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luveline · 1 month

Note

Hi jade, I have a hurt/comfort request for Steve, maybe reader was there with the party for all the vecna stuff and maybe gets hurt, afterwards Steve taking care of her and staying w her in the hospital and stuff? Love your writing!

thank you for requesting <3 fem!reader

“Did you know there’s like, a concessions stand?”

You moan at the pain between your shoulders, turning onto your arm. Steve lounges in the chair beside you with a paper plate of donuts on his chest. His legs are kicked up on your bed. He’s taken his shoes off, at least.

“Free donuts, coffee, they even had flapjacks.”

“Steve, I think you have to pay for those.”

He puts the plate on your bed. “Well, they can’t send you to jail.”

“‘Cos my back’s broken?”

“‘Cos you’re too pretty for prison.” Steve sits up properly. “You need help?”

He moves the donuts again onto your nightstand and hooks you under the arms to ease you into a sitting position. You’re back isn’t broken, for the record, but you fell funny coming out of the gate a few days ago and you haven’t bounced back yet. Worse, you've got an infected burn on your hand, wrist and arm from your Molotov cocktail. It’s out of commission, as are you while they pump antibiotics into the crook of your elbow. Steve’s careful not to tug your IV.

You gasp, the twinge in your back turning to flame. “I know,” Steve murmurs, shockingly sincere, “I’m sorry. You’re not supposed to lie down all the time, or it won’t get better.”

“I know.”

“Yeah, of course you do. You know everything.”

Insult or compliment, you’re unsure. What you do know is that Steve’s come to see you every day since you were checked in, he’s the one who checked you in, and he’s taken good care of you so far. He’s not even your boyfriend, you thought he liked Nancy— but he’s rubbing his hands down your shoulders and looking you in your face despite the horror he’s sure to be witnessing. Bruised eye, greasy nose, hair thankfully clean but completely untouched otherwise.

“Better?” he asks, cupping your cheek.

Is he gonna kiss me? you think. You glance down at his lips, then back up. Steve doesn’t notice or doesn’t mention it, his fingers drawing a gentle path behind your ear as his thumb aligns with your jaw.

“Hey, don’t cry.”

You shake your head. “No, I’m not.”

“Sorry, you just looked so sad for a second.” He laughs wryly. Though you don’t feel like he’s making fun of you, he teases, “Cheer up. What have you got to be so sad about?”

“You keep harassing me.”

“Oh, that’s how it is!” He tips his head back. “Nurse! I’d like to report a thief!”

You gasp, laugh, and attempt to cover his mouth as strikes of pain nibble up your spine. “Steve, don’t–” He catches your hands to stop you from silencing him, but he doesn’t shout again, holding your hands together in his lap, smiling smugly and affectionately at once. He has nice eyes that are almost almond in shape and a lovely light brown. They glow in the slither of light that sneaks its way through the blinds, raw amber, stomach-achingly pretty.

You can’t look at him for too long. You defer to your hands scrunched up in the sheets instead.

“I did pay for the donuts, by the way. I’m just messing with you.”

You try to laugh. “Why doesn't that surprise me?”

“You act like I’m such a jerk,” he says fondly, pulling you in for a cautious hug. He’s tender when he needs to be, you’d never have thought it of him, how sweetly and softly he rubs your back, how he murmurs near your ear. “Do you need more meds? I’m sure they can get you another dose of the good stuff if you pretend your gummy arm is aching.”

“Thanks, Steve, but I’m fine.”

He hums. “Think I can get them to let me stay the night?”

“Steve, I’m really okay.”

“It’s not about you, I just don’t wanna go home,” he lies poorly, “they don’t have donuts at home–”

His hand leaves your back. “Are you eating over my shoulder?” you ask.

He hugs you tighter with the remaining arm. “What? No.”

You feel sprinkles falling down your back and ignore it for now. He’ll have to help you out of bed in a few minutes anyways. He can sort it out then. For now, you lean into his chest and close your eyes tight.

“I’ll sleep better in the chair by your bed,” he promises.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington scenario #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

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feyhunter78 · 2 months

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Hi!! I’ve been thinking about that one scene in 10 Things I Hate About You, when Patrick walks Kat to the swings when she’s drunk and he says “Leave it to you to use big words when you're shitfaced.” Except! Kat is Nerd Miguel who somehow ended up drunk at some frat party or something, and Patrick is reader who has to deal with his antics. I imagine him spewing random scientific words/facts that reader tries her best to understand. All while she’s just trying to sober him up a bit. This lil scenario has been running through my head, and who best to share with than you!

(The chokehold you’re Miguel, specifically nerd Miguel, has on me is insane! It’s a great distraction while at work! <3)

I love that scene so much!!!! I made this a bit different, but I think I still hit the mark for ya anon <3 (Also this is a normal house party bc guys that are not in a frat are not allowed to attend frat events just like with sororities!)

House Parties

Art cred: Treelover_5

Nerd!Miguel masterlist

You weave through Brett’s parents’ guest house on the edge of town, downing your drink as you search for Miguel. It was really nice of Brett to invite you and Miguel to his pre-winter break bash. You know Miguel doesn’t party much, and Brett has been trying to encourage him to come out of his shell, so this was the perfect opportunity.

The sound of chanting draws your attention, and you see Miguel surrounded by a few other friends of Brett’s. Brett seems to be explaining something to him, car keys in hand. You drove here, so you know the keys aren’t Miguel’s, which makes you feel a bit better.

“Chug, chug, chug.” They chant, and you watch as Brett and Miguel simultaneously shotgun their beers, the foam dripping down Miguel’s tan skin.

Smash. You think instantly, your brain supplying you with images of what Miguel might look like as he comes up from between your legs, his lips, and chin slick with your arousal.

Then Miguel throws the beer down and throws his arms up victoriously.

Brett finishes, then throws his beer down as well and hooks an arm around Miguel’s neck, bringing him down to his level. “My boy Miguel has done it again! Absolute beast of a man!��

The other guys cheer, and you see Miguel smile shyly.

He’s been gaining in popularity, not that he really cares, nor do you, but it makes you happy that he’s made some new friends. Even if those friends challenge him to shotgun races.

Miguel spots you before you can even breach the circle and latches onto you. “Y/N, I won, did you see?”

Brett gives you a look that means dude should probably get some air, and you nod in response.

“Yeah I did, hey Miguel, you wanna step outside with me?”

“Yes, always.” He says instantly, his lips far too close to your neck for you to feel normal about.

You guide him through the crowd and out the door, his arm slung over your shoulders. He’s so heavy, all those stupid hot muscles making him dead weight as he mumbles to himself incoherently.

“What was that sweet boy?” You ask, when you hear something that sounds like your name.

“Did you know that the hydrochloric acid in the human stomach is so strong it can dissolve metal? Thin metal, mind you, but still, metal.” Miguel says, his cheeks red, his glasses perched precariously on the edge of his nose, and a goofy smile on his face.

“Wow, that’s crazy.” You say, struggling under the weight of him as you try to lug him over to a nearby porch swing, the neatly trimmed grass around you littered with solo cups and soaked with various spilled drinks.

“And beer—beer is twice as fizzy as champagne. I know this for a fact, I had four or so beers? They taste bad, did you know that?”

“Yeah, house parties usually have pretty cheap beer.” You laugh, swaying a little when Miguel leans on you.

“And cheetahs, super inbreed, ten thousand years ago, taboos were broken, and now they’re all…ya know, the way they are.” He continues on, letting out a surprise oof, when you slide him onto the white porch swing, the weathered green cushions not doing much to break his fall.

“Very cool, so now can you tell me what the hell you were drinking in the twenty minutes I left you alone? Besides beer? Because Miguel, you are so fucked up.” You ask, sitting next to him, your legs tucked beside you as you turn to face him, an affectionate smile on your face.

He drags a hand down his face, and his glasses fall into his lap. He pouts at them, a small aw leaving his lips.

You pick them up and hand them back to him, and he clumsily puts them back on.

“Brett suggested we do shots before the races, he passed his midterm, we were celebrating with him.”

Fucking Brett. You loved the guy, he was nice, nonthreatening, watched out for you when you were in the Sig Epp house, but he also was a menace, who wanted everyone to be as drunk as he was.

“Miguel, you’re a big guy, but you don’t have Brett’s tolerance.” You pat his chest consolingly.

Miguel looks at you, eyes a little hazy, his shirt unbuttoned far more than it normally would be, his hair ruffled. “I’m tougher than I look.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He leans his head back against the swing, staring up at the stars. “You know a cloud can weigh around a million pounds?”

“I did not know that.” You respond, trying to see if you can check his pupils without him noticing.

He notices and rolls his head to face you. “Everyone blames women when they don’t have sons, but it’s actually male genes that decide it.”

“I did know that one, actually.” You say, as you run your hands through his hair, pushing it out of his face.

He smiles, and you swear it’s brighter than any star in the sky. “You’re so smart, y/n.”

You’re taken aback for a second, heat rushing to your cheeks. “Thanks, that means a lot coming from you.”

“So smart and so, so pretty. I know I said it’s on me, but will you give me a girl y/n? I want a daughter with you, my brains, your everything else, she’d be unstoppable.” He says, his words slurring together. Then he falls forward with a yelp, hands, and elbows hitting the dirt.

You sit frozen in shock, staring down at Miguel, before you snap out of it and scramble to help him. “Shit, Miguel, are you okay?”

He holds up his right hand, it’s bleeding. “Just put some sugar on it, it’ll heal faster.”

“Full of fun facts, aren’t you?” It’s another trip back inside to find a sink and a band-aid, his words still bouncing around in your head.

I want a daughter with you.

Fuck, he’s going to kill you one day, and you’ll let him.

Not me doing a little callback to what Miguel thinks at the end of his encounter with drunk y/n hehe

TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan, @scaryplanetdestroyer, @denzmallows

#meg's writing #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #nerd!miguel #nerd miguel #college!miguel #college!reader #sorority!reader

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 3 months

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Same Ol' Same Ol'

A VERY LATE Kinktober Day Six Prompt: "I Missed You"

Warnings: Language, smut, references to breakups

A/N: based on the song Still by Liv Dawson

Everything's still the same.

It's oddly comforting and painfully nostalgic how Jack still smells the same, you notice, taking in his scent as your lips press against his shoulder, his body weight heavy but welcome atop yours. He's still wearing the cologne you bought him for your second anniversary, the same one he insisted he hated during one of your last fights.

Everything's still the same.

