He feels your hands maneuvering him, limbs readjusted gently, pushed onto his back, sheets and a blanket pulled up around him. Your hands pressing across his chest and neck and cheeks, like you’re trying to assess something and he guesses you are because you whisper. “Joel? Baby, stay awake for a minute. Are you warm? I can’t tell. I—”

You’re worried about him.

Ferocious predator. Monster then could end his life in a split second, but that he chose to feed instead. That makes you his vicious monster, he would guess. And you’re worried. Worried. About him.

He folds his hand around yours, holds your still warm fingers against his chest. “‘M fine.”

Joel is dedicated to you in a way that frightens you. He is so willing to lie down and open his own throat.

That had so surprised you, the first time. You’d picked him out because he was big and strong, protective and swollen with a kind of love you couldn’t put your finger on. You had just wanted a fight and a little taste, not to take anything more. No, not this one.

You’d thought his blood might be bitter and biting, like poison with age, but it hadn’t been. Everything about Joel had surprised you. How quickly he had offered himself up, addicted to your monstrousness in a way you still don’t quite understand.

It makes you feel guilty, shameful.

He doesn’t know how he jolts in your arms when you bite him, doesn’t know how his muscle twitches in pained little starts when you’ve taken too much, doesn’t know how far away his eyes can go.

You’re hungry, baby, he always says, like that’s enough. It’s enough that you’re hungry and he can feed you.

And you are hungry, and it feels good to have someone give to you so freely, and so you take what he wants to give you. There’s some part of you that knows it satisfies him, too, to be able to give, and to be able to give something so tangible and physical, that he feels it afterwards, the labor of his giving.

You worry all the time, that it’s too much, that in the mornings the haze of desire and need to give would fade and he’d look around and see the blood and the bruises and your teeth coated in his life, and he would finally understand and finally leave you behind.

He looks peaceful in the sunshine that curls in through the window. It’s unfortunate, the bruises on either side of his throat, on his wrist and bicep. He looks pale, and you know that you will not be able to take from him again for a while, no matter how much you might want to.

And Joel needs time to recover, whether he wants that or not.

Your favorite little human, who decided to love a monster, who decided he would like to see one happy and sated.

The burn of hunger is satiated so well, the burn and ache in your chest gone for the time being.

You worry it might have been too much but he breathes evenly, deeply, soundly. Rust red streaks coat his skin, the palms of his hands and his chest, the space above his heart.

How you’d like to wriggle your nails carefully between his ribs, feel the slick beat of his heart in your hand. If you could figure out a way to do it without killing him, you would. You’d hold his heart in the light, watch the pulse of it like the breath of a sleeping pet.

He sleeps, and doesn’t know how hard it is for you not to drain him dry, not to suck the very marrow from his bones, to pick him clean like the carrion bird, the vulture, you are.

Before Joel, even draining a body down to nothing, exsanguinating them, wouldn’t have been enough to ease the visceral burn in your chest. You always seemed to need more and more. More bodies, more blood, more human lives. Not with him.

Maybe his blood is better for you, more nutritious, saturated with something that’s better at satiating you. His blood is always enough even if you have to fight not to take it all.

Perhaps it's just that the edge of your loneliness isn’t so sharp, that you wake not in a guilty, terrible haze next to a corpse, but next to someone who cares for you enough to feed you pieces of himself.

You touch his bearded jaw and a muscle in his cheek twitches, the sleep he’s in an exhausted one. Still, he sucks in a sharp breath, eyes flicking open. The warmth of his skin clouds around you, scent changing with his wakefulness.

Joel smells nice, always.

He smells nice in the morning sunlight spilling through the bay window. Humans have a way of absorbing smells. Things they shouldn’t be able to smell like—sunshine, storms, city streets. They smell sleepy and tired and happy and everything in between.

Joel smells warm like the sun he lies half in a patch of, the cotton sheets, the lavender detergent. He smells sleepy and content and that makes another kind of ache curl around your heart. More visceral, perhaps, than any thirst ever could be.

Beneath that, the other smells, the ones that make your mouth water—beautifully warm blood, subtly sweet and bitter, salt, come. He smells like you, your blood and come, and that’s something you inexplicably like.

His eyes are pretty in the sun, his lashes lowered, casting shadows over his warm brown irises, his cheeks, as he watches you. “Mornin’,” he says and his voice grates. It’s like you can hear every single stretched scratch of it in his throat.

You can see each fine line and hair and wrinkle on his face. Each tiny mark, every scar and pinch of skin. He’s painfully, beautifully human. It’s nice though, you like looking at those things. They make him interesting. They make you ache for something out of your reach. He’s so pretty, the thick, corded muscle in his arms twisting when he stretches, veins a prominent blue-green.

It’s unfortunate, so unfortunate, that this one, the one you like so well, will die so sooner than the others you used to feed on.

Grief punches you in the chest, debilitating in its sudden awfulness.

But you force it down and smile. “Good morning, Joel.”

You reach for him and curl your hand around his wrist. The beat of his heart is steady against your palm. It thrums, strong and so full of life, it makes the mourning surge in the back of your throat. It feels like holding his heart in your hand.

There is a game you’ve been playing for years, decades. One where you must struggle and kill to get what you need. You try not to kill them, if you can help it, but sometimes it just can’t be helped.

It’s a lonely existence, with connections that last a minute. No family, no friends. Just those precious few minutes with your teeth sunk into soft skin. Sometimes, they’d pull you closer, inadvertently.

Joel is dangerous for you. He pulls you so close, so often, and offers himself to you. There is no fight, no hunt, no seducing. It’s almost the other way around. He’s so desperate for you to take from him, to take care of you.

