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thesiblingsoftheblackandwhite · 4 months

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[[BODY MUTILATION, BODY HORROR, ABUSIVE PARENTING]]

Hooves legs ache as they clack toward nowhere. There is no silence this time, instead it’s echoed by faint screams he can almost place. Meaning there’s someone else here.

Wig-Wiggly!?

There is no other word for what T’noy Karaxis feels: weak. The persistent burn in his bones has only spread as his head fogs. That doesn’t mean he stops running. Yellow fizzles past his clouded eyes to something brighter and harsher. There’s no harm in trying for freedom, even if there is nothing past these walls. ‘Harm’ does not include the sickness beating through him like it always has. Tinky’s hands, pocked with age spots, twitch coldly. He almost trips over himself, eyes darting around for anything of a different shade. There was only one rule: never stay in the same spot. Whatever can be done should.

Blinky!?

He’s at the dead end he always ends up reaching. Stopping once means he might not get up again - Tinky tries to grip the wall clumsily with feeble fingers. Metal gushes into his mouth as he absently opens his mouth to let it flow out, stark against the yellow floor. Nails scratch and, as they do so, each one chips. Karaxis doesn’t stop, getting hysterical. His nailbeds bleed at the strain of separation. With a jerk, his thumbnail clatters to the floor. The exposed skin burns, but he doesn’t notice. The cracks along the rest of his nails make sure they don’t go as quickly, rooting deep into his palm with electric shudders. Every breath is a stab to each lung. Frantic in his escape plan, Tinky doesn’t hear footsteps.

“You.”

T’noy staggers around to come face to face with his favorite toy. Teddy Bear grins without enjoyment.

“I’ve been waiting for you. You fucking bastard.”

Aware of how frail he feels, Tinky backs into the corner while baring his teeth. Ted steps closer, eyes shining. T’noy did not directly interact with his Boxed victims often, and he would have been elated in any other context.

“I’m going to have so much fun, Tinker-Toy.”

There is something wrong with his grin - it's usually lopsided, with a dimple Ted’s hated since childhood. Even with his waning vision, this wasn’t right. Before Karaxis can focus on anything clearly, a shiny flash almost blinds him. In Ted’s hands is a length of piano wire. He shouldn’t have that. Tinky designed the Box so that-

T-Tinker-Toy? You’ve never…

Ted’s grin never slips - his imposing figure steps in closer, cornering his tormentor. The wire gets spun around in his fingers casually.

“Goats don’t have fingers, silly wiwwle Tinky~.”

His eyes were brown, not…

“I’m sure you miss ‘em. Your hooves. Huh?”

His tone is light. With nowhere to run, not that his legs would let him, Karaxis stares at the wire wrapping around his ring finger. But this wasn’t how things went - if his Box worked like it should or if he wasn’t just a human, he wouldn’t-

“Aw, don’t cry, little guy! I’ll save your middle finger, how’s that?”

He wheezes a barking laugh. The screams are no longer there. Prickles and needles dance on T’noy’s finger as blood beads against the wire. It’s pulling too tight to simply slide his hand away. T’noy Karaxis begs.

T-Teddsy - Ted - Spankoffski. Don’t!

Ted laughs again, and it doesn’t belong to him, A hot shock burns through Tinky’s finger and palm as the wire meets resistance.

“Like a child begging for salvation.

Bones crack as Theodore’s figure shrinks away. In his place, towering over T’noy Karaxis, is a hulking blur of shining feathers. They have no set color, switching from glints of purple to glints of pink, blue, green, orange. The skull on top of the feather cloak, unblinking, is that of a goat’s, with twisting horns and jutting teeth caked with rot and bloodied flesh. Its - His - eye sockets shine with something inside, far from hollow. Pupilless and apathetic, reflective and compound. Like thousands of cameras, they settle on their target like flies to a corpse. Perpetually watching.

After all my corrections, you are still disobedient.

Tentacles squirm quicker than before from feathered tips. He does not move.

…F-F-

You need say nothing. I apologize for my dirty trick.

T’noy scrambles back further, but the wall prevents escape. He shakes his head harshly, ears ringing.

This could not happen otherwise.

N…No-

He lifts His head higher.

…’No’.

Tinky shakes his head again, neck aching. He cannot move. The figure leans forward, eyes rotating.

Even now? Agitated about a talk?

Cold tentacles slide over his cheek, pulling gently, startling in contrast to his temperature. They leave behind glowing blue muck.

You were always so quiet after the Box. Why did it ever stop?

He cocks His head to one side, though there is no expectation for answers. Tinky’s throat tightens as his mouth breathes out too harshly. Everything blistered, but only His presence was piercing. Regardless, there was an answer; one that he swears is there.

S-

His voice is high and garbled, but he forces his lungs to get air in as he stammers.

S-sib-li-siblings.

There is quiet where he believes he’s won. The flame sizzles on his skin. He says nothing; the air is heavy with copper. Then, voice low,

What siblings? I don’t recall making any others. Certainly not for you.

There are no names to bring up, with no memories to think of. There is nothing. Blankness ranging millennia.

W-

T’noy mouths something; it might be a name or it might be a plea, but either way he can’t get the word out.

Little fake things to keep you company…how can I expect power from a future Lord who hallucinates?

Tinky whines, the guttural noise tearing through his dry throat. No one else was supposed to be in the Box. This was his punishment alone. Just his.

Your time here is getting to you, Bastard. But somehow you’re still useful. Relieving…isn’t it?

Here - the Box. Karaxis knew it well. Its maze twisted every second with rich yellow dousing every corner. Constantly spinning and weaving through itself like a…

W-Webby-

He chokes as hot blood overwhelms his senses, letting it fall down his chin.

What, this?

His tentacles wiggle around a tiny white spider. It zooms around the tight confinement desperately without glowing. Tinky inhales sharply, trailing its movements. His foot falls an inch forward as he wants nothing more than to get it away from Him.

W~Web-

The cage gets smaller. The spider spasms, bloated with blood. Its legs kick once pathetically before they go limp with a spurt of blue-tinted gore. The crushed thing is dropped, dead.

Pests. You know that, I expect.

Karaxis’ stomach churns as he keeps looking at her.

Y-ou ki…

Like a clock that doesn’t tick.

You act horrified. Did I do something wrong?

The corpse disappears under the myriad of feathers. Tinky can’t move further.

It’s like how you play with your replacement - I thought you would like that.

Colors fill his eyes. T’noy doesn’t reach as high as what would be His chest, lacking the strength to look up. His heart pounds in his ears.

You were always so sensitive. A complainer and a coward. I have naught for cowards. Too weak for godhood. Look, you’ve already hurt yourself.

T’noy Karaxis crumples to the floor in a heap, hitting the ground with a thwack. Ice swallows each molecule in his sweltering body. He sees no yellow or colors, just white as his eyes roll back in their sockets. He jerks up, stiff, skin blistering and boiling under his clothing.

Pity.

The wall keeping Karaxis shifts away. Incoherent, he falls onto his back. It lights up with stabbing pain as he sobs.

They will be sorely disappointed. How will you help them? Stupid, stumbling, creature.

There’s creaking as hot breath makes his face scrunch.

Shoo.

The word is a gunshot. Scrambling away, ignoring the excruciating agony as his limbs sting, Tinky flings himself into the maze pathway. Completely blind, groping with bleeding fingers, he can only reach for obstacles.

Hff…hff - nghk-

Nothing gives chase. A low and penetrating hum blares in his ears as a warm stickiness spreads down Tinky’s forehead. He blinks his sight back. It teeters between white and black, catching yellow flashes. A cough brings up something warm and bitter.

Your town is a rotting poison. At its roots it twists into a shrewd picture. Did you think they worried about your absence? There is no difference - you are mine.

He speeds up his crawl after seeing lights shining from the end of the hall. They blink brightly, multicolored. He’s in marginally less pain.

Ah-ah~.

A thin, cold, sharp thing eases in between two ribs with a squelch. Karaxis shudders, gasping, as warmth seeps below him. His chest heaves through a punctured lung with gritted moans. His tone rises, booming.

Ungrateful. Do you understand the PRIVILEGE I’ve given you? The CONTROL I can rip away if I wish? You’ve seen it already. Ask that trifle of yours.

N~o…P-ea-

His brain melts against all logic. Blood drags on the floor behind his decomposing form, already long dried. Teeth loosen with no choice but to fall out of thin gums. As everything clouds, His voice rings in Tinky’s head.

Go back to your brothers. Tell them how good of a protector you were.

#The Lords in Black #T’noy Karaxis #Their Holy Father #ask blog #rp blog #hatchetfield rp #tw body horror #tw mutilation #(Please inform me if I an missing any TW tags! /srs //OOC)#Blog Event: Hatchetfield Citizens

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swifty-fox · 2 months

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mmmmm gimme that 18 and 22

18. from that one WIP thats no plot just vibes

all my MOTA fic is plot but ive got an old wolfstar supernatural murder mystery i abandoned

Remus is dreaming. Or at least he thinks he is.

It’s the type of dream where he can feel the tips of his fingers and the weight on his chest and every single molar in his jaw. The type of dream where dread and horror and fear sit in his lungs and prevent him from drawing breath.

He is buried alive.

He can feel the rich fertile earth covering his body, taste the clay and silt in his mouth. Crawling, desperate, hungry things slither over his body. He can hear the sounds of their chewing in his ears and he wants to scream only if he opens his mouth that will let them in. His flesh rots, his eyeballs melt out of his skull. The skin around his lips turns wizened and desiccated, peeling back from his teeth like the pages of a book.

Remus is bones, is decay, the worms feed on his decomposition and snakes slither through the latticework of his sternum. He breathes, and his lungs fill with mushrooms and soft nesting things. Butterflies alight on his corpse and sip the sweetly soured decaying flesh. There is a buzzing in his mouth, a soft wet bumblebee struggling to get out.

He opens his mouth. Mud fills his throat. The bee ceases her noise and a giant black spider emerges, scuttling past his lips and into the forest.

His parents are screaming his name, screaming for him. To run. To fight.

Fight it, fight it Remus, you have to fight it.

Remus opens his mouth. He opens his mouth and the spider escapes. He opens his mouth and the hungry things come pouring in, devouring him from the inside out. He opens his mouth and screams.

There is a bird who sits on a tower. With beady eyes so clever. Who sees the curling petal. Of every single flower.

A boy is staring at him. A boy with blue eyes and blue lips and blue, bruised, dead skin. His palms are stained and his body is bare, dehydrated and loose-limbed like a porcelain doll torn from its stand. He smiles at Remus with bloody, perfect teeth.

22. that is so blissfully indulgent

me hwne Gale angst and also he loves John

Gale takes a deep breath to compose himself, tucks the jagged angry edges of himself back to face inwards. “You said you would write.”

He glances up at Bucky and it's the other man who averts his gaze this time, face paling. He sits down heavily across from Buck and rubs a hand across his mustache, still avoiding eye contact.

“I meant to.” He finally says then laughs sharp and bitter, “I musta put pen to paper a thousand times. But I- well. The words just wouldn’t come. Figured eventually I might as well drive out and fetch you back with me.”

Gale's anger stutters and then goes out completely, leaving him hollow. Of course, of course he wasn't the only one with memories that nipped at his heels. And John, the man that he was, had decided to do something about it for the both of them. Who shouldered a sixteen hour drive because of course a letter wasn’t good enough, he’d already chased Buck into the heart of enemy territory, what were a few state lines?

“John Egan,” Buck drawls, “always to the rescue.” Bucky laughs, a genuine noise that sounds so foreign in the cold bare kitchen.

John was fake on the surface and all real underneath. Real bravery and real heart, a man who jumps on an armed German guard to save his friend. Who volunteered on the next mission out all because his friend had been shot down. And Gale, well he was just the opposite wasn't he? All real on the thin top layer and below that nothing much of substance. A good soldier, a good leader; good at being a man in all the ways that garnered approval and respect. He honed it to perfection, perfect responses full of bravado, not too harsh but not too intimate either. But below that…there was very little to behold. No matter how many times the other guys told him, he told himself, there would always be the fact that John faced down armed guards and Buck ran

#swiftytalks #ask games

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lehguru · 1 year

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ROMANTIC DATE + BROOK

request: Can I request a little scenario where Brook (from OP) organizes a little romantic date for his S/O, please?

warnings: silly goofy, i loved to make this as one piece as possible, one joke about eyes popping out (literally just that, no g*re description), brook accidentally sets himself on fire, not proofread; gender neutral reader + requests are open ! check pinned post for requesting rules

im soooooooo sorry i took so long to post this! it was very fun to write and i hope you enjoy it ♡ obrigada demais por enviar essa ask meu chuchu!!

he had no idea where to start. he loves you, he loves you as much as he loves music, but he truly didn't know what to do. here's the thing: it has been YEARS since he had an actual date with someone. god, he didn't even see any person for 50 years while he was lost in the florian triangle; his romance skills were really rusty.

when the idea of organizing a date night appeared in his mind – nami gave him the idea –, he went around the crew asking for tips on what he should do to impress you. from "all you can eat buffet" to "why would i know", everyone had different answers to his question. surprisingly, sanji was the one with the best idea: a candlelight dinner.

as the night came, the table was ready. a small vase with a rose stood in the middle of it, a single candle making the mahogany towel even darker. compared to the simplicity of the table, the floor was a mess. countless candles were lit against the hard wood of the ship and any surface that was available in the room; sanji murmured that those things were clearly a safety hazard when he went to deliver the dinner, bur brook ignored his words.

when the skeleton lead you inside the room and took your blindfold off – you were a little scared when he begged for you to wear it –, you were left completely speechless. you mouth dropped and your eyes darted from the tall man to the scenery in front of you. you let yourself be pushed to sit on the chair and, after he sat down across from you, you murmured:

"shouldn't we blow out some of the candles?"

he simply chuckled and assured you that it wasn't a problem; everything there was perfectly safe and he made sure of it.

it didn't take long for you to be proven right. after you both finished eating the pasta sanji prepared – brook tried to pretend that he was the one that made it – and were just enjoying each other's company, talking about random topics, a faint smell of smoke reached your nostrils. you tried to ignore it and keep looking at your boyfriend, but a clear thin smoke thread started to come from somewhere under you two.

brook seemed to not notice, but he followed your stare as you looked down. if he had eyes, they would've popped out of their sockets; the bottom of the towel started to catch on fire. you tried to remain calm, it wasn't a big deal, it's not like that wasn't something you could easily put off just by stomping on the cloth. unfortunately, your boyfriend seemed to have different thoughts.

with a quick and rough movement, brook pulled the towel from the table, shaking it around so the fire would be put out. after he, apparently, succeeded at extinguishing the fire that was starting, the skeleton sighed deeply; relief was starting to settle in his bones when you noticed another trail of smoke appearing. this time, from his head.

"brook, you–"

"i'm sorry for this, my love! we can carry on with our date now." he noticed your worried face and tilted his skull. "what is wrong, my darling?"

"your hair is on fire." you pointed at the top of his hair and he seemed to freeze for a second.

when your words settled in, he started screeching at the top of his lungs. before you could help him and take the fire yourself, brook slammed the door open and runned to the deck of the ship. all the crew members that were close also started screaming. while luffy and chopper started to hit brook in an attempt to put out the fire, franky appeared with water and threw it on the boys. sea water.

while your boyfriend was whining on the floor, his strength leaving his bones for a moment, sanji appeared next to you, lighting up his cigarette. "he had good intentions with the date. he asked all of you about it."

you smiled softly and nodded, "i know."

2023 © content belongs to lehguru, but the characters used in them belong to their respective creators!!

#brook #brook x reader #brook x you #brook x reader fluff #brook x you fluff #brook headcanons #brook drabble #op brook #op x reader fluff #op x you #op x reader #op x you fluff #one piece x you #one piece x reader fluff #one piece x reader #one piece self insert #one piece x you fluff

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earlgreydream · 3 years

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mission.

| stucky x reader | fluff | smut |

oh no, there’s only one bed trope

“James!” You screamed, your voice getting carried off in the wind. You kicked backwards, knocking free from the grip of a Hydra agent. You ducked as a bullet whizzed past your head, slicing through the skull of your enemy.

A hand wrapped around your arm and dragged you forward, forcing you to break into a run. Blinded by the storm, your lost your footing in the slick mud. If it wasn’t for Steve’s grip on you, you would’ve fell face first into the ground.

“Be careful!” The shout was stressed, impatient.

You swore and ran through the field after the soldiers, nearly tripping over the uneven ground. Your muscles were burning along with your lungs, and the rain was so thick you couldn’t see.

“We can’t drive in this!”

“We don’t have another option!” Steve shouted back, his grip on you tightening as he helped you onward.

The mission had gone to absolute shit before it even started. Stark sent you, Steve, and Bucky to hunt down a Hydra agent, which you’d just taken out in the field. However, he’d gotten wind of your arrival, prepared with an elite security team you had to get through. They had nearly succeeded in killing Bucky, throwing the three of you off from the beginning.

The storm had made everything nearly impossible, and it wrecked any chance of you getting home soon. No plane, not even one designed by Stark, could fly you overseas when you couldn’t see two feet ahead of you.

You couldn’t see Bucky, or Steve really, only knowing he was there by the hand on your arm. You trusted Bucky was nearby, making his way back to the car with you to try to get out of the middle of nowhere.

You were exhausted, hardly able to stand, let alone run through the storm, covered in heavy mud and gear. You finally made it to the car, your shaking hands coming into contact with cold steel.