Your right hand instinctively pulls at his chestnut curls at the back of his head, your left fingertips digging into his lower back, guiding his rhythm as he snaps his hips into you, leaving you breathless with each thrust. He's as desperate to take himself to the hilt inside of you as you are to feel every inch of him. Its almost too much, the feeling of being full and stretched out. You struggle to grip the sheets to steady yourself against the bed, feeling your core tighten as his pelvis grinds against your clit. Your moans are the sweetest thing he's heard in the longest time, a fervent reminder of what he once had.

Everything's still the same.

Jack's large hands frame your face, with his nose nuzzled into your neck, his scruffy beard scratchy against your cheek. You can count how each pant in your ear matches his strokes, your breaths in tandem as if you'd practiced this before.

You have practiced this before, many times. In this bed, on the couch, on the kitchen counter. There isn't an inch of this apartment where you haven't been intimate, not a spot where you haven't moaned Jack's name over and over, and still you feel like a stranger in what was once your home.

Everything's still the same.

Its pure muscle memory, the way your body molds around his, how quickly he can bring you to orgasm because he knows your most sensitive spots. "Is this okay?" Jack quietly grunts out, already knowing that it is, and you barely give a nod before letting out a sharp breath as his thumb presses against your sensitive bud, drawing agonizingly small circles. There isn't a spot on your body that he doesn't know like the back of his hand, and he's determined to exploit every one of your pleasurable weaknesses, not sure when he'll get the chance again.

Surely the two of you won't make the same mistake twice.

Everything's still the same.

After three years of being in these same sheets, mastering each other's bodies, discovering the things that make you tick and the one's that piss him off, everything is second nature. If you close your eyes tight enough, you can almost pretend that you aren't hooking up with your ex, only 10 months after your breakup.

Almost.

His name rolls off your tongue with ease as he brings you hurdling toward your orgasm, your nails digging into his back. You're impossibly close when Jack lifts his chest to hover over you. You open your eyes, blinking through your lashes as you feel yourself start to lose your orgasm due to the change in position. His pace never falters, his hands leaving the bed to press down on your hip bones, changing the angle of his thrusts, his cock brushing against your g-spot each time he drives in and out of you.

It was only seconds before waves of pleasure were washing over you, your fingers and toes tingling from overstimulation. Jack’s hips stuttered as he came, his body convulsing as he filled the condom. He collapsed down on the bed next to you, his arm draped over your stomach as he closed his eyes.

Jack was always gifted in bed, but adorably predictable, with only a few moves under his belt that he always returned to. You knew them all, had come to love them over time, and you immediately noticed how different he was now.

His virility was renewed, there was a hunger to him that you'd never had the pleasure to witness.

Had he been with someone else since you'd broken up?

How many other women had been in the same bed the two of you had picked out when you moved in together?

You knew you had no right to question him, you weren't together anymore, but still it felt like the biggest betrayal. You didn't try to hide the tears brimming in your lashes, knowing you could attribute them to overwhelming pleasure instead of sadness.

Jack peaked out at you through his right eye, noticing your tears immediately. "Are you okay?" He moved to hover over you again, this time resting his weight to the side, his hand cradling your face. You nodded, pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth to stop you from crying. "What happened?", he searched your features, his heart racing at the thought that he was too rough and maybe had hurt you.

"I'm fine", you finally breathed out, "just tired." You pushed him off of you, gathering the flat sheet to cover your body and shuffling to the bathroom, the door slamming behind you. You tightened the sheet around your chest, frantically wiping the tears from your cheeks. You look pitiful in the mirror, a strong juxtaposition to the confidence you had when you walked through the door just a few hours ago.

You were the one who called Jack, finally able to pull yourself together enough to do your hair and put on makeup. You wanted him to see how good you were doing, at least as much as you could pretend, how you had moved on to bigger and better things, but it only took a little sweet talking and a few glasses of wine before you were underneath him, proving just how weak you truly were.

You searched the drawers for eyedrops to get rid of the redness from crying. All of the toiletries were still arranged the way you liked, by category of item. Jack was never that organized. It always drove you up the wall how simultaneously messy and a control freak he could be at the same time. You found the eye drops at the back of the drawer, the same place you left them.

Everything's still the same.

A knock at the door startled you, making you drop the tiny plastic bottle. "Everything okay in there?" You could hear the concern in Jack's voice.

"Yeah, just a second", you called out, squeezing a few drops into each eye, blinking away the artificial tears. You just needed to fake it for a few more minutes and you could get out of here, and all of this would be a very disappointing memory. You took a deep breath as you opened the door, plastering a fake smile on your face. Jack stood back, taking in your figure.

"Just needed to pee", you lied, pushing past him to your pile of clothes that were resting on the chair in the corner. "Are you leaving? I thought we could grab dinner or something." Jack was hopeful that this would turn into more than a ill advised hookup between exes. You chuckled as you slipped your sweater over your head and pulled your jeans over your hips.

When you turned, Jack was still standing there, his chest bare, boxers sitting low on his hips, his brow knitted together.

"I don't think that's a good idea." You grabbed your handbag and shoes, placing them in the crook of your arm. "Actually, I know its not a good idea."

"Why? If you didn't think it was a good idea, why did you come here?" He crossed his arms over his chest, his fingertips digging into the spaces of his ribcage. "I-uh, I don't know. I'm sorry, I don't think I should have come at all." That pooling of warmth in your stomach that you felt from pleasure was quickly replaced by an uneasy knot that tightened with every passing second.

"Don't be sorry, be honest with me. What's wrong?"

You took in a few breaths, your gaze falling to the floor. You felt stupid for asking, but it would nag at you forever if you didn't. "Have you been with anyone else in our- this house?"

You could see the breath hitch in Jack's chest. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped over. "No. No, I haven't seen anyone else since we broke up." You weren't sure why, but you believed him. You never thought Jack would hurt you, but he would have stroked his own ego and told you if he had. "Have you?", he looked like he'd be sick if you said yes.

"Uh, no." He knew the answer by the look of sadness in your eyes but he still needed to hear the word. "Everything is the same here, like I never left." Your tone wasn't accusatory, you were just stating a fact as you looked around the bedroom.

"I know. I couldn't change anything." He wrung his hands out, his chin dropping to his chest. "I didn't want to change anything." He was hoping that you'd come back one day, and he wanted to be ready for that, leaving everything the way you had it. He knew that you'd like that.

"Why did you let me in, Jack? You knew this was a bad idea just as I did, and yet here we are." The two of you could try to blame each other for your misgivings till you were blue in the face, but you were both adults, both capable of making your own choices.

"I missed you." His confession surprised you, your eyes starting to sting with tears immediately. "I wish I had some better excuse, because I know it doesn't change anything, but I missed you. I had to see you." He ran a hand through his messy curls, looking to you for a reaction.

God, he missed every inch of you. The way you smelled, the sound of your voice, the way you felt beneath his touch. Now that he had a taste of what he so desperately missed, he knew there was no way he was letting you go again. He just needed you to feel the same way. He need you to miss him, too.

He felt lightheaded as you began to speak. "I missed you too. There isn't a day where I don't miss you, Jack." You felt a weight lift off your shoulders, but you didn't feel any relief. It was just replaced by the weight of the guilt of choosing to do something you knew wasn't right. Jack didn't care, he felt no remorse. It was the wrong thing to do, but the right person to do it with.

"Then stay. Please." Begging wasn't in Jack's nature, but he'd bloody his hands and knees for you.

The room was quiet, the air stifling between the two of you. If you did this, there was no going back. If you stayed, you were making a choice to possibly go back to the fighting, to the uncertainty, to the insecurities the two of you held from one another. That weight would never leave you, always sitting on your shoulders, crushing you, but you would be with someone who you didn't want to live without. As much as you tried to deny it, you couldn't live without Jack.

You stood, taking gentle steps toward him, settling in between his legs. You guided his hands to the button of your jeans, Jack taking over and pushing your jeans down past your hips. He pressed a wet kiss to your stomach, just above your belly button, making you shiver. You pulled your sweater over your head as he toyed with the waistband of your panties, snapping it against your delicate skin.

"What are you doing?" He asked, looking up at you through his long lashes, his blue eyes shining in the ambient lighting.

"Staying", you whispered, pushing him down on the bed by the shoulders. You were making your choice, one that you'd been desperate to make since the two of you broke up almost a year ago.

Everything's still the same.

Tag-List:

@jacks-daycare

@livsters

@katiaw2

@xangelonmyshoulderx

@thatonegirlthatlikesthings

@j0hkiya

@bell3e

@isisosidixj

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@fluidsentiment

@jacksuberdriver

#jack harlow #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow imagine #jackharlow #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow smut #jack harlow x reader #Spotify

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captain-mj · 1 year

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Roach asks Ghost to dress up as Predator. Primal kink.

I love predator so much, Predator 2 was my favorite movie as a kid (my mom was worried about my mental health). I love the Yautja so much and the idea of Ghost dressed up like that got me feral, foaming at the mouth, fucking crazy

I can offer no money but if anyone wants to draw Ghost dressed as predator, I'll start crying and send you the tears

It had taken forever to get the costume. The mask fit perfectly over his face and the rest of the outfit, the armor and the fishnet, fit a bit snug but perfect. Roach was already hiding somewhere, so how he looked would be a completely surprise. He barely looked human, but Ghost liked it. Using his scythes from his Azrael skin, he put them again his back.

Then, he started hunting Roach. Following tracks and broken twigs to his prey.

Roach hadn't hid very well. Mostly because he was impatient. Ever since he had made the comment to Ghost that the monster in predator was hot and Ghost joked they were probably the same height, Roach had been desperate. He currently was furiously fingering himself, so horny it made him stupid.

Ghost's footsteps made the slightest sound and Roach quickly ran away from the sound. Judging by the harsh sound of Ghost in pursuit, he wasn't bothering to muffle his footsteps at all, it wasn't the smartest idea. The sound disappeared but Roach kept moving for another minute. He eventually did stop though, turning around.

Ghost was gone.

Roach panted and tried to catch his breath. His heart raced.

Giant hands grabbed him, one over his mouth and one around his waist. Ghost dragged him so his feet only dangled above the ground uselessly. He didn't speak, just shoved Roach's face, rather gently so the bark wouldn't hurt his face, directly into a tree.

Ghost bent down slightly and grabbed his ankle, yanking it up so one of his legs was pulled almost straight up. His other foot had to stay firmly on the ground to prevent him from falling. The strain in his thighs started to hurt but Ghost's gloved hands grabbed at him, exposing his hole and the tip of his finger slipped in slightly.