“Y’good?”

“Yes. You?”

“‘M good. Tired, a bit.”

“Okay.” You nod. “You need to eat. And I will not feed from you again until you recover. Your red blood cells need to replenish,” you chatter. “Or you’ll become anemic.”

He smiles. “All right. How d’ya know all a’ that?”

“Google.”

“Mm. Worried?”

“Always.”

“How long’s that take? Replenishin’. . .whatever?”

You bring his hand to your lips, press a kiss there and watch his chest hitch. “Four to six weeks. I’ll be okay in that time,” you add before he can comment.

“Christ,” he mutters, like he’s cursing his own body for doing what bodies do. “I don’t like that.”

You kiss his bruised wrist and lower it to the bed. You feel so full there is no urge to drink, to bite, that you have to fight. “Let me get you something to eat,” you say, brushing a hand through his peppered hair, trailing your fingers down his cheek. “Get this blood off you.”

It’s dried in patches on his skin, sloughing off in russet flakes.

You make him pick out something to eat and then call for takeout. And maybe it’s a testament to how tired he is that he lets you urge him into the adjoining bathroom while you wait, that he lets you take care of his clearly spent body. He’s unbelievably pale beneath his beard, the little tangles of hair at the back of his neck. His whole throat is purple, and you hear in his voice how it must ache.

“I don’t mean to bite you that hard,” you murmur, white washcloth pink with his blood in your hand. You smooth it down the curve of his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“S’ just a little sore,” he dismisses. A beat of silence passes, and then he adds, “Feels good. When y’do it. Don’t hurt then.”

“It feels good?”

“Mm. Swear it does.”

You finish with his face and think you should just let him shower while you wait for his food, but you like taking care of him like this, wiping away the evidence of your brutality. “Describe it.”

“What’s it feel like to you?”

Ecstasy, you think. “A little bit like coming,” you say to hear him laugh, feel the blush of his manners stain his skin pink beneath your hands.

“Yeah, I’d say that’s about right.”

You lean in to kiss him, the warmth of his mouth against your cool lips, cheeks cradled in palms that never mean to hurt, teeth that never mean to bite so hard.

“Good,” he says, “So, it’s good all around.”

“Good,” you echo.

And maybe it is.

💕 Whew! Thank you for reading! I would love to hear any thoughts you might have! 💕

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #posting and running away

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moon-tell-me · 4 months

Text

Them having a crush on you...

The outsiders (separate) x GN! reader

Warnings: nothing I don't think :))

DARRY CURTIS

It's been a reaalllyy long time since he's felt this way for anyone

So a small part of him is excited when he realizes it

But the majority of him..?

Well.. that's a different story

He's very busy with work and the family

He just doesn't have any time for love or romance

You understand ://

So it's unlikely he will do much of anything on his own

He will probably even avoid you a bit in hopes of making himself feel better

That being said, if you realize what's going on, and decide to pursue the relationship, he may manage to fit you in his schedule :))

"Hey, Darry.. uhm, could we talk for a second..?" You asked, as you popped up from around the corner, completely catching him off guard. It had been almost two weeks since you two had a proper conversation, and you weren't gonna let it go on any longer.

SODAPOP CURTIS

Okay so this is gonna come as a surprise to no one, but..

Throughout his life he has consistently gotten girlfriends and boyfriends with no issue

Again, no one's surprised

I mean, look at him, he's beautiful

Anyways-

He immediately knows that he likes you

And he very quickly starts planning out how he can go about the situation

It won't take very long for him to make his move, however if you beat him to it, he would definitely be over the moon

There you are, looking as good as ever. He's already decided that he's gonna ask you out later, an- wait.. your walking over to him..?

PONYBOY CURTIS

Poor kid doesn't know wtf is going on at first

All he knows is that he suddenly enjoys your company more then before

It wasn't until you interlocked his fingers with yours one night that he finally became fully aware of his feelings

He is not nearly as subtle about these feelings as he thinks he is.

He's so obvious, you'd have to be pretty inattentive to not notice anything

Based on this, you will likely be making the first move

With a dramatic sigh you let your head fall against his shoulder. The two of you have been studying together for about two hours and your in desperate need of a break. "C'mon, you need to focus." He said, sounding more annoyed then he really was. You grabbed his hand, interlocking your fingers and looking up at him pleadingly. "Pleease.?"

DALLAS WINSTON

Ohh boy

Out of allll the guys in Tulsa, you caught his attention?

Lucky 🙄

I love him sm istg

In all seriousness, this is very new to him

He's not used to genuinely caring about someone

Besides Johnny, he's never really loved anything

He's gonna start off with his typical flirting

That won't change until he realizes his feelings

After that, he switches to being a total jerk to you

Mans does not know how to process his feelings

Just give him time tho, he'll figure it all out

Here you are, sitting on the porch of the Curtis house. It's late and everyone is inside the house, save for you and Dal. He's been real difficult lately, although tonight his attitude has noticably improved. As you watch him struggle to light his cancer stick you can't help but wonder, what did he want to ask you.?

JOHNNY CADE

My sweet, respectful boy

He falls head over heels immediately

Everybody realizes his feelings rather quickly too

Including himself

He's not stupid

He notices how his cheeks get all warm

His hands get all sweaty

His knees feel like they might give out

It's a new feeling for him

For once he has someone touching him without causing him pain

I'm gonna fight his parents- WOAH! Who said that!? 😅

If your the type of person who is really affectionate with your friends (me fr) then you might actually kill the poor kid

He asked Dally for advice only to completely ignore it

Turns out Dally sucks at giving good advice, who woulda known?

