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hunny-bean · 11 months

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Too Close For Comfort

Pairing: Frank Castle x F!Reader

Summary: Frank comforts you after he is forced to kill a man in your shared motel room.

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), Gun Violence, Dead Body (Not Frank's. Don't Worry), Explicit Sexual Content, Little Pinch of Angst, Long Ass Flashback, Porn With 3.5k Words of Plot

A/N: This is the first fic I've ever written! I've been wanting to write for the JB fandom for a while and I finally decided to go for it. I'm planning to write for a lot more of his characters in the future, but I figured Frank was a good starting point. Hope you like it! I'm open to feedback if you've got it. XOXO.

Read on AO3

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After almost three months of living in an old stolen pickup truck and a series of shitty motels, you had learned to count your blessings. An important one, you quickly came to realize, was good water pressure. You were in the middle of your forth shower in the three days you and your new travel partner had been in this town, and you were trying your best to savor the moment. Since the closest companion of long showers is long trains of thought, you allowed your mind to wander back to how your adventure first began.

You took a step back in the cereal aisle in your local grocery store to examine the top shelf and ran directly into someone trying to pass behind you. Startled, you dropped the basket you were carrying full of frozen veggies and canned soups, and watched them roll in all directions. You whipped around so quickly you almost joined your soup on the floor, but luckily a strong hand shot out to steady you before you could.

"Whoa. Sorry 'bout that," the stranger said. And that was how you met Frank Castle. Surprisingly, your first impression of him had nothing to do with his gentle giant aura or his warm, gravelly voice. Your first impression happened before you even laid eyes on him, and that was how backing up into him was like hitting a brick wall with your car. He didn't stumble or falter. He didn't even flinch.

"No, sorry, that was my fault," you replied, your cheeks flushed from creating a loud noise in a public place. The stranger removed his hand from your arm and glanced down at the floor where your bags of peas laid, slowly thawing.

"You, uh... You want some help with those?"

"Oh, I got it, don't worry."

The man mumbled an "alright" and you watched him start to walk away, expecting him to leave the aisle, but he only took a few steps before his foot brushed a stray can, and he bent down to help anyway.

"Thank you. You didn't have to do that," you said when all the groceries had been collected.

"No problem," he muttered. You weren't sure why, but there was something off-putting about him. Later you realized it was the stark contrast between his gruff outer appearance and his quiet way of speaking. He was so intimidating but he seemed so trustworthy. "You have a nice day, ma'am."

Before he could walk away, you found yourself calling out to him, too curious to let him leave without asking any questions.

"Hey, I don't think I've seen you around here before. Are you. . . new in town?"

He seemed amused by your attempt to start a conversation, but decided to indulge you anyway. "I'm just passin' through. So you, uh, you really know everyone that lives here?"

Although he seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say, he kept subtly glancing around like he was about to cross the street or something. When he turned his head, you noticed the remnants of a week-old bruise on his jaw.

"Pretty much, yeah," you responded. "So, life on the road, huh? Sounds pretty exhilarating."

He let out a friendly chuckle. "Yeah, I guess it can be. If exhilarating is what you call lukewarm showers and buying all your food from the gas station."

You smiled back, happy the man seemed to be warming up some. He seemed less on edge, and you weren't sure why, but that made you feel accomplished in some way.

"Well, this isn't a gas station," you remarked, playfully contradicting his earlier statement.

"You're right, it's not," he said. "But I had to make an exception because-" You watched as he pulled a round object from his jacket pocket, holding it up and waving it slightly as if to show it off. "-gas stations don't carry mangoes."

You mock gasped, unable to fight back a smile. "Pocket fruit? I hope you were planning to pay for that. Or are you 'just passing through' because you're on the run from the police?"

You expected him to laugh at this, but instead you saw him staring intently over your shoulder at a man who had just entered the aisle. He seemed to identify the new arrival as some sort of threat. You saw that they were looking directly at each other, and you suddenly felt uneasy. Before you could ask what was wrong, several things began happening at once.

The man at the end of the aisle pulled out a gun and pointed it directly at the two of you. No, not at you, just at the kind stranger, who immediately pushed you behind him as the first shot rang out, followed by a second one. Thankfully, they both missed the two of you, but the second bullet grazed the basket you were still holding which was sticking out from behind the stranger's leg. Instantly, you dropped the basket and began sprinting for the nearest exit with the stranger close behind you.

You ran through a door marked 'EMPLOYEES ONLY,' which the stranger quickly barricaded with a tall shelf packed with bulk boxes of paper towel rolls. As the shooter banged at the door, the two of you found an exit at the back of the stock room, which you flung open and rushed through into the building's side alley. The stranger pulled you behind the building to where his vehicle was conveniently parked, almost as if he'd been anticipating an emergency escape. Too terrified to argue, you didn't protest when he ordered you to get in the passenger seat and jammed his keys in the ignition. He tore out of the parking lot and onto the main road, carrying you away from your home and the man who had tried to kill you both.

It took you half an hour to work up the courage to ask questions.

"Who was he?" you asked, softly. You're sure he heard you, although he seemed happy to pretend he didn't.

After a few long moments, when he realized you weren't going to stop staring at him until he answered, he begrudgingly responded.

"A bad man."

"Why did he wanna kill you?"

"I, uh, took something from him," the stranger said, studying his rear view mirror to see if you were being followed.

"Are you a bad man?" you asked, tentatively.

At first he just sighed, and for a moment you thought that's all he was going to give you for an answer, but then he spoke.

"I'm not going to hurt you, if that's what you're asking."

"Then. . . can you take me home?"

"I can't turn around yet, not 'till I know we're not being followed. Then I might be able to take you back so you can pack a bag or two."

"Pack?! For what?" you exclaimed, dreading the answer. There was another awkward silence while the man planned his answer. "Why do I need to pack? Tell me!"

"That man, the one with the gun? He has a, uh, habit of targeting his enemies' loved ones."

"But we barely know each other, why the hell would he-"

"He doesn't know that."

"Besides," he continued after a while, "I don't really. . . have any loved ones. So he's kinda grasping at straws to find somebody I'd want to protect."

"So, he thinks you would care if I died, and now we're both in danger?" You stared at him in disbelief.

"Pretty much, yeah," he mumbled.

After that, the truck was silent for a long while. The only time you spoke in the next two hours was to give the stranger your address. You watched the trees and road pass by beside you, trying to figure out what you would pack when you finally made it home for possibly the last time. You were lost in thought so long that you were pulled out of your head by the truck's tires bouncing over the dip in your driveway. You didn't even know you had turned around.

"You get ten minutes. We're traveling light, so don't go crazy." You began to hop out of the truck before the stranger's voice stopped you in your tracks. You turned around and saw that he was looking at you for the first time since you escaped the grocery store. "For the record," he began, contemplating what to say next, "I would care if he killed you."

You just stared back at him, not knowing how to respond to that.

"I'm gonna keep you safe, alright?" he promised, and you believed him.