Ghost grunted and slid the front of part of the gear up so he could grab his cock. Roach whimpered and he struggled, trying to kick him away but between the position and Ghost's strength he couldn't really fight back. He felt him shove into him and let out a silent scream. He understood why he held him like this though. The angle meant it felt like Ghost was deep in his stomach, breaking him open.

Roach scratched at the wood helplessly as Ghost started to fuck him hard. No chance to adjust or prepare. He slammed right into him, leaving Roach to scramble and learn to take it.

Ghost leaned down, nosing at his neck before breathing him in. The cold mask stared down at him and Roach's dick twitched. His eyes were filling with tears and he tried to grab on to Ghost's shoulders instead. Ghost shoved him off like he was nothing and fucked him harder for the inconvenience. Eventually, he moved so Roach's leg was hooked over his shoulder and he wrapped his free hand around his throat, choking him.

Roach held on to his forearm, feeling the metal under his nails. He let himself start crying because he knew Ghost liked that. Ghost immediately sped up, hitting his prostate with the accuracy you'd expect from a sniper. Slammed right into him over and over and over.

Roach sobbed and his back arched, silently wailing. His mouth opened and throat convulsing against Ghost's hand.

Ghost growled in his ear before forcing him to arch further, moving his leg so the ache in his thighs would stop. He didn't pause his assault on his body though before letting go of this throat and slapping his ass hard. Roach whimpered and hid in his hands, feeling his body start to tense. Right when he felt himself get close, almost at his release.

Ghost pulled out and let Roach crumple to the ground. Roach looked up at him, bewildered. Ghost's boot lightly tapped him, clearly wanting him to lay back. He obliged, legs spreading of their own accord.

Roach lifted his hands and shakily signed. "Please."

Ghost laughed. Cruelly. He moved closer and crouched, grabbing his face. "Little prize. What should I take from you?" His hands traced down Roach's chest, enjoying the frantic panting.

Roach shook his head and tried to push his hand down to his cock, desperately needing to come. He was so hard and so close it wouldn't take much.

Ghost flicked his hand away and settled between his thighs again. He pulled him closer and thrust back into him, groaning.

Roach sighed in relief and Ghost shoved his knees to his chest, happily fucking into him. His cock made a small indent in Roach's tummy and it drove them both crazy. He tried to fight back just a little and received a backhand for it before Ghost grabbed his chin again.

Roach was so close again. He rocked his hips back and groaned, body spasming around Ghost. Two fingers hooked the side of his mouth before forcing him to open it. Ghost found a harsh rhythm and kept thrusting while his fingers explored his mouth.

Roach came hard, shivering. He quickly closed his eyes and whimpered against him.

Ghost kept thrusting into him over and over again before coming deep inside him.

Roach shivered and fell limp. Ghost pulled him into his lap, not pulling out. "I think I'll take all of you as a prize."

Roach nodded lazily and smiled, kissing the nose of the mask. He couldn't quite see Ghost's eyes, but he didn't mind. He signed "Love you"

"Love you too, Roach."

#call of duty #cod #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty ghost #call of duty roach #simon ghost riley #gary roach sanderson #simon riley #gary sanderson #ghostroach

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halfadoginatank · 8 months

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Eldritch König teaser

——————

He can't stand it, the stares, soon enough he hears more whispers. They call Konig a monster on the battlefield. They wonder where the enemy's bodies went, they no longer see johans eyes. So he covers his face, he doesn't know what to do when he looks in the mirror. His hair has grown down to his waist since getting back, it grows faster than he can keep up, his hooked nose, the one his mother had loved had been broken and reset wrong, and there was death in his eyes. He chopped up a T-shirt, the only thing that would work with his helmet, he takes the cleaning products from the supply closet and draws tears on it. Tears for the first ever thing he killed, that poor helpless elk. The first thing to feed the king of monsters.

——————

Oh boy oh boy yall better get ready because I am COOKING

#mw2 2022 #cod modern warfare #call of duty mw2 #konig modern warfare #konig mw2 #konig #konig cod #korangi #kortac #eldrich horror #eldrich konig has my whole heart and by god will I make this man incomprehensible #fanfiction #wip wednesday #writting

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anamelessfool · 9 months

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Cringe is dead, make messy drawings of your blorbos

Exerpt from Tilted

There was a knock on her door, which meant she had about fifteen seconds before Copia opened it.

Halfway through his count, she ripped the door open, grinning wildly. He nearly jumped out of his skin. “Oh-eh!”

Copia was wearing his usual threadbare red tracksuit, and he had never looked better in it. She had requested he wear something comfortable for their night in. She grabbed him by his ratty red hoodie and brought him in for a vigorous kiss. “Hey, I have a surprise for you! You'll love it!”

He uttered one of his exasperated noises, then smiled faintly. He gazed at her tenderly across his delightfully upturned nose, the white Infernal Eye bright in the half dark. He pulled her in close, wrapping his arms around her waist. “And what's this surprise now, hm?”

“One of my favorite ways to spend a Saturday night,” Marian said, leading him into her room. On the floor was a pizza box and pillows from her bed, next to the large cardboard box and an ancient television set hooked up to her garage sale prize. “Pizza and games.”

“Oh!” Copia looked a little disappointed, but smiled anyway. He pointed at the mass of cables attached to the TV. “And what is all this?”

“It's a game system! I had the same one when I was a kid.”

“And you have a television here, as well?” He attempted to spy around her. “Fridge, microwave, What else do you have in here?”

“Barely works, there's no cable or antenna,” Marian redirected. “And the panini press has been broken for a while, so that doesn't count.”

“Games?”

“Yes! You've shown me your thing, now let me show you mine.” She grinned. “I haven't played in ages. I loved it. Inner child healing shit, right here.”

“I thought we would um…well um… you know ,” muttered Copia, shuffling his feet and twisting his fingers. “That's the most popular pastime of ours, anyway.”

“Right but...This is fun! Adventure! Character development!” Marian gestured wildly towards the game system. “I bought it for you. For us.”

He looked into her face, a genuine smile appearing on his. He brought her hand to his lips. “Sure. How could I say no to your inner child?”

“She's quite fussy,” Marian replied, pinching his ass and making him yelp. She sat down by the television, hugging a pillow to her chest. “You pick the first one.”

He looked through the box, picking up one cartridge at a time, nodding, then returning it to the box. She watched him minute after excruciating minute. “Copia, just pick one!”

“Oh uh ok here this one ah—here,” he stuttered, handing her a random game. There was a cartoon of an old lady on it. Marian took the cartridge from him, blew a bit into the socket, then shoved it into the console.

Driving Miss Daisy the pixelated screen said, while snoozy 8-bit music played. The game started and Copia was, in fact, a chauffeur for someone named Miss Daisy.

“What the fuck is this?” Marian was maneuvering a pizza slice into her mouth.

“I er…I like the realism,” Copia said. “It's like you're actually driving her. I wonder if I get the good ending.”

Marian frowned. “I can't play a game like this. It's what I do for work, why the hell would I do this for fun,” she muttered. She dropped her slice on a paper plate and rifled through the cardboard box again.

“Copia, oh my god!” Marian grinned ear to ear, grabbing him so suddenly he jumped. “We’ve got to play this!” She pulled out a well-loved cartridge that said Tetris 2 on the torn-up sun bleached label. “The hours I played this as a kid…” She hastily shoved it into the machine. “Just try it!”

A cheery, reeling Russian folksong played forever on the start menu. Copia tentatively picked up the controller and pressed start. The view cut to a small frame with blocks floating softly down. Copia stared, enchanted, as the blocks stacked on top of themselves like layers of brightly colored snow.

Copia’s wistful excitement turned to panic as the blocks slowly overwhelmed the screen. “Marian?! What do I do?!”

“Rotate the blocks! Like this!” She reached around behind him and put her head on his shoulder. She grabbed the controller around his hands and pressed a button. “You try to stack them perfectly. And then—” Marian completed a large section of wall with a long piece, and the screen flashed. The wall was gone. She gave his cheek a victorious kiss. “That's how you get points.” She nuzzled the side of his handsomely graying hair, taking in his warm scent, sighing deeply by his ear. He shuddered in happiness. This was exactly what she imagined when she snuck this game system into her room this afternoon.

“Hmmm…erm…oh! Aha!” Copia uttered his little noises of satisfaction as the game began to make sense to him. He gently rotated the blocks and watched them finish the walls. Marian was in agony watching how slowly and thoughtfully he played.

#ghost fandom #ao3 author #ghost scenes from the void #the band ghost #cardinal copia #copia x oc #ghost fanart #my blorbos #my art

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alenseress · 11 months

Text

Dushan laugs, the sound roaming deep and warm in Solas' face. The man never keeps his distance. Always back to back, nose to nose, in the heat of battle or a drunken night. It makes his frame seem larger than life, brighter, so much more. "Felt the whole world change?"

"A figure of speech."

Dushan shakes his head. Laughs again, shorter, quieter, softer, smaller. Leans in even closer, squinting his eyes in a deeply amused manner.

Solas wants to flee. He doesn't admit to it again, holding his ground.

"A figure of speech," Dushan repeats after him, face open and mockingly curious.

So Solas tries again. "You changed everything."

There's something in his eyes, utterly tired and utterly angry, a wounded creature Solas can't quite make sense of. He walked his dreams a dozen times and yet, as the Inquisitor turns away and clicks his tongue, Solas finds himself wanting to see even more. A desperate thought.

"Sweet talker that you are."

A moment of quiet stillness and then a hand grips his hip, drawing him in swiftly. It's awkward, their teeth clacking together and Dushan's hair getting between them in a way that makes the kiss break apart in a second. There's guilt and a sudden flush of shame and Solas reaches out to palm away the wild strands from his face before they have time to think more. It's a lost fight, the way the hand moves up to his back and slides down, following the curve of his spine, anchor burning the touch like open fire and Solas gasps into strange lips. He traces the man's brow, his cheek, finds the heavy bone of his chin buried under coarse hair. Finds the ears, unfamiliar to the touch, smaller and tender and rounder, but Dushan pushes his elbow up until Solas' hand slips and grips the neck. Dushan pulls him in closer, Solas pulls on him too, lickings into his mouth with some quiet insanity.

I want to love you. Gods know I want to.

Solas pushes his way out with a barely audible "no, no" and Dushan blinks in a daze. Doesn't reach for it, a searching hand carefully frozen in the air.

"No?"

"We shouldn't. It isn't right. Not even here."