He was thankful for how dark it had gotten, otherwise you would be able to see just how red his face had gone. For some reason you had decided it would be a great idea to hold his hand out of nowhere. Why can't you see what your doing to him?

TWO-BIT MATHEWS

You guys prolly met in middle school

He pulled some dumb shii and put gum in your hair or something

After that he often teased you

Referring to you as his girlfriend/boyfriend

You better expect a lot of playful flirting with this one

He pretty much confesses his feelings on the daily tbh

Albeit in a way that makes you think it's a joke

Eventually you just kinda realize that hey, maybe he isn't joking

"See, I always knew we were perfect for each other, ever since that day in sixth grade." He teased, throwing his arm around your shoulder only for you to immediately push it off. "Get off of me, would you?"

#the outsiders x reader #darry Curtis x reader #sodapop x reader #ponyboy x reader #Dallas Winston x reader #Johnny Cade x reader #Two-bit Mathews x reader #Spotify

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cheonstapes · 5 months

Note

hiii lovie! first off, i love love love ur writings so much idk how to describe it but you write so… pretty? it’s like I’m reading a love letter from elle woods teehee, second how would you feel about miguel x maddy perez!reader? i just have a really good feeling of miguel liking his women kind of mean, lack of vocal filter who won’t hesitate to kill anyone for him (like LITERALLY) but she’s also a big softie to those who she finds dearly to her. miguel knows how tough she is but knowing her past and what her ex had done to her, miguel would most definitely be protective of his woman. IDK I JUST THOUGHT IT WOULD BE SUCH A CUTE CONCEPT HDJDJDND OK ILY BYE

miguel o’hara stars in… ‘YOU LOVE TO BE LOVED’ (*･ω･)ﾉ

a/n~ i've never watched euphoria believe it or not, so i watched it for you anonnie!!!!! it's interesting! thank you lovely for the request, sorry for the wait baby, sorry it's a bit short💗

cw; SMUT!! not a lot, reader is lowkey a killer, miguel is whipped, blood, fluff, cutesy couple shenanigans! NAWT PROOFREAD - shame on me!

sorry, but i think miguel would love to be taken care of by his strong woman

he thinks it’s so sexy when you take charge, knowing when you say what you say — you mean it

you two are practically polar opposites, especially with the way that you dress

he doesn’t mind if you dress more revealing than most cause he knows you can take care of yourself and he’s can definitely take care of you too

he loves how soft you are behind closed doors too — the whispers and the pure domestication that you exude when it’s just you two alone is too much for him to handle sometimes

he even proposed early cause he knew you were too good to let go

when he found out about what happened with you and your ex, he was furious

the thought of someone putting their filthy hands on his girl never failed to rile him up — it was his go-to motivation when he’s at the gym beating the fuck out of those punching bags

he knows despite how tough you may seem, deep down you’re still sensitive

he pays mind to not raise his voice at you and he never, EVER, puts his hands on you — unless you’re into that

you spoil him, as much as it pains him to see you spending money on him (he should be doing that for you) he wouldn’t refuse it, knowing that’s just how you love

and when you see the cashier tryna chat up your man right in front of you?

miguel says a silent prayer for the poor soul

your nails tapping against the counter as your eyes twitches slightly — you somehow manage to sweetly ask them to meet you out back

when you come back a few minutes later, wiping the blood off of your cheek he just smiles — kissing that same cheek and grabbing your hand, “ready to go, baby?”

he’s that type of boyfriend that would keep an arm around your waist 24/7, making sure he walks closest to the road, carrying you over puddles

it’s extra as fuck but anything for his baby

speaking of anything for you…

definitely a service dom!

he 100% would let you top whenever, i doubt he would be insecure about you taking the lead

when he’s domming, he makes sure to listen to everything you ask of him

you want him to go slower? sure!

faster? sure!

pound you into the mattress? of-fucking-course!

mans just wants his pretty baby to feel good cause that’s what you deserve!

he’s the type to grab your hips, grinding deliciously into your cunt as he pants into your ear — telling you how sweet you are, how much he adores and worships his queen

he’d love it when you’d ride him too, he wouldn’t want to take control either

just letting you pleasure yourself till your hearts content, it doesn’t even matter if he cums or not — as long as you’re satisfied

ANYWay

miguel is such a big simp for his meanie gf

giving you all the biggest kisses and titty sucks you deserve

( ◠‿◠ )

-RAAAAAAAAAAA

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #cheonstapes #cheonsbloopers 🎞️#miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o’hara smut #miguel smut #atsv miguel #sub miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #miguel x you #miguel ohara x you

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eustasskidagenda · 6 months

Note

First of all I really really really love ur writing

Can I request a fem reader dating law and they are like sleeping and law starts to have a really bad nightmare where he is hurting his s/or while sleeping? Like ALOT and she tries to walk him up but when she succeeded he already damaged her so much by accident? So he has her blood on his hands and stuff but he wakes up and he doesn't realise it so she just says u had a nightmare and tried to put him back to sleep while she is in pain

And she waits for him to sleep again to go out and treat her wounds BSc she doesn't want him to feel bad for hurting her

But while she is gone he walks up and the bed is empty and there's blood on him and the sheets so he gets out to search for her in panic and gets mad and feels bad etc

Angst angst angst tk fluff please

I love u so much

Hi sweetie! Tysm for your kind words! I love writing angst, but this one was quite a challenge, I had some struggles figuring out some things. But I hope the outcome will still match your expectations! And sorry it takes me some time for this one, I injured my back lately, I can't write for a long time. Anyway, tysm for requesting. ☆

☆Law having a nightmare where he's hurting his s/o

CW : f!reader, angst, hurt to comfort, blood, mention of bullet, spoiler if you haven't read/watched Law's flashback yet, violence, usage of DF

WC : 1,9k

Low, peaceful breaths. Legs entwined. Your head resting against Law’s tattooed chest and the silence of the cold, starry night. What a rare and beautiful moment. Law often can't sleep. The second you fall asleep, he usually just sighs and sneaks out of the bed. But tonight, his nightmares remained trapped under the pillows, not in his mind. He is beautiful when he can finally be at peace. The tired and dark expression on his face has been gone for a few hours. In his sleep, he looks for your warm touch. Maybe his body is always cold, as his heart is always kept in a cage, but your body is keeping him just warm. That's what you're in his tortured mind; solar.