You nodded, and went inside to gather your belongings. There was just something about this man that made you want to trust him. You managed to fit everything you needed into a large duffel bag and a back-pack. Looking around you, you realized something. You lived alone and all your friends lived out of state. This town had nothing to offer you except a shitty restaurant job. Most likely, the only person who would even notice you were gone was your boss. You took a deep breath before returning to the truck, putting your life in the hands of someone you just met.

You hopped back in the passenger seat, and the stranger helped you toss your bags in the backseat after checking that they were of a reasonable size. "You ready?" he asked.

"Fuck, no. Lets go."

The two of you took off down the road in a different direction than before, hoping to throw the bad man off your trail. After about an hour on the road, you looked over at the stranger to find him smirking slightly, lost in thought.

"What?" you asked, happy the mood seemed to be lightening despite your situation. He glanced over at you momentarily, and instead of providing a verbal response, he just reached into his pocket and handed you a slightly dented but still perfectly ripe mango. You took it from him with a smile.

"What's your name?" you asked.

He looked at you for a long moment, before seeming to make a decision. "Frank. What yours?"

You were brought back to the present by a torrent of freezing cold water, telling you you had been in there too long. You were thankful that Frank seemed to prefer morning showers. As you stepped out and dried off, you thought about the man chasing you. Eventually, when Frank opened up to you, he revealed that his name was Jordan Carlisle, and that his father was involved in the murder of Frank's family. You also discovered that the thing Frank had taken from him was his father's life. It had been so long since that day at the grocery store, and you wondered if you'd ever see him again. Maybe by this point, he'd given up on his revenge, and decided to leave Frank in peace. But Frank said Carlisle wasn't the type of man to just give up, and that if you ever wanted to stop running, someone would have to die.

During your few months together, you also learned that Frank wasn't the type to run away or avoid confrontation. The only reason he hadn't met Carlisle half way and taken him down was to keep you safe. That and the fact that he had been forced to leave behind some supplies shortly before you met and was left with nothing but a handgun, two bullets, and a pocket knife. (All things you could use to kill a man, but probably not a trained assassin).

You were both anticipating the end of the chase, however, because Frank had recently acquired various new firearms and a respectable pile of ammunition, and he was getting a little tired of running. Also, there's only so much distance you can put between you and your attacker before he realizes he's moving in the wrong direction. You had just pulled your favorite cotton nightgown over your head when-

*BANG*

You heard the unmistakable sound of the motel door being forced open. You heard a gunshot and something hit the floor. The sounds of a physical struggle just behind the bathroom door simultaneously relieved you and caused your heart to slam against your rib cage. At least you knew Frank was still alive. Unfortunately, so was the person who broke in. You couldn't see him, but you were pretty sure you knew who it was.

Two more gunshots shocked you into motion. You slid under the bathroom sink and tried desperately to remember what Frank told you to do on your first night together in case of a break in. He told you to get outside and find a hiding spot or barricade yourself in a closet or bathroom and wait for him to come get you. His voice in your head was commanding you, "Do. Not. Move." You tried to do as you were told but the urge to make sure Frank was alright was growing stronger. The muffled grunts and thuds were scaring you. You couldn't tell who had the upper hand and you didn't know enough about guns to determine which shots came from which man.

A loud cry of pain from Frank was your final straw. There wasn't a single thought in your head, let alone a plan, but you couldn't keep hiding while someone you cared about was potentially getting himself killed. You ran to the bathroom door, unlocked it, and threw it open with as much force as you could manage. The door slammed into the wall beside it with a loud crash. A distraction.

Just a few feet in front of you, Jordan Carlisle was caught off guard by the sound and he twirled around to find the source. Almost instantly, his gun was trained on you. Suddenly, you felt consumed by fear unlike anything you'd ever felt before. You heard the gunshot and flinched violently backward, as if you could somehow escape the bullet, stumbling back onto the bathroom floor. You screamed and squeezed your eyes shut tight, waiting for the impact, but it never came. You hesitantly opened your eyes just in time to watch Carlisle collapse onto the dirty motel carpet, eyes open and unseeing. He was dead. The chase was over.

Almost immediately you burst into tears, unable to get the image of his lifeless body out of your head. You knew you should be relieved, but there was something about almost dying that made you prone to emotional outbursts. You gazed up at Frank across the room, who still had his gun pointed at the spot where Carlisle had been standing moments before. He slowly lowered it and looked over at you where you were sitting on the floor, sobbing. He seemed angry, like every cell in his body was infused with a furious energy, and he had just shot the thing he was taking it out on.

"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?!" Guess now it was your turn. "I TOLD YOU IF SOMEONE BREAKS IN, YOU FIND A PLACE TO HIDE AND YOU STAY THERE."

"I was j-just wo-horried about you," you hiccuped.

"I HAD IT COVERED."

"I'm sorr-"

"YOU COULD HAVE GOTTEN YOURSELF KILLED. THEN ALL OF THIS RUNNING BULLSHIT WOULD HAVE BEEN FOR NOTHING."

You turned your head away from the shouting and found yourself looking directly at Carlisle again. This time, you were unable to turn away. It was like you were completely frozen, tension locking all your muscles in place, rendering you incapable of even the slightest movement. Your tears began falling harder but you were barely making a sound. Your lungs were tight and burning. You couldn't even draw in a full breath. Frank's reprimanding faded into background noise. You found yourself wishing desperately that you were anywhere but in that room.

"Oh, fuck," Frank muttered when he saw you damn near hyperventilating. He calmed down considerably when he realized yelling at you was only making things worse. "Shit, I didn't want you to see this."

He made his way over to your side of the room and knelt down to be at eye level with you. You barely acknowledged his presence.

"Hey, look at me," he asked gently. You didn't move your head. Softly, Frank cupped your cheek, the one farther away from him, and used it to turn you in his direction.

"You're gonna be okay," he promised. "Can you stand, sweetheart?"

Seeing Frank alive and calm helped you come back to yourself. Slowly, you nodded. Frank stood and held out his hand to you, which you used to pull yourself up with a little effort. You managed to get upright, but your legs were shaking so hard you weren't sure if you'd be able to walk. It was pathetic, and you were quite sure Frank would agree, but he didn't say anything about it. He just took one look at you and scooped you up into his arms. You were embarrassed by your incompetence, but you had finally stopped crying, and that was an accomplishment in and of itself.

Frank carried you over to your bed on the far side of the room and laid you down carefully. On your way over, you passed his bed which was closer to the bathroom, and saw two bullet holes in the pillow Frank had been laying on when you left to take a shower. That was when the relief hit you. You felt no more grief or fear or regret, only solaced by the fact that you were both alive and safe at last.

"Stay here, alright? Don't move," Frank murmured. He turned to walk over to the body again but you grabbed onto his arm before he could leave. He looked back at you questioningly.

"I heard you get hurt," you mentioned shyly. "What happened?"