They flee apart without much to it. The Inquisitor clears his throat, lost fingers digging into his scalp for a second, gaze wandering somewhere above as Solas watches the snow set on his shoulders.

"Even here?"

"Where do you think we were?"

He takes his last liberty in the false safety of his room. The hair, as much of a mess, covers Dushan's face as he jolts his head uneasily on the couch. Solas hooks the strands behind his ears once again, kissing the broken line between his eyebrows with dry lips.

The fade makes him restless. The voices from the tower above grow louder. Solas cracks his knees, getting up, and grabs a mug from his table as Dushan almost tumbles down from the couch with a gasp.

Solas smiles.

"Sleep well?"

#i am unwell #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dai dushan #dai solas #solamance

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luna-redamancy · 2 years

Text

Just Us (Modern!Kili x GN! Reader)

The mug was warm in your grasp, nearing burning but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as your eyes stayed shut, your nose close to the rim of the cup as you inhaled the sweet floral notes. The tea was tinted red from the rose and hibiscus petals.

“You’re very thoughtful this evening,” Kili murmured beneath his breath as he came up from behind you, arms looping around your middle and his head finding purchase on your shoulder, chin hooking over the cuff of it. His breath was sending tingles down your spine as his exhale puffed over your exposed skin. You only wore a singlet and pajama bottoms, getting prepared for bed.

“Oh?” Your eyes opened, looking at the rain falling outside the window and onto the sidewalk. Miniature puddles were already beginning to form.

He nodded, moving to drag his nose along the column of your throat. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“I think it’ll cost you two,” You teased, leaning into his arms as his grip tightened around you to assure you remained steady in his embrace. His own chest shook with the gentle laugh that rang through it, you felt it in the way his upper body shifted against your back muscles.

“Two pennies then, just for you,” Kili pressed a gentle kiss to your throat. Not one of a sexual manner, no no, gentle and soft- just to give a physical token of his love for you.

“I guess I’m thinking about everything, really,” You hummed, taking a sip of your tea. It wasn’t as hot now, but still warm enough to give your throat a pleasant sensation as it spilled down into your belly.

“Us, the weather, my to-do list, laundry... Just hopping around,” You murmured, “But now it’s nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Mhm,” You nodded, setting the mug down on the window-sill so you could adjust in his arms, turning to face Kili and wrap your arms around him.

Kili’s warm smile and gentle eyes was the first thing you saw, before your gaze filtered up to his hair where he had it neatly in a bun. You could still smell the pleasant notes of his conditioner as his hair remained slightly damp from his shower.

“My thoughts vanished when you came to me,” You flirted but he could see in your eyes that you were serious. “And now it’s just you,”

“Us,” He gently corrected leaning forward to boop your nose with his own, drawing a laugh out of you.

“Yes, yes, just us,” You murmured, leaning forward as he began to draw away to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Just us,” Kili said with a content sigh after you two pulled away, cradling you close as you shifted to rest your head on his shoulder, his hand gently rubbing up and down the plane of your back as he held you to him with the other.

Tags beneath the cut

Forever Tag

@lady-of-lies @all-things-fandomstuck @fizzyxcustard @izzydaelleth @aquaangel18 @raindancer2004 @love-colorfulglittercollection @ladylouoflothlorien @ten-tenya-iida @legolaslovely @bthtallmadge2 @abesottedlass @wilhelmyna @tigereyesf @aspookybunny @keijibum @moony-artnstuff @sirkekselord @guardianofrivendell @fluffymadamina @izbelross @fandomhoe101 @acahope311 @kitkatd7 @mooseetx @themerriweathermage @elvish-sky @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @laurfilijames @frequentlychangingfandoms @cameronsails @linasofia @starryeyedrogue @shethereadinghobbit @beenovel @onlystarshere @fckmini @spidergirla5 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @myselfandfantasy @strange-old-worlds @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @broken-ghost @mbruben-stein @tschrist1 @hai-kbai

Kili Tag

@greennightspider @ashleygrrrl @skylarkvip @narnvaeron @queenofmankind @sadndnboii-reads @gothamchic16 @kinnietingzs

#kili x reader #kili x you #kili #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit fanfic #fanfiction #fanfics #the hobbit x reader #reader-insert #gender-neutral reader #gn! reader #kili x y/n

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gayemochick69 · 1 year

Text

Arsonist's Lulluby (chapter 1)

Summary: Shaena hated Aegon, hated him so much she wanted to bury her knife so far in his chest that it came out the other end,she also couldn't live with out him, or his cock

Rating: 18+

TW: 18+, Oral sex, Toxic relationships, Drug use

Word count: 581

A/n: This story is also co-written with

it will also be posted on ao3 and wattpad

I do not condone anything that happens on this story, it is a fanfiction, not real life

Also Shaena is a icon, slay, we love toxic and violent women.

Shaena is Rhaenerya and Daemons first born daughter,

Enjoy do not try this at home.

- Whorefortargaryens

AO3 - Whorefortargaryens

Wattpad - whorefortargaryens

Alright here we go...

Your such a fucking slut, Shaena" Aegon screamed across the room at her, as she was packing her clothes in a bag,

***

The night before Shaena had once again fought with Aegon after finding him getting a blowjob from some random whore, she had gone out for a girls night at a strip club, after watching the main show she had managed to find one of the strippers in one of the VIP lounge.

Still angry with Aegon, she decided to get revenge, she thought about the time that Aegon and her had broken up and he had sent her a video of a girl sucking him off on their lounge and him moaning Shaena's name as he came.

Already having her plan, planned out in her head she set up her phone camera and pressed record and put her phone on the armrest of the lounge the stripper was sitting on. She took the small bag of cocaine she had in her bra and put it next to her phone.

She hooked her fingers in the belt loops of his shorts and pulled them to his knees, his semi-hard cock slapped against his stomach, she began slowly placing open mouthed kisses to his toned stomach and traced them down to his v-line.

Hearing the stripper let out a laboured breath she wrapped her hand around his cock and began to kitten-lick the now fully hard head, licking up the pre-cum that had started to come out.

She removed her tounge from his head and grabbed the bag off the armrest, still keeping her hand firmly on the base of his cock, Slowly she sprinked a line of coke on the top of his cock, from the top to the edge of her hand.

After placing the bag back on the armrest she brought her nose to the base of his cock and snorted the line up to his head, she threw her head back as the cocaine entered her system bringing her the feeling of ectasy.

She brought her face back down to his cock and licked the rest of the coke off before resuming the licks on his head.

She licked a strip up his cock from his balls to the top, before wrapping her lips around his head and sucking his head like a lollipop.

The stripper let a breathy moan at her actions and put his hand on her head and pulling her hair into a makeshift ponytail. At the feeling of his hand on her head she began to push her mouth lower on his cock slowly bringing her mouth up and down.

She cupped his balls with her other hand and gently squeezed, she felt his balls tighten at the action, signaling that he was going to cum, she sank her mouth to the base of his cock feeling his pubic hair oh her nose.

He let out a long moan as his cum filled her mouth, Shaela brought her mouth back up to the head and sucked hard drawing another moan and another string of cum to come out. After she felt the last of his cum in her mouth she removed her mouth from his cock and grabbed her phone and opened her mouth to the camera zooming in on the cum still on her tounge.

After stopping the video she spits the strippers cum in the bin, in the corner of the room. As she walks out she presses send, the video going straight to Aegon.

#aegon ii x oc #modern aegon smut #smut #rough smut #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii #aegon targaryen #aegon smut #aegon targaryen imagine #aegon targaryen smut #aegon targaryen x reader #Arsonist's Lulluby Fic

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thiefoflight68 · 3 months

Text

Broken Heat

MCU - Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes. Omegaverse.

This was a plot bunny prompt competition. My first ever fanfiction that is not MHA!

Omega / Alpha. DNI unless over 18

“Sam,” Bucky panted, leaning back on his elbows on the bed, watching as he walked towards him slowly, too slowly. “Fuck, you’re killing me.” He tipped his head back and squeezed his eyes shut against the raging heat in his body.

“Hold on there,” Sam chuckled low as he peeled off his shirt. “I’ve got to get undressed to make sure I can take care of you properly.”

“Properly?” Bucky laughed desperately, keeping his eyes closed trying to concentrate. “You fucking Alpha prick,” he snarled. “If I could move, I’d slam you against that fucking wall and take you myself.”

“Mmmm hmmm, you would?” Stopping, Sam took in the sight of him. Naked, sprawled out, waiting for him. His cock was ready for this man but he wanted to go slow. “So, come on then, jump me.”

“You… you know I can’t… not when I’m in my heat. Fuck! My legs barely work.” Sam's long low chuckle should’ve irritated him further and any other time it would’ve, but not right now. Instead the deep husky growl unsprung the coil deep in his groin, he squirmed on the bed. “Dammit, Sam… please?” He gritted out between clenched teeth.

Leaning down Sam planted his hands on either side of his legs enjoying the view of his man completely at his mercy. A formidable partner in all things, Bucky was unlike most Omegas he’d ever known, in fact, it wasn’t even something he’d considered when he first met him. But when he was in heat, he succumbed to his nature. It was a brief window of time for Sam to enjoy him as he wished, without risking a right hook to his jaw. “I think you can sound a bit more convincing there Bucky, try that again.”

“I fucking hate you,” Bucky snapped his eyes open to glare at him. Mistake! He realized too late that he’d taken off his shirt, his muscles rippling under his dark skin. His gaze drifted lower where he could see the outline of his hard dick, pressing through the thin jersey of his running pants. He looked away but it was too late, the image of him was driving the whipping need to a frenzy. It grated over every last nerve but if Sam didn’t fuck him soon, he’d probably explode in a burst of Omega pheromones. “Would you just-”

“Mmmm, watch that tone,” Sam teased. The smell coming off of Bucky was thick, almost metallic, like the smell of rain as it first hits the asphalt. Heavy, pungent and completely intoxicating. He was struggling to keep himself from pouncing on him, just a little more fun. Releasing his pheromones, he knew it would calm him for a few moments, long enough that he could take his time. Otherwise he’d be rutting him before he pulled down his pants.

The smell hit his nose and plunged into his brain, Bucky’s eyes rolled back in his head. The flavor of Sam was his one true north, his scent brought equilibrium to his body for a blissful moment. Shaking he inhaled deeply, nodding. “Thank…you.” It was an effort but he really was thankful for the reprieve from the hunger that gnawed through his body.

“You may want to wait to thank me,” Sam smiled cockily, “now close your eyes.”