He always finds solace in it.

Dark shadows. Screams of pain. Corazon falling on the ground. Bullet sound.

The night was supposed to be peaceful. It was peaceful just a second ago! Why are those memories haunting his mind again? What has he done to always be harassed with the same dark thoughts?

Scream. Corazon. Bullet. Scream. Corazon. Bullet. Again and again and again and a… it's endless. Trapped in his own mind, the world around him just disappears. It's just him, facing the ghosts of his past. That's what he gets for daring to fall asleep. How foolish he was to think that his nightmares would leave him alone, just for a few hours.

The shadows are following him in his gloomy, dark world. Why are they trying to kill him? He's not sick anymore. Corazon saved him. He has the right to live. Suddenly, an invisible hand grabs him and squeezes his throat. Tightly. Squirming on the bed, fighting against his own demons, Law breathes harshly. The real world is far away from his nightmares. All he can think about is this hand squeezing his throat. He can't even breathe anymore. But he can't die. Corazon saved his life. He died. Killed by his own brother.

Now, Law has to survive. That's his legacy. The Heart Pirates will beat loudly, etched in memories forever.

The shadows disappear suddenly, just as the squeezing sensation in his throat. A laugh echoes close to his ear. A large figure hovers over him. Pink feather coat, sunglasses, short blond hair, and big, fidgety hands, ready to steal his life again.

It's him.

Doflamingo.

He wants to kill him and steal his fruit. The one that Corazon robbed. No. Law won't let that bastard destroy the sacrifice made by Corazon. Law ferociously punches that damned heavenly demon right in its nose. Maybe he's a doctor, but he can't let this man live.

All he wants is to make him suffer.

To make him pay.

So he punches. Again and again. The only thing he can hear is Doflamingo laughing, as he always does, with his sinister, cold grin. "Just die," he shouts, his voice thick with anger and distress. The reality has vanished in his world of suffering. So he fights back. Harder.

"Law, wake up!" Why the hell is Doflamingo talking with your voice? Is this a fresh trap? This man is the master of manipulation. He can't be tricked again. "Law, please wake up and stay with me!" That soothing hand on his cheek is so soothing. Heavenly soft. Sweat drips down his forehead as he breathes harshly.

Doflamingo's silhouette fades away as soon as he opens his eyes. "Y/n-ya?" He tries to reach for your cheek in the dark bedroom. That touch, that skin, that warmth. So it's really you. "What happened?" He asks, his voice slightly shaky. He tries to regain his composure, breathing harshly, his heart racing crazily in his chest. "Nothing. You just had a nightmares."

Law notices a slight tremolo in your voice. "You're alright?" You just run your hand on his cheek. "Why are you asking me this? You're the one in pain. Just go back to sleep. I'm here. Nothing will happen. You're safe in this room." No, but that was too realistic. And he can't fall asleep right away. Not with a heart beating so loudly. Not with the rush of adrenaline. "Law, you have a lot of work tomorrow. Just try to sleep."

He tried to sleep so many times. It was never successful. However, he lies back as you gently push him against the mattress with your hands on his chest. You gently rub your thumb against his sweaty forehead. With his jaw tensed, Law obeys and closes his eyes, doing as you say. But those dark memories are etched in his eyes. Whenever he tries to sleep, the figure of Doflamingo is painfully present.

Bullet. Corazon. Sick people crying and begging for mercy. Again and again.

"Just sleep." You whisper, focused on him, only him, despite your own state of distress. You just hope he didn't notice the blood on his hands. The one that flows down your injured nose. It hurts. Mentally and physically. It's difficult to see him so tormented by his own thoughts. You can't let him see what he has done to you; he kicks you and almost strangles you. It wasn't him, right? Law would never lend a hand to you. He would never forgive himself if he found out. You have to preserve him. So you stay. Reassuring him until he finally closes his eyes, too exhausted to stay awake.

But a few minutes later, he wakes up, his body cold just as your side of the bed.

"Y/n-ya?" Where have you gone? Why did you leave him alone? Law grabs the candle lamp and the bedroom is lit by a dim light. There's blood on the bed. He doesn't panic at first. But he's confused because he knows your cycle perfectly, you are not supposed to be on your periods. Afterward, he glances downwards.

Blood. On his hands.

"Y/n-ya?" He suddenly stands out and looks for you. The Polar Tang is not that big. At last, he finds you in the small bathroom, with a cloth on your injured nose. Law looks at his hands, then at your body. There's slight bruises on your skin. That skin he cherishes so much. "What happened?" He already knows the answer, yet he's hoping for a different outcome. "I just hit my nose by accident, don't you worry."

You're really a bad liar.