The three of you managed to get inside the vehicle, though it didn’t feel like it was going to do any good. You were soaked from the rain and covered in mud and blood, and you were shivering from the icy temperature.

Bucky turned the key in the ignition, deciding that you needed to drive to shelter, even if he couldn’t see the road ahead.

“Fuck! Bucky!” You yelled as cold air blew directly on you from the AC, making you feel like you were going to freeze death.

“I’m fucking taking care of it, Y/N!” Bucky snapped back, raising his voice at you.

“Hey, that’s enough, Buck.” Steve interjected, despite being on edge himself. Bucky turned off the air, pulling out into the road and blindly inching back toward the small eastern-European town.

“I’m sorry.” He finally said through clenched teeth, and you shook your head.

“It’s fine, we’re all just exhausted.”

You didn’t even realize you were clung to Steve until Bucky parked, somehow managing to get you three to a motel, alive. You muttered an apology, grabbing your backpack off the floor and running into the front office.

The desk manager eyed the three of you warily, and you sagged against the wall, struggling to stay upright. The floor felt like it was rocking under you, and you grabbed Steve’s arm to try to steady yourself. You were so cold, you felt like you were about to freeze to death.

Bucky started speaking to the main in fluent Russian, the conversation growing sharper and more annoyed as they argued. You didn’t understand what the problem was, and you started to cry, overly exhausted, dirty, and weak.

“Stevie,” Bucky whined at Steve to take care of you while he continued to deal with the manager.

“Y/N, take deep breaths,” Steve hugged your shivering body to his, and Bucky gestured at you and shouted at the manager.

He flashed his gun before he was finally given a room key, and he threw the door open, motioning the two of you to follow. Steve carried your backpack for you, gently pushing you after Bucky and praying you didn’t collapse.

Bucky unlocked a room, pushing you inside ahead of him, and you stared at the one bed. You were too tired to truly care, lethargy threatening to drag you under.

“It was all they had. He’d barely give me this last room.” Bucky’s tone was apologetic, albeit frustrated.

“It’s fine, one thing at a time,” Steve sighed, and you dropped to the floor, working your boots off.

“I need a minute, you can shower first,” you said hoarsely, and the boys nodded, Bucky tenderly touching your head as he walked to the small bathroom, tearing off his ruined clothes. He was quick, and Steve was in and out right after, both of them clean in under fifteen minutes. You sat on the floor, trying to catch your breath and drink the water bottle that Bucky had forced into your hand.

“Can you stand for a shower?” Bucky asked you, and you nodded, taking his hand as he helped you off the floor. You grabbed your one change of dry clothes from your backpack and set them on the sink.

“Don’t lock it please, Y/N,” Steve called, worried you would collapse.

“M’not!”

You stripped out of your ruined uniform, discarding it with the boys’. You stepped under the hot water, a moan escaping you as you finally got some relief from the freeze deep in your bones. You washed the mud off of your body and out of your hair, nearly crying from the relief of the hot water.

“Oh my god, fuck!” You shrieked when your clothes fell off the counter and onto the wet floor, the drain not doing much good.

“Y/N?!” Bucky’s concerned voice came as he cracked the door open.

“I’m fine, I...” you started crying again, feeling defeated and worn out.

“Doll, what happened...” Bucky’s voice was soft, the rare term of endearment making you cry harder.

“I dropped my clothes!” You shut off the water and peered around the dingy curtain. You grabbed a dry towel from his hand, staying behind the curtain as you dried off, the steam keeping you warm.

“Just leave your clothes. You can have Steve’s sweater. That’s all we’ve got, but it’ll be big, so...”

You were wrapped in the towel as you took the fluffy white sweater from Bucky, pulling it over your head once you were given some privacy.

It fell almost to your knees, the sleeves covering your hands. You wished you had something to put on under it, but this was the best you could do right now. You squeezed the moisture out of your hair before joining the boys in the small motel room.

“You okay?” Steve asked, and you nodded, thanking him for the sweater. They had only managed to raid a vending machine outside, and you were handed a package of crisps and another bottle of water. The television in the corner was playing some Russian telenovela quietly, the scratch of the fuzzy connection interrupting it.

You sat on the edge of the bed, eating the crisps and wishing you had some real food to satiate your stomach ache. You pulled an extra band from Bucky’s wrist, tying your damp hair up on top of your head, getting it off your neck.

Your two best friends wouldn’t let you lay down until you’d finished the second bottle of water, paranoid of your possible dehydration. You ignored their anxious nurturing, getting under the covers as soon as you’d finished it.

You had never felt so exhausted in your life, and your eyelids were heavy as they fell closed. The two super soldiers laid down on either side of you, surrounding you with warmth. They were like two individual heaters, pressed against your back and front in the small bed.

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but it was pitch-black when you woke up. You stirred, your eyes still heavy with sleep. The storm was loud outside, covering the soft breathing of the soldiers.

You felt metal between your thighs, Bucky’s hand gently rubbing your inner thigh.

“James?” You murmured, stirring.

“Mm?” He was barely awake. Steve’s arm tightened around your waist, holding you closer. You rubbed your eyes, snuggling deeper into Steve’s soft sweater.

Your mind was thick with sleepiness, and you were still stuck in a half-dream state. It was warm, dark, and heady, surrounding you in a settled calmness.

You felt Bucky’s fingers trail higher, finding you bare after the clothing mishap. You didn’t register what was happening at first until you felt him sliding along your skin, finding your bundle of nerves. You whimpered softly, your mind melting and your legs parting even though you didn’t know what was happening.

“James, what are you doing?” you whispered breathlessly.

“I can’t keep my hands off of you, doll. You’re just too irresistible,” Bucky murmured into your chest, curling up closer into you. His lips ghosted over your neck, hot kisses dotting along your skin. Your body ignited with the touch, and you couldn’t bring yourself to push him away.

“Wanna feel you,” Steve’s sleepy voice hummed through your hair, his hand moving up your sweater up to your chest. A noise escaped you as you felt Steve slowly begin to grind against your backside, hardening against your soft skin. You realized they were naked too, and you began dripping on Bucky’s fingers.

“Sweet girl, does that feel good?” he smiled against your throat, marking you up with hickeys.

You nodded, tipping your head down to kiss him. It was a bit hesitant at first, but you couldn’t keep yourself from melting into Bucky. Your lips molded together, his gentle movements easing any doubt in your mind. Steve squeezed your breasts, teasing your nipples and making you sigh against Bucky. He slid his tongue past your lips, the warm muscle exploring your mouth. Metal fingers pressed slowly inside of you without resistance, stretching you out and rubbing your velvety skin.

Your soft sighs and moans filled the motel room, and you reached behind you to pull Steve into a searing kiss. Bucky pulled your leg over his, giving them better access. You whined a complaint when Bucky pulled his fingers from your heat, causing the boys to laugh softly.

“I’m just going to get you ready for Steve, doll. Is that alright?” Bucky’s silver eyes locked with yours, searching for any hesitation.

“Yes, but... go slow?” you whispered shyly.

“We’ll be gentle, sweetheart,” Steve promised, and you leaned your head back against his shoulder. You trusted the men, knowing they’d never hurt you, not purposely. Steve’s hand smoothed over your side, kissing the skin of your shoulder that peeked out above the neckline of his sweater.

Bucky’s slick fingertip traced around the tight ring of muscle before carefully easing it in. Your fingers snaked into Steve’s hair, tugging lightly as Bucky worked to loosen you up.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” Bucky asked when your face squeezed up as he added a third finger.

“No, it just feels... strange,” you squirmed between the boys. Steve dropped his hand between your legs to distract you from the discomfort Bucky was causing. You slowly relaxed around him, smiling into Bucky’s gentle kisses. You adjusted your leg over his hips, pulling the soldier closer and smoothing your hands over his chest.

You were restless, anxious for them to be inside of you. Your quiet begs sent shudders of anticipation through the boys, giving in without hesitation.

“I’m going to slide in first, it’ll go easier,” Bucky waited for your permission and you agreed, tugging on his long dark hair. He loved it, a deep growl coming from his throat as you pulled on the locks. Your giggles abruptly cut off as Bucky wrapped an arm around your hips, pulling you close as he sank inside of you. He mumbled profanities in Russian, overwhelmed by the feeling of your warmth surrounding his cock. Your leg draped over him allowed him to get a deep angle, feeling like he was splitting you open in the best way. He was bigger than anyone in the past, and you swore to yourself you could never go back after this.

“You’re fucking huge, James,” you whined into his ear, gasping as your words caused him to thrust against you, the friction sending electricity to your nerves. Steve laughed at that, waiting for Bucky to still before rubbing his leaking head against your other entrance.

“Just breathe, okay?” Steve could see the nervousness in your eyes, even in the dark. You hid your face in Bucky’s chest as Steve pushed inside of you, squeezing your ass in his large hands. Bucky felt the friction against him, and he struggled not to thrust into you.

The foreign fullness had your thoughts disconnecting, your body being overwhelmed with arousal. Your loud moans filled the silence, and you squeezed around them as Steve’s hips met yours.

They only gave you a moment to adjust before both soldiers started moving, thrusting in and out of you, making you scream with mind-numbing pleasure. Bucky’s movements became more forceful, pulling sounds from the three of you. You couldn’t think or move, your only ability was to take it, soaking it up and igniting your body. You throbbed around them, throwing your head back against Steve.

“You feel so good, sweetheart, you’re so tight and warm around us,” he praised, kissing your cheekbone. Your mouth opened with a choked moan, and he connected your lips, moving his tongue against yours. Bucky swore, even more turned on by the sight of his two lovers making out.

He lifted your knee higher, thrusting impossibly deeper. The pressure that had been building snapped, and you screamed as your orgasm hit you like a train.

“Fuck, I’m so close, doll,” Bucky knew he couldn’t last long as you tightened around him like a vice.

“Come inside of me, please, I want-” you didn’t finish your sentence as he came, throbbing inside of you as he filled you with hot ropes of release. You were reduced to mindless, incoherent begs, pleading for Steve to do the same. His strong arms held you still against him, keeping you from writhing as he came deep inside of you. Bucky swallowed your screams, and you sank weakly against them as you came down from the high that had all of you wrecked.

You woke up slightly dazed from the post-sex sleep, exhausted from the mission and getting fucked by the two super-soldiers. You opened your arms with a sleepy whimper, making the boys laugh softly. Bucky pulled you into a hug, letting you drape your arms around his neck and cling to him.

“How’re you feeling, doll?”

“Like I’ve had the life fucked out of me,” your voice was soft and amused, making them smile tenderly at you.

“In a good way?”

“In the best way,” you assured Steve.

“I want all of our missions to end like that.”

Bucky grinned cheekily, kissing your head and making you giggle.

“The storm’s let up. I’m sorry, but we’ve got to get you out of bed,” Steve peeled the blankets off, making you cling tighter to Bucky in protest.

“Your clothes are dry. C’mon, up, now.” Steve slapped your ass, and you slowly let go of Bucky.

“Help me, my legs are weak,” you held Steve’s hands as he assisted you in climbing off the bed.

“We break you?” Bucky teased, and you shook your head. You kissed Steve lightly before getting dressed, opting to leave his sweater on.

Within an hour, you were on your way back to Stark tower, curled up on the private plane, your head in Bucky’s lap as he stroked his fingers through your hair.

“So, everything went as planned on the mission?” Stark asked, debriefing with the three of you. You fought back a laugh, and Steve placed a hand on your back.

“Everything went great, Stark. We assassinated the target, and we all made it back alive,” Bucky confirmed.

As the three of you were walking out the door, Stark’s voice made you turn.

“Don’t think I’m stupid, I can tell what the three of you are up to!”

You squealed, running out the door with the super soldiers, away from Tony’s amused judgement.

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thatsthewrongwallcraig · 2 years

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hi! can i please request marc x mercenary!reader where the two of them are on a job and marc gets hurt and she patches him up afterwards and it leads to more...

Blood In The Sand

Pairing: Marc Spector x mercenary!fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Content Warnings: Desert Porn (18+!, MDNI) [mutual "touching", oral (m receiving)], a tiny sprinkle of angst, general violence, use of a gun, quite a bit of blood, dirty and sweaty Marc (the pheromones going skrrt skrrt), slightly dominant Marc, two horny idiots making a mess

A/N: You know what this ask gets you nonnie? A kiss on the forehead and a hug, that's what!

Please consider liking, reblogging and commenting! I means the world to me!🌸💞

Feel free to check out my Masterlist!

Night had long fallen over the empty and slowly cooling down sands as you heard Marc crying out with a sharp growl.

"FUUUCK!" It followed right after.

In a rush of terror that hit your chest like a tidal wave, you turned your head back so fast that it nearly cracked.

"Marc?!", You shouted at the top of your lungs "Marc?!? What happened?!"

"Just get the fuck out of here!" He answered back before the almost deafening pang of a gun being fired blasted through the old tomb corridors.

"Marc!"

"GET. OUT." He responded, pulling the trigger of his pistol once again.

Hesitant to leave him behind, your fear and adrenaline fuelled legs sprinted forwards, back out of the tomb the way the two of you had come as the sun had started to set. You tried to focus your senses on running and breathing, yet you couldn't shake the pressing worries about Marc out of your head. They felt as if they were running right alongside you down those cavernous, narrow halls. The air was thick and uncomfortably warm as it threatened to get stuck in your throat while gasping for oxygen to fill your burning lungs.

The fact that it got colder the further you ran indicated that you were heading in the right directions. The instinct of sheer survival jolting through every nerve had you operating on auto-pilot. Quickly you sprinted around corners again and again. Left, Right, Right and a final Left until your feet were engulfed by the fine, ochre desert sand. The night was dead quiet, a stark contrast to the turmoil you had successfully outrun and the screaming thoughts and questions wreaking havoc in your throbbing skull.

Marc.

Where was he? How was he? .....was he at all anymore?

You shook your head little as if trying to shake especially the last thought right out of it. You deemed it simply impossible. It was Marc, Avatar of Konshu, after all. He'd be alright...he had to be.

After you caught your breath, you turned around to face the entrance. It stared right back at you with its devouring blackness and you swore you were able to hear a rumble coming from the inside. The noise grew into the fast, rhythmic clacking of shoes on stone. A heavy sigh fell from your lips at the sound, yet, out of instinct, your right hand reached towards the gun, that was dangling from a holster tightly wrapped around your thigh.

"Marc?" You dared to shout into the black void.

"Yeah!" He called back and your legs nearly gave out as the relief waved through you. The worry and fear gave way for the exhaustion to hit you with a full blast and you were almost convinced that this little intermezzo here would take at least 3 years from your life.

"Marc...", You breathed meakly into the night as he emerged from the shadows, his hand pressed on a dark spot right at his hip "What happened? Are you okay?"

Marc hurried towards you, his deep brown curls a mess on his head and a painful grunt falling out of his mouth every time his left foot hit the ground.

"Those fucking Heka things..", Marc grumbled as soon as he was close to you "A real pain in the ass, if you ask me....fuck."

Both of you stared down at the now visibly dark red splodge of wet that soaked his desert-beige shirt.

"Let's get you to the car... I have the first aid kit in the glove compartment. Come here, let me help you." You hooked your arm und his shoulder to ease the pressure on his left side. Supporting Marc like that, the two of you limped towards the car which wasn't waiting all too far away. After your arrival, you prodded Marc into passenger seat before you walked around the dusty jeep and jumped into the drivers seat.

"What happened?" You demanded to know as your hand shot out to grab the first aid kit. You almost tore it open in your haste to take care of Marc.

"That fucking thing nearly tore my guts out with its hook." Marc responded, unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his pants to pull them down alongside his shorts in one swift movement. A pained growl rippled from his throat as he had to bend down in order to get rid of his clothes. After he rose back in his seat, Marc discarded his shirt onto the backseat, now being fully naked and huffing into the night air.

"I swear I'm gonna tell Konshu to do the dirty work himself next time." You pressed through gritted teeth as you looked at the cut on Marc's hip. Luckily, it wasn't deep... just broad and vulnerable to infection. Something you would take close care of Marc not catching. Not in this already hostile environment where small mistakes could easily mean death.

"This will get uncomfortable now, Marc." Your eyes locked for a brief moment where you drizzled antiseptic on a white cloth.

"Let's get it over with, then." Marc reciprocated, bracing himself for the incoming pain.

Leaning over to him, you carefully pressed the soaked cloth on the cut and Marc hissed upon impact.

"Halfway there." You assured him while you let the antiseptic wash over his skin.

After waiting for a few seconds, you softly started wiping, cleaning the area.

"Your doing really good, Marc." You smiled up to him and the serious frown on his face eased a bit.

"And you are doing so much good to me, babe.", Marc got himself to return your smile "Don't know where I'd be without you."

A warm sense of pride swelled in your chest at his words because you knew that he really meant it. His compliment let your smile grow that extra bit.

"So..", you commented on your actions "Now we just put a fresh cloth on it. There we go. Tape it all nice and safe in place and it it'll be nothing but a scar in a few weeks."

To finish your work, you placed a gentle array kisses on the oversized makeshift band aid and his taut belly.

Little splatters of blood got sprayed under his shirt and you tasted the iron on your lips. It mingled with a hint of salt from sweaty skin.

With your smile turning into a wide grin, you stopped in your motions as you recognised Marc trying to choke back a moan.

"Babe...", Marc whispered in a raspy tone "What are you doing?"

"Helping with the pain." You chuckled before you continued to press warm kisses to his tanned skin.