“Finally,” he muttered under his breath, but he did as he was told. Sam knew he was near his breaking point but still loved to push him well beyond his control, torturing him during his heats was a delight of his. Bucky’s hips thrust involuntarily as he waited. His nipples pulled painfully taught in the anticipation of his mouth. His smell that had settled in the air around him seemed to be growing weaker, the soothing balm losing its strength. “Sam?” Bucky huffed, laughing almost hysterically. He lifted his hips, “C’mon, really?” He moved his leg slightly out, waiting to feel his arm brush on his skin. His foot only found the edge of the bed, had he moved back? Clearing his throat he knew he had to play the game, Sam would draw this out if he didn’t. “Please… babe, I really need you right now.” His tone was soft, begging, desirous, just the way he liked it. Nothing, his ears strained to hear him but it was quiet. The hum of the city outside their closed bedroom window was the only thing he could hear. “Sam?” He gulped in air, thrusting his hips futilely again. Frustration began to mount, why was he being such a damn cocky Alpha? “Dammit Sam!!” Pushing up, he disobeyed and opened his eyes, sending him a death glare. He was gone. Blinking Bucky looked around the room. “Sam?” Had he gone into the bathroom? Anger started to boil over his frustration. “Are you fucking kidding me?!” He shouted, the veins popping out in his neck. “I’m in heat and so fucking horny I can’t even walk and you’re playing fucking hide n’ seek? Look at me!!” He pointed to his painfully throbbing cock. “I’m so hard I could probably fucking cut steel with my dick and you!” His voice strained against another wave of unrelenting need. “You jerk!” Panting, he sat up holding himself steady. “SAM!!” Again there was nothing. Letting out a sharp breath, he struggled to stand.

Taking slow mincing steps, he grimaced at the flood in his ass, “damn, shit Alpha,” picking up his T-shirt he shoved it into his butt. “That’s your fucking favorite shirt, isn’t it?” He laughed loudly, “shouldn’t have left, ‘cause now it’s my butt sponge.” Shuffling across the room, he opened the door to the living room. He wasn’t there. “Sam?” For a second he faltered. Spinning around, he really wasn’t in the bedroom? Panic began to bloom in his mind, lungeing awkwardly for the bathroom he ripped open the door. Empty. “SAM!” He yelled less convincingly this time as fear laced his hoarse voice.

Ding… ding…ding…ding…ding…ding…ding…ding…

The continual chirping was coming from his phone. The hair on his neck rose painfully against the wave of chills coursing over his body. His instincts were popping off. Something was wrong.

Walking stiffly to the nightstand, he picked up the phone, his jaw clenched. He began to read through the cascade of texts coming in from friends and the others.

Missing…

The weight of sheer dread plunged into his gut, he sat heavily on the bed. His phone began to ring. Tears sprang in his eyes at the number, his throat pinching at the welling emotions. Clicking answer, he sucked in a deep breath.

“Nick? What’s going on?”

#marvel cinematic universe #james bucky barnes #sam wilson #bucky x sam #omegaverse #bottom bucky barnes

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batsing · 1 year

Text

SO. SLUGLINGS AMIRITE??

I heard some of you were interested, so here's a bit of info on them! Sorry it took a little while I ended up drawing a ton for my scrimblos here </3

Sluglings evolved from sea slugs as you probably know, which are known to have up to 700000 microscopic, razor sharp hook shaped teeth. (I sure love animals that are biological horrors up under a microscope!!) Over time this became a useless thing, so they began to evolve in favor of merging the teeth into much larger, actually usable fang-like teeth. These fangs are semi retractable and are also heavily used to convey emotion, similarly to their antenna, unsheathing when angry.

Sea slugs are solitary creatures, unlike sluglings which had evolved to be much more sociable over time. At first so they could hunt with a chance of succeeding, but now to the point of having a complex social structure. They have developed a unique language called Sluguni, alongside some highly expressive body language. Some examples found below.

Another thing to note is the rounder, broken mask shape. They partially come up the nose bridge, but are ultimately broken apart, taking on an almost heart shape in most common cases. In rare cases, there will be only one rounded shape, making them look almost like a weird inkling if it weren't for their antenna. They most commonly have two rounded "eyelash" shapes, but it's also not unheard of to have more than two. More examples below!!

Their hairstyles are composed of several things as well, with no real requirements other than the antenna! Plus one other trait.. This trait can be anything, from the gills, to the cerata, to the mantle skirt!! You could even get creative and slap the tail/foot on as a sort of longer hairstyle! Antenna + hairstyle can be mixed and matched should you so desire; More examples below!!! You do not need to follow these examples, and if you do you don't need to follow them to an exact! Creativity is encouraged just like you would with an inkling character!! Like look at Frye compared to other inklings!!

SO GET OUT THERE AND CREATE A SLUGLING IF YOU WANNA GOOFS GO CRAZY GO WILD HMU IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS I DONT BITE I PROMISE!! :D

IF YOU MAKE ONE TAG ME THIS IS A THREAT I WANT TO SEE THE SCRUNKLY

#slugling #sluglings #splatoon #splatoon fan species #I am so happy I finally got these mfs out there #i love them a lot #i also have so many smaller facts about them #you might get whiplash from a few of them #prepare for me to info dump on them uncontrollably #seriously i have so much just bottled up about them rn

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thepenultimateword · 2 years

Note

Hi, im not entirely sure if youre open to requests, so please ignore this if not 💖💖 but your recent shiny story was rlly rlly fun to read and well written so 👀👀 (only if u want to ofc) part 2 ?

It’s a little shorter than I usually write, hopefully that’s ok. And I kind of time skipped because I was in the mood for fluff 😅

Part One

"Did you really think you could get away from me?" the hero sneered, grinding their heel into the hollow of Villain's chest. Villain choked on their breath, unable draw it in or out under the pressure. "You street trash villains are all the same, greedy, over-ambitious, and wrecked beyond repair."

The hero pressed in harder with every word, and Villain let out a pathetic cry. They'd really looted the wrong convenience store this time; what was this nut job even doing in this part of town?

"At least the big dogs have information to offer," the hero continued, looming overhead. "What do I get by sparing you?"

Villain spat at the hero's face, but with the mark so far out of reach, it only splatted back on their cheek. The hero threw back his head and laughed. "I like you better already. Why don't you do that again?"

Villain laid their cheek down on the gravel. They didn't pander to heroes.

"Oh come on," the hero taunted. He leaned in further and pointed at his cheek. "Try again."

Villain gasped and scrabbled beneath their weight. They…couldn’t…breathe! The only thing they could focus on was that awful face grinning over them. How could a hero do this? How could… How could… Their thoughts grew slow and hazy. If only…they’d been a stronger villain…

Something slammed into the hero from the side.

It was so abrupt the hero lay stunned on the ground for several seconds. Then the thing swooped in a second time, a wild flurry of claws and feathers that yanked at his hair and clothing.

"What-- Get away!" the hero shrieked, throwing his arms over his head. He tried to flee, but the creature pursued him down the alley, claws raking across his neck and knuckles like so many games of tic tac toe. He tripped once then twice, gravel embedding in his palms and tearing the knees of his trousers. Even when he managed to escape around the corner and back into the public eye, his fearful cries remained longer than the pound of his footsteps.

Villain sat up slowly, hand pressed to their ribs. They experimented with a few breaths and decided their sternum was bruised but not broken.

Supervillain lighted down in front of them and seized them by the shoulders in bloody hands. Their massive wings enfolded them like a soft, dark cocoon. "Are you alright, love?"

Villain stared blankly ahead, feeling rather surreal and lucky pressed up against their feathered chest. "Was that mobbing?"

"What?"

"I've been researching crows since we became...er...you know. I read when there's a predator nearby they dive at it and chase it until it leaves." They blinked. "Or did you kill him?"

"No, would you like me to?"

Villain considered it. Did they want that? It had never been their power to decide before. Perhaps they shouldn't get carried away. "It's fine." They wrapped their arms around Supervillain's neck, and the hybrid touched their hooked nose to Villain's flat one before running it through the messy strands of hair fallen over their forehead.

"I think a proper mobbing is actually done in a group," Villain said, "but there's only one of you, so maybe it still counts."

"I don't know what is; I just do it," Supervillain said.

“Like that mating dance thing?”

“We said we wouldn’t speak of that."

Villain grinned but maybe it came off a little too forced because Supervillain dipped their head in concern. This close Villain could see the little baby feathers that sprouted out along their cheek bones. “Are you sure you're alright?"

In truth, Villain felt embarrassingly close to tears, but their lover's gently preening was slowly calming them down so they nodded.

Supervillain fished in their pocket and drew out one of those flat glass pebbles people bought in craft stores to fill vases with. "Want a present?"

Another nod. Supervillain pressed it into their hand.

Villain brought the marble up to their eye, changing the world a dark shade of blue. They turned it up toward the sun. Their eye watered as the light refracted. “Does it ever get confusing? As a villain, I mean. You’re supposed to steal whatever’s the most valuable but sometimes the most valuable isn’t the most pretty.”

“You mean when I’m in a bank, and I fixate on the those shiny pens chained to the counter instead of the cash in the vault?”

“M’yeah. That.”

Supervillain pondered for a moment, feathered brow turning inward. “I suppose its a little confusing. My brain says ‘money’, but my heart says, ‘shiny.’ It’s a toss up what I end up leaving with. But then again, I’m not really sad when I end up with a stash of pens instead of a ten grand because they still feel valuable to me.”

Villain turned the marble on their face. “How are you still the top villain in the city?”

“Hey now!”

They laughed and snuggled closer. They thought of their drawer full of gifts back home. To anyone else it might look like junk, but for them, it was treasure. “No, I get it. Perspective.”

Supervillain kissed the top of their head. “Want me to take you home?”

“Yeah, I need to patch myself up. Thanks for saving me from that punk by the way.”

Supervillain nodded comfortingly as they picked them up. “I’ve memorized his face. If he or anyone else hurts you, I will remember it, and they will pay.”

“You inherited holding scary crow grudges?” Villain gasped. “That’s so cute!”