And then, he understands. That wasn't Doflamingo, but you all the time. At first, he can't even speak. He remains there, his mouth partially open and his eyes filled with guilt. As a doctor, he promised to himself to always protect the innocent. His hands exist to heal. Not hurt. Especially not you. You are his precious girlfriend, the one who takes care of him. What have he done to you? Maybe it was a nightmare, maybe it wasn't him, but the outcome is the same. You're in pain because of him.

"I…" he wants to soothe your pain, but he steps back. What if he harm you again? He glances again at his shaky hands. There's blood on his tattooed fingers. He is disgusted by that sight. "Why didn't you tell me?" He wants to scream, to break something, but he's too confused by the red liquid on his tan skin. He reaches for the washstand and cleans his hands, watching the red turn pink. "You were already in pain" you whisper. "Damn, y/n-ya, look at you! You're bleeding because of me. I…" He struggles to speak in a clear manner. Law has always been logical, but right now he's acting impulsively and emotionally. "I'm so sorry…" tears prickle at the corner of his eyes. "Please… let me… help you…" he's afraid of frightening you. But you just nod and stop to hold the cloth against your nose.

Law kneels in front of you, looking at your red skin, slight bruises here and there, slightly swollen lips, and broken nose. His hands are trembling. "Shit," he whispers to himself. He tries to inhale deeply. He needs to calm down before he can heal you. And right now, you really need some assistance. "Law, it's alright…"

Of course, no, it's not okay! "You're in pain because of me, it's not alright!" Law utilizes his devil fruit to cure your broken nose. Gently, he forces you to throw your head back until the bleeding stops. "Wait a second," he whispers before reaching for a wet cloth. After removing all of the dry blood from your face, Law sighs, sits on the ground and remains silent.

The guilt is harassing his poor mind. Now, when he closes his eyes, there's Doflamingo, Corazon, and his hands are full of your blood. This thought will never leave him alone.

He's so unworthy. Despite his efforts, he still fails. Over and over. He failed to save his family. He failed to save Corazon. He failed. Again, and again.

Failure.

"Law, don't overthink, I'm alright." You whisper and wrap your arms around him. Such an irony. You're the one in pain, but you're soothing him by gently running your hands through his hair. "I'm sorry," he repeats once more. "Law, just listen to me… it wasn't you"

Perhaps, but it was his hands that did it anyway. Exhausted, tired and guilty, Law has lost all of his usual cold expressions. He never looked that fragile, human. You kiss him softly and lovely. Law struggles to kiss you back. He refuses to touch you because he fears hurting you again. "It's okay, I'm not mad at you. I still love you. We'll get through it." Nervously, he bites his lips. "Are you still in pain?" His eyes are begging you to tell the truth. "I'm not, thanks to you." He exhales with relief.

"You have to rest. Can you walk?" Even if you nod, Law carries you through the bedroom. He grits his teeth as he sees the blood on the bedsheets. "Wait" He just takes them off and redo the bed with fresh bedsheets. "Now, you can rest."

While you lay on your bed, Law begins to back away, ready to run to his desk. Nevertheless, you grasp his hand. "Don't run away." You understand that he's simply trying to avoid you. An aloof person like him just doesn't know how to deal with that kind of thoughts. "… Y/n-ya" with a sigh, he complies. That's the least he can do. Law flinches as you lean your head against his tattooed chest, feeling tense and nervous. I have already forgiven you, Law. You have to forgive yourself."

He simply mumbles. Of course, his tortured mind will never process that quickly. Fine. You'll wait. And you'll stay by his side. You will be the guardian of his peaceful nights. Slowly, you fall right back asleep. Law doesn't shut his eyes, not even for a moment. He stays here until sunrise and finally warms your face. When you wake up, he already left. But there's a fresh drink, some pills, and something to eat on the nightstand. And a short note.

'Please, come find me if you need something. And rest'

Law is always busy all the day and almost all of the night. And then, he just allows you to 'disturb' him whenever you need him. You can't help but smile. For someone like Law, it's like reading 'I love you'

Of course he loves you.

After all, he is the captain of the Heart Pirates.

#one piece headcanons #one piece x reader #one piece requests #law headcanons #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #heart pirates #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law headcanons #trafalgar d law x you #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law x you #law one piece

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6uppermoonsupremacy200 · 1 year

Note

How would the upper moons react to the news that they are going to be parents?

✧ ✦ ☽︎Kids?☾ ✦ ⚝ ✧ ✧

❧ ♡ Muzan kibutsuji ♡ ❧

______________________________________________________________

-He probs is surprised as he never thought that was possible.

-Overprotective as Hell but spoiled you even more.

-Like you want mochi you get it.

-Also everytime you go outside agleast uppermoons 1 and 3 are with you.(He doesn't trust Douma)

-He is also excited as he could have an heir but like his chance of dying.

-0.00000001% unless you know the demon slayer corps but lets ignore that.

-He gets everything for the baby even when it's way too early like

-You:Muzan what are you doing

Muzan:I'm buying the baby some clothes

You:Muzan don't you think it's too early…

-As said in the chapter how you met you were a gardener.

-So Muzan said forced you to take a break and that he would ask threaten someone to do your job.

-Muzan knows you were a gardener so he gets you flowers of your favorite color .

-But after a while he realizes you could die from pregnancy ..

-He soon starts to cling to you or asks you to be a demon or what would you think about it..

-The more time passes the more he gets scared

-When the baby kicks he is a bit happy knowing the baby is somewhat alive as having a baby between humans and demons may kill it.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

⚔︎ ✧˖ °☽︎Kokushibou☾ ✧˖ ⚔︎

-He is very confused on the science

-When you informed him he just went paused like didnt move only blinking

-He probs would be more silent as he has no idea what to do.

-tho after sometime he becomes clingy like he would pat your head or hug you.