"Ah.." He exhaled, while, by the sound of it, letting his head fall back against the seat.

Grinning to yourself, you peppered his taut muscles with deep kisses and careful bites, which elicited soft whimpers to roll over Marc's tongue. In this bend-over position you felt his bare cock rapidly hardening right next to your cheek. It's velvety soft tip stroking across your face shortly. You yourself also felt the rising arousal in your body. The wetness slowly pooled in your panties and dampened your folds in slick.

Your own need grew with every kiss until you lifted your head a little, licked over your salty lips and , without any warning towards Marc, sunk back down to guid his length into your mouth.

"God!" Marc moaned in surprise, while his left hand shot out to your pants-clad thigh.

You let your lips run down his pulsing cock slowly, feeling every vein and ridge, your tongue greeting all of him to glide deeper into your mouth.

On the way back up, you felt Marc's other hand softly fisting a handful of your hair, intending to guide you with his pace. You let him. He knew you would because that's how you liked it too. So he started to lead your head up and down, your lips barely holding back the wet sounds and your saliva that leaked all around his cock.

It took but a few stern pushes and pulls under Marc's administration and your mind discarded every thought. So much so, that you barely took notice of Marc's left hand wandering over your thigh to the buttons of your pants. Almost stealthily he opened one after the other until his calloused yet nimble fingers had enough space to push down between your legs.

A moan got muffled by his cock deep down into your mouth as his fingers softly stroke over your damp slip, your swollen clit already pushing against the fabric.

Without hesitation his fingers shoved it to the side before dipping between your soaked folds right away.

"Such a good girl... and so wet for me." Marc groaned under his breath while his fingers gathered the slick sleeping from your pulsing cunt, spreading it eagerly around your clit.

His tender fingertips drew quick circles around the aching nub between your trembling legs. It was nearly too much for you to handle and had you seeing white hot flickers blurring your vision.

"Nu-uh...", Marc clicked his tongue "Be a good girl and stay in pace."

His grip around the bunch of your hair tightened as he administered more pressure to keep the rhythm. Sinking down on his slightly twitching cock once more, you felt how his balls were tightening up right underneath his shaft. He was getting close and so were you, the coil in your lower abdomen already painfully tight and burning. You could feel it snapping at any given moment and you nudged your hips towards Marc's fingers to get that vital last bit of friction you were aching for so much right now.

"Be a good girl for me and swallow." Marc growled, right as his muscles started to cramp down and ribbons of hot cum got pumped into your mouth.

The warning demand flew right past you because your brain was short-circuiting on its very own. You couldn't withhold a an open mouthed moan as your own orgasm crashed through your nerves and led you to gushing a puddle of slick right into your pants.

As your lips parted from his contracting cock, a load of his cum ran out of your mouth, down to his throbbing balls to eventually drop down onto the fabric of the seat.

Gasping for air you rose up in your seat, swiping your cum-smeared lips with the back of your hand.

"How's the pain?" You panted, slowly getting back to reality while the two of you just stared at each other in fucked-out bliss.

#moon knight fic #moon knight #marvel moon knight #mcu moon knight #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector #marc spector imagine

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midday0nightmares · 3 years

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32 - forever lost (m).

Previous chapter a week later (m).

m.list.

warnings: this series contains themes of yandere\mafia, blood, violence, mental health, drugs, non-con.

author note: this is pure fiction and it is not intended to romanticize any of the situations mentioned bellow.

You were stirred awake by jaemin’s hands that roamed up your body, his hot breathes hitting the side of your face.

your mind registering that he must have uncuffed one of your hands whilst you were asleep, His lips letter gentle kisses to the side of your face as you eyes flutter open, “I’ll be back in a while” he whispers into your ear as not disturb you much, “go back to sleep baby” he buries his face in the crock of your neck, filling his chest with your scent, butterflies burst in your stomach at the sweet gesture..“mmh kay” you purr with content and joy.

And just like he was a fleeting dream, he withdraws form you and disappears letting you drown back into slumber.

.... The door was shut, it won’t open, it was cemented on every side expat for the small slit under it, you try knocking, shout for someone, anyone, but to no avail.

you try the window, it opens, but the sight is even scarier. The city is quiet, too quiet. No traffic in its usually busy streets, every window in the near buildings were closed, no birds in the sky, not a single sign of life, even the sun seems to be stuck in its place, time isn’t moving.

Outside the closed door, you can hear muffled sounds, you peak under the door and see the familiar white socks on a pair of feet moving around the room. you shout and scream for him, but he doesn’t even flinch, he just keeps going through his day.

You were forgotten, forever lost in his room ....

Your body jerks awake, the sun glares at you through the open window, you cant feel your left hand as it’s still cuffed to the bed, you sit up to wave the sleepiness, you look around trying to get a grip on reality.

Too grumpy and too sweaty to look for the key, you call for jaemin but no response, he must haven’t returned yet, Where the hell is he? Its noon.

You look under the pillows and over the bedside table, you look through the drawers but you can’t find it, You opt to ask jeno for help

“Jeno~” you call him but he doesn’t responds too, you know he’s home because the TV was on, you knock on the wall until the door opens with him standing with disingenuous smile.

“Yes?”,

you can tell by his tone that his tolerance of you is already thin.

“I need to pee”

you pout, but he doesn’t even pat a lash.

“so pee”,

he deadpans tells you to pee your pants.

“Come on don’t be like that, help meee”

you whine, but he doesn’t budge.

“I’m not getting involved between you two”,

he turns around and walks away..

“no no wait at least get me water, jeno!”,

but to your frustration your words fall deff to his ears. You huff and throw yourself back into the sheets muttering curses.

With nothing to do, you drift back to sleep..

The slammed door wakes you up, it’s dark outside and jaemin is finally back,

“Hey..you’er back”, you mumble happily, ready to be free again.

He flicks the lights on causing you to squint in attempt to adjust your vision, He dosn’t spar you a look and goes to the closet, he opens its door and takes out a bag and starts throwing in a random selection of clothes.

You still groggy with sleeplessness, you rub your eyes and sit up, “Jaemin, baby what are you doing?”,

he wipes his nose with his sleeve and you realize he was crying.

“We are leaving”,

he tells you with a tight jaw.

With too many questions crowding your mind you ask him “Leaving.. where? Why what happed?”,

He turns to face you, and you see his puffy eyes still had tears in them.

He keels next to the bed and opens the safe..

His strange behavior alarming you even more,

“jaemin, what going on?”, fully awake now, you demand an explanation.. and before he can gives you an answer a loud knock on the apartment door freezes him in his place.

“Police! Open the door!” The loud man’s voice echoing through the quiet apartment. Jaemin’s face goes pale like he has seen a ghost, he snaps out of his shock and returns to what he was doing, taking his gun out..

“jaemin please”,

you beg him, you are certain that whatever is happening is not good, the knocks get louder and more urgent.

He fumbles with the key and frees your other hand,

“get up!” he pulls you off the bed with one hand while the other holds the gun, you keep begging him, trying to sooth him, but his tears fall faster as he shouts at you to get up, you can feel the desperation radiates off of him.

Jeno comes running to the door, he opens it and you hear the sound of what sounded like a hundred foot stepping inside the apartment, jaemin runs and locks his door, a dreadful feeling filled you.

You know that this is a serious situation, the police knock on his door but he doesn’t responses, he keeps his back pushed against the door, and it downed on you.. you were locked in a room with a man who have a gun, fear ran through you.

You wanted to say something to soothe the intense situation but you couldn’t find the words.

jaemin opened his eyes and looked at you like an idea have flashed in his mind, your heat was thumbing loud in your ears, he walks towards you. “Jaemin” your eyes fill with tears and you cry without a reason but utter fear, your body moves by itself and you take a step back until your knees were met by the edge of the bed, you keens buckle when he comes closer..

you could barely hear the knocks on the door and the men who were trying to coax him out.. they all seemed too far away.

His tall body looms over you, his eyes had no tears in them, no love, no warmth.

Everything seems to disappear and time seemed to have stopped for a second, you break in violent shakes..

You can see the storm of thoughts behind his eyes, grief tugs at his lips as they twitch when he comes to his decision..

“no jaemin..” You hardly get the words out, he looks at his gun and shakes his head to himself, a sad, ironic laugh escapes his chest “just when I was happy…” his shoulder shakes, his laughter sounds painful, like it was being ripped out of his lunges.

His arm wipe the tears from his eyes and he looks at you, he’s back into his head again.

heated emotions rises up to the surface again, anger, fear, spiraling out of control as fresh tears burst out of his eyes. His hand comes to rest on the back of your neck and he pulls you into him, he rest his head on top of yours, his hand affectionately smoothes your hair, he sways both of you while shushing your cries “its going to be alright”, you stay like this for a minute and oddly it brought you peace.

He kisses the top of your head and pulls back, your hands grip his sides to bring him back to you, he stands over you, “I’m sorry.. ” chocks on his words “I’m taking you with me”..

“No jaemin we still can fix this” you desperately try to stop him, to get him to think again but all hope dies when he points the gun at you.

You heart sinks at click of the safety switch on the gun, his hand dangerously shaking, he sobs and wipes his eyes and blinks to clear his vision.

“Jaemin..”

Everything has stopped at that moment, too shocked and heartbroken to speak, the disbelieve dissipate quickly and its replaced by great sense of disappointment by your short life, sorrow to everything you haven’t had the chance to do yet, how could it all end this quick? like this?.

“Please don’t..” You beg him even you know it won’t help you now..

“Close your eyes my love” he asks you.

You close your eyes, letting go, peace rushing through your veins, you see the sequenced events of your short life flash, all the memories, all the regrets, all the mistakes.

“I will be right there with you” he tells you.

The violent hit pierced through your head, burning its way to the other side, your can hear your skull shattering, you lose your senses quickly as you fade away, the celling of his room disappears as you slip out of life.

Outside the door, jeno hears the gun fires and he knows he has just lost one of you, the ground disappears from under him as he collapse to the floor.

The police breaks the door, but another gun shot breaks as jaemin takes his own life.

What have started as a simple arrest, ended with a murder-sucide.

A new break in the case of jaemin’s mother suspicious death was made, a new piece of evidence was found proving that the only suspect they had was in fact her killer, it was non other than her son na jaemin.

#nct dream #nct yandere #nct mafia #nct dream yandere #nct jaemin #nct jeno #nct blurbs #nct drabbles #nct imagines #nct reactions #nct agnst #nct angst #nct fluff nct smut #na jaemin #lee jeno

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letmeloveyouuuu · 2 years

Text

keeping nightmares away

Hello all! This is my first post for Tumblr for Druig, I have plenty more ideas but this sweet fluffy moment is just the beginning... Enjoy my beautiful, beautiful people...

Druig woke with a violent tremble, the echo of the piercing scream still ringing around his skull. His eyes searched around the room, seeing it still empty and quite, rain pattering softly against the glass walls opposite his bed. He was still not accustomed to living in such a large building, luxury, a whole floor to himself with basically all his walls being glass, able to see into the clouds far above the city below. Sometimes he wished he was still in his part of the Amazon. Running a hand harshly across his face, he dropped his head back to his pillow, unnerved by the scream that had woken him.

“Must have been a memory…” He comforted himself, closing his eyes moments before another strangled scream echoed through his head. Druig jolted out of his bed, knowing that scream. Y/n, her screams familiar to him by now. Her nightmares were more frequent than his own, but he had never heard it in his mind before now. The elevator to her own floor felt like a lifetime, him shaking with a few beads of sweat on his forehead. What if it wasn’t a nightmare? What if someone had made it past their security and made it into their building? The elevator door dinged and Druig scrambled out into Y/n’s room, as lightning flashed outside her windows.

“Gods,” he thought, “she keeps it fucking cold in here” as his bare chest erupted in goosebumps. His eyes searched, everything was in the right place, the room was safe… But y/n, you were not. You writhed on your bed, eyes squeezed painfully shut in a deep and terrifying slumber, whimpers and scared moans peeping between your lips as you tried to wake from your dreams.

Druig, so emotionless and cold to most of his fellow Eternals, felt his heart ache as he saw you in such agony. He approaches your bed, beginning to softly shush you as he gets his hands around your shoulders and holds you still. Your cries are piercing his mind, he can hear your terror deep inside himself. His eyes glow soft gold and he whispers “wake up” desperately, unsure if his powers could penetrate your mind.

Your eyes open and you gasp, your lungs burning as you scream into the room around you.

It takes a few moments before you recognize Druig, his blue eyes and hair ruffled from sleep. Creases from his pillow remain on his cheek and his warmth soaks into you from his hands holding you steady. One breath, two breath, three… a sob scrapes out from your throat, strangled and mad, and your tears won’t stop now. Druig… the Eternal who is so individual, who has no need for another person. Druig, his cold eyes and powerful yet harsh demeanor, was here, holding you, gazing at you with pity, and understanding.

“Druig…” You whimper, and clasp onto him. You didn’t care if he judged you, or would mock you for being so afraid of a simple dream, you needed him. You needed his strength, his warmth, his comfort which you weren’t even sure he was capable of. Druig wasted not a second, one hand holding the back of your head and tucking your face into his neck while his other scooped your body effortlessly on top of his. He kept you held tightly against his chest with you sobbing into his neck for gods know how long, until your cries turned into sniffles and whimpers. You hadn’t realized your nails had been digging into his skin, or that your tears had been falling on his bare skin. You hadn’t realized how warm the bare skin of his chest had heated through your thin oversized shirt you slept in.

But none of that mattered, the nightmare playing still in your awake mind, and you wanted -- no, needed -- that pain to stop. The immobilizing pain, you needed it to leave. Ajak could not help, no one could, no one but Druig. Sniffling harshly, you turned your face from his neck, forehead brushing against his chin and whispered your request…

“Druig… please… please make it stop. Take it away from me.”

Druig turned his head, his lips brushing your flushed forehead. “I can’t control your mind, darlin’,” he whispers, “My power doesn’t work on our kind.” His heart hurts, feeling your body give slight trembles on top of him, from exhaustion and fear.

“I can’t hold this much pain Druig… please. Please just let it be over,” you asked gently but it was a plea. You were begging him. “Any bit of peace please.” You tucked your face back in his neck, wanting the world to disappear, to be absorbed into Druig’s warmth and the safety his body was offering. You felt him take a deep breath, his chest moving your body as you laid on him, reminding you to breathe as well.

Slowly, you felt a sense of calm wash over you. The restraint on your lungs lessened, your body ceased its shaking, the feeling of warm and soft peace slowly spread through your body. Instead of controlling, Druig was influencing. God, the relief he gave you.

You lost track of time while your brain clouded over with the beautiful peace and comfort Druig was giving you. It felt like being wrapped in soft warm blankets, like drinking warm sweet tea in front of fire, like smelling your favorite scent, like a slice of true happiness and content. It felt… like home. It was like a drug rushing through your veins and washing over your brain. Druig felt like home to you. He was your safety, and you’d be damned if you let that go. Soon, Druig withdrew his influence, slowly so as to not shock you. He wasn’t sure what or how he did what he did, but he felt how your body melted against his. How your warm breath slowly fanned across his neck and collarbones, tickling his ear. Your fingers were no longer digging into his skin, rather resting softly on his chest over the little crescent cuts which had already healed.

“How was that?” Druig asked softly. You made a contented little noise and took a final deep breathe, greedily inhaling his scent before slowly sitting up. He allowed you to slide off his body, you sitting cross legged beside him, knees resting against his leg and side. Your body ached at the absence of his heat, his firm body beneath yours, his hands on your head and stroking your back gently. He tucked his now free arms behind his head and looked wordlessly into your eyes, before you looked down as you played with the hem of your shirt. You didn’t have the brain power to be concerned with the fact that he had only his sweats on, and you only in a large thin shirt and underwear, and socks with Pickle Rick on them.

You both remained silent, feeling the cold temperature you kept your floor in, and listening to the rain patter against your floor to ceiling windows. You felt your cheeks flush as you felt the unarguable desire to cuddle with Druig hit you full force.

“Did I help you, sweetheart?” His voice interrupted your thoughts. You had never heard him use pet names, except with Makkari. The connection they had was as close to sibling love as possible, it took centuries for you to understand that and tamp that twinge of jealousy down.

“I don’t know how you did that, Druig, but thank you. I have not felt that amount of peace in my entire existence.” You raised your e/c eyes to meet his pale blue ones, and saw the softness he held in his eyes as he gazed at you. You felt goosebumps across your arms and legs and his eyes tracked their path across your skin as well. Before you could reach for a blanket to wrap up in, his arm gently touched your arm and tugged you down into his side. Refusing to overthink it, you curled into him, head on his shoulder, leg draped across his stomach, your body instantly absorbing his warmth and wrapping your senses in his scent once again.

“I hear your nightmares frequently… I don’t know why I haven’t come here before to help you.”

“Don’t apologize. Normally I can handle them, this one was just… too much… thank you for coming, I don’t know if I could have taken much more before you woke me up.”

The arm not supporting your head reached across, his fingers brushing your hair away from your face as his lips pressed oh so softly against your head.