Frank's eyes revealed that he was happy you were talking again. He seemed touched that your first concern when the shock wore off was for him.

"Ran into the nightstand," he admitted, rubbing his side. "It's just bruised, nothing to worry about."

You had a feeling he wasn't telling you the full story, but you decided to accept his answer. As far as you could tell, he wasn't bleeding anywhere and he didn't seem to be in much pain. Satisfied, you let go of his arm and turned to face the wall. You had a feeling you wouldn't want to see what was about to happen.

You laid there for a while, listening to Frank working behind you. You heard something being dragged across the floor, several grunts of effort and a sickening thud. You heard the faucet running in the sink and the sound of the bathroom door closing. There were footsteps moving around the room. . . the sound of someone changing clothes. You smelled the air freshener left in the bathroom cabinet masking the scent of blood.

Finally, after God knows how long, you felt the bed dip slightly as Frank sat down on the edge. You sat up and moved next to him, resting your head on his shoulder after a moment of hesitation. He put his arm around your shoulder and held you closer to him. The two of you weren't usually this affectionate, but you had certainly grown closer during your time together, and you figured the situation called for it.

"Do you think the police are on their way down here?" you asked.

Frank shrugged. "Probably not if they haven't shown up by now." Frank tried and failed to fight back a small smile. "Either that guy behind the front desk is a really heavy sleeper, or he did something to piss off the jackass in our bathtub. The only other people in this dump checked out yesterday," he said. You couldn't help but smile at that along with him. You were just so happy to be alive.

The more you let that thought run through your head, the more you wanted to be close to him. You needed more than an arm around your shoulder after you almost got shot in the head. You wanted to be held. 'Oh, sue me,' you thought. 'Who wouldn't?'

But you tried to let it be enough. You weren't sure how Frank would react to more than what you were already doing and you were too nervous to find out. You felt Frank shift next to you and realized that overthinking had caused you to become tense. The silence between you grew slowly thicker and you were worried he was about to pull away from you. In that moment, Frank standing up seemed like the absolute worst thing in the world that could happen to anyone, and you weren't about to let it.

'Fuck it', you thought, and with one quick movement, you were straddling his lap with your arms thrown over his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. He was caught off guard for a brief moment, but a second later his arms were wrapped around your waist, holding you just as tightly. You buried your face in his neck, breathing him in and savoring the feeling of his pulse against your cheek.

"We're okay, Frankie," you breathed. "It's over."

"I told you I was gonna keep you safe, sweetheart. I don't make promises I can't keep."

The two of you stayed like that for a while, content to just hold each other until the sun shone through the curtains. Well, you thought you were content, but it wasn't long before the closeness started to affect you. He was just so warm and solid, and suddenly you felt like he was wearing too many clothes. You wanted to feel him. Feel his heartbeat and the warmth of his skin on yours.

Your stomach was tight with desperation and you felt tears forming behind your eyes. You needed to be closer. Your thighs tightened around Frank's hips and he felt your breathing get heavier against his neck. You shifted your position slightly to ease some of the wanting in your veins but you froze when you heard Frank's breath hitch.

As you settled your weight on his lap again, your new position provided a new sensation. There was something warm pressing against your inner thigh. Even through Frank's impenetrable denim jeans, you could feel it heating up.

Frank was just as aroused by your position as you were. He wanted you, too, but you knew he would never admit it because he cared about you too much to do anything that could potentially hurt you.

The worst part was, you could feel it getting bigger and pulsing softly right next to where you wanted it the most, and he knew you could feel it. He knew, and he knew you wanted it, but he still wasn't saying anything about it because he was too damn stubborn. He probably thought you weren't in your right mind and would regret it in the morning but that was just such bullshit. You could never regret him, and you were going to make sure he knew that.

There was still some part of you that was afraid to make a move, and that part of you really wanted Frank to break first. So, you decided to make him unable to ignore it any longer. Pretending to adjust your position again, you settled down directly on top of his bulge, making sure it was exactly where you wanted it. The feeling of his cock hardening against you sent another wave of desperation through your body, causing you to tighten your limbs around him again. Still feigning innocence, you rolled your hips once for good measure, grinding down on him to see his reaction.

You didn't see it so much as feel it, when his arms tensed up around you and he turned his head away from you in frustration. You could feel your blood pumping hard, and you were sure your face was flushed. You wondered if he could feel your heartbeat the same way you could feel his pressed up against your clit. You felt his cock twitch again, even through three layers of fabric, and you could barely take it any more. You rolled your hips again, purely on instinct, and accidentally let out a soft moan.

Frank exhaled sharply and slid his arm from around your waist to pull your head away from his neck.

"What are you doin', sweetheart?" he asked, looking at you sympathetically when he saw your wrecked face. Suddenly, it was all too much for you, and there was nothing you could do to stop a rogue tear from sliding down your cheek.

"Please," you whispered, and that was all you had to say.

He put a hand on the back of your neck and pulled you toward him before lightly brushing his lips against yours. You pushed forward, wanting more, but Frank pulled away before you could really kiss him. He just sat there for a moment, searching your eyes for any signs of reluctance or any lack of clarity whatsoever. In the end, he found nothing but pure desire and maybe, just maybe, love.

This time, when he leaned in, you met him half way. This time, it was more than just a brush of lips. Frank kissed you like you were the most precious thing in the world to him. Gentle, yes, but also tortuously deep. You felt his tongue brush against your lower lip and gently coax your mouth open to kiss you harder, and it was warm and wet and perfect. As your need got worse, you began to grind down on him again, sighing into his mouth from the friction.

The hand he had on your neck moved up to tangle in your hair, tugging gently, while the other one shifted to settle on your lower back as he encouraged harder, slower movements of your hips. As he forced you down against him, the feeling of the rough denim on your clit through your thin panties caused you to whine quietly. Every slight movement sent sparks shooting up your spine.

You shifted your body backwards and reached down between you to tug at his zipper, but it didn't want to come down. Frank let you struggle with it for a moment, but just as you started getting frustrated, he took over for you.

In one swift movement, you were on your back underneath him, your legs still hooked around him. He sat up for a moment to pull off his shirt (revealing his fucking perfect abs that seemed completely unfair and you were about to LOSE YOUR MIND BECAUSE HOLY SHIT) and then he was back on top of you, pressing one last kiss to your lips before pulling away to look you in the eyes.

"You sure you want this, sweetheart?"

"Don't you fucking dare leave me like this, Castle."

Frank snorted, rolling his eyes affectionately. "Yes, ma'am."

With one hand, he reached down to unzip and tug down his pants and underwear, freeing his flushed cock from it's uncomfortable confines. It was bigger than you expected it to be, which is saying something because you already knew he was big from rubbing against it. He was so hard it looked painful, and he gave himself a few tugs to take the edge off. Just watching it drip onto the bed had you feeling dizzy. You were unbearably wet and all you wanted was to feel it inside of you.