-He is sometimes soft as he doesn't want to hurt you

-He would Def be overprotective like

-You:Im gonna go stargazing

Kokushibou: Ok i'll come with you

—---------------------------------------

You:Im gonna go to the store

Kokushibou:Im co-

You:no

You:*Why do I feel like someone is watching me?*

Kokushibou:*Stalking you*

-He also gets worried in the pregnancy like what if you die or will Muzan be okay with it

-But also happiness as he could train the child to be stronger or become his successor

-Soon when the baby starts kicking he soothes as it is quite painful

______________________________________________________________

☃❄Doma❄☃

-He's so happy and even more clingy

-He spoils you more and basically makes you feel like a queen.

-He even starts buying baby stuff like clothes, etc.

-When i mean early i mean early as you didnt even know the gender

-He soon thinks you may die

-Soon he starts clinging to you

Bro idk what to write like i don't have an idea for him.

______________________________________________________________

�� ❄🏀A̶k̶a̶z̶a̶🏀❄

-Overprotective as hell

-He doesn't want you to get hurt by other demons

-He does everything for you like you need to mix the dough he's already doing It(If your confused read the way he met you)

-He someonetimes puts his head in your stomach to hear the baby

-Is basically clinging to you like you want to go for a walk nope he's coming with you

-He's very excited as he can teach the kid martial arts or how to beat someone's ass.

-When the baby kicks he hugs you as he thinks it's quite painful

-He is tsundere I headcanon he would be way softer on your period and when you're pregnant.

-He is scared to say to Muzan that his lover is pregnant but Muzan knows as he can read minds and he is cool with it as long as he does not slack off.

-Bro when Douma finds out tho he comes to visit you but Akaza is there and makes him leave as he hates him.

(Bro i dont also like him like he's too annoying. Also I don't forgive him for Kanae,Shinobu and Kotoha SO LETS GET MARRIED I'LL SHARE YOU WITH @bookandstar I HAVE YOU ON MONDAYS WEDNESDAYS HALF OF FRIDAY AND SUNDAY!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

______________________________________________________________

🧪Gyutaro𓌴

-He's so confused like bro has no idea how it happened and Dakis like yay ima be a aunt.

-He starts freaking out and Daki has to calm him down.

-He soon starts stealing expensive things and giving you them.

-Soon he starts to think the baby would hate him for his looks or would be afraid.

-You have to explain to him that the baby wouldn't and you cuddled him.

-Daki is very excited as she would be an aunty and gyutaro would have a kid.

-He soon starts to get scared like what if you die or the baby dies.

-He starts to be more clingy as he doesn't want to lose you

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

♡💎Daki💎♥

As Daki is a girl and is underaged you wouldn't be able to make one Gomen Nasai:(

Gomen Nasai- Polite way of sorry.

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artemismoorea03 · 4 months

Text

DP x DC Prompt: I Couldn't Just Let Him Die

So one thing I don't think is touched on enough is the fact that Danny never wanted to be a hero. Like, yeah, we all know he didn't want o be a hero and he makes a joke about it but when we actually think about it this was a life he choose because nobody else was there to help. The main reason?

He didn't want people to get hurt.

Something Batman would relate to.

Now, while I love the idea of Danny absolutely beating the shit out of Joker or any villain who absolutely deserves to have their shit rocked by a kid who is only 5'5" and weighs at most 120 pounds, when we actually think about Danny's character what's more likely? Again, no hate to any of the people who do those fics, keep it up, I love seeing Joker get his just deserts.

But hear me out.

Warnings for fighting, violence, and DC typical weapons.

There was a new meta in Gotham and he was driving Bruce crazy. This kid showed up out of the blue with absolutely no information on him anywhere online or otherwise with tech so outdated not even Oracle could hack it. The only thing Bruce knew about the kid was that he called himself 'Phantom' and that he was a teenager around 14 years old.

Other than that the kid had been a pain in the ass.

Muggings? Phantom took care of it by saving the person then lecturing the person until a Bat or police showed up then literally vanished.

Fires? Phantom would fly in and out of burning buildings repeatedly with no care for his own safety. No mask, no fire protection, nothing but the thin suit he wore.

Kidnappings? Don't worry, Phantom had it handled long before Batman could even get the call to help! EVEN WHEN IT WAS ONE OF HIS OWN KIDS WHO GOT KIDNAPPED!

Granted, Phantom never got in the way of a fight but the amount of evidence that was lost due to what he was doing and how he was doing it was inconvenient. Fingerprints got wiped, evidence of what started fires were covered in an unmeltable ice, kidnappers took off the second their captive was freed and were practically untraceable after that.

It wasn't until a massive Arkham breakout that he actually got to properly meet the kid. Every prisoner had broken out and the city plunged into madness as heroes ran around like chickens with their heads cut off. Villains against heroes, criminals verse vigilantes, villains verses criminals - it was a madhouse.

Batman could hardly keep track of it all but when one of Penguin's men threw a bomb into a crowd and it landed near Joker's feet there was a long silence. It was like the city had fallen silent all around him as Batman tried to get to the bomb.

Joker was a villain.

Joker had hurt his family, killed millions of innocents including his own son, but he was sick. He didn't deserve to die.

Apparently Phantom agreed because he flew faster than Batman could track him shoving Joker away from the bomb before encasing the bomb in ice.

"Hey! What's the big idea shovin' me, bub?!" Joker said, seemingly forgetting about the bomb that was still in the kids hand. Joker walked right up to Phantom, glaring down at the shorter male who just looked at him. "Think you're some kind of hero?!"

Phantom blinked, "I feel like answering that is a trap."