“I will be back tomorrow night, if you wish, my sweet, perfect Y/n.” He asks softly, reservedly, the worry at being rejected heavy in his voice. You couldn’t ignore the butterflies that fluttered in your stomach, the flush that found its way to your cheeks, or the relief that settled into your head and chest. You allowed a moment of bravery in this sweet soft space between you and whispered…

“Stay every night with me, Druig. Don’t leave me here alone…”

#druig drabble #druig fluff #druig eternals #druig #druig x y/n #druig x reader #comforting!Druig #druig angst #soft!druig

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fandomficsnstuff · 3 years

Text

Healer - Part 2

Ivar x Modern!Reader

(Warnings: I don’t think there are any warnings, but let me know if I’m wrong)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You couldn’t stop running, not until you were forced to, a branch catching your foot, making you fall and scrape your knee on a sharp rock. You silently sobbed, not because of the pain but because you had no idea where you were, you were alone in a foreign place with foreign people, strange things were happening and it finally broke you. You pulled your knees to your chest as it began to rain, hugging them tightly against you as you sobbed, ignoring the blood that spilled from the cut on your knee, mixing with the rain that ran down your body and soaked you completely. You weren’t sure how long you sat on the forest ground, ignoring the cold rain, but you had stopped crying, blankly staring at the ground in silence as nothing but the sound of rain hitting the ground and surrounding forage filled your ears. You think you heard voices but you didn’t care, you felt alone and tired, you had no one, and the extremely sad part? You didn’t really think anyone back home would miss you. You didn’t have any family left, no real friends, not even at work or in the apartment you lived in, no one would miss you, no one would look for you. The thought caused another wave of fresh tear to form in your eyes, but before they had a chance to fall you heard footsteps, looking up you saw Ubbe and Hvitserk, looking down at you with sympathetic looks.

You let Hvitserk pick you up bridal style and carried you back to Kattegat, the whole way you were quiet, just staring at nothing in particular as they carried you inside the big hall, eyes on you as they placed you in front of the fire, Hvitserk attempted to give you his fur coat but you just brushed it off, staring at the flames with an empty look on your face. You knew they were just trying to help but you didn’t want their help, maybe it was selfish, but you just wanted to be alone. You felt a cough work it’s way up your throat, making you cough into the crook of your elbow as you continued to stare blankly at the flames in front of you. Ubbe next tried to get a fur coat over you but you rejected that as well “leave me alone…” you quietly asked, even though you knew they didn’t understand you. You pulled your knees to your chest again and curled up in a ball, watching the flames as tears silently rolled down your cheeks, your face void of emotion, even as some soup was placed in front of you, probably in an attempt to warm you up, but you were just fine with the flames licking your skin, it’s what should have happened so long ago, right? Why not now? Next Björn entered, whispering something to the others and you felt their eyes on you.

Björn approached and kneeled down in front of you, his eyes soft despite how cold his face seemed. “The seer told me” he said in broken english, making you look at him with a slight frown “he did not… talk much. But talk enough” he said, looking at you with slightly raised brows, as if asking if you could understand him. You gently nodded and Björn did so as well, glancing at the others before looking back at you with a softer expression “you eat, yes? Get strong, learn, speak like us. Then we speak, good?” he asked and for a second you didn’t answer, looking into the flames before hesitantly taking the soup and the spoon that was given to you, hesitantly eating what was served to you, taking tiny slurps from the soup, reluctant but obeying nonetheless. Björn nodded and got up, taking the fur coat you had refused to wear and put it over your shoulders gently, walking out of the hall and leaving you alone with the others.

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Months, it had been months since you had arrived here, and slowly everything was starting to seem more real. You had learnt most of their language by now, their customs, their ideas, it all made you think that these people were actually real life vikings, that you had actually somehow gone back in time. You were standing outside the same tent that made you run away in fear all those months ago, taking a deep breath, glancing nervously at Hvitserk who gave you a reassuring smile before walking away to join his brothers at the hunting cabin, prompting you to enter cautiously, as though the whole place was booby trapped. You couldn’t help but glare at the old man, the Seer, everyone called him, as he sat there, smirking as he heard you enter, or perhaps he knew you would enter long before even you did. “You’re back” he said in his raspy voice, knowing you had learnt their language by now, so he didn’t bother cutting your hand again, thankfully. “I’m just as surprised as you” you mumbled sarcastically, venom dripping from your every word but the man just cackled like last time, prompting you to roll your eyes “how do I get home?” you asked, not wanting to play any games, the man continued to cackle as though your question was the funniest thing he had heard in a long time “you are home, young healer” he cackled and you considered strangling him, but you took an oath to do no harm, so you took a deep breath and calmed yourself “I mean where I came from, I have a work there, an apartment, I have a life that I need to get back to” you tried to make him sympathise with you, a frown on your face as you watched his face fall, smile fade and laughter quiet until there was nothing but the wind outside.

“You think you are missed?” he asked and that caught you off guard, you bit your lower lip and gently shook your head, looking down sadly “I know I’m not… but I have responsibilities, I’m not meant to be here, some mistake has happened” you tried to reason with him but when you looked up he blew something in your face, making you cough as you shut your eyes tightly, coughing as you inhaled it and suddenly you felt your body hit the ground as you continued to cough, you couldn’t even get the words out to ask ‘what have you done to me?’ before you were out like a light, darkness enveloping around you, it felt odd, like you were floating.

You woke up with a gasp, laying on a sofa in the doctor’s lounge, your eyes scanning the room but it was empty, you heard people outside the room, walking by and chatting, a few pages going off here and there as you took your time to ground yourself, your feet carefully hitting the ground as you slowly stood up, cautious of your surroundings as you opened the door and walked out, almost bumping into someone but you moved at the last second. It was like the person didn’t see you, and when you turned to face another, snapping your fingers in front of her, you realised that they actually didn’t see you, a dark feeling settling in your stomach. You frowned and walked the hallways of the hospital, coming upon the same man you had treated, your last patient before you turned up wherever you were now, he was arguing with someone inside and when you walked in you saw none other than Clive, the same co-worker who was all too eager to claim all the credit for your work. You glared at him before listening in on their argument.

You sighed as you realised what Clive was telling Peter, the man who was your patient the day you vanished. He was spouting all this bullshit about how insurance wouldn’t cover his recovery, even though he was brought in on an emergency and you had checked his insurance yourself before he even went into surgery. You wanted to scream at Clive, you wanted to yell at him for being so rude, for lying to a patient and for being so heartless, you wanted to have his medical license taken away and you wanted him to act like the grown man he was supposed to be. But you couldn’t do anything but watch as Clive heartlessly talked to Peter, who couldn’t do anything but take it. You leaned against the wall and felt tears form in your eyes at the frustration you felt, maybe you were dead… maybe you were dead and in some twisted sense of irony you got back home but as a ghost or something, a spirit maybe. Whatever it was, you wanted out of here, you actually began to miss Kattegat, here you felt alone and lonely, you were surrounded by people, none of them saw you, heard you, even felt your presence as you walked through the hospital. You got to the top of the hospital, sitting down on the edge of the roof, eyes straight ahead as you didn’t dare look down, your back slumped as you considered if this was a terrible nightmare or real, either way, you couldn’t die, right? Forcing yourself to look down you saw the streets below, people going on about their day as if you had never even existed to begin with. Suddenly you felt someone beside you, turning your head and seeing the Seer, facing the tall building ahead of the two of you.

“Is it like this, now? No one cares?” you asked quietly and upon receiving no response you felt yourself tear up, all you ever wanted was to make a difference in the world. “You still can” the Seer rasped, making you sigh heavily “how? I-... You won’t even tell me who I’m supposedly here for” you pointed out and he once again chuckled, the sound like a cackling, as always “you will know, when the time is right, daughter of Frigga” he rasped and you rolled your eyes “you’re way too mysterious, you know that? And this ‘Frigga’ is not my mom-uh… mother, I mean…” you added, the Seer once again just cackling “for a woman who knows so much, you see so little. You will know all in due time, young healer, and in due time you will see all” he said and you rolled your eyes again “not helping” you mumbled and once again he cackled, the laughter echoing in your skull, not letting you escape it for a single second.

You woke up, panting and sweating heavily, your cheeks stained with tears that hadn’t stop running, you felt as though your lungs had no room to expand, you were panting and sobbing all together, looking around and seeing it was dark outside, a frown forming on your face, you knew it was at least noon when you went to go see the Seer. You threw off your fur blanket and walked out of your room, still panting for air until you stumbled into the great hall. You didn’t even notice Ivar there, watching the flames until you fell to the ground, clutching at your chest. Ivar crawled to you with a concerned frown “what is wrong?” he asked but you just shook your head, still feeling as if you had no room for air in your lungs yet you so desperately craved it, needed it. You curled up, despite your logical brain telling you that made it worse, but you were panicking, and luckily Ivar picked up on it, brows up in realisation and suddenly you felt one of his hands on your back and the other on your collarbone, forcing you to unfold and straighten your back, air finally being able to fill your lungs. You were still crying when you slumped against Ivar, not thinking straight as you buried your face in his chest. You expected him to push you away, at least not respond to your actions, but what you didn’t expect were hesitant arms wrapped around you, one of his hands gently stroking your hair in a soothing manner as you calmed down.

You stayed like that the whole night, telling Ivar the whole story, expecting him to tell you it was stupid, that you were foolish for believing the Seer or something like that, but you were met with silence, patient silence as he listened to your every word. “I’m scared, Ivar… I think I’m really scared of being alone, of never achieving anything, being forgotten, left behind and unable to help anyone or myself” you whispered and felt him tense at your words, you almost broke away from him when he once again eased into your touch “you are not alone. You have everyone here in Kattegat, you have Helga, I even think Floki likes you, you even have… me… so not to worry, many will remember you” Ivar soothed, letting you see a totally different side of him. Sure, in the months you had been here Ivar had been the one to teach you about their gods, while Ubbe and Hvitserk explained the language and helped you understand it. It had been four months since you arrived and you had grown closer to the youngest of the siblings. You enjoyed his sarcasme and sharp tongue, his wit and his determination, but most importantly, you enjoyed small moments, like this, where you saw what you considered to be the real Ivar.

Before long Ivar began to talk about meeting his father again, which you had apparently missed while passed out from whatever the Seer made you inhale, something Ivar told you he was very upset about, but you could see that he wasn’t. Apparently his father had disappeared years ago, only now popping up and asking people to sail with him, and Ivar had apparently said yes, to go to England with him. You couldn’t help but chuckle “bring back some of their tea, alright?” you joked, Ivar looking at you confused but dismissed it, he, along with everyone else you spent a lot of time with, had gotten used to your odd humour. The next day you watched Ivar proudly as he did his best to walk to the boat, almost helping him up when he fell until Aslaug stopped you and Ubbe, making you step back and watch as Ivar crawled to the boat and into it. You glared at Sigurd as he laughed at Ivar but brought your focus back to him once more, giving him a subtle wave as the boat began to set sail, he didn’t return it but you could see in his eyes that he wanted to.

#Ivar x Reader #Ivar x Modern!Reader #Vikings fic #Healer fic

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oneshotnewbie · 3 years

Note

Omg I love your Navy CIS request 😍 Can we have another one where Reader faints? It's your choice how your gonna do it :)

Fully equipped, McGee and you stood at the door of the house where your suspect lived while Gibbs ran around the house to secure the back area and keep an eye on the back door in case Mike Lander thought he had to leave. Guns drawn, he nodded to you once more before knocking and leaning his body against the wall to prevent him from being shot through the door.

„NCIS, open the door!“

When nobody answered and there was silence in the house, McGee kicked the wooden door in. While he walked in front of you and secured the left to the kitchen, you walked further in and secured the bedroom. Nobody was there, but the special agent and you noticed quickly that the pot full of coffee was still relatively hot and the smell of freshly burned wood and ashes stung your eyes and nose; a fire has definitely been kindled recently.

„Tim, he is still here.“ you whispered to your partner.

„Y/N!“ did you heard him scream before something hit you with full force from the side and you flew through the entire room only to come to a standstill on the little coffee table that collapsed under you.

The impact took all of the air you had from your lungs and you closed your eyes while grimacing in pain. Your head felt like a cinder block and you felt something run down the back of your neck. Your vision was blurry and the corners of your eyes darkened. At that moment you were unable to move, as if your body was paralyzed.

„Boss, he is out front.“ Yelled McGee from the balcony before running to you but Gibbs was already gone. He had probably saw everything that had just happened in the glass front from his position.

He was kneeling in front of you and wanted to help you get up, but you just raised your hand and pointed towards the door. „Go get him, I’m fine.“ You said in a hushed voice and even if you saw that he hesitated and wanted to stay with you, he decided to chase after this guy.

You were left alone and gathered all your strength to free yourself from the table. Standing up didn’t work, so you turned to the right and dumped yourself from the hard wood to the rug on the floor. With a sigh you tried to support yourself with your shaky arms to get up but before you pulled your legs up to shift your body weight onto your knees, two hands grabbed your elbows and pulled you up slowly.

"Easy. Are you okay?" it was Gibbs looking at you worriedly and reaching under your arms, you still weren't in the control of your own body.

"M'fine."

But that didn't work for him. "Let me see," he slowly tilted your head to the side to get a better view of the back of your head and neck. "The hell you are, you're bleeding."

You hissed at his touch and winced when the gray-haired repeatedly went to the wound. Another wave of dizziness settled around you and you fell back a little. If he didn't still have a firm grip on you, you would probably be back on the ground.

"Does Tim got the bastard?" you asked after you slowly moved in the direction of the exit, Gibbs being your support while having an protective arm around your back.

"It doesn't matter now, I will take you to the hospital."

---

Patiently, Gibbs waited in the emergency doctors waiting room until they were done with your tests and he was called in by a nurse. While he sat on the chair across from your bed and vigorously checked you from top to bottom, you sat on the edge of the bed with a stapled wound on the side of your skull and still a little dazed from the painkillers you were given before.

After a while, a younger doctor came into the room and introduced himself to Gibbs. "How is she doing, doc?"

"So.." he started and took the stool out from under the desk. "The tests are inconclusive, which is good. However, from the impact you described to me, she got two broken ribs and suffered a moderate concussion, which is why she will probably continue to complain of headaches for a while."

"I can handle the complaints, I just want to know whether my agent can go home." he laughed and looked over at you.

You rolled your eyes playfully and couldn't help but laugh. Even if he was a hard shell on the outside that was very difficult to see through, he was on the inside gentle with his family, almost overprotective.

"She can go home. I will give her a few more painkillers for the next few days." said the brown-haired doctor and immediately turned to the computer to enter the recipes into the system. "However, she should not do any field activity until she has been 100% cleared by the on-duty doctor."

"Desk duty? How fun." you said sarcastically and turned to the doctor, but your head got stuck in half, the pain was too strong that you still felt despite the painkiller.

"Sorry about that, Agent L/N." he said and handed the instructions for taking the pills to your boss. "If she complains of very bad headaches, dizziness, nausea or even passes out, bring her back to the hospital immediately."

Gibbs nodded in understanding and took a closer look at the discharge papers while the doctor talked to you. "You are not allowed to wash your hair with shampoo, initially for the next 48 hours. You can get the blood out with lukewarm water, but let someone help you and please don't comb your hair in that area to prevent removing the clips."

After this instruction, he wished you a speedy recovery and disappeared from the door.

---

It was the next day you worked off your old files that you still had to work on anyway. Other than that, you were not allowed to do anything other than put information you found on the screen and go down to Abby to see what she'd found for you.

You didn't want to admit it but you felt worse than yesterday. The waves of dizziness you felt when you moved too quickly and the nausea you felt since yesterday evening made it hard for you to concentrate. You had already two pills of painkillers and you wouldn't get a third one from Gibbs, he clearly told you and you didn't want to draw any further attention to yourself.

"Hey, look. I brought you your favorite donuts." did you hear a male voice speak and you looked up. Tim stood in front of you with a pack of 12 donuts and a big grin on his face.

Smiling, you took the box over to you and placed it on the free side of the desk."Thank you, Timmy but you don't have to give me anything. It's not your fault."

"Yes, it is. I didn't offer you the protection a partner has to offer." before he uttered the last words of the sentence, you talked in between. "Tim, it's okay. This is our job. You did what you had to do, we just didn't looked clearer the first time we went in."

He nodded, the guilt was written on his face while he stole one of your donuts and walked back to his place. He was worried and even if you said it wasn't his fault, he felt more than guilty so he tried it with small gifts and gestures, like helping you with your old files in his free time when you needed a break.

Hours went by that you worked, Ellie, Nick and Gibbs had also returned from field work and now were back at their desks. Your otherwise so happy charisma was betrayed by your face contorted with pain. You felt the worried looks from the squad on you so you tried to get away from them by going down to Abbys.

At least for a few minutes.

Abby let you know every single detail she found and about the evening with her brother but it just didn't seem to get into you head. As soon as you walked out of her door, almost everything she said was forgotten.

The dizziness seemed to get worse and you just barely made it to the top. In the middle of the bullpen you came to a standstill, your breath shallow and heavy. "Abby found out that.."

You couldn't go on talking. Something in you refused to speak, this abnormal dizziness took away your sight and you couldn't see anything but a blurred vision. "Y/N, what did she find out?" Gibbs asked you in concern.

He already stood up from his chair when he saw that you came walking, your face almost paler than the walls of the hospital he had to stare at. Almost immediately, he knew that something was wrong with you so he rounded his desk if he had to intervene and be near you.

It took you a few seconds to form a normal sentence after trying to look through the sight of a swaying ship. "Call an ambulance." you could answer before the lights turned off and you collapsed in the office.

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sin-of-jess · 3 years

Text

Benimaru Shinmon

This is just straight up dirty sex with the cutest company captain!

Type: Smut, dirty talk and creampie warning just to be safe!