Luckily, Frank seemed to tell as much, because he slid his hand up your thigh, kissing your neck gently and pushing the hem of your nightgown up to your stomach. He hooked the fingers of one hand in the waistband of your underwear but he paused there, waiting for some sort of go-ahead. You nodded at him, and he sat back again to tug your panties down your legs and pull them off.

This time, instead of immediately climbing back on top of you, Frank took a moment to admire you from an upright position. He gazed hungrily at your exposed cunt before swiping a finger through your folds and brushing your clit with the pad of his thumb. You jolted at the feeling, whimpering when he did it again just to watch you shudder.

"Frankie, please," you whined.

Frank decided to have mercy on you, and he came up to kiss you as he lined the tip of his cock up with your aching hole. He pushed slowly until the thick head was all the way in, surrounded by your soft, fluttering walls. It was a stretch, and it wasn't even half-way in. You appreciated Frank giving you a moment to adjust, but you didn't want one. You wanted to feel all of him, even if it hurt.

Hooking your legs tighter around him, you tried to push him into you. It didn't work, obviously. You didn't think you could move Frank if you barreled into him full-force, but he got the message.

In one smooth thrust, he buried himself fully inside you, grunting loudly and whispering an "Oh, fuck" into your neck. Your back arched up off the bed and you moaned loudly as his cock hit sweet spots inside you that you didn't even know existed.

Having Frank hovering over you, connected to you in so many ways, was easily the best thing you'd ever experienced. You were both breathing heavily and shaking as you waited for the initial pleasure shock to wear off.

Once you adjusted, you shifted slightly under him, trying to fuck yourself on his cock. Whatever stimulation you managed to get from that was nothing compared to when he actually started moving. Each thrust was slow and deep, sending waves of bliss coursing through you. You couldn't stop the gasps and whimpers that kept escaping, nor did you want to.

Franks arms were on either side of your head, closing you in so all you could see and feel was him. You had never felt so safe in your entire life. Every movement was so complete and perfect. Nothing was rushed or forceful, but it was still all pure pleasure. You were sure you had never been this wet before.

Feeling Frank's back muscles shift under your fingertips as he thrust into you was mesmerizing, and hearing him moan softly and curse against your pulse point was sending shivers through your body. Every time Frank pushed his cock back inside you, you felt yourself ascending further, rapidly approaching your peak. Every time he pulled out slowly so you could feel it dragging against every part of your sensitive walls, you wanted to sob from feeling so good.

It wasn't long before you were crying out from your release, tightening your grip on every part of Frank and leaving long scratches down his back. When your climax finally hit, you swore you were having an out-of-body experience.

"Attagirl, that's it," Frank whispered as he felt you spasm around him. "Oh, fuck, sweetheart. Where-" he began. Reluctantly, you rubbed your hand on your stomach. You hadn't had access to birth control in almost six weeks and shitty motels don't provide condoms. Even the ones with good water pressure.

You rubbed the back of Frank's head gently as his thrusts grew more erratic, grabbing onto and playing with his hair. Suddenly, he pulled out of you and jerked his cock barely three times before he was finishing on your stomach with a quiet groan, painting it with his cum.

Breathing heavily, the two of you collapsed next to each other, coming down from your highs and processing what just happened. Idly, you began playing with the mess on your stomach as you thought about what was next for the two of you. There was no way in hell you were letting Frank drop you off at your house and just take off after that. You know you said "It's over," but it couldn't really be over, right?

"Stay with me," you whispered.

"I'm not goin' anywhere, baby."

"I'm not talking about tonight. When you take me back home, stay with me."

Frank pushed himself up on one elbow, looking at you in disbelief. "Sweetheart, I don't think I can-"

"Then I'll stay with you. My house is a family heirloom, I've only gotta pay for water and electricity. It'll still be waiting for me whenever I need it."

"I can't let you do that. You have no idea how much I want to, but I'd get you killed."

"Then stop moving for a while. No one would find you in that town. Just stay with me. Please. If you hate it, you can leave."

Frank sighed, glancing around the room before settling his gaze back on you. He brought his hand to your face, brushing his fingertips down your cheek like you were a precious artifact. You both knew he wasn't ready to let you go.

"Okay."

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#jon bernthal #frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle smut #jon bernthal x reader #jon bernthal smut #frank castle fanfiction

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thejujvtsupost · 6 months

Note

Getting fucked into sub space with Toji 👀

✨ Subspace ✨

GOOD LAWD ANON I LOVE THE WAY YOU THINK- someone bring me the fainting couch asap 😩

Notes: F!reader, praise kink, sub space, proper bdsm etiquette, unprotected sex, overstim- honestly this is just horny. Sorry not sorry.

“You got one more for me, don’t ya? I can feel you squeezing baby, c’mon.”

Three times. You already came three times and he didn’t care that he hadn’t come once. But that was Toji, he was a little obsessed with you. He was obsessed with making you come, seeing your fucked out expression when you clenched and fluttered around him like you were made to take his cock.

You whine, you wanted to respond but you can’t say much aside from your whimpers that vaguely sound like ‘please’- not that you’re aware you’re making any noise in the first place. He’s rubbing your clit in gentle little circles, a complete contrast to his unforgiving, near animalistic thrusts into your sweet spot. All you know is it hurts so good and you’re gonna be sore but the pleasure is otherworldly.

“Yeah that’s right baby, let it go. I gotcha, come for me. ‘Need that pretty little cunt of yours t’come on my cock. Fuckkkk-”

He’s spilling into you as you squirt, you actually squirted; something you’d never done before. Your brain wasn’t registering anything after that for a long time- or maybe a few minutes? It didn’t matter.

Toji stayed inside of you as he came down, you were still fluttering around him like you needed him to stay- he wanted to despite the light overstimulation he felt; but it was more important he switched his focus. You needed him to be responsible and take care of you in such a vulnerable state.

You were boneless, and Toji took pride in your inability to do anything. He sat against the headboard and pulled you between his legs to surround you in himself.

With your body laid against his chest, the water from the nightstand was brought to your lips. You were given a kiss on your temple with simple order to “take a drink baby” while he held the glass. Coming inside of you was a close second, but taking care of you like this was his favorite part.

“You did so good f’me, so good. Love you so much. Followed all my directions like a good girl.” He reassured you, Toji always whispers so softly when you’re in the clouds, he doesn’t want to burst your bubble or trigger a drop by being abrasive or loud. You trusted him with this side of you and he took it to heart.

“When you’re ready we’ll take a hot bath and clean up, just drift off for now. I’ll handle everything.”

He was the best at aftercare, it was what he looked forward to the most.

Thinking about making a request? Check my bio to see if they’re open! <3

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sapphos-ode · 6 months

Text

Blue is the Ocean’s Gaze

Larissa Weems

I’m sleep deprived, it’s almsot 2am and I just wrote this in one sitting so I’m sorry if it makes no sense.(1.2k)

Summer’s grip of the land was slowly fading, becoming less of a hold and more of a withering grasp — her fingers barely holding back the clouds of autumn, her breath struggling to keep the umber from colouring the leaves. As weak as summer was becoming, today still procured a blue sky, and a shining sun that took the edge off of the encroaching chill of Autumn as it slowly awakened.