Joker grabbed Phantom by the front of his shirt, "A funny guy, huh? Think you can out joke the Joker?"

"Again. That feels like a trap. I'm not trying to do anything, Clowny. But I wasn't about to let you die."

Joker glared, "Why?"

Phantom slipped out of Joker's hands somehow, much to Joker's confusion. "Because that's not who I am. Criminal or not, I'm not going to let you die if I can protect you."

"Who says I need protection?"

Phantom held up the bomb again with a deadpan look. "Lucky guess." He said, then suddenly noticed something to his right. "Oh, gotta go. Later Clowny."

"IT'S JOKER!" Joker shouted after Phantom as he flew away. "Batman! Teach your baby bats some manners!"

"He's not mine, Joker." Batman said, marching over, grabbing Joker's wrists and cuffing them behind his back.

Not yet anyway. But with a mentality like that... maybe this pain in the ass could learn a thing or two from a Bat.

#dp x dc prompt #my prompts #dc x dp prompt

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lilacsinjuly · 11 months

Text

needy.

miguel o’hara x reader

summary:

miguel is suffering with the side effects of his vampirism: the insatiable hunger. you, a doctor, will stop at nothing to help him, no matter what. it’s your job, afterall.

CW: smut, biting, lowkey vampire sex, rough, i didnt do amazing in my gcse spanish course so i’m sorry for the rough attempt at miguel speaking spanish LMAO, hardly proof read mb, bit of oral (f receiving), mentions of blood, pain and injury. fem reader.

word count: 2.1k

likes, comments and reposts are deeply appreciated! <3 enjoy.

-`♡´-

He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t resist. His brain felt like it was begging to break out of his skull. Everything hurt, but it wasn’t the kind of pain he could turn to you for help with.

It was the kind of pain that stemmed from the unfortunate bite all those years ago. A pain that derived from a never-ending hunger within him, resulting in constant hunger and sharpened fangs.

“Miguel, how many times do I have to say it? It’s my job. It’s what I'm paid to do! Just let me help you and we can-”

“No.” he cut you off sharply. When he had hired you after a particularly nasty fight that ended in a lot of spidermen injured but there was a lack of medics to help, he didn’t realise everything you did or said would have so much of an affect on him. If he had known, he would’ve never even looked in your direction because, god, you were intoxicating. “No puedo más, mierda. [i can’t anymore, fuck]. You can’t help me, okay? Just go home.” He seethed.

He wasn’t angry with you, never you. He was angry at how he had to turn your sweet words and caring touch away just because he couldn’t risk hurting you.

“You’re so frustrating, Miguel. you never let me help you.” He stood with his back to you, because he knew that if he looked behind him and saw you standing with your arms folded, a cute pout on your lips and the smooth skin of your neck on display, he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back anymore.

If he ever came close to hurting you, even if somehow the domino effect of something he did led to you getting injured, he would never forgive himself for as long as he lived. You were only human, you weren’t a spider like the rest of them. You were fragile, and couldn’t protect yourself as well as you could save others.

“You should know by now I won't stop until I get what I want.” you began walking up behind him. “You’re clearly struggling with something. your breathing is heavy, you haven’t been walking or talking properly since you came back from your mission.” a sudden realisation popped into your brain. “You didn’t hit your head on your mission today, did you? Miguel- you told me there wasn’t a scratch on you, I can’t help you if you’re lying to me.”

Finally, he turned around to face you, his head hung low but he could see every inch of your perfect body. No longer could he restrain himself from the all-consuming thirst he felt as he flashed his fangs and suddenly appeared in front of you, pinning you against the wall. “No quiero ayuda. [I don't want your help]. I just want it to stop.”

You tilted your head up at him. There wasn’t an ounce of fear in your eyes despite your position and he felt his heart stop. “You aren’t scared?” He breathed out. His eyes were wide and red. His heart was beating increasingly fast and his throat was getting dry.

He was so used to being the one people would cower around. Yet with you, you always seemed to defy his expectations. He stood in front of you, restraining himself from killing you, and yet you had barely even blinked.

You moved your hair out of the way of your neck, causing him to try and push himself away from you but you grabbed his wrist before he could. “It’s my job to help you. That’s why I'm here. So let me help you.”

He found it so hard to disobey you when you looked up at him so gently. Yet it was that look that reminded him of his affection towards you and made him shake his head profusely in denial. He refused to hurt you, even when you asked him to.

You pulled him by his wrist, closer to you, tempting him in as he complied thoughtlessly. His mind was reeling with the thought that it was your hand touching his wrist. It was your hand that slowly traced up his back and it was your fingers that threaded through his hair at that moment. Slowly, you guided his head down towards your open neck as every doubt inside his mind froze against his will. All of his morals disappeared. Everything he stood by, his dedication to protecting you, gone within a minute of you delicately caressing him.

“Please, Miguel, let me help you.”

When you pleaded with him so innocently, when your words slipped so tenderly from your pretty lips, he could no longer hold himself back. The shackles he’d chained himself to for so long, the restraints he’d built with his bare hands, crumbled like castles.

His sharp fangs sunk themselves into the crook of your neck and you whimpered slightly in pain, biting your lip.

Miguel lost himself in the taste of you as he forced you up harder against the wall. Still, it wasn’t enough. He needed his entire body against yours. He grabbed your leg, wrapping it around his waist as he continued to slowly suck the blood from your neck.

His hands pawed against you and massaged your hips. You felt yourself growing increasingly more wet at the feeling of him pressed up so close against you with his lips against your neck.

Somehow, the pain faded as you got used to it and all you could feel was the sensation you got as he ground himself against you, overpowered with need and moaning into your neck.