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I slowly peek my head into the main building for company 7. It was after dark and I was hoping to not let anyone see that I was making a late-night trip to visit the captain of the seventh division. We were trying to keep our relationship hush until we felt our relationship was going to last, but it's hard to be sneaky with Konro around. "Need something, Y/N?" A smug voice says. Well shit. I turn to my left and see the Lieutenant leaning against the wall, a grin that just screams 'Gotcha.' I don't know why I saluted, maybe it was a habit from my time in company 8, but I did anyways while saying, "Hi Lieutenant Konro!" I squeak out. He pushes off the wall and walks closer to me, "Visiting someone? I know your subordinates left this morning." I guess it would've made more sense if I had come last night, at least I'd have an excuse for being here. I don't get the chance to think of an excuse before Konro steps past me and starts out the door. "He's in his room already," He says before stepping into the cold air of the night.

I blush, hoping Konro didn't assume why I was here this late, but in reality, he probably assumed right. I let out a breath of air and scurry down the hallways, tiptoeing to the captain's quarters with hopes that the twins or anyone else from company 7 see me. I quickly open the door, spin around and slide it closed just as quickly, letting out another breath once in the safety of the private room. "Hiding?" I hear Benimaru say behind me. I jump and turn around, the air in my lungs leaving me as my eyes reach Benimaru's form on his futon. He was in his yukata and his hair was damp. I could smell the soap he uses from across the room and I gulp, "K-Konro saw me come in, I didn't want anyone else to see me." I tell him. He beckons me over with a finger, "No one else will show up, so get on your knees and come here." A shiver ran down my spine from the authoritative tone he had, and I felt a sense of pleasant anticipation as I took a few steps before dropping down and crawling over the last few feet to him. My hands rub up against his thighs as I get closer to him, the thin material of the yukata easily sliding away and exposing his thick erection. I lick my lips instinctively as I lock eyes with him and drop my head down, popping the tip of his dick into my mouth and swirling my tongue around. He sighs deeply and relaxes back into the pillows, a hand running over my head before weaving his fingers into the soft locks of my hair. As I set a pace he helps guide me up and down his shaft, urging more and more of himself into my mouth. "That's it, relax your throat baby." He gently coaxes me, pushing the head of his cock into my throat. There's a lot of him to take, and it takes a while to fully take him, but the lusty pride in Benimaru's eyes makes it worth it once my nose pushes into his trimmed pubic hair. Before I can work his cock anymore he pulls me off, switching our positions and taking no pause before diving in. Admittedly I was nearly soaking wet by the time he switched positions and it only took a minute or two of his tongue swirling around my clit for my back arch. The pleasure wracked through my body and I couldn't take it anymore, gripping his shoulders in an attempt to pull him up. He looks up at me with a questioning look, the blush barely noticeable due to how red my skin already was, "P-please... I need you now." His grin is devious as he climbs on top of me, kissing the top of my head while I grip his throbbing cock. I guide him inside me, his moan breathy in my ear. I immediately wrap my legs around his waist and move my hips along to his thrusting, his tongue already getting me close and desperate to see stars. "So desperate for my cock," He mumbles into my ear, my pussy clenching at how sensual it was to have him speak to me in that tone. I grip his forearms, my core tensing as my first orgasm creeps on. I start moaning out that I'm close to cumming, and Benimaru responds by slamming into me harder. It hits just the right spot and my eyes widen before clenching shut as I let a loud and drawn-out moan into his neck, my insides clenching onto the thick cock plowing into me. He doesn't slow down, his pace merciless as he whispers dirty things into my ear. "My little whore," He says to me, his voice low and tense. He starts leaving sloppy kisses along my skin, even letting out a quiet grunt every so often as he pummels away at my soaked hole. "Oh god," I repeatedly say, my mind going blank as I get lost in the pleasure. Benimaru shifts so that his forearms are on the bed on either side of my head, his hands now weaving into my hair and gently gripping the base of my skull while my hands move to his back. This position manages to bring our close bodies even closer, his face now buried into my neck. "You going to cum for me?" He asks. "Yes, fuck... Oh god yes!" I moan out in response, my nails digging into his skin as I continue to thrust my hips back into his, wanting his cock as deep in me as I could get it. "Cum on my cock baby. Come on, cum with me Y/N..." He groans, his grip on my hair tightening as his hips turn erratic. My entire body goes rigid and my mouth opens, a strained moan coming out as it feels like the floodgates have opened. It's enough to send my partner over, a few jerky movements from his hips before he bottoms out in me. His moans are long and deep as he fills me up, our bodies simultaneously relaxing as we melt into each other. He uses his upper body to keep himself from crushing me, but he stays sheathed inside of me as he kisses along my jaw. "You're so beautiful," He mumbles before catching my lips into a lazy kiss. He stays inside me until he softens enough that it slips out on its own, globs of his cum following after. He rolls off of me but continues to keep me close, wrapping me into his arms and closing his eyes. "Beni, I'm dirty and we're naked," I mumble out feebly, too tired to actually get up myself. "If anyone comes in before we wake up it's their fault for whatever they see. We'll clean up in the morning." He tells me before kissing my head and settling into bed. His form felt good around me, so I accept things and follow his lead by closing my eyes myself. "I love you, "Y/N." He whispers to me. "I love you too, Benimaru."

#benimaru x reader #benimaru x female reader #benimaru smut #fire force smut

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kaiparker-avengerssmut · 3 years

Text

Selfish Part 3

Pairings | Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x f!reader (kind of?)

Warnings | smut, vaginal sex, swearing

Word count | 1798

Summary | Steve's selfish choice brings Bucky and y/n much closer

Part one | part two

Masterlist

Y/n hummed, her hands working nimbly as she folded up the last of Bucky's t-shirts. She lifted the pile of clothes and placed them onto the bed, somewhere she knew Bucky would find them to put them away himself.

"Y/n?" His unusually chipper voice sounded from behind the girl.

"Yeah, Bucky?" Y/n sighed, turning around with her hands on her hips to face Bucky, who had his pleading face on. It had been nearly three months since the first night Bucky stayed with her, and they hadn't slept in different beds since.

Bucky and y/n had taken to running the compound until the remaining members of the team decided what they were going to do with it. So far, they'd cleaned the place top-to-bottom almost weekly and Bucky had even learnt to cook.

"Can you cut my hair?" Bucky's voice was soft, his eyes alight with hope. Y/n scoffed.

"You trust me to do it?" She frowned, reaching up and ruffling the man's shoulder-length locks, that were still wet from his shower. Bucky chuckled and y/n faltered for a second, before her small smile was resumed. It was a sound that she'd seldom heard since the incident with Steve, and it still caught her off guard every time it happened.

Fuck, Steve. Y/n didn't quite know how she should feel about him. Angry? Sad? Guilty for holding him back? Hurt? Betrayed? She shook off the thoughts quickly and refocused on Bucky, who was now stood in front of her with scissors outstretched from his hand.

Y/n scoffed, rolling her eyes before snatching the metal from him and making her way into their bathroom. Well, it was Bucky's bathroom, but as they shared his room now, she liked to call it theirs. She used to share a room with Steve, and going back into it was too painful for her after she found out what he did.

Y/n pulled out the stool that Bucky usually sat on whilst shaving - the man was secretly such a drama queen and straight up refused to stand long enough to shave - and Bucky follow closely behind her. He got comfy on the stood, his cerulean eyes piercing y/n's through the slightly foggy mirror.

"Okay, Bucky. If I mess this up, it's on you." Y/n sighed, running her fingers through his hair whilst deciding where to start. Y/n cursed herself, the girl finding it increasingly harder to not admire the super soldier she was living with. Sure, she always knew that he was attractive - she wasn't blind. But y/n hadn't ever taken a second look at his personality and hadn't needed to, either; she'd always thought Steve would be it for her.

But now, after him taking care of her for months, y/n was starting to fall more and more. She wanted to hate herself for it, she really did. But she couldn't. Steve had done much worse, so why should she feel guilty about harbouring a small crush on his best friend? It's not like he was coming back, anyway.

"There we go, all done." Y/n announced, placing the scissors on the counter with a clang before fluffing his much shorter hair with her fingers. Bucky smiled at her through the mirror as she tilted his head from side to side so he could get a look.

"It's not bad." The soldier smirked, reaching up and carding his own fingers through the pillowy brown locks.

"Not bad? I think it's a damn masterpiece, Barnes." Y/n retorted and Bucky couldn't help his grin. He loved seeing her like this - carefree and happy again. Bucky would never forgive Steve for what he did to her. The resentment he felt towards his former best friend only grew as his feelings for y/n did, too. He'd always felt an attraction to y/n; she had a warm smile, a great sense of humour, was extremely smart and not even to mention incredibly beautiful.

"You're right, doll. I'm sorry." Bucky admitted, turning around and standing up before her. Y/n took a shaky breath, suddenly much too close to Bucky for what could be considered friendly. Bucky breathed out, slow and controlled as his hand raises to cup y/n's cheek.

"Do you like it?" Y/n whispered, eyes unable to leave Bucky's as she ran her fingers through his now much shorter, fluffy locks. Bucky nodded, his head dipping down to meet y/n's lips in a kiss.

Y/n moaned against his mouth, fingers tangling into Bucky's hair as his metal arm slipped around her waist. He pulled her flush against him, their hips starting to grind slightly as the kiss became more and more heated.

"Is this okay?" Bucky mumbled against her lips as he walked her backwards, y/n making a little oomph sound as her back collided with the bathroom wall. She nodded before quickly returning her lips to his, hands trailing over his body until they reached the hem of his shirt.

After she gave it a little tug, Bucky got the idea. He pulled away long enough to get the shirt over his head before his lips were latching onto y/n's jaw. He began to kiss down y/n's body, his lips barely dancing over her navel before y/n was pulling Bucky back up to face her.

"We can do that later, I just need you inside me." Bucky nodded, hands grasping at her shirt until it was torn over her head. He hastily unbuttoned her jeans, y/n kicking them off once they were far enough down her legs. She toed her socks off whilst fumbling with Bucky's belt, pulling the leather from its loops before letting his jeans and boxers pool at his feet.

Stepping out of them, Bucky finally discarded the last of y/n clothes before hooking his hands under her thighs. Y/n let out a short, high squeal as he lifted her from the ground, his hips pinning her to the wall as he braced a hand next to her head.

Bucky moaned when his tip ran through her wetness, hand wrapping around his length as he lined himself up with y/n's core. Bucky leant in, pecking y/n's lips once, twice, three times.

"Ready?" He mumbled and y/n moaned his name when he sheathed himself inside of her in one, slow thrust.

"Fuck, Bucky!" Y/n moaned, head dropping forward to rest on Bucky's shoulder as he let his thumb rest on her clit, teasing circles rubbed over it making the coil in y/n’s stomach tighten already, blue eyes now turned black as he looked into hers.

"I want you to come around my cock, pretty girl." He murmured, lips at her ear as he slowly pulled out to the top, cock dragging deliciously against her walls. Y/n's hands clung to his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin only spurring Bucky on as his pace became slow but strong, knocking the air out of y/n's lungs with every thrust.

Y/n's fingers traced over the scars littering his shoulder, before clinging to the cool metal and moaning out at the contrast of cold against her flushed and hot skin.

"Good girl." Bucky moaned, the praise sending an unexpected wave of wetness tumbling down to y/n's core, his cock pushing in and out of her almost effortlessly now with how wet she'd become.

"I'm gonna come so hard, doll.." He mumbled into the skin of her neck, dropping his head to nip and suck at y/n's jaw line. Y/n knew there'd be marks there tomorrow, but she couldn't care less in that moment as her walls began to clamp down on him in a vice grip.

"C'mon, cum for me. I can feel how close you are." Bucky moaned and y/n's mouth dropped open into a silent scream against his flesh shoulder, eyes rolling back into her skull. Bucky's pace picked up as he tried to push y/n to her release before he hit his.

When y/n came it was a sudden, the coil snapping and opening the flood gates. Y/n's hips were bucking, stomach tight and legs shaking around Bucky's waist.

"There we go, good girl." Bucky groaned, chasing his own release now. "Shit, y/n." He moaned, stilling his hips as a final thrust sent him over the edge, cumming in y/n in hot spurts.

Their heavy breaths mingled, the smell of sex filling the bathroom as y/n panted against Bucky's shoulder; his own breaths were laboured.

It was a few hours later that y/n found herself in a familiar place - tangled up in Bucky's sheets while the super soldier laid beside her. The only differences now were that they were both still naked, and y/n was practically sprawled over the super soldier's chest.

She was humming, fingers tracing little circles over his bare chest as Bucky's soothing hand ran over her thigh.

"This wasn't just...a one time thing, was it?" Y/n was almost stunned with how weak Bucky's voice sounded, as if he was scared her answer would be wrong.

"I don't want it to be. I want you, Bucky. If you'll have me, that is." She grinned, lip tucked between her teeth as she stared at the soldier. Bucky couldn't contain his own smile as he gazed lovingly at her, his knuckles caressing her cheekbone softly.

"Of course I want you. I just didn't know if it would be..."

"Awkward? Appropriate? Look, I know you and Steve were close, inseparably so, but don't worry about me and him. He hurt us, remember. If he's happy, we deserve to be too." Y/n murmured, eyes twinkling as she took in Bucky's face.

"Are you? Happy, I mean." Bucky asked. She leant forwards, placing a small peck to his lips, before doing it again and again. She giggled between each kiss, hands now flat on Bucky's chest as he squeezed her thigh gently.

"I'm happy." She mumbled between kisses, "are you?"

"As happy as I've ever been. Now come here and let me kiss you properly." Bucky whispers against her lips, his hand curling around the back of her neck before his lips were pressed to hers in a passionate kiss.

It was then that Bucky realised that he'd made a selfish choice. And he didn't regret it one bit.

Because Bucky Barnes was a selfish man.

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 3 years

Text

He Was a Sk8r Boi

Happiest of Birthdays and best wishes to one of my most beloved and darling friends on this earth, the fantastical @hailhailsatan ! May your sass never cease.

modern au - college student Jaskier - the Kaer Morons are all skater punks

tw: mild injury (scraped arm)

---

Jaskier took a seat on what remained of a crumbling stone bench and pulled his black-and-white composition notebook onto his lap, opening it to the closest blank page. He tugged his favorite pen out from its place of honor behind his ear and waited for inspiration to strike.

And waited.

After half an hour of staring into space and getting absolutely nothing written, the frustrated college student stood from his seat and jammed his headphones into his ears. If nature wasn’t going to help finish this stupid poetry assignment then maybe he could find a person or two to observe for inspiration instead. Glancing around the otherwise empty benches and pathways of the public park, Jaskier sighed and shook his head. “Fuck this, I’ll try the other side.”

He pulled his MP3 player out from the pocket of his light autumn jacket and painstakingly scrolled through every song available until finally giving up and pressing the “Shuffle” button. As a heavy, angry guitar riff began to filter through his headphones and lighten the load of the world from his shoulders, Jaskier found himself approaching a half-hearted attempt at a skatepark.

There was one cement half-pipe to his left and a few rails and quarter-pipes scattered around the vicinity, bolted into the ground in a seemingly random pattern. Several oddly shaped cement bowls were sunk into the earth, obviously made to work like ramps but with a larger and less predictable surface area.

There were only three skaters enjoying the park on this particularly grey afternoon, zipping back and forth from one piece of equipment to the next like emo hummingbirds. Jaskier took out his headphones again as he made his way to a nearby bench - wood this time - and casually sat himself down. The skater dudes were yelling back and forth to each other as they swanned over and around the equipment on their boards, mostly insults from what the student could hear.

The loudest of the three had springy orange hair that he wore pulled back into a small, messy half-bun at the top of his head. The rest fell down against the back of his neck in an equally messy sheet, reaching nearly all the way to his shoulders but not quite touching them. He was wearing a bright red t-shirt with a catchphrase that Jaskier couldn’t read and plain denim jeans.

“What the fuck are you doing, Eskel?” he laughed, pointing to the tallest of the group and pulling a face.

“Shut up, Bert,” the brunette shouted back at the redhead, doing a quick kick-flip over the far end of a metal railing. “You can’t skate for shit.”

“I’m better than you!”

The third member of their little gang was the quietest so far and, in Jaskier’s personal opinion, also the prettiest. He had a mass of long white hair that fell all the way to the bottom of his shoulder blades, pointed and stiff in a way that meant it had been straightened and sprayed into submission. The silvery strands were being held out of the stranger’s eyes by a baggy black beanie and Jaskier desperately wanted to know whether or not that hair color was natural (though he heavily suspected that it was not).

The white-haired guy was also the most talented of the three gathered skaters, flying from one end of the half-pipe to the other and landing a few flips in between as if risking his life was as simple as breathing. He wore no knee pads over his ripped black skinny jeans and no elbow pads either; Jaskier noted with a little zing through his nervous system that the skater’s arms were muscled like a Greek statue’s and equally pale.

He was fucking hot.

“Geralt, do a three-sixty!” the redhead jeered, chucking something at the pretty one.

“I can’t land one yet and you know it,” the white-haired guy, Geralt apparently, replied. His voice was low and sonorous and Jaskier nearly fell off his bench in surprise. The student hadn’t realized how far forward he had been leaning in order to listen to their conversation and he scooted back again with a self-conscious little blush. In the distance, Geralt continued. “Why don’t you get up here and try it yourself, asshole?”