Part Three

#villain x villain #hero x villain #villain #writing snippet #heroes and villains #fiction #creative writing #superheroes and villains #supervillain x villain

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ptergwen · 3 years

Note

you know that one scene in ffh when people keep knocking on the door while fury is trying to speak to peter? could you maybe do something like that but instead it’s peter and stark reader wanting some alone time (you can make it smut or fluff idm!) also, i am so in love with your work it’s amazing :)❣️

knock before you enter

w/c: 1.3k

warnings: implied smut, dirty jokes, swearing

a/n: i went a lil overboard because i was having too much fun :,) and i kinda combined the two i hope that’s okay!

you let out a breath of relief as peter finally presses his lips to yours. he grins at that, his hands continuing to roam your body while you kiss. it’s a needy kiss, one you’ve been waiting the whole day to share.

you’d thought europe of all places would give you the opportunity to explore each other more. you’re away from your overbearing father, you don’t have team responsibilities. there was one mishap with a water monster nearly destroying the city. you both managed to fight it off together. tony was right to make you bring your suit, and may encouraged her nephew to do the same. the stark’s and parker’s think alike.

most of the pestering you’ve faced this trip has come from your teachers and fellow classmates. whether it’s mr. dell assigning work or flash trying to film you two for a livestream, you and peter can’t get a moment alone. that’s about to change. you’re in peter’s hotel room after a fun yet highly supervised day in venice.

most kids are getting ready for bed, at mr. harrington’s request. he’s adamant on everyone having a good night sleep before the walking tour you’re taking tomorrow. you and peter plan to do everything but sleep, however.

“you taste like toothpaste,” peter mumbles against your mouth, arms winding around your back. “is that a good or bad thing?” you giggle and tug at his undone curls. that elicits a high pitched whine from him. “depends on who you ask. me personally, i think it’s sexy.” he’s laying over you on his bed, your fingers tangling in his locks. “open up, then,” you practically purr. peter happily obliges and resumes his kissing.

right when his tongue glides over your lower lip, there’s a knock on the wall.

“i thought you said ned wouldn’t be back…” your words trail off when peter starts to kiss down your neck. “for a while,” you add, softer. “he won’t. last time i checked, he was with betty,” peter replies and effortlessly finds your sweet spot. he nudges it with his nose, making a smile spread across your face. “ok, keep going,” you pull on the roots of his hair gently. peter pecks at your lips. “gotcha, baby.”

he’s kissing his way back to your sweet spot when there’s more knocking, this time much louder. with quirked eyebrows, peter detaches his lips from your skin. “um… hello?” he hesitantly answers. “finally. i was ready to come kick down your door, you idiot,” mj speaks through the thin wall. you squeeze your eyes shut in annoyance, not saying anything. “what do you want, mj? it’s late,” peter sighs back.

“so what? i know you’re not sleeping,” mj insists, leaning against the wall. “i can hear everything. hey, y/n.” peter’s face tints a light shade of pink. you make wide eyes up at him. “hi, i guess. you good over there?” her lips form a line. “i was until the horrendous sounds of parker clapping your cheeks disturbed my reading.” peter grips at your waist with a pout.

“what? we weren’t- i- i didn’t-“ “spare me the details,” mj sharply cuts in, opening whatever mystery novel she recently bought. “i don’t care what you do, as long as you do it quietly. deal?” seeing as peter is too flustered to speak, you take over again. “yeah, sorry. we’ll tone it down. goodnight, em.” “ciao,” she says before returning to her book.

peter shakes his head, fully burying his face in your neck. “that was embarrassing. she’s so…” “nosy,” you finish for him. your fingers brush back some hair that flopped over his forehead. “at least she’s not telling on us or whatever.” he puffs air out of his cheeks, placing a kiss under your chin. “true. you wanna pick up where we left off?” “ugh, yes,” you instantly groan.

your lips are colliding with peter’s again, just like that. it isn’t for too long. his hands settle on your stomach and under your shorts, then you hear someone banging on the door. they talk before either you or peter can tell them to fuck off.

“y/n, is that you?” brad questions, your face twisting in confusion. “uh, yeah. how’d you know?” peter bites the inside of his cheek while brad converses. “i stopped by your room. betty said you might be here… with him.” the him in question is peter, who chuckles bitterly. “what’s up, buddy? we’re kind of in the middle of something. i’m sure you knew that, too.”

“i didn’t, but thanks for sharing,” brad sarcastically responds. “y/n said she’d give me her notes on one of the da vinci exhibits.” peter cocks his head to the side. “she did?” he wonders, looking over at you. “you did?” “it was either that or help him myself,” you explain and drag your fingers along the back of his neck soothingly. “the kid doesn’t leave me alone.”

peter nods, wrapping a protective arm around your middle. “she’ll give you them tomorrow, brad. isn’t it past your bedtime?” “point taken,” brad scoffs and heads back to his room. you draw peter in closer to you. “thanks, pete. hopefully, that’ll be our last guest for the night.” he kisses both your cheeks with a grin. “where were we, mio amore?”

“ooh, i love it when you speak italian,” you giggle, peter cupping your face in his hands.“grazie, bellissima.” he winks and earns a puzzled face from you. “bellissima?” “that means beautiful.” instead of responding with words, you use your mouth to move on his. peter happily kisses back and lets your tongues intertwine. things quickly heat up, peter slipping your shorts down your legs and you lifting his pajama shirt.

you’re both only half undressed and running off broken up kisses, but so desperate. you part your legs for peter, his fingers hooking in the waistband of your panties. “think you can keep your oath of silence?” he teases and nips at your covered collarbone. “the real question is, can you?” you challenge. peter doesn’t get the chance to answer because the door suddenly flies open.

there stands ned, his mouth agape at the sight of a shirtless peter undressing you. you’re the first to notice. you see over peter’s shoulder and gasp. concern covers his features. “what is it, baby? do you want-“ “ned!” you whisper yell. his concern becomes shock. “you want ned?” “no, peter! he’s right there!” teeth sinking into your lip, you point behind him. peter looks and surely enough, there’s his best friend rendered speechless in the doorway.

“dude, what the hell are you doing here?” peter squeaks, you grabbing your shorts from next to you. he turns around to shield you while you put them back on. “aren’t you supposed to be with betty?” “we, um, finished,” ned gulps in response. “finished what- oh.” peter scratches the back of his neck as it hits him. “yuck, ned. a gentleman never tells.” “says you! this is my room too, you know,” he defends himself, you moving out from behind peter.

“and betty’s room is also mine. consider us even,” you hand peter his t-shirt with a satisfied smirk. he murmurs a thank you and throws it back on. ned uncomfortably shifts from foot to foot in the doorway. “that’s fair… are you leaving now?” “i should before mr. harrington makes his rounds,” you reluctantly decide. “i liked it better when people actually knocked,” peter says under his breath, standing to give you a goodnight hug.

“it’s not even this bad at home. i’ll take my dad and friday spying on us over a walk of shame any day,” you exhale as peter pulls you into his chest. hugging back by his torso, you give him an innocent kiss on the cheek. his lips brush your forehead. “maybe we’ll have better luck tomorrow. should we try again, same time?” a familiar and irritated voice yells through the wall. mj.

“please god, no!”

#peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #marvel

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thebaddestofbatches · 3 years

Text

The Bad Batch Preferences pt. 1

Kissing

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

Crosshair

Favorite Place: Just behind your ear and along your jaw. He prefers to wrap his arms around you from behind and these places are easier to reach. Plus they’re more sensitive and he likes to watch you squirm.

Makeouts: Definitely. And frequently. Whenever he gets back from a mission, you do something he finds hot, or just because he hasn’t kissed you in awhile.

First Kiss:

It was hot on Techitua. Dusty too. You lowered your shades on your nose, a polarized version of Tech’s goggles as Crosshair opened a case on the ground.

A makeshift shooting range was set up parallel to the Marauder, a metal piece with a target spray painted on it placed at a distance of 25 meters.

Hunter had told you that if you wanted to stay on board, you needed to know how to defend yourself and assigned you to Crosshair, without even asking if you had any prior experience.

“Alright. I don’t expect you to be top notch with this thing.” Crosshair said, his tone borderline patronizing as he removed a small blaster from the case. “Blasters take a lot of practice to use correctly and you’re only a doctor. I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t hit anything.”

You raised an eyebrow at him and took the blaster from his hand. Barely looking at the target, you took aim and fired one, two, three, four, five shots.

Crosshair’s slack jaw and a quick glance told you they all hit the bullseye.

“You forget, soldier,” You said smugly. “I’m an army doctor. I can rip you apart and put you back together just as easily.”

Crosshair’s toothpick hit the dirt and then he was on you, smashing his lips to your hungrily.

.*(*)*..**(*)**...**(***)**...**(*)**..*(*)*.

Echo

Favorite place: Your hand. He likes to hold your hand and bring it up to his lips for absentminded kisses. When you cup his face, he turns his head and presses kisses to your palm.

Makeouts: Not too often. He’s shy after all his modifications and you definitely have to initiate them, but once he relaxes, then he’s into it.

First Kiss:

“Dang ferreck!” You swore as the control panel of the rescued radio shocked you for the fifth time that night.

You gave it a swift thump on the top in retaliation, gritting your teeth.

You needed this to work. It had to work. It’d been so long since you heard real music.

Another try at the wiring and another spark that singed your fingertips. You let out another string of curses and tossed your screwdriver onto the counter with a clank before thumping your forehead against the table repeatedly.

There was a gentle touch on your back that stopped your assault on your cranium. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. You could feel the poke of Echo’s prosthetic through your tunic.

“You alright?” He asked.

“No,” You grumbled into the metal.

Echo sighed quietly and after some shifting behind you, you raised your head to see his human hand disconnect two crossed wires and reconnect them at new points. There was a fizz of static and then a gentle song began to float through the speakers.

You let out a whoop of joy and leaped to your feet, grabbing the clone by his collar to pull him down for a quick kiss.

“Thank you!” You squealed, snatching up your screwdriver again and leaving Echo standing there, stunned and pink.

.*(*)*..**(*)**...**(***)**...**(*)**..*(*)*.

Hunter

Favorite place: Your neck. He likes to feel your pulse point and kiss the sunmarks and spots along your skin. It’s also one of the best places for him to get your scent.

Makeouts: Not as often as Crosshair, but frequent. He likes to be affectionate with you and when he gets time or feels stressed, being around you and close to you is his priority.

First Kiss:

You’d been separated from the Batch in a marketplace and were now wandering aimlessly.

As you passed an alleyway you heard a whistle and a man sidled up to you.

“Hey gorgeous,” He said. “Where you going?”

“Away from you,” You muttered, but he heard it anyway and snorted. “Feisty girl.”

A gag rose up in your throat and you increased your pace. Behind you the man called. “Hey I’m talking to you! Though I appreciate the view!”