The crests and peaks of the waves caught the light, sparkling and twinkling as if the stars of the night had fallen into its depths. The ocean seemed to breathe in languid movements, at leisure, unrushed without a worry in the world.

A gentle breeze sailed inland and caressed the world, carrying a salty air. A few children splash around at the shore, infinite grains of sand clinging to their legs. The water will wash them away only for more to stick. You watch them laugh, from afar, where you sit on a grass embankment. The noise does not reach you and they’re all but small figures in your vision. But their happiness is unmistakable.

A blur of black and white tears along the beach. It skids to a halt, legs going in all directions as it ensures a battered tennis ball in its mouth. The dog’s tail is flying awry as it trots back to its owner, head held high, the ball like a hunting trophy.

You smile to yourself as you make a few choice brushstrokes on your canvas, once happy with the blur of a dog you dot a tiny little bit of fluorescent yellow just before it. You lean back and squint your eyes, letting out a satisfied hum before working in more details.

For the life of you, you can’t paint the sea. Whenever you look at it, it seems dull. Despite the way it dances with the light, despite the deep rich cobalt hues in it. Your eyes seem to fail you. So you focus on other parts of the land before you. Leaving the ocean nonexistent.

You feel a pair of eyes on you, out of sheer curiosity you peek over your shoulder and catch the eye of an older woman sitting on a bench not too far away from you. She’s quick to avert her gaze, suddenly finding the grass very interesting as she twiddles her thumbs. You take the opportunity to study her. She’s dressed immaculately, a gorgeous cream dress that stops just before her knees, and matching heels. Platinum blonde hair has been styled into an intricate updo, locks of hair curling into an elaborate picture of swirls. You note she seems to favour pale colours, but the striking red of her lipstick creates a delicious contrast and you can’t help but be drawn to her lips.

The woman chances a glance up, hoping you’ve gone back to your canvas so she can continue observing you. Her eyes blow wide as she meets yours again. Her cheeks take on a puce tone at being caught staring. How unbecoming of her.

You smile and give her a little wave, which she reciprocates. What you do next takes her by surprise, a simple gesture of your head to beckon her closed. She obliged, standing slowly. Gods she’s tall is all you can think.

As she nears you move your painting supplies off of the second stool you had laid them on. Storing them on a small platform nailed to the easel — they teeter a little but you know they’ll stay.

“Join me?” You offer.

“Sorry,” the woman takes the seat, “I didn’t mean to be rude,”

“No need to apologise…” you hum, prolonging the last syllable.

“Larissa!” She clears her throats, “Larissa Weems,”

Her accent is soothing.

“Larissa,” you say her name slowly, it’s a beautiful one. Fitting for her. You offer your own name in return and shake the hand she holds out.

“Do you paint as well?” You ask as you pick up your paintbrush and continue where you left off.

“No, art has never been something I’m good at, but I love watching others paint,” she tilts her head as she watches your hand, “I don’t often get to see that though, which is why you caught me staring,”

You look at her for a second. Up close you can see her eyes and they are truly captivating.

“You have a front row seat now,” you give her a smirk before returning to your canvas.

“That I do,” she muses, “do you do a lot of plein air painting?”

“Not much, but it’s refreshing when I do,” you keep your focus on your work, “the world changes and it forces me to convey the movement and feel of the land instead of making a picture of it,” you lean back again and study your work.

“Is there a technique to not- ” she stops, eyes furrowed as she tries to find the right way to phrase her question, “I’m curious why you’ve not painted the sea. It’s such a large part of the landscape,”

You smile as you gaze into her eyes, “it’s been giving me trouble so I decided to leave it for now, the ocean is lost to me,”

“Oh, I- that makes sense, I’ve given students the same advice for exams,” she nods to herself, “it’s best to skip a question and revisit it at the end if you’re struggling with it,”

“My teachers gave me the same advice,” you chuckle, “So, if you do not paint, what do you do in your spare time?”

The blonde takes a pause to think, what did she do?

“Free time has been scarce as of late,” she grumbles, “but I love a good book, and poetry,”

“And watching strangers from afar?” You watch her form your peripheral. With a raised brow and a lopsided smile.

She blushes and looks to the side with a sheepish expression. “I do apologise- ”

“I’m only joking, your company is welcome, Larissa,” you place a hand on her knee and give it one reassuring squeeze before it returns back to your lap. “What do you read?”

Hours go by, or is it minutes? And nothing but conversation passes by between you and Larissa. The sun is inching closer to the horizon and the children from earlier are long gone. Dog walkers are scarce and the sand remains still as the ocean creeps in.

You’ve long stopped painting, deciding to count the waves. It pleases you that every seventh wave is the largest before you start from one again. Just as you have abandoned your canvas so too has Larissa, in favour of observing you.

A cold wind rushes past you and you shiver, “I believe we should get heading. It’s only going to get chillier,”

“Yes, I suppose we must…” Larissa sighs, finding she does not want to part from you so soon. Her eyes glance to your work and she smiles, “I see you managed to do the ocean,”

You gaze into Larissa’s eyes, fascinated by the way her eyes are soft like the sky on a summer’s day, how they seem as tumultuous as the ocean during a storm. The crystalline hues of cerulean and azure beg for you to paint them.

Larissa feels her face heat up from the way you look at her. Her eyes flit down to your lips as she swallows, then back to your eyes, “You found the ocean then,”

You give your painting a cursory glance before returning your gaze back to her eyes.

“I found the ocean,”

#larissa weems #larissa weems x reader

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luvyanfei · 3 years

Text

how they comfort you when you’re sad

ft. diluc, kaeya, venti, childe, zhongli, albedo, & xiao non-requested piece

diluc ragnvindr.

as stoic as diluc may be, he’s the most emotionally affected by your misery out of the others listed here, but he’s clueless in how to help. he’s not adept in everything despite being known for being a perfectionist and unfortunately, comforting you is one of them. he would reach out a hand to you, and then pull it back to his side before you notice. it annoys him greatly how he can insult the knights without hesitation and combat against his enemies confidently, and yet...

it’s easy to get diluc flustered over the simpler things in life. you’re usually so happy and lively, the light to his dark that he finds it almost eerie to see you looking depressed as you enter the tavern. you don’t even spare him a glance, and slumps down at an empty seat, your head splayed down on the table. out of concern for your wellbeing, the winery owner whips up your favourite drink free of charge and delivers it himself to your spot. instead of leaving you as one would expect, he pulls up a chair and taps the wooden surface of the table with his gloved fingers, stirring you to look up at him. he greets you in a monotone voice unintentionally, and shyly asks if there are any problems going on in your life. he may not look like it, with how distant he is, but diluc would be very pleased to help you.