“I just fucking might, White Wolf,” Lambert huffed, turning his board back toward the half-pipe and picking up speed. The dark-haired one, Eskel, caught Jaskier’s eye from across the park; the student blushed an even darker shade of red and looked down at his lap to avoid any sort of confrontation. If any of these guys wanted to start a fight with him, Jaskier would surely lose.

By the time the anxious student worked up the nerve to look at them again, Lambert had already climbed to the top of the half-pipe and taken a defensive stance. His eyebrows were furrowed and his arms were crossed over his chest in a projection of almost childish anger. As Geralt came up the cement incline, Lambert lashed out with his foot and kicked the other man’s board out from beneath his feet.

Eskel gave a wordless cry of alarm.

Geralt wavered in the air for a moment - cartoonishly, Jaskier thought, almost like Wile E. Coyote - before plunging to the pavement and rolling limply down the inside of the half-pipe. Eskel chucked a rock at the redhead and started screaming, “Fuck off, dude! You could have cracked his fucking skull! You could have killed Geralt, you absolute cock-toboggan!”

“Fuck! Shit, I didn't-,” Lambert fell on his butt and slid down the ramp to Geralt’s side, kneeling over him with concern written all over his face. “Are you alright, man!?”

Jaskier couldn’t hear if Geralt replied or not, but he suddenly remembered the first-aid kit sitting right there in his bag. Jaskier was a total klutz and tried to keep a handful of bandages and a tube of disinfectant on him at all times just in case he ever needed them. Thank goodness they would be able to come in handy, and for a far nobler purpose than patching up yet another one of his table-smacked knees.

Without thinking any further ahead, Jaskier grabbed the strap of his bag and took off running towards the site of the accident.

“Hey!” he shouted, coming to a stop a few feet away. “I have - uh, I have a first-aid kit if you want to use it.”

“Cool, thanks,” Eskel said, glancing over his shoulder with a curt nod. “Come on over, we don’t bite. Well, I don’t.”

“Dude, I’m so sorry,” Lambert apologized to Geralt once again. When Jaskier glanced over at him, the redhead looked legitimately upset and guilty. Geralt looked up at the newcomer from the pavement, his silver hair spread out around him in mimicry of a halo - the black beanie was lying a few feet away, forgotten or ignored.

Up close like this, the stranger stole the breath out of Jaskier’s very lungs. The man's eyes… His fucking eyes were a gorgeous molten gold in the late afternoon sun, sparking and shining like gemstones. Holding Geralt’s gaze made Jaskier feel as if his very soul was catching fire.

“Do you need a band-aid?” Jaskier asked rather stupidly, holding out the little cardboard box. Geralt nodded stoically.

“I think I scraped my arm.”

“Let me help,” Jaskier said. The student knelt beside Geralt and set the box of band-aids down. He flung open the kit and retrieved some ‘pain-free’ disinfectant, then returned to the box of bandages in search of one without a Disney princess on it. “Do you guys always do this without wearing any protective gear?”

“I’ve got a helmet,” Geralt said. He pointed towards three mismatched backpacks piled near the edge of the pavement; a bright red helmet with several semi-familiar logos stuck to it sat atop one of them.

“It’s very useful over there, keeping your backpack from cracking its skull open,” Jaskier chastised lightly, trying to keep his nerves in check. He was feeling oddly protective of a guy he’d never even met before and it was very fucking weird.

“Sorry,” Geralt shrugged. He was still laying on his back, his topaz eyes flickering between Jaskier’s hands and face. The student applied a thin layer of medical cream to the shallow scrape with shaking fingers and then wiped the remaining goo on his shirt, uncaring of the damage it may have done. He bandaged the minor wound quickly and leaned back, glancing between Lambert and Eskel as if just noticing their presence on either side of Geralt's head.

“Thanks,” Eskel grinned, holding out his hand. “I’m Eskel.”

“Jaskier,” Jaskier replied shyly. “And the loud one is Lambert, right?”

Geralt chuckled from his place on the ground and Jaskier’s heart seized painfully in his chest. What a laugh, ye gods. “Yeah, that’s Lambert. I’m Geralt.”

“Nice to meet you, Geralt,” Jaskier could practically taste the name as it melted across his tongue. “Well, not the nicest way to meet you, but I’m glad I met you all the same. Anyway.”

He stood up with a little grimace and took a step back.

“Where are you going?” Eskel asked. “You came to Geralt’s rescue so I think that means he owes you like, at least an ice cream, or something.”

“Yeah,” Lambert piped up. He smirked at the man on the ground and then turned back to Jaskier, mischief clear in his expression, “Let him take you to get an ice cream.”

“I’m lactose intolerant,” Jaskier squeaked. Then he realized he’d sounded rude and held up his hands as if offering surrender (surrender for what, he wasn't exactly sure), “Not that I wouldn’t like to hang out with you more but I’ve got an assignment due and I’m sure you’re very busy doing skater things and I-”

“Am I not good enough for you?” Geralt asked, finally sitting up. He straightened his arms out behind him and rested there, reclined comfortable, a god in his temple.

Jaskier shot the older man a half-annoyed look, beating back his anxiety with a stick. “I listen to Avril Lavigne. I know not to underestimate pretty skater punks.”

“Pretty?” Geralt raised his eyebrows. Jaskier hid his face behind his hands and turned on his heel.

“Anyway, nice meeting you!” Jaskier shouted, hoping they could hear even if he was facing the opposite direction. He took off toward the edge of the park at a brisk walk, verging on a jog. He needed to go hide behind a tree and cry. What the fuck!? He was terrible at flirting and now he’d gone and ruined his chances with the guy he’d… literally just met. Chill out, he told himself - just before a strong hand clamped down over his shoulder and stopped him in his tracks.

“So not ice cream,” Geralt said. Jaskier slowly turned back to face the mostly-stranger. His lip was caught fast between his teeth and Geralt lifted one large hand to gently thumb it free again. “Maybe a boarding lesson, instead? It would give me an excuse to put my hands around your waist and you could put yours on my shoulders.”

“Are you asking me on a date?” Jaskier asked. He fluttered his eyelashes and took half a step into Geralt's space.

The broad-shouldered punk smiled down at the Little Mermaid band-aid on his arm and then turned that smile to Jaskier. “Yeah.”

#he was a sk8r boi #anyway happy birthday hailie #geraskier #geraskier ficlet #geraskier fluff #bouncey's endless getting together fics #modern au #skater punk geralt #skateboarder geralt #student jaskier #JUST KISS

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bowlegsandbiceps · 3 years

Text

Suptober Day 7: Young at Heart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

Teen / Death!Dean & Human!Cas / Destiel / 5,073 words

Read on AO3

Suptober Masterlist (A03)

It was a snowy evening in the heart of winter when Death roamed the streets of Chicago. You wouldn’t have known him from any other young man, bundled as he was in a worn leather jacket, jeans and boots but there was a certain static about him that made other pedestrians give him a wide berth. He was headed to the fire station on the corner of Hope and Clairmont, humming a Billy Joel song as he avoided slush piles and other humans alike.

He posted up against a telephone pole, making sure to breathe so any passers-by would note the cloud of air passing his lips on every exhale and assure themselves that he was human. It was the least he could do. He checked his watch, an old Timex with a cracked face, and shoved his hands in his pockets. Any minute now.

Across the street, a young girl hurried into view from around the corner, her arms full of a bundle. She looked up at the sign over the fire station door, looked down at her bundle, and swallowed hard. A tiny arm rose from the bundle, naked and red. The girl took it and tucked it back inside the blanket. She sniffled, setting the bundle gingerly down on the top step before backing away slowly. One step, then another her eyes remaining on the pile of blankets before her face crumpled and she turned to run, a dry sob echoing down the empty street.

Death pushed off the telephone pole and made his way leisurely across the street. The baby had started to cry, cold now without its mother to hold it and keep its limbs covered. Death looked down at it, feeling its little heartbeat slow. He crouched down, breathing directly onto the child, and knew he was likely making its final moments worse, a wretched thing like him, even if he was trying to provide a little warmth.

Then something unexpected happened. The baby quieted and bright blue eyes opened, holding Death captive in an intense stare. Death couldn’t feel things, he mused, but if it could, surely it would have been charmed by the babe who instead of recoiling from its impending end, raised a hand toward him, beckoning.

Death raised a cautious hand, one finger hooking in that tiny fist and he was surprised at how strong it was, despite the hypothermia. The child held his gaze still, just looking not pleading or frozen in horror and Death glanced at his watch again, noting the time. He looked up at the firehouse door, the sound of laughter dulled by the heavy metal. If only the girl had knocked before she ran. Death looked back to the child, its ethereal stare snagging his again.

Death raised his hand and knocked.

Inside the firehouse, a number of men made an uneasy circle around the strange man holding a bundled infant. Death hadn’t meant to stay but since he’d already gone and messed with the strings of Fate he figured he might as well assure that the child was taken care of.

“You found him on our stoop?”

“Yeah, you know, I figured some poor kid musta left him. Safe harbor and all.”

Death looked around then down at the babe who seemed to be transfixed by Death’s face. Death wondered what he saw, why he wasn’t scared. His little soul was a speck of shining light, strong and hearty though his body was frail with the beginnings of pneumonia settling in his lungs.

“Why didn’t you take him to a hospital?”

Death blinked and the man recoiled slightly. “Well, he was left here, and don’t you have EMTs on staff.”

One of the men seemed to shake himself out of a stupor and stepped closer. He shivered as Death transferred the baby into his arms, the brush of his hand on Death’s coat giving him a sudden vision of fire and smoke and a strange sense of vertigo as if falling through the floor. He coughed, moving to lay the child on the table and it immediately started to cry. Death hovered closer moving into the child’s line of sight and it settled down though still made discontented noises as he was poked and prodded.

“Did you see who dropped him off? A firefighter asked and Death shrugged, hands back in his pockets.

“She was young. Hurried off before I could say anything.”

The firefighter narrowed his eyes but didn’t question it. “Did she say anything? Why she was dumping him? If he had a name?”

Death paused, looking down at the boy whose eyes were on him bright blue as all newborns are but there was an electricity in them. Death laid a gentle hand on the child’s head, feeling the soft down of hair, the fragile skull.

“No,” Death said finally. “But his name,” Death smiled and the child seemed to smile back. “Is Castiel.”

“Cas-tee-what?” One of the fire fighter’s whispered to another and Death turned towards him, causing both men to step back.

“Castiel. The Angel of Thursday.” Death’s thumb swiped across the child’s forehead. “The Angel of Solitude.”

Death was a busy man, lots to attend to and never in the same place for very long. He worked mostly with children, preferring to be the one to usher them to the other side but as time passed he found himself returning to one place over and over.

The child he saved had been adopted almost immediately by a couple who’d lost many children of their own. Death may have pulled a few strings with Fate but the outcome was ideal. Castiel grew up well-loved and cherished by a mother and a father who understood the great gift they’d been given. They even decided to keep his name, something that pleased Death immensely. If he gave the grandparents a few extra years because of it, well that was his business.

It was a windy day at the beginning of spring when Fate suddenly shifted and Death lighted down in Chicago once more. Castiel, climbing around on the jungle gym at the local park, his babysitter on the phone several yards away was forty-five minutes from an untimely end. Death hung back, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket as he watched the scene play out, an older man making his way over. Death eyed the babysitter as the man approached Castiel, holding a leash and collar.

“My dog got out of her leash! Can you help me find her?” The man said, his face drawn in grief but Death saw into his heart and his rage rumbled as thunder in the distance.

“Oh no!” Castiel exclaimed, jumping down and touching the leash in the man’s hand. “I’ll help you find her. I got a dog too. His name is Marshmallow.”

The man offered his hand and Castiel took it.

Death was there in an instant, one hand on the man’s shoulder. When the man looked up, his mouth opened in surprise and he gasped his last breath. Castiel cocked his head to the side at the man crumpled on the ground before he looked up at Death. Death could only stare back.

“What happened?”

Death shifted from foot to foot. “He was a bad man. He wanted to take you.”

Castiel’s eyebrows rose and he looked down at the cooling body on the wood chips. “Is he going to be okay?”

Death fought a smile, eyes flicking to the reaper nearby before waving them away with the man’s wretched soul. “He’s gone to where he belongs.”

Castiel nodded and offered his hand. “Wanna swing with me?”

Death’s neck jerked in surprise but found himself carefully slotting his hand in the child’s and allowing himself to be lead off to the swing set.

“I’m Castiel. What’s your name?”

Death paused thinking back to a time when he had a name. “Dean, I think.”

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel looked up at him, his face dominated by large blue eyes. “Wait, you think? Don’t you know your own name?”

Death huffed. “Well, no one has used it in… a very long time.” He cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” Castiel grabbed onto one chain of a swing and turned to sit in it. “It must be lonely, no one knowing your name.”

Death sat in the swing next to the boy and pursed his lips. “Maybe a little, but it’s not so bad. My work keeps me busy.”

Castiel kicked off with his feet and began pumping his legs, reaching higher. Death lifted his head to watch. “‘Daddy says ‘all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy’ I asked him who Jack was.” Castiel let his feet drag along the ground, grinding to a halt and Death felt a smile quirk at his lips as the child’s head tipped to the side in confusion. “But he just laughed.” Castiel’s head righted itself. “Not at me though. Sometimes I’m funny and don’t realize it.”

Death surprised himself with a laugh, the sound carrying on the wind and making the group of people gathering around the corpse by the jungle gym shiver. The babysitter was still on the phone but the commotion was stealing her attention. Death turned to look at Castiel, rocking back and forth in his swing, his eyes on the horizon.

“Hey, just so you know, for next time, any stranger comes up to you asking you to go somewhere with them you kick em in the shin and scream your head off,” Death rested his palm atop the boy’s head and Castiel looked up at him, a small smile playing across his lips. “Capiche?”

Castiel gave a deep nod. “I capiche.” His eyes had found his babysitter who was now frantically searching for him. When her eyes landed on him, Death hid himself from her. “She looks really mad.”

“She’s just scared,” Death replied and Castiel looked over at him. “You wandered off and she didn’t know where you were.” And a guy dropped dead about six feet from where you were playing.

“Castiel!” The babysitter skidded to a halt in the gravel in front of Castiel’s swing, pulling him into her arms. “You scared me.” She picked him up, hooking him on her hip. “Come on we need to go.”

The child heaved a deep sigh as if resigned to his fate. “Okay.” He twisted in her arms, looking back at Death, and gave a small smile. “Goodbye, Dean.”

“Bye kiddo.”

The babysitter was already starting to walk away and she snorted, looking over her shoulder then at Castiel. “Who are you talking to.”

“Dean. He’s my new friend.”

Death sat smiling until they were out of sight.

Castiel was eight when his dog Marshmallow was going into his fifteenth year. Death generally let the new recruits handle the animals but on a scorching summer day, he found himself standing at the gate of the big craftsman on the corner where Castiel lived. He looked up at the second-story window, the one he knew to be the young boy’s who was getting bigger every day.

They’d met many times over since that first encounter in the park and to Death’s surprise, Castiel always remembered him and knew him by name. Now seemed to be no exception, the front door opening to release Castiel into the world. His dark hair was an unruly swirl beneath the baseball cap he wore, his matching t-shirt proclaiming he played for the Mustangs, sponsored by Nally Ford.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said with a small smile as he approached. Death smiled back but his eyes caught on the white ball of fluff that was attempting to make his way down the porch steps to follow the boy.

Death let himself in the gate, striding forward and they met halfway, Castiel looking up into Death’s face while Death peered down into his. There was no fear there, no anxiety. There never had been, a wonder Death never could truly comprehend. Marshmallow gave a low growl. Death glanced down at the old dog, barely any teeth left in his head but ready to bite at the smallest provocation. That was about right.

“Marshmallow. No.” Castiel looked down at the dog then back up into the face of Death. “He’s just grumpy because he doesn’t feel good.” Castiel watched as Death crouched down, hand reaching. The growl ceased as Death’s hand hovered over the dog’s head and Castiel squatted down to pet him, hands gentle around the old dog’s ears.

“Yeah, about that,” Death began softly. “This is going to be hard for you to understand, Cas, but Marshmallow is very old.” As he said it, the dog’s eyes sank closed. Castiel rubbed his ears.

“I know.”

Death swallowed hard, his hand moving to hover over the dog’s back and Marshmallow’s legs gave out, his body rolling to the side as he began to pant. Castiel rubbed his belly. “And when dogs get very old, well, they have to go.” Castiel looked up at him. “And when that happens, someone comes to get them.”

Castiel looked down at the dog who was panting, tongue lolling out the side of its mouth. He ran his fingers through the curly white fur at his side. “Not the dog catcher…”

Death chuckled. “No, no not the dog catcher. Someone who helps them make the transition to their next journey.”

Castiel continued to play with Marshmallow’s fur. “Who?”

Death licked his lips, sucked in a breath he didn’t need. “They look like ordinary folks, sometimes you can see them, other times you can’t.”

“Like you?”

Death blinked and took a moment to marvel at the feeling of surprise, something he hadn’t felt in eons. “Yes, like me.”

Castiel looked up at him, blue eyes steady but solemn. “You’re here to take him, aren’t you?”

Death swallowed hard, the sorrow in the boy’s voice cutting him deeper than tears ever could. “Yeah, Cas. I’m sorry.”

Castiel sniffled a bit as he looked down, petting down Marshmallow’s side. “You’ll look after him? Wherever you take him? He won’t be alone, right?”