A hand landed on your butt and you whirled, fist raised to deck the stranger for daring to touch you. Before you could though, someone stepped between you and punched him, hard.

You looked up to see Hunter, a deep scowl on his tattooed face as he glowered at your harasser.

“Don’t touch her,” He growled, drawing up to his full height.

The man spat and launched himself at Hunter, sending them both rolling to the ground.

There was some yelling and sounds of fists hitting bodies before Hunter scrambled to his feet breathing hard as your harasser lay on the ground, groaning.

Hunter turned to you with worried eyes and you punched him in the arm hard and then quickly pecked his lips. “You didn’t have to make a scene.”

“Sorry,” He said, not sounding sorry at all as he pulled you in for another kiss.

.*(*)*..**(*)**...**(***)**...**(*)**..*(*)*.

Tech

Favorite place: Your forehead and temples. He can get so busy with this or that and a quick peck to the forehead is his go-to for affection when he’s caught up in something.

Makeouts: Usually whenever he gets an idea he wants to try with you. He learned affection mainly from books so he’s picking up more and more as he goes. Usually you initiate the sessions. However, when he gains confidence later in the relationship, things get more serious as he experiments.

First Kiss:

“Tech?” You called from the porch of your hideout. Hunter had sent you to fetch the male for dinner and so far he was nowhere to be found.

“In here!” The clone called and you followed the sound into the shed to see Tech holding two vials above a pot.

“What’re you doing?” You asked leaning on the doorframe.

“I’m testing a theory. The substance excreted from the fire salamanders’ skin may have some properties that can boost our explosives.” He replied, carefully tipping the vial of white powder in, followed by the orange liquid.

“And you thought it was a good idea to test that in my shed?” You said, quirking a brow.

The technician had the decency to look a little abashed. “Well it isn’t in the house.”

He set the tubes aside and picked up a firestarter, holding it over the pot. “And a spark to trigger the reaction..”

Crack. Fwoomp! Boom!

The small windows shattered and you ducked as a blaze burst up from the pot and then died out just as quickly, sending up a cloud of ash and dust.

When the smoke receded, you heard Tech give a small cough and looked over to see his whole face covered in soot and the front of his normally gelled back hair spiked up.

You burst into giggles, picking up a small cloth from the worktable and approaching the clone to wipe his goggles clean.

He blinked at you from behind the lenses, like he was surprised to see you and you smiled. “That went well.”

Tech gave you a sheepish look. “I’m sorry about the windows. I’ll fix them tomorrow.”

You laughed again, waving him off. “It’s alright. I was prepared for damages when I brought you lot here.”

He gave you a grateful look and suddenly you couldn’t help yourself, darting forward and pecking his lips.

Tech immediately turned scarlet. “What was that for?”

You shrugged. “For being you.”

And then you passed him the cloth with a wink. “Hunter says dinner’s ready. You should probably clean up a bit before you come inside.”

.*(*)*..**(*)**...**(***)**...**(*)**..*(*)*.

Wrecker

Favorite place: Your cheeks and nose. He likes to pepper kisses all over your face. He’s so enraptured by you that he wants to keep you close at all times to make sure you’re real. Plus he’s a massive cuddlebug.

Makeouts: On occasion. But this boy is too much of a teddy bear for anything more than gentle loving touches. He’s slow and sweet and so very careful with you.

First Kiss:

The Batch was pinned down in an abandoned bunker as a gang faction gathered outside. Echo was doing his best to reboot the turrets while Tech worked on the doors, but unless it happened fast, you weren’t getting out of this unscathed.

You were peering out one of the broken windows with Hunter, Crosshair, and Wrecker picking off grunts where you could, but they had greater numbers and illegal firepower.

A shot from a bike mounted turret hit the wall above your lookout and the ceiling caved in, causing Wrecker tackle you, cradling you to him as he rolled away.

“You alright?” He asked, pushing off of you, his voice higher than normal.

“Yeah.” You said and Hunter swore as glass shattered behind you.

“Echo!! What’s the status on those defense systems?!”

“Same as you asked thirty seconds ago!” Echo snapped. “These circuits are rubbish! This place should have been scrapped for parts years ago!”

Parts.

A light bulb went off in your brain and you immediately turned to Wrecker. “Give me a charge!”

“Why?!”

“Trust me!”

He gave you a look you couldn’t read under the helmet, but dropped an explosive in your palm.

Immediately you started dismantling it. “I need a gravmag, some wires, and anything explosive we can spare. Oh and Echo’s arm.”

“What?” Said Echo.

You ignored him and started your hunt for parts as you snatched a screwdriver, a multipurpose laser tool, and pliers from Tech’s backpack, stripped a console, broke Crosshair’s gravmag off of his grappling hook, and took three more charges from Wrecker. You dismantled, screwed, and rewired before beckoning Echo over and having him weld it all together.

“(Y/N),” Wrecker asked as he fired off another shot. “What are you doing?”

You waved him off as you activated your new, shoddy weapon of mass destruction and bolted for the window, lobbing it as hard and far as you could.

“Hit the dirt!” You yelled and there was a large boom and the whole building rattled.

When the dust cleared, you beamed proudly at the clear landscape.

The gang that had been surrounding your hiding place was now lying unconscious having been thrown a good 50 meters in all directions at extreme speeds.

“What-“ Said Crosshair in his rare stunned tone. “What did you do?”

“Simply,” You said. “I reversed the polarity and made it into a big bang.”

Wrecker whooped and tossed his helmet aside, scooping you into a bear hug and peppering kisses all over your face. “THAT’S MY GIRL!”

You turned pink and he drew back from you enough to press a sweet kiss to your lips, which only served to fill your face with crimson.

There was an awkward cough from one of his brothers and Wrecker turned a similar shade of red, setting you back on the ground.

“Er-“ He said, patting your shoulder awkwardly. “Good job.”

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sugawara-sweetheart · 3 years

Text

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔰 (𝔪)

❥oikawa tōru x fem!reader

❥summary: your new husband, oikawa toru, is the epitome of hell

❥warnings: forced marriage + abusive parents, forced isolation, yandere-ish and controlling behaviour, emotional abuse, dubcon/noncon, ill-prepped sex + blood, sacrilege, breeding kink + babytrapping *if i have missed any please let me know!!!!!

❥word count: 3.2k

your funeral dress is your wedding dress. a white gown that should be black, a bouquet of bright flowers that should be wilted roses, the knife slicing into the cake that should be cutting right through your heart and a forced watery smile and happy tears that should be mourning sobs as you feel every last fighting part of your soul collapse.

you should’ve known it was coming. it’d been your reality for months leading up to it, coming to terms with the darkness enclosing in on you. the first time you saw his face it was a photograph on your mother’s phone, a little smile on her face.

“this is him. isn’t he handsome? you’re a lucky one.” you can’t deny that he isn’t. tall with an athletic build, warm brown eyes and silky hair, skin bronzed from the Argentinian sun. he was supposed to be every girl’s dream- a star volleyball player with a luxurious home, paparazzi and journalists clinging to his every word, sponsorships and photoshoots and a charming character everyone glorifies.

but not you. maybe it was his superficial smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes or the heavy instinctual twinge that settled in you when you stared at his face, but you didn’t like this man. the very sight of him made your stomach turn and as you turned to your parents with pleading eyes, you begged. anyone. anyone else- you didn’t care about money, about their job, about them but as long as it wasn’t this man sending shivers down your spine. but they refused. badly. angry snarls and bitter words burned in your ear, heavy threats and viciousness that you were really left with no choice. the only thing you could do was hold back your stinging tears as you forced yourself to read sports magazines and articles till your teary eyes were sore and bloodshot, trying to pretend that you could love this man. that you could force a lifelong commitment of marriage, be his wife. the woman he’d lie in bed with at night, the one he woke up with, the one he was going to be intimate with but also show to the world. he was the man whose kids you’d be forced to bear, who you’d be bound to for life.

the first time you meet him is on your wedding day. oikawa tōru.

he’s the perfect charm, but in between the ceremony, the speeches and the dance you don’t get to speak to him alone till you’re in the hotel room. your wedding gown is stiff, the corset cinching your waist till it’s painful, the lace sleeves beginning to itch and a thick lump resides in your dry throat as you settle at the end of the bed. how superficial is this glorious honeymoon suite of a luxurious hotel with the baskets of fruit and chocolate, the complementary champagne with the congratulatory greetings card. all fake. all a facade concocted by your parents and oikawa- and how he’s able to smile at you so sweetly as he loosens the tie of his tuxedo, like none of this is wrong, utterly confuses you.

“you must be tired.” his smile is all wrong, even the little crinkle in his eyes, his saccharine voice. it makes your blood run cold and you want nothing more than to curl up in on yourself, to get away from him as much as possible. but you can’t. he’d find you, or your parents would find you and drag you back. there’d be nowhere to go. no escape. “would you like me to help you undress?” he steps forward but stops suddenly when you raise your hands in protest, a look of surprise etching on his face.

“i can undress in the bathroom.” is all you say as you walk across to the hotel suite away from him.

you inhale sharply, locking the bathroom door and pressing yourself against it, wishing there was more than two inches of wood separating you and that man you’re forced to call your husband. shivers run down your spine as you gaze at yourself in the mirror. y/n oikawa. you’re his now. you stare at the unfamiliar figure until tears blur your vision too much and you can’t see yourself anymore.

you stop in the doorway when you return to the main suite, your throat growing dry as you stare at oikawa lying on the bed. he beams at you, eyes sparkling as he takes in your figure and you’re suddenly feeling too exposed in the silk nightdress your mother prepared.

“come on,” he smiles, winking cheekily as he pats the space next to him. “i don’t bite.” your legs shake as you stalk towards the bed, swallowing at its size. you’d never thought that a spacious king-sized bed would be too small, too suffocating when you have oikawa staring at you, a strange gleam in his eye that gives you a harsh sense of unease.

you’re tense when you lay down and oikawa props himself up, smiling as he rakes his eyes over you. it’s horribly scrutinising- it’s like being under a microscope as he picks you apart with just his sugared smile, orbs narrowing and his smile seeming so wry.

“you’re a very beautiful woman.” he finally speaks. it sounds like a lie. so horribly sweet it’s sickly and you have to resist the urge to flinch when he reaches out to twine a stray lock of hair around his finger. “i’m so happy i chose you.” your mouth tastes sour and your body feels icy as he releases your hair, trailing a finger down your throat, along your collarbone. he hooks it under the flimsy strap of your dress and that’s when you can’t control the panicked squeal that escapes you.