with hesitation, you take the drink and start taking small sips from the cup. the savory taste melts on your tongue and your lips quiver slightly. before you know it, you’re reduced into a sobbing mess, your tears staining the floor. “what’s wrong?” dismayed, diluc rises up and pats your back, handing you a handkerchief from his jacket pocket for you to wipe your tears away with.

he ushers you into a private room where nobody can see you and rubs your hands together. he doesn’t talk, instead fixating on calming you down. dabbing at your swollen eyes and cheeks gently with a drenched towel, diluc cradles your face and leans in close to you, your foreheads touching. “i’m here, [name],” his voice is soft and delicate, a sharp contrast to his formal and uninterested tone, “i will always be here for you, so you don’t need to worry about suffering alone. we’ll get through this together, alright?”

kaeya alberich.

he’ll take you to the tavern with him for a nice drink. it won’t do you any good to be by yourself and moping, right? as hypocritical as it may seem, kaeya is fully accepting of you coming to him for emotional support despite being rather closed-off when it comes to his personal emotions. if you’re underage, he’ll purchase you a soft drink or juice, and if not, a glass of wine will surely boost your spirits up. his attempt to cheer you up is to temporarily distract you from it. quite clever of him, no? of course, his objective isn’t for you to ignore your problems altogether, but to take your mind off of it until you can think a bit clearly.

kaeya will act like a gentleman the whole time, letting a few teasing remarks slip out every now and then, but his attitude is toned down for the most part. after you consumed a plentiful amount of beverages, he takes a stroll with you in the night, passing by a bard stringing music on their lyre. this gives the cavalry captain an idea and he takes you into a secluded area, fireflies glowing to add a touch of whimsy to the scenario. still gripping your hand, he raises it up to kiss the surface and proposes you to join him in for a dance under the moonlight and stars.

kaeya looks at you with a brimming grin. “are you feeling better now?” you nod, placing a hand on his open palm.

“now that you’re here, yes, i am.” his smile broadens and cups your cheek with his free hand. the tip of his thumb lightly grazes your bottom lip before he replaces it with his lips. the kiss is passionate and savory, a description that fits your relationship perfectly.

“i’m glad you do,” he pulls back and breathes out a sigh of relief. “it’s the same with me. i admit, i also enjoy your company very much.”

venti.

it’s best to let your emotions run loose. don’t bottle it up, okay? if you need to cry, then cry. sure, venti may act all carefree and exuberant, but even he has his serious sides from time to time. he takes the situation rather calmly, pulling you into a comforting embrace and rubbing your back as you tearfully sob. when he feels that you’re muscles have slowly relaxed and your cries have been reduced to tiny sniffles, he transitions out of the hug and places his hands on your shoulder, all with an angelic smile on his face. see, that wasn’t so bad, now was it?

if you’re up for it, venti will be happy to play you a quiet melody carried in the night breeze. he’ll position your head to lean on his shoulder as both of you sit down on the ground and he clears his throat before he begins singing. the stringing of the lyre, the gentle rustle of the leaves in the background, and the soothing sound of his voice automatically brings a smile to your lips. snuggling closer to him, you drift in a state of contentment and serenity. once the bard catches wind of your heavy breathing, your eyes fluttered closed, he stops his singing and presses a dainty kiss to your forehead.

carefully, so he doesn’t disturb your slumber, venti carries you back to your resident and tucks you into bed. as he’s about to head off, you snag him by the wrist, and tug him back to your side. “please don’t go yet, venti.” he pats the hand imprisoning his wrist and chuckles in amusement.

“don’t worry. i don’t plan on ever doing something like that.” he crawls into bed with you, tangling your legs together and hooking his arms around your waist. the tip of his nose grazes your hair faintly as your back is pressed against his chest. “not now, and not ever.”

childe.

he’s the eleventh harbinger, yes, but beneath his fearsome title and mischievous demeanor, childe is a regular human with an affable heart. it hurts him seeing you look dejected, as if you’re on the brink of suffocating from insufferable pain. it’s like your emotions are a type of infection, contagious to say the least. if you’re happy, then he’s happy. if you’re sad, then you’ll bet he’s also going to drop his jovial gleam. luckily, growing up with siblings gives him an advantage here. he’s used to taking care of others and turning their frowns upside down.

if he finds out someone has been upsetting you, he’ll personally deal with them himself, ordering them to apologize lest they want to face his wrath. if you’re having financial difficulties, he’ll lend you a generous amount of mora so you can clear your debts or help you find a well-paying job. either way, he’ll cradle you in his arms and compliment you for being strong, no matter what life throws at you. life’s hard, but that’s all the more reason why you should keep marching forward - hand in hand with childe.

“shh, [name], it’s okay. don’t cry.” childe kneels before you and wipes away a salty tear. grabbing a teddy bear abandoned on the ground, he shoves it in front of your face. to your sudden bewilderment, he grabs the bear’s arm to pat you on the head and grins. “there, there. mr. teddy is here to make you happy once more.”

you sputter out a giggle despite tears still leaking from your eyes. “childe, i’m not a little kid anymore. cut it out!” he resists the urge to pinch your cheeks when you pout cutely at him.

“fine, fine. i’ll stop, but hey! at least you’re smiling again, right?” you roll your eyes and sniff.

“yeah, i’m feeling a little better. thank you.”

your comment forms a blush to dust his cheeks and he sheepishly scratches the back of his head. “there’s no need for gratitude. to me, your smile is the one thing i’d hate to lose.”

zhongli.

feeling sad? his arms are already wide open and a box of tissues is conveniently laid on the table. zhongli is the wave that laps up your sorrows and tears, the lulling sound of his voice uttering words of reassurance like a tranquil melody to set your heart at ease. he’s the type who will lend a shoulder for you to cry on. while he brews up a nice cup of tea to soothe your mind, he encourages you gently to tell him whatever it is that’s bothering you. he soaks up every syllable that falls from your lips like a sponge and in a pensive state, he gives you advice in turn.

you take his words to heart, since everything he’s said before have always been genuine and your trust in him runs deeper than the bottom of the sea. sure, maybe not everything he says is the answer that will cause your problems disappear, but he does guide you to choose rationally how you want to approach it. as much as zhongli would like to solve everything for you, he’s aware that there are times where only you have the potential to fix the issue.

the golden ginkgo leaves twirl in the autumn breeze, as zhongli clasps his hands with yours. you adjust the scarf around your neck, shivering from the mild chill settling in liyue.

you stare grimly at the seagulls soaring in the cloudy sky, and peers down at your feet planted firmly on the ground. a frown tugs on your lips and you sigh. a warm hand caresses your cheek and you look towards zhongli smiling gently in your direction. wiping away the tears that are beginning to moist your eyes, he encages you in a comforting hug.