Death placed a hand on the back of Castiel’s neck and waited for a shiver that never came. Finally, he spoke. “Yes, of course, Cas.”

Castiel sucked in a deep breath and sat down on his butt, folding his legs so they butted up against Marshmallow’s legs. “Can I have just a few more minutes?”

Death glanced at his watch and nodded. They sat there, young boy and ancient entity as the dog’s breath became more shallow. Castiel dug his fingers into the thick curls of Marshmallow’s side and folded himself in half, pressing his face to its chest. The dog fussed attempted to lick at Castiel’s ball cap. Castiel breathed in deep and Death found himself doing the same, smelling cut grass, sweat and the musky odor of an animal nearing its end.

“It’s time, Cas,” Death murmured, his voice low and Castiel lifted his head, face tear-stained now, but he wiped them away with the back of his hand. He placed his hands on the dog’s side, looked up at Death, and nodded.

Death allowed the dog to sniff the back of his hand, accepting the feeble lick before he carded his hand through the curls at the top of his head. Castiel’s hands that had been rising and falling with the dog’s labored breath stopped. Death curled his hand and brought it to his chest, holding it there for the feeble soul to feel safe on its journey. His other hand when to the top of Castiel’s head.

“Go get your father. He’ll help you with the ritual.”

“Can’t you stay?” Castiel asked, blue eyes shining with unshed tears and if Death had a heart it would have broken.

“I’ve gotta get Marshmallow to where he belongs.” Dean knuckled away a tear that was making its way down Castiel’s cheek.

“Okay,” Castiel lowered his head, looking at the cooling body of his beloved pet. He looked back up. “Goodbye, Dean.”

Death was unprepared for the boy to wrap his arms around him in a tight squeeze before getting up and walking back towards the house.

Castiel was twenty when his fate changed again and Death nearly didn’t make it in time. In the back seat of a car, driving way too fast down a dark winding road, Death appeared next to him, his face striated in moonlight. Castiel jumped, his reflexes slower with the alcohol in his veins.

“Dean?”

“Cover your face, kid.” Death muttered as he braced his feet against the seat in front of him and threw out an arm.

When they hit the tree at 63 miles per hour Castiel’s body slammed into his arm and Death could feel the ribs break, felt the punctured lung as if it were his own. The driver was halfway through the windshield, another reaper already there to take him. Death waved them away as blood slowly filled Castiel’s lungs.

He coughed, choking on the acrid liquid, unable to get a full breath. His hand twisted in Death’s leather jacket, tugging, blue eyes wide and for the first time Death saw fear there. He couldn’t stand it. He reached past the headrest in front of him, touched the mangled face of the boy there and he immediately stopped breathing.

“You can’t do that!” A voice sharp from outside the car and Death nearly jumped out of his skin when he turned his head to look out the window and found the small blond woman standing there with her clipboard of names. “It’s the other boy’s time, Dean.”

Death glared out at her, throwing open the door. “You got your soul. Get out of here.”

“You reaped the wrong-“

“The hell I did,” Death yelled and every animal in the forest quieted, the wind through the trees died down.

The two of them watched as headlights appeared down the road, slowing when the driver saw the wreckage. Death and Fate stood side by side on the shoulder of the road as the good Samaritan talked to Castiel through the back window, promising him everything would be alright.

“He’ll make it.” Death heaved a sigh, hearing the sirens in the distance.

“Just barely,” Fate muttered, consulting her clipboard. “One of these days you’re going to run out of favors.”

Death turned to look at her. “Not any time soon.”

It was three days later in his half-empty dorm room that Castiel attempted to take his own life. Death arrived just as Castiel kicked the chair out of the way, his body falling with an extension cord wrapped tight around his neck right into Death’s arms. A quick flick of his pocket knife and Death had freed Castiel, laying him gently down on the floor as he coughed and sobbed.

“No! Take me! I want to die!” Castiel twisted onto his knees, grabbing onto Death’s legs and hugging them tightly. “Please. I can’t take it. The guilt, it’s too much!”

Death ran his fingers through Castiel’s unruly hair. “It’s not your time.”

“It was my time,” Castiel wiped at his face, fury in his eyes as he glared up at the ancient entity. “I heard you and that lady talking. She said you reaped the wrong one!”

“You hit your head pretty hard, kid.”

Castiel wiped at his face furiously, getting his trembling legs under him. “I know what you are. What you do.”

Death brought himself to his full height, leveling Castiel with his most pensive stare. “Do you?”

“I’ve always known,” Castiel spit. “And I never cared. You were always my…” Castiel trailed swallowing hard. “My friend. But this, I can’t take this Dean.”

“Why can’t you just be grateful,” Death huffed holding out his arms.

Castiel’s face went slack with shock. “You kill the man I love instead of me and I’m supposed to be grateful?”

Death’s mouth popped open, surprised again, that made twice in a single decade now. “Your… the man you loved? Wow, how did I miss that?”

“You miss a lot of things,” Castiel spit, his eyes hard.

Death rubbed his mouth. “When-“

“Since I was a child,” Castiel heaved a sigh. “Look don’t try to change the subject. I was dying already, Dean!” Castiel’s fists were clenched at his sides. “Why didn’t you let me go? Why’d you have to take him? He was everything to me. How could you not know that?”

Death rubbed the back of his neck, “Life isn’t really under my purview, kid.”

“What about love then?” Castiel got right in his face, nose to nose, and Death stood stock still.

“I know it when I see it.”

“Then you must have been blind that night.” Castiel spun away, running his hands through his hair. “I can’t do this. Please. Take me.”

“No.”

“Why? Why not?”

“I told you. It’s not your time.”

“Are you sure it’s not because you have some weird obsession with me?” Castiel strode right up into what a human would call their personal space. “What is it about me huh? Why me? Why don’t you latch on to some other poor bastard?”

Death swallowed hard. “I can go if you’d like.”

Castiel let out a humorless laugh. “Stay. Go. What do I care?” He let himself fall onto his bed, face buried in his pillow while Death stood watch.

Death didn’t see much of Castiel after that or more like Castiel didn’t see much of him. He’d check in every now and then, saw him graduate college, move to the east coast, fall in love and get his heart broken only to fall in love again. Through it all Death stood watch, sometimes with Fate at his side, like at Castiel’s wedding.

“I could step in,” Fate murmured, an offer she wasn’t likely to make twice but Death shook his head, watching as Castiel beamed with happiness after kissing his husband.

It wasn’t long after that they met again in a hospital just north of Chicago. It was nearing midnight and no one was around. Castiel was sitting with his mother, his husband and father had gone home hours before but Castiel insisted on staying. Neither could understand why Castiel refused to leave her side but didn’t question it. Castiel was a good son who loved his mother very much.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said as Death hovered in the doorway. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

“I tried to wait for you to leave,” Death mumbled, looking down at his boots as he tapped his toe on the floor.

“Why?”

Death looked up and found Castiel’s head canted to the side, and he couldn’t help but smile. “We didn’t exactly part on the best of terms when we last spoke.”

Castiel looked down at his mother’s hand, so small and frail in his own. He cleared his throat. “You were right. I should have been grateful.”

“It was a callous thing to say when you were grieving.”

Castiel snorted. “That’s true.” He huffed a sigh. “But ultimately you were right. I didn’t love him. I didn’t know what love was then. Not that kind of love anyway.” Castiel ran his thumb over the thin blue veins of his mother’s hand. “How much longer does she have?”

Death checked his watch. “We’ve got a few more minutes.”

“Then sit.”

Death did, across the bed from Castiel and took in the changes, the strands of gray in his hair, laugh lines crinkling around his eyes and mouth.

“You know you look exactly the same as I remember you when I was four.”

Death grinned. “All that clean living.”

Castiel snorted, a grin pulling at his own lips before it faded. “You’ll take care of her?”

Death nodded. “Of course.”

Castiel squinted, opening his mouth then closing it again. Death heaved a sigh. “Go ahead. Ask whatever you want to ask me.”

Castiel’s cheeks bloomed a lovely pink that Death would see in every sunrise from that moment on. “How’s Marshmallow?”

Death blinked. “I give you one question to ask me whatever you want and you ask about your damn dog?”

Castiel frowned. “I loved that dog.”

Death rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Marshmallow is doing great. Has lots of doggy friends.”

A small smile tugged at Castiel’s lips. “Good. I hope Mom gets to see him.”

“I’ll make sure she does.”

“I’m ready.”

Death gave a small nod, waiting a beat to watch Castiel breath in steadily, his eyes on his mother’s face. Death reached forward, fingers brushing a white curl from her forehead before resting his palm there gently. One of the monitors began to scream. A nurse bustled in quickly, checking in and ultimately turning off the sound, standing by as the old woman took her last breaths. Death took her soul and cradled it to his chest.

“Take care of her,” Castiel whispered and Death gave him a solemn nod before he went on his way.

It wasn’t long after that Fate dealt Castiel another bad hand and Death had arrived to do his duty. Castiel’s husband laid prone on a hospice bed, his once strong body frail and hairless, ravaged by a disease Death hated almost more than he hated himself. Death came into the room unannounced, stood by Castiel’s side as silent tears ran down his face.

Death checked his watch.

“I can feel you.”

Death nearly fell over in shock. Third time in as many decades. Damn.

“Don’t hide, Dean. I’ve been expecting you.”

“I tried.” Death placed a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “I tried but I’m out of favors.”

“It’s okay,” Castiel sniffled, his own hand coming up to cover the cool one on his shoulder and Death felt the warmth as if it were the sun. “How much time do we have?”

“Couple minutes.”

Castiel nodded, leaning forward and placing a hand on his husband’s shoulder, giving him a light shake. He gasped awake, eyes hazy with pain and medication but something in them still blazed when they landed on Castiel.

“Honey, I want you to meet someone. Can you see him? Next to me.” Castiel turned, looking up at Death, and licked his dry lips.

“Yes,” Castiel’s husband croaked. “He’s just as handsome as you said.”

Castiel let out a watery laugh, glancing up at Death who was not blushing as he reached up to rub his ear. “He’s here for you.”

Castiel’s husband nodded solemnly. “About time.”

Castiel let out a quiet sob and immediately tried to shove it back into his mouth. His husband squeezed his hand as Death squeezed his shoulder.

“Come on now. This ain’t the end. I’ll see you. Hopefully not too soon?” Castiel’s husband lifted his brows and Death gave him a small smile.

“Not if I have anything to do with it.”

Castiel was leaning over, pressing his forehead to his husband’s and breathing slow in his nose and out his mouth, barely hanging on. Death stepped forward, hand covering the one that Castiel held. One final gasp and then the room was silent. Castiel gave a soft cry, feeling warmth rush through him, love and light and something so bright it almost burned. And then it was gone.

Death pulled the soul close to his chest, his other hand lighting on Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel glanced up into the face of Death but was immediately distracted by the small ball of light in his hand. Castiel looked up and Death nodded in answer to his question. Castiel let go of the hand in his and wrapped his arms around himself as the tears came hot and fast.

“Can you please stay?”

Death shifted from foot to foot. “I need to take care of him. But I can come back.”

“Please hurry.”

Death wasn’t really the type to hang around any one place too long but for years after Castiel’s husband’.s transition, he found himself irrevocably drawn to Castiel. He’d always been to a certain extent but the man’s grief had worn down all his defenses, all his excuses to stay away. For once Death was welcomed into a home with open arms.

They sat on the couch and watched bad television. Death had a strange obsession with Dr. Sexy that Castiel found hilarious. Death tolerated all of Castiel’s terrible nature documentaries. It was one night as Castiel was going up the stairs to bed that he paused, looking back at Death who was putting the dishes in the dishwasher.

“I love you, Dean. You know that right?”

Death stood stock still and he’d be goddamned if it hadn’t happened again. He looked up to find Castiel just standing there on the third step, gaze just as intense as it had been when he’d first laid eyes on him as an infant. He didn’t have to say it. Neither of them did so Castiel just gave him a small smile and continued his ascent up the stairs. And that night, Death followed.

It was both the worst and best day of his tenure when Castiel’s time was finally up. Fate in her fussy suit with her obnoxious clipboard arrived to stand at the end of the hospital bed where Castiel lay, Death at his side.

“No more favors. No more tricks,” Fate said softly and Death looked away from the face of his beloved, aged and creased as it was now, while his was permanently stuck as youthful and smooth.

“Can I keep him?” Death asked, staring into the eyes of Fate and daring to hope. “I know it’s not ever been done. I know this is a one-person gig but…” Death looked back upon the only face he’d ever loved, into the only eyes that had ever truly seen him. “Just this once, can I keep him?”

Fate gave him a small smile. “Yes, Dean. He’s yours to keep.”

So Death and his companion were joined at the human’s crossing, bound by Fate herself to walk through eternity together. Sure they quarreled, sometimes even spending a few decades apart but the string that tethered them was unbreakable, a fact Death loved to remind his younger counterpart of.

It’s said that when a couple dies within hours of each other they’re always accompanied by another couple, two men, handsome and young, looking more in love than any cosmic entities had a right to be.

#suptober21 #destiel #supernatural #fanfic: supernatural #deancas #character death #the dog dies sorry #writing by me

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bloodpenned · 3 years

Note

plz plz plz can you write m!whitney skullfucking pc

wordcount: 2.5k (can’t believe this is the first time i write an actual fic on here.) cw: noncon, detailed ero guro / gore porn, eye trauma, drugging, knives, vomit mention, needle mention, degradation, victim blaming.

or: whitney fucks your eye socket and prepares you for the act. don’t read this to upset or trigger yourself, please.

Since all of your holes have been used by others, Whitney makes one for himself.

“Look at you- You can barely keep your fucking head up, slut.”

The voice drifts to you from far away, a figure leaning over the ice you’re trapped under. Where am I?, you ask, but all your vocal cords produce is a gurgle. Your limbs are made of cement and frozen in place. Letting yourself be dragged back into the depths of unconsciousness is much easier than staying afloat. Through trembling eyelids, you barely make out the shape of the person in front of you. Their legs, to be precise. Pain shoots through your scalp and you jolt, finally present enough for the ties around your wrists and ankles to register in your mind, the cold wall you’re leaning against. That it’s Whitney, because who fucking else would it be, yanking you up by your hair. Your tongue still refuses to move.

“Follow.” His voice feigns disinterest. Yet he keeps shuffling, leaning his weight more on one leg, then the other again. He holds his hand in front of your face, moving it from side to side. Your head is so fuzzy you see no reason to disobey. By the time you’ve caught up with him to the right, he’s already back the other way. Your eyelids droop. He laughs. “God, you’re out of it. Poor you, did I gave you a little too much? You can’t say I’ve ever underestimated you.”

As soon as his grip loosens, your head drops and black dots litter your vision. Drool spills from your mouth. Something bad is about to happen, there’s no other explanation for this. His hands will end up all over your body again. But there’s no chatter of his friends, no flashes of cameras, so different from the usual that you don’t know what to expect. The world fades out, before flickering back in the middle of a sentence.

“...pay me back. Got that? Good.” The hand is back in your hair, keeping you steady. He’s digging around in his pocket. “If you weren’t such a whore, I wouldn’t have to do this. Did you think I wouldn’t see those pictures? Wouldn’t know when my slut’s gagging around someone else? I promised I would beat some sense into you if you didn’t listen, so here we are.”

Whitney’s found what he had been looking for. There’s something in his hand, moving toward your face too quickly to make out. Everything’s so blurry that even while squinting, you can’t immediately tell what it is. You nearly go crosseyed trying to figure it out. A handle clenched in his fist, gray, reflecting surface, ending in a sharp point-

A knife.

“You’re a fucking cumbrain already, but I’ll give you one too.”

You watch the situation unfold from the back of your skull. This is happening to someone else, anyone except you. It’s a movie, and a bad one at that. You can’t pinch your arm to wake yourself up. Whitney had hurt you before, sure, with his bare hands. Never like this. He’s always made fun of Kylar for having to resort to knives, why would he use one now? Is it just a threat? It has to be. Then again, you’re so disoriented you don’t stand a sliver of a chance against him. Your heart hammers against your ribcage, so loud it makes your head throb. The furthest your abilities go is to shake your head and force a whimper from your throat, rubbing your wrists raw on the zip tie. Whitney presses cold steel against your cheek. You try to spit at him, but you can’t put any force behind it. It dribbles down your chin in a slow stream.

Whitney barks out a laugh. “What the fuck are you, a dog?” The knife digs into your skin, a gentle push away from slicing you open. “Don’t get to get too excited yet, we haven’t even started, slut.” He slides the blade up to your bottom eyelid, leaving a shallow cut. (Your brain is fuzzy. Your cheeks are warm, burning- Are you blushing? Is the wetness rolling down your face a tear?) Your fingers twitch, your teeth grind together, every muscle pulled tight like a bowstring.

His breathing is laboured, eyes boring into yours, expression blank for a mere moment. Whitney, as you know him from school, is all but empty. He’s of scoffing and snarling, of laughter and grins- This is nothing you recognize. Your gut twists. Every instinct in your body is screeching at the top of its lungs for you to run. At the same time, another part tells you to stay as still as possible, as if you will simply fade out of existence if you don’t move. (But it’s okay, because none of this is real, and you’re at the orphanage in bed curled up under the covers, and you’ll wake up late and rush to get your uniform to not miss the bus and you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine-) Whitney’s tongue darts out to trace his upper lip, his fingers turning white around the handle.