“please. n-not tonight.” oikawa looks half surprised, half stunned at the sudden bout of emotion you release.

“fine.” he smiles, but it doesn’t fill you with relief when he releases your strap, grazing his finger back along your collarbones and throat. it lingers too long on your neck, his brown eyes piercing into you and your stomach drops when you realise he’s not looking into your eyes.

you finally realise why you feel so uneasy when he stares at you.

he looks at you like you’re prey.

it’s anxiety-inducing, living with oikawa tōru. even after the honeymoon when you finally return to his home, you’re in a constant state of unease. you don’t seem to be able to sleep well, staring at the dark ceiling for hours with your body tense, even way after oikawa’s breathing falls slow and steady. your appetite has dissipated, your tightly-knotted stomach now churning with nausea and every time you hear that silky, saccharine voice and feel his coarse fingers tracing along your shoulders- his favourite way to make his presence known- you can’t help but start, heart pounding against your rib cage. you’re certain he’s noticed- his eyes are sharp and perceptive- but a part of you wonders whether he enjoys it, whether his wide smile is out of sick entertainment.

but he isn’t a bad husband, which seems to confuse you the most. it’s strange living in a new country with the hot sun beating down on you, unfamiliar language surrounding your ears and no friends or family for company. the only person you have is oikawa, and he knows it. his hand grips yours tight whenever you leave the house, and it only ever is with him. he talks a lot but he never tells you the important things. he doesn’t tell you important words you may need to know like ‘help’ or ‘police’ or ‘phone’ but instead laughs when you ask about them, waving a dismissive hand. he points out the best department store for the finest clothes and makeup but raises an eyebrow when you ask where the closest train station is, amusement glimmering in his eyes.

“and why would you need to know that when i’m here, y/n?” he taps the tip of your nose and a sour taste lingers in your mouth as you hold back the nasty words you want to spit at him. how humiliating.

oikawa becomes all you know. your day is empty spent in a luxurious home, looking beautiful in the pretty yet stiff clothes your husband buys you, painting your face in the makeup he fills your draws with yet you have nothing to do. the maids who clean your home and leave the food in the fridge don’t look at you as they work and the gardener barely gives you a second glance, leaving you feeling invisible with only your alienated thoughts filling your mind. the silence is deafening yet lonesome, that when the front door slams shut and you hear oikawa’s footsteps against the marble hallway floor, you’re rushing to greet him with your cheeks burning.

you’re never happy to see him. no, your life would be a thousand times better if he hadn’t ever been forced into it, but you still run like a dog at a bell whenever he comes home from a long day of training, his tanned skin and brown locks wet with sweat.

“tōru!” you breathe, and hearing his soft voice, his sadistic chuckle, breaks the suffocating silence you’re confined to. maybe he enjoys it. maybe he enjoys seeing your face lighten up with human contact because when he opens his arms and pouts his lips to press a kiss to your forehead you don’t resist.

but he’s not your husband because you want him to be. just when you think you’re okay with him insisting on kissing your cheek or feeding you the fruits he bought home from the market or pulling you into his arms when you’re watching a television show in a language you don’t understand but he knows perfectly, your skin crawls and you remember that you hate him.

your voice cracks on the first phone call home back to your mother. her cheery, almost proud voice rings in your ears, not knowing she was part of the reason why you feel so numb, so broken and so trapped.

“mum, i don’t like it here.” you tell her quietly, playing with the thick telephone cord. “please let me come home. i don’t like him.” she laughs at you, an awkward titter that has tears stinging your eyes. you’re tired.

“give it some time, you just need to adjust. stop being ungrateful.” she scoffs and you can imagine her rolling her eyes, her tone mocking like she’s speaking to a child. “he’s a good man.”

an icy coldness runs over your tensed body when you hear the shuffle in the doorway and you turn to lock eyes with oikawa. his brown orbs look so dark, his brow furrowed slightly and even though a smile stretches across his face, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“ah, y/n-chan,” he beams. “tell your mother i said hi.”

oikawa isn’t quite the same after that day. if it didn’t already feel like a noose was hanging around your throat, it definitely felt tighter, like the life was being squeezed from you. suddenly oikawa is everywhere, weighing down on you but it’s heavy, oppressive, cruel. you can expect your phone to call every hour, the picture of himself he set on your phone flashing up on the screen like clockwork with the same mindless questions. he knows you have nothing to do, no one to speak to, no life except the moment he gets home and infests your space with his existence. but he was sweet before, even if it still made you shudder. now he was nasty.

disapproval is etched on his face as he watches you get ready in the morning, your hand shaking as you apply lipstick when you see his eyes pierce into you in the reflection of the mirror. it makes your heart race, cold sweat dampening your palms as your stomach churns in anticipation from what words would fall from his lips.

“red lipstick makes you look like a whore. i don’t want people thinking my wife is a slut.” he spits. you don’t hesitate to wipe it off.

there’s always more. humiliating you with harsh jokes and only speaking in spanish when you meet his teammates, leaving you alienated as you try to cling to their words, try to laugh along when they sneer and chuckle at you, oikawa’s laugh always ringing the loudest. chastising in a cruel, sneering tone over the simplest of things leaves you anxious and wary, hands trembling whenever you intend to do just the slightest, most natural of things because you’re aware of his heavy gaze piercing into you, scrutinising you for faults, leaving you scared almost for whatever harsh words will be spat from his lips this time. your comfort was little before, being forced into being the wife of a stranger you didn’t want in your life, but now all of that had been diminished. you aren’t just unfortunate now. you’re trapped.

“i bet you feel so lonely here.” his words cut through the silence one day, eyes fluttering open and locking onto yours. and with his head in your lap, your fingers forced to run through his hair like a puppet doll, you can’t look away, you can’t ignore him or the smirk tugging at his lips. “having no friends, no family, no one except me.” he chuckles but you’re not sure what’s the funny bit. “your parents don’t call much do they? and your friends forgot about you when you left japan?” he shakes his head a little, eyes sparkling with cold amusement. “you really don’t have anyone to care about you except me, right?”

your throat tightens as his words ring in your mind and you realise he’s right. it doesn’t matter if you hate him, if you feel sick and trapped and hopeless when looking at him and his cruel smile, you really do have no one but him. there’s nothing to do but be his.

the scent of vanilla hangs heavy in the bedroom, orange candlelight illuminating but it’s anything but romantic or peaceful when you’re pinned onto the mattress. oikawa’s legs are on either side of your body, trapping you in with his hands pressed against your shoulders. it hurts, his nails pierce into your skin and your throat is tight, barely being able to breathe in the warm, thick, perfumed air that lingers.

“i’ve waited long enough.” he groans, slowly rocking his hips against you. your silk nightdress is bunched at your waist, your fingers gripping the cloth as his stiff, hard cock glides against your folds. you can’t deny that you’re getting wetter, each brush along your cunt building sensitivity as you shudder. oikawa looks drunk, his eyes growing heavy-lidded and cheeks flushing with a pink glow, a brief smile tugging at his lips between breathy sighs. “you’re my wife. this is right.” it stings when he pinches your chin and traces his fingers on the soft skin of your face before his lips meet yours.

it’s the first time you’ve kissed him. his lips are too much and you cringe at the feeling of his tongue sliding against yours, forcing itself between your lips and invading your mouth. you mewl, but it’s laced with discomfort as your back arches off the bed, but you have nowhere to go with oikawa weighing you down. “my sweet wife.” he purrs, resting his wet lips agsinst yours and curling his fingers around your throat.

“tōru,” you hiss when his cockhead meets your entrance, your sweating hands gripping the cloth of your nightdress tighter, heart thumping against your ribcage. “w-wait-”

“be a good wife to me, y/n-can.” it sounds sweet, like a gentle plead but his fingers tightening around your throat and the cockhead almost nudging into your hole gives you no choice. “God of creation, in the beginning, You told adam and eve to be fruitful and to multiply and to have dominion over the animals here on earth.” a shaky cry falls from your lips as he slowly slides the weeping head of his cock into your tight hole. it burns, the stretch stinging even with the first couple of inches and your walls clamp tight, a distressed groan escaping. his hand releases your throat, the skin pulsating and bruised, to travel down to your chest, pinching your nipples sharply through the thin fabric, making you wince. “father, i pray that in our marriage we continue to be fruitful and multiply.” his words ring in your ears, sounding so distant like your head has been plunged underwater. it burns, his cock forcing itself into your cunt and ripping through the flesh as deep groans fall from his lips. “let us do this physically with children who are blessings that come from You.” his fingers pinch your nipples harder, pain rushing through you. your throat tightens. the tears are hot streaming down your face. “let us also do this spiritually by birthing ministries that You have called us to birth and by making disciples that You have selected.” his moans are heavy gasps, eyes rolling to the back of his head when he sheaths the last few inches of his throbbing length into your tight pussy, his chest pressed against yours and his breath hot and heavy as it ghosts your lips. “a-amen.” orange candlelight orbs and his brown eyes glimmer through your tears as he grips your face, tugging it to face him as your cunt aches with the searing pain. “say it, sweet girl.”

“a-amen.” his lips press against yours, swallowing the weeps that fall from your lips as he starts to rock his hips into you.

the pain never fully dissipates. scarlet bleeds out onto the pristine bedsheets, dyed in the candlelight. his shadow flickers on the walls as he fucks into you, chanting your name with deep groans and heavy-lidded eyes rolling to the back of his head, harsh fingertips pinching and swirling your clit. your bloodied, torn walls cling tight to his cock, your own moans muffled as you bite your trembling bottom lip, trying to bury your face into the pillow as he pounds into you but there’s no evading his hungry kisses or the bites he traces down your throat.

“cum for me.” he coos and you shudder as his tongue darts out to lick up the silvery tears that roll down your cheeks. “cum for me right now.”

beaten down into submission. his wife. your orgasm is forced from you, bloodied slick drooling from your pussy as he swallows your moans, his hips snapping against yours faster and groaning as your walls clench around him.

“i’ll give you my cum.” he murmurs against your hot, bruised skin. “i’ll fill up your pussy with my cum, make you nice and swollen with my child. then you’ll always be mine.”

you cry out when his cum floods your pussy, so deep and warm and sticky, filling you up entirely as you whine. your hands tremble as you lift your dress, horrified to see the pink globules dribbling down your thighs when he pulls out.

you’re frozen when he lies beside you, wrapping his arms around your shaking body and pressing tender kisses to your shoulder. “you’re such a sweet wife to me.” he murmurs. “i’ll never let you go.”

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