“don’t hold it in,” zhongli whispers soothingly in your ear, “you’re allowed to cry if you want. i promise you, there’s no judgement.”

albedo.

it’s like he has a sixth sense. you could have been crying in your sleep last night and the first thing you wake up to is all your favourite meals placed rigorously on a sliver tray and a positive message with cursive, neat handwriting scribbled on a notepad for you to read. albedo is rather considerate, like that. before you started to live together and entered a more domestic relationship, he visited your home and asked if anything was wrong in a neutral tone that belied his concern. you were shocked how he could have possibly known since you were sure you concealed the visible evidences skillfully with makeup, and you looked quite normal for the most part, as if you hadn’t been crying mere seconds before he knocked on your door.

he shrugs indifferently and responds that he just has a feeling something’s bothering you. albedo will take a day off from his confinement in his lab so he can stay with you. he takes you by the hand and gestures for you to sit down on a nearby chair beside him, offering you delectable appetites to eat while you rant to him. once you’re finished spilling out your problems, he kisses you on the forehead and tells you that you did a good job. it isn’t easy to admit you’re not mentally well, in which he praises you for.

hugging your legs to your chest, you quietly ask him if it’s not a bother. firmly, albedo shakes his head and squeezes your hand reassuringly. “no, you’re never a bother.” he scoops up a spoonful of ice cream and feeds you the cool dessert. once you swallow, his lips curve into a little smirk as he wipes away the excess on the side of your mouth with a finger and licks the cream off with his tongue.

“whether you’re happy, sad, or disappointed, my love for you will never change.”

xiao.

he’s not very good at handling these types of situations. xiao can never know what he’s supposed to say or do to make you feel better, so he just stands there awkwardly. please don’t blame him! he’s already terrible at consoling himself that having to cheer someone else up seems more like an impossible challenge than a simple task. however, like albedo, he can also sense if you’re depressed or in need of saving. what do you mortals call it, an instinct?

he asks verr for advice on what to do to help, and she suggests for him to stick by your side and show that he cares deeply about you. it takes xiao a while to come up with a suitable plan. he wanders up to the highest floor of wangshu inn and reminisces over the past. your first meeting with him, the time when you gave him almond tofu, and when you both fought together to protect liyue - he’s memorized it all down to the last detail. suddenly, an idea clicks into place and he teleports immediately to where you are. sitting on a bench alone, while you absentmindedly watch the birds peck at the crumbs scattered on the cement floor, it takes you by surprise when you find xiao hovering above you. he reaches out his hand and composedly asks if you would be willing to accompany him for the night.

when you encounter him at the location where you agreed to meet, you curiously question xiao what he wants to do, but he doesn’t reply. instead, he scoops you up in his arms, a surprised expression on your face as you wrap your arms around his neck so you don’t end up falling. before you know it, both of you are... soaring in the air? your eyes subconsciously drift to his vision glowing brightly in the murky night. so he’s using his anemo abilities to create wind currents and literally sweep you off your feet.

“do you see this place?” he gestures with his head for you to look at liyue harbor. the city lights glow in the darkness and most people are walking back home, idly chatting with each other and giggling. “it wouldn’t be as peaceful as it is now if it weren’t for you. so if you ever feel sad again, know that it’s you who puts a smile on everyone’s faces - including mine.”

and with that, xiao smiles serenely at you, to which you finally offer a grin of your own.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #xiao x reader #xiao #albedo #albedo x reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli #venti #venti x reader #childe x reader #childe #diluc #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya

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henry-and-the-seven-lords · 3 years

Text

Crying Some Sense

Lucifer x MC

Brothers Masterlist | Dateables Masterlist

Prompt: "No, don't cry, I hate it when you cry."

Description: Lucifer has been put under house arrest and has been keeping himself in his office. His brothers and MC are worried, so they devise a plan to pull him out.

Warning: angst, slightly fluffy ending, Changing and possible spoiling of events from Lesson 14, there is also some threatening language so be weary of that

Levi and Mammon walk behind MC. They trudged through the damp grass behind the House of Lamentations as the sun begins to set.

"So are you sure this is going to work?" MC's voice sounds skeptical. Mammon's grand plan to get Lucifer out of the house while under arrest was for MC to touch the Grimoire Luke had picked up a few weeks earlier. This would have been easy, but recently it was moved to the mausoleum, where a certain three headed dog that only listened to Lucifer watched over it.

Mammon flashes them a smile, nodding as he walked, "Of course, ya touch it and he'll come bursting out of his office and we can talk about everything."

"Yeah, burstings right." Levi mumbled to himself before his voice began to raise, "Bursting with anger-" Levi is silence by his brother's hand as MC turns around.

"What did Levi say?" Fear filled their eyes as they watched Levi struggle in Mammon's grip.

"He just said, he'll be bursting with excitement! That's all!" His words are followed by an unconvincing laugh. MC stares at the two unconvinced before turning around. When MC starts walking again, Mammon smacks Levi's shoulder and whisper yells, "Keep your mouth shut. We don't need them freaking out even more."

Levi's eyes widened at his older brother as he whispered back, "You know it's true! Are you just going to throw them in front of Lucifer without telling them how mad he will be!?"

Mammon shushes him before checking on MC. As the wind began to howl, he answered his brother, "I was gonna figure that out when we got there. Now come on!"

Mammon grabbed Levi's arm and pulled him forward as they began to catch a glimpse of the rest of the party.

Within seconds the three were standing before Beel, Asmo, and Satan. It had become dark in the time it took Levi, Mammon, and MC to reach the outside of the mausoleum gates.

The wind began to whip around them fiercely as Asmo spoke, "Are you ready to talk to Lucifer?" His voice sounded sweet against the harsh wind.

"I-I think so." MC voice stuttered as the began to shiver against the cold night air.

When Beel heard their voice stutter, he walked over to them giving MC his jacket, "You know what to talk about, right?"

MC nodded at the tall demon, "I need to ask him about Belphie."

Satan nodded with a smile, "Correct. We'll be close by making sure Cerebrus stays out of your hair."

MC looked around, as best as they could in the dark, at all the brothers. Across everyone's faces was the same expression of sadness. These demons standing before them knew something that they did not and that terrified MC to their core.

Before long, Mammon's booming voice interrupted their thoughts, "Alright, let's get this show on the road."

The Brothers led the way as MC walked behind them. The group was silent. A solemn, anxious air surrounded them as each foot crunched the grass below.

As they approached the entrance, Beel began to fall back and walk next to MC. He seemed anxious as well. This wasn't the first time MC had seem the gentle giant worry, but this was by far the worst it has ever been.

They glanced over and could see him playing with his fingers and sneaking glances at them as if he wanted to say something.

To ease his nerves, MC began the conversation, "Are you excited that you could see your twin again?"

A contented smiles passed Beel's face at MC's words, "Yeah... It really means a lot to me- to us. That you are doing this. That you are bringing our family back together."

MC smiled back. Beel's words warmed MC's heart and made the chills raking their body stop for just a moment, "It's the least I can do."

As MC finishes speaking, Mammon's voice yells over the wind to the group, "We're here."