The next, there is a blow of air against your eye before pure, indescribable agony accompanied by a wet squelch. You’re dying, you’re dying, you’re dying, it’s over- Half of your face has been blown off, your brain is exposed for all to see and poke and prod, your lungs collapse with every breath, your throat spasms around vomit. What’s left of your right side of vision is a red and black pulsating blur. The screams, the sole outburst you’re capable of, are mere groans in the back of your throat. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish on land. Blood, sweat, tears, pus, slime- You wouldn’t know. Something oozes down your face, thick mucus, making a mess on your lap. You’re warm, you’re cold, sweat thick underneath your clothes. Everything is wet. Everything is hot.

A hand is on your head, stroking. The sensation dissapears into and becomes one with the pain, the thing that melts everything else away. “There you go, you’re being so good! But I’m not done yet.” He speaks to you in the tone reserved purely for dogs. From the corner of your good eye, you can see him reaching his fist back and pounds it against the handle, your entire world dissolving into nothing as it hits.

When you wake up, you do so to a palpitating heart that’s skipping beats left and right, to a convulsing body, to spit frothing at your mouth and a needle in your leg. The gag in your mouth rubs against your tongue and tastes of sweat. Whitney has discorded the knife, left it at your feet. Your eyeball looks like scrambled egg white on one end, a sloppy mess, and you gag. At one point or another, you will have to come to term with the fact that you’re never going to see from it again.

“Can’t have you leaving before the party’s started.” Your head whips around, the sensation of something sloshing inside your eye socket immediately making you regret it. Wind blows straight into the wound and causes you to ear up. He’s on your right. Somewhere. What you assume to be the syringe falls to the ground with a clatter. There’s no way he isn’t standing there, in the void he created, on purpose. You would’ve preferred to be really fucking dead right now. Let him rape your corpse, at least you wouldn’t have to be there to notice it. Whatever he injected you with, it’s all so much sharper now. The lights are brighter, every little step he takes ringing in your ears, your right eye (or the slurry that’s left of it) aflame. You rock back and forth to shuffle further away from him, but you’re already backed against a wall and the movement makes the blood in your skull slosh alongside it.

“Gotta check if you’re wet enough for me. Thank me later, slut.” Whitney pulls on your eyelashes, the tip of his finger teasing the hole. Once in a while, it dips into the wound, your nerves tingling in anticipation at the near touch. Breath hitching every time, your brain can’t comprehend what’s exactly happening to you. Your heart pounds in your ears, your limbs keep twitching against your will. Now that you can, you want to struggle, but you’re so scared of that pain, terrified that he could choose to take the other one as well.

All you want is for this to be over. You just want to be home. As flawed of a home it is, it’s still the one place you can think to return to. (Robin will be there, waiting for you. They always have. Could you still keep up with them during games, now that you’re like this? Bailey’s presence, suffocating as it is, at least keeps you safe from intruders. How pissed off are they going to be, now that you're a damaged ware?)

“Can’t you sit still for one fucking second? You wanna know what it feels like when I slip so badly?” Your head jerks to the side against your will, foot hitting his ankle. “I guess you do, huh? But, fuck- You keep writhing around, maybe I should give the needy whore what they want. You’re soaked, that’s for sure.”

Whitney pulls away, his fingers coated a pale red. Using your hair as a rag, he smears the fluids in it, tugging on it once for good measure. He takes a step back, descends back outside your field of vision. There’s the rustling of fabric, unbuckling of a belt, a zipper being undone. You begin to plead through your gag, repeating muffled, incomprehensible words, because please, anything but this, not right now, not ever, hasn’t he done enough, isn’t he satisfied, he’s already ruined you enough, please, just please-

“It’s cute you think you have a choice.”

There’d been a nagging suspicion in the back of your head that it would come down to this. Every meeting with Whitney would end up leading down the same path, but this time... You choke on your breaths, chest heaving with sobs. With every shock of your shoulders, more heat leaks out of your eyes, your entire face turning into one throbbing mess. You squeeze your eyes shut. (There’s no way you can move the right eyelid, the knife has torn straight through it. All it is now is limp meat, hanging on by a thread.) His dick presses against your cheek. Fucking hell, why does he have to be so big too? There’s ringing in your ears as he leaves a trail of precum, mingling with the mess already there. His scent overpowered by the metallic smell of blood. Why can’t you just pass out again? But you’re still twitching, thoughts racing faster than you can keep track of.

“You’ve been asking for this, don’t try to deny it. I’m not stupid. Well, you’ve got my attention now. You better be grateful.” He misses the first time, the head of his dick rubbing against your eyebrow. Whitney curses underneath his breath. Trembling fingers tug your eyelids as far apart as possible and you hate it, you hate this so fucking much, you want someone to come by here to save you, you want to sink through the floor, you want to die.

He sucks in a breath through grit teeth, and hits his mark. You’re not sure how much he crammed inside your skull, but all of it was too much, too cruel. The screaming is clear through your bounds, raking your throat raw. Whichever way you move, his cock stays lodged in between the bone. The muscles snap and tear, the bones crack, the flesh, like the tight fit that it is, clings around his dick, and he groans as he pushes himself further inside. An impossible amount of more fat and mucus and slime comes free, clogging your nose. The back of your head slams against the wall with every movement, but it doesn’t hurt, doesn’t compare.

There’s nothing else. There can be nothing else. Your mind is full and empty at the same time. He’s all you can think about, he’s fucking the memory of him into your brain, leaving his permanent mark. Is this what he wanted? You’re being dissected, pulled apart, the creases of your brain violated. He’s saying things, (tight, mess, slut, enjoying, loud.), but he’s pulling out and the scrape of the warm flesh makes the scenery blur. Your throat feels like it was pulled across sandpaper.

The pressure dissipates and you cry in pure relief. But, a moment later, he’s back in and down a slightly different path at a slightly different angle and there’s more snapping, more gushes of fluid. The only thing that will ever fit there again will be him. The perfect little cocksleeve. He’s pushing up against something and you don’t know what, but every time he twitches and brushes against it, your entire vision blacks out. Where the pain reached a crescendo before, it’s turned around to be almost numbing now. Are your nerves torn up? Are you dying?

“Open your mouth. Wait, fuck-” He’s breathless, stuttering over his words. His dick twitches and scrapes against bone. Trembling fingers remove the gag from your mouth. If this were literally any other situation, you might have been almost proud to have turned him into such a wreck. “Stick your tongue out and it’ll be over. Done.”

You latch onto those words like a lifeline. No matter how it ends, you just want it to be over. Without much more than a second of delay you do as he asks, your good eye rolling up to try and look at him. Considering how full your head is, you hardly notice the strings of cum being added to the pool, until some of it leaks through your nose and onto your tongue. He puts one hand on your head, shaking it until more follows. (Though his cum isn’t the only thing there.)

Strings of blood and slime stick to his dick like drool as he pulls out. You hate him. You hate yourself. You hate this fucking town, and you hate every piece of shit in it. Your brain is a cacophony of screaming, of visions of growing fangs and claws and tearing him to shreds, of burning this whole town down. All you do is stare up without really looking, eyes glazed over. You’re tired, so unbelievably tired. All you want to do is rest, even if it’s while bleeding out in some shitty alleyway. His voice drifts to you from far away, smile clear in his tone.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

An eye for an eye has never sounded so appealing before.

#degrees of lewdity #whitney the bully #i knoooow he wouldnt do this but whatever i like writing it and also i can do whatever i want #it was just a top tier request i cant help myself #seriously dont read to freak yourself out !#k.gore #k.degradation #k.drugs #k.knife

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det-loki · 3 years

Text

poison & wine pt. eight

You give me love, give me love Until it breaks my back

warnings: angst, blood mention

pairing: detective loki x fem reader

word count: 2,162

A/N: close to the end! sorry for the delay

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 ⌽

The car ride over to Bob Taylor’s house was uncomfortably silent. David’s hands gripped the steering wheel till his knuckles were white, jaw clenched as he stared ahead.

“When are we going to talk about everything? We can’t keep running on autopilot.” You broke the silence as Loki’s jaw ticked, his hands tightening around the wheel.

“Let’s just focus on this case, okay?” You hated when he did this. He silenced himself, avoiding everything until it simmered over, emotions exploding out of control. You remained silent, deciding it was better to not add more fuel to the fire.

You arrived at the house which was covered with various cars and forensic teams. You got out of the car quickly, tugging your coat tighter as the wind chilled through you, following David as he talked to Rich, who was a part of the forensics team and running point on the scene.

The brown dying grass crunched under your boot clad feet as you walked up to a marked off area in the yard, two analysts working to uncover two kid sized department store mannequins that had been buried with their heads caved in from the frozen ground.

Rich looked at Loki as he spoke, “I just talked to our lab guys, and they told me that all the blood that we sampled from the plastic containers- pig’s blood.”

You moved from the yard to inside in the kitchen, mazes still littered across the walls. Multiple people were inside the home, taking pictures of evidence and booking it. Listening to Rich continue to speak, “It’s like he’s play-acting. I mean, case in point. Except for the few items I.D.’d by the Dovers and the Birches, all the kids’ clothes that we found still had the tags on them. And that maze book that we found, he made it. Photocopies, pictures from this book that we found in the attic. Ex-F.B.I. agent wrote that.” You wondered who would go through the trouble of doing all that, but you had to remind yourself of the case you were dealing with. Nothing was ‘textbook.’

You looked down at the red and black book in the evidence bag as Loki read the title out loud, fingers grazing over the cover through the plastic of the bag, eyebrows furrowed, ‘Finding The Invisible Man.’

“Yeah, it’s about a theoretical suspect that he believed was responsible for a bunch of child abductions. It’s totally discredited, I guess, but I read some of it.” Rich explained to both you and Loki as you rocked on the balls of your feet.

Loki cut Rich off, “Taylor- Taylor was abducted when he was a kid. He ran away after three weeks. And the capture drugged him on some sort of LSD/ketamine cocktail.” When you and Loki learned of the use of the ketamine cocktail, your eyes darted to each other, a silent understanding between the two of you. Broken, forever; everything connected in this shit town you called home. Loki continued speaking, “He never remembered. They never caught the guy.”

“Okay, so...he read the book and decided he was taken by the invisible man. Now he’s doing his best imitation, right?”

Rich stared at Loki, waiting for a response, “Yeah, he was doing his best imitation. He killed himself last night.” Loki turned away, walking away from you and Rich, stopping in the doorway to study the mazes on the wall as Rich turned to him, “How did he do that? I thought he was in custody.”

“It’s a long story.” Your response was short, voice cracking with exhaustion, details weren’t needed. Your hands were still stained with red, you constantly felt the need to scrub them raw under hot water until they bled. The urge hit you again last night at home in the shower, sending you into a crying mess on the shower floor, scaring David when he heard your sobs through the door. He was worried about you. And himself, you two were getting bad again, the feeling was familiar, similar to how you felt after the funeral. Indescribable pain.

Loki turned to you, asking for the map Taylor drew as he stepped closer in your direction. You take it out of your coat pocket with a gloved hand, handing it to David who snatches it out of your hand. He pointed to it aggressively as he spoke to Rich, “Hey, Taylor drew this. It’s a map to the bodies. It’s a map to the bodies and we found the same design on a pendant that we pulled off that corpse the other day. There’s a connection, okay?” Loki spoke with growing intensity as Rich looked at him dumbfounded, obviously lost with Loki’s explanation.

“The connection is that it’s the last maze in the book.” Loki scoffed at Rich, upset with him for not understanding the point he was trying to make. Rich continued, “I did it. It’s unsolvable. There’s no way out. Your corpse is another wannabe who read the book.” Loki had spent hours trying to find a way out of the maze, each failure feeling more and more doomed.

Loki stormed away from him, “What are you saying to me, Rich? What are you saying to me? What are you saying? That-that this guy is a fake? You’re saying the girls are still out there somewhere?” Here was the one big difference between you and Loki. You had hope the girls were still alive, maybe you were ignorant, but you weren’t ready to accept the fact that two little girls were dead. Loki was coming to terms with the fact that they might be dead, his hope was dying out. Loki’s voice rose, your fingers digging into your palm as he spoke, “How did Bob Taylor get those clothes? How did-how did the parents positively I.D those clothes?!” At this point, Loki was yelling at Rich, looking at him expectantly.

“That I can’t reconcile.” He walked past you and then Loki as Loki snaps at him, “You can’t reconcile that?”

“Just keep knockin’ on doors, lookin’ in windows.” At that, Rich disappeared through the doorway.

Loki stood across from you, hand trailing through his hair, head snapping in your direction as you spoke, “Loki, maybe he’s right. The girls might be out there somewhere, we-” You stopped talking as Loki pulled out his notepad, flipping through pages quickly, obviously looking for something in particular. He flips to a page and stops, “The window.” That’s all you needed to hear before running to the car.

The car stopped abruptly in front of the Dovers, sending you lurching forward against the dashboard, Loki’s door already open, feet on the ground and running. You followed him quickly, approaching the back of the house, staring up at the second story window that Grace Dover had said that had been opened the other night. Loki looked around before jumping the chain-link fence, crouching down under the window, looking for footprints or anything disturbed. He takes a pen out of his front coat pocket, balancing it in his fingers as he reaches into the bushes, pulling out a pink sock teetering on the pen. The same sock Keller positively I.D.’d as Anna’s.

You were out of breath as you ran to the car for an evidence bag, your body too tired for the physical exertion. As you reach inside the glove compartment, your phone buzzes in your pocket. Answering it, your stomach dropped as Detective Chemelinski’s voice spoke in your ear. Joy Birch had been found.

The hospital was cold as you entered, a chill running through your body, but not from the chill of the air. You hated hospitals. The elevator dings as you and Loki arrived the pediatric ward, doors sliding open and you wanted to puke, your throat raw and scratchy. It looked the exact same as it did when your little girl died here, same beige paint on the walls, the same as the rest of the hospital, only difference being the sickly bright yellow sun painted on the walls. The smell of antiseptic burned your nose, the fluorescent lights already starting a headache to pound in your skull. You pushed your emotions down as Loki exited the elevator, you trailing after him through the halls.

“I said nobody’s allowed in that room but her family.” Loki barked orders to officers as you rounded the corner. Keller Dover came into view, David yelling out for him as he took off down the hall away from you. “Where you goin’?

You stopped in front of Grace, “Where is he going?” She only shook her head, she had no idea. You took off running, multiple officers trailing you as bystanders stared at the scene unfolding in front of them.

You and Loki took off down the hall after him, telling officers to not let him go. Bolting outside you see Keller’s truck slam over the parking lot median and on the highway, speeding down it. Loki and you turn back, sprinting for the car to follow him, your breaths coming out in clouds in front of you in the cold air.

The tires screeched as Loki sped through the wet pavement of the parking lot; Loki pulled onto the highway, muttering to himself, “I got you now, fucker. I know where you’re goin’.”

The car pulled aggressively into the driveway of the old apartment building, Keller’s truck nowhere to be found. Loki slammed his hand down onto the steering wheel, “Fuck!” You jumped slightly at his outburst, adrenaline pumping through your views despite the feeling of pain in your entire body. He exited the car quickly, you following, your boots splashing through the muddy puddles as you advanced toward the boarded up building slowly.

Above you, you could hear muffled screams, you and Loki reach for your guns as you near the door. Loki kicks the door open with a bang, entering the building with his gun drawn. Your heart was in your throat as you crept through the first floor, heading up the stairs towards the sound of muffles screams and banging. Your pulse was racing and your vision was blurry, exhaustion nipping at your heels every step you took, threatening to take you down.

The screaming got louder as you got to the top of the stairs, wailing piercing the air. Your boots creak along the floorboards, you approach the room the screaming is coming from and the air escapes your lungs.

You see a boarded up area, the boards vibrated as whoever was behind it banged against it. You stood back, letting Loki enter as you reached for your radio and called for backup. Loki pries at the wood, it doesn’t budge at all, mocking you. The wailing continues, Loki calls out to the person, telling them to hold on. You clip your radio back onto your jeans and turn to look for anything to pry off the wood, not wanting to waste time by running back down to the car.

You see a crowbar lying against a wall, and you thank god as you grab it, the metal heavy in your hand. Loki grabs the crowbar from you and begins to work his way through the wood. The minutes seem to drag by, each second longer than the last.

“Hey, just hold on for us in there okay?” You talk through the wall as Loki finally gets the panel off revealing a sight that shook you to your core.

Alex Jones. Badly burned, bruised, bloody and beaten. He looked terrified, eyes wild with panic, whimpering in pain as he coward away from your gawking stares.

You stood next to Loki as Alex was taken away by EMS, O’Malley stood in front of you, “Someone needs to notify the aunt and we need to get an idea of where Keller is.”

You spoke up next to Loki, “I’ll tell the aunt.” Loki looked at you with a confused expression as O’Mallley nodded and walked away.

“I want to be the one to tell her, I’ll be fine, Loke.” You could tell by his expression that he was unsure about you going alone.

“Babe, if this is some karma thing for her-” It wasn’t. At least you didn’t think it was. Your little girl couldn’t be saved. You accepted that fact even if it tore your heart apart, forcing you to move on.

You interrupted Loki, not allowing him to finish his sentence, “Don’t. It’s not. Find Keller, I’ll tell Holly. I'll text you, alright?”

Loki nodded curtly as he handed you the car keys, he’d get a car from the station, an uneasy look spread across his face. He didn’t have a good feeling about letting you go alone, but he knew better than to hold you back from doing your job.

Little did he know that he would regret letting you go in alone more than words could describe.

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