His head was spinning as his blood pumped vigorously. He’d never experienced such a high, such an addictive drug that devoured him whole and swallowed him completely.

You could feel how much he needed this. The feeling of peace and pleasure overshadowed the one of pain, yet, as you felt yourself go faint, you began to shake yourself out of the trance his lips against your neck put you in. In an odd way, you’d let him drink from you forever if it meant the feeling of his skin against yours.

You tapped his waist, urging him off you as he withdrew.

You placed your hand against your neck as a sudden pang of soreness washed over you. However, the sight before you was one you’d never forget as you looked up to meet his eyes. His lips stained with your blood before he wiped it away sent a strange sensation down your back as you closed your legs.

“Thank you, mi dulce niña. [my sweet girl].” he took your face between his thumb and index finger. Your faces were unbearably close. The desire to taste your own blood on his lips consumed you as your eyes flickered between his and his lips.

You stood against the wall of the empty hallway to his room in silence, your bodies begging for each other yet your mouths too shy to make it known.

Instead, he opted for silently taking you down the dimly lit corridor to his room, his fingers intertwined with yours.

The second his door closed, your back was against it. His lips finally pressed against yours as you sighed in contentment. Once again, your leg was hiked up as he caressed the supple skin of your thigh.

A rough yet gentle hand made its way up to your face as he ran his thumb up and down against your cheek. “I need you so bad. You don’t know what you’ve done to me. Everyday, I think about you. Your lips, your voice, your smile, your hips. I can’t fucking get enough of you and it kills me that I cant physically be as close to you as I want to be.” he murmured against your lips whilst you breathed shaky breaths against his.

You didn’t know what to say, or how to put your feelings into words because he had already summed it up so perfectly for you. “I can’t get enough of you either.”

He carried you to the bed and placed you down, his touch never once leaving your skin except to take his suit off.

Your hand ran across the scars of his chest, some you had fixed up yourself, up to his neck where you pulled him against you once more. He struggled to get your uniform off quickly with the continuous kiss and lack of sense as the thought of you naked beneath him fogged up his mind.

Miguel broke the kiss, and the sight of you with your hair splayed out across the mattress, skin glistening and your eyes half-lidded with lust had him weak in the knees as his dick grew harder against your thigh.

The moonlight peaked out past the gaps of his curtains, highlighting your frame and making him desperate.

He began to kiss down your body, leaving marks across your collarbone where he would occasionally bite.

He sucked and licked your nipples gently as you writhed beneath his touch, desperately yearning for more of his rough touch.

“I need you, miguel.”

“Patient now, mi dulce niña. [my sweet girl]” he replied, looking up at you from between your legs as he slowly began kissing down towards where you needed him so badly. He stroked your thighs and nipped at them harshly, yet the pain merged so beautifully with the pleasure that it all became one big blur.

He asked you to be patient, but after so long of longing stares and discreet touches, being patient was the last thing on your mind as you bucked your hips up, itching for his touch.

“Niña mala [bad girl]. What did I just tell you?” he snarled.

“Please, Miguel, I'm begging you. I’ve waited so long- I can’t be patient anymore.” you pleaded with him. It seemed to be enough to convince him as he brought your hips up to his face and flicked his tongue skillfully against your pussy as you gasped surprisingly.

He moved his tongue rhythmically, snatching pleas and moans from your lips. It wasn’t too long before he slid in one of his fingers... then another. He thrusted them inside you relentlessly, praising you for taking what he was giving you without another complaint.

His tongue and his fingers combined clouded your senses and made you feel as though nothing - no one - would ever come close to satisfying you so well. However, just as you clenched around him, he pulled out. You whined and cried for him to stop playing around, but he simply ignored you.

Miguel needed to feel you come around his dick if you were going to come anywhere. He needed you both to finish together. He craved the feeling of your bodies merging together in that haze of relief and exhaustion before he pulled out.

He moved back up to your face and your eyes locked; a feeling rushed over you that made your heart swell. You don’t think you could ever get enough of him.

He grabbed his painfully hard dick, stroking it against your folds. You bucked against him hopelessly. Luckily, he took the hint and slid himself somewhat smoothly inside of you, though the pain of the stretch was inevitable.

Your hands immediately went to his back, gripping on as if it would save you. Miguel groaned at the pain as he pulled back slightly and thrusted harshly back in.

He noticed the bite marks on your neck, and the blood that still gradually fell from it due to the lack of treatment. He leaned down, licking the blood up and moaning as he pounded himself into you savagely.

Everything was overwhelming. The feeling of him licking and sucking the blood from your neck, the pain of your hands clawing down his back, the unrelenting pummelling inside of you and the sounds of skin against skin and voices intertwining in the air.

It sent you both spiralling.

“ ‘m g’nna- come, Miguel.” you heaved out.

His hand trailed down to your aching pussy as he slid a finger against your clit and began rubbing viciously. Your moans dominated the room at the extra pleasure as you began to slip from your control.

“Come with me.” he demanded as he hammered inside of you without any remorse.

It was everything you had both dreamed it would be and more. The feeling of letting go together shook you both as you clenched around him, sucking him in, and as he shot his load inside of you.

You both lay there for what felt like an eternity of comfort and serenity. Your bodies pressed up against each other with your eyes closed, just soaking up the moment without any anxieties or thoughts.

However, to your dismay, Miguel pulled back. He took your face in his palm again, marvelling at your vulnerable state. He would be the only one to see you like this.

He placed his forehead against yours as your breaths became synchronised along with your heartbeats, creating the sound of peace and belonging.

<333

note: read the extra here.

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