Beel jogs up to the front of the group next to Mammon. The two begin to open the ornate stone doors leading into the mausoleum. Once the doors are pulled back, light floods their eyes blinding them for a second as they gaze into the cavernous tomb.

Mammon stands in the doorway puffing his chest and looking around to his brothers before he begins to speak once again.

"Asmo, Satan," He points to the pair, "You two go to the left and search for Cerebrus." He then gestures to the other two brothers and himself, "Levi, Beel, and I will go to the right." Mammon then turns his gaze from his brothers to MC, that sullen expression taking over his face once again. He walks up to them, gently placing his hand on their shoulders.

"You go dead center. Don't look back. Don't stop. No matter what you hear. You run to that book." As MC stared into his eyes they could see tears begin to prick the corners before he turned away saying, "Everyone got it?"

A resounding yes was heard and the group made their way in. They walked down a set of grand stone stairs.

MC stopped on the last stair as all the brothers looked at them. Asmo walked up to them grabbing their hands and speaking to them, "You wait here until you can't see us anymore. Then you start running." He looked into their eyes as he bent down and laid a gentle kiss on their hands.

All the Brothers looked at MC with sad eyes. Slowly they went up to them one at a time giving hugs and words of encouragement.

After all of their hugs were given, they split up and began to walk in different directions. MC stood and watched the brothers slowly disappear from their view until they were alone.

They stepped down gently taking a deep breath, before they began to sprint straight ahead.

As they ran, they could hear the pitter patter of soft feet to their left. The sound was then followed by a shout, "Over here, Cerebrus!" The voice sounded like Satan in the distance.

MC kept running as resounding shouts began to surround them on both sides. Mammon, Levi, Beel, Asmo, and Satan were all heard. Their voices seemed to echo off the walls and it became indistinguishable which side they were coming from.

After 5 minutes their legs began to burn as a statue came into view. They slowed before taking a breath and staring at the beautiful figure.

The towering statue was a young woman. Her face was solemn as her wings spread out from her back as if they were sheltering her. Her head was bent down and he hands were extended, almost as if she was giving an offering. In her hands, sat a black book.

"This must be the Grimoire everyone talked about." Their voice echoed in the mass of sound.

MC stepped closer inspecting the book. The black cover was made out of leather that had begun to crack. While the pages were thick and beginning to yellow creating a stark contrast of color.

They reached out their hands grabbing the book before looking around for the demon they came here to see.

The screaming that once filled the giant space stopped along with the sound of paws smacking against the floor. Everything was silent.

While waiting for something or someone to appear, MC became curious as to the books contents and began to flip through the pages.

As the pages fell open with a crinkle, the ground began to shake beneath them tearing their attention away from the Grimoire.

They looked up, before them stood Lucifer in his demon form. The ground below him was cracked and dust settled around him.

His gaze and aura is one of anger and determination as he begins to walk closer to MC.

"I see that you can't listen." His voice is steady and stern as he approaches.

MC's voice feels caught in their throat as they begin to step back to add some distance. As they did this, they shut the book and clutched it to their chest.

"I tell you to never touch this book, and yet here you are disobeying me once again." His eyes begin to flare red as MC hits the statue's hands, crawling on them to get away.

"Do you even know who I am? Do you know what you are defacing?" His expression looks crazed as his teeth become bared as he speaks.

MC finally finds their voice as they stare into his eyes, "I did this to help you. I wanted to talk about-"

"Help me!? You think this is helping me. Putting my entire family in danger just to get my attention." His voices raises to an ear piercing level as he continues, "Well now you have it!"

Silence once again overtakes the mausoleum as they stare into each other's eyes, "Oh? Now the mighty human is scared of me? It's too late for that."

Lucifer's bears his fangs and begins to reach for MC's body as they recoil deeper into the hands of the statue. They covered their face with their arms and squeeze their eyes shut bracing for impact.

Tears begin to prick the corners of their eyes and a sob shakes their body. They expect to feel an immeasurable amount of pain at the hands of one of their caretakers, but it never comes.

Slowly, MC peaks out from their curled up position to get a glimpse at the demon before them. His fangs are retracted and his demon form is gone as he stares wide eyed at the human.

They stare at him in the eyes as tears roll down their cheeks in droves.

"Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. Please no, don't cry, I hate it when you cry." They watched as one of the most powerful demons in all of the Devildom, the very demon that was about to rip them to shreds mere seconds ago, gently pulls them into his chest. He wraps his arms around their midsection like he had done before. He cradled their body delicately in his arms as if he was holding a glass sculpture.

MC listens to his heart beat thump erratically against one ear as he whispers in the other, "I never should have said that. I shouldn't have lashed out at you." He pauses, and MC can hear his heart's pace slow.

"I am just, so worried about Belphie. There is so much I still need to do to fix that problem. I thought, you were just going to make things worse."

He pulls them closer to his chest and MC feels hot tears fall onto their head, "How stupid am I, to let my rage overtake me and almost risk losing you as well."

MC's tears have slowed, but at his words, another river of them begins to trickle out. The two continue to cry in each other's arms for hours as they try to not only fix the problem, but work out their emotions.

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forever-rogue · 3 years

Note

if you’re still taking requests for Bucky, can you do one from this quote if it sparks any inspiration: ‘when you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can stand in front of them and show yourself and their response is “you’re safe with me” - that’s intimacy.’

A/N: please, this is so soft 🥺

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: none

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

A heavy sigh escaped soft lips as Bucky laid on the couch and stared at the ceiling. There was almost no sound in the room besides the rhythmic ticking of the aging clock on the wall, combined with the sounds wafting in from the open window, and the almost non-existent humming of his vibranium appendage. He reached his hand up to his chest to ground himself by touching the dog tags that had been his for way too many years now. A temporary moment of panic set into his bones when he realized there was nothing there, but revelation quickly dawned on him as he remembered that they were currently with you. The last he’d seen them, you were wearing them, the metallic silver tags safely nestled under the soft fabric of your t-shirt.

When he’d given them to you, a sign of his desire to call you his, among other things, he never actually expected that you’d wear them. The first time he’d spied you wearing them, along a casual outfit consisting of jeans and a t-shirt and sneakers, he’d almost short circuited. There was something about comforting knowing they were safe and sound in your possession now. They were yours now too - just like he was.

A gentle tugging lifted the corners of his mouth into the semblance of a smile. How foreign it still felt sometimes, the gentle feeling of blossoming happiness and knowing he was loved. Loved. What a strange and odd concept that was. He couldn’t remember the last another soul had told him they loved him besides in the most platonic sense. But the first time you’d whispered those words to him, so effortlessly, so easily, I love you, his whole world came to a screeching halt and he was sent into a wild spiral that left him speechless. Bucky hadn’t reciprocated your words then; but it wasn’t long after that he did. It had been a half shout, half declaration as you just grinned at him, pulling him against your lips and only letting him go when you were both breathless and dizzy.

He relaxed at the thought, settling against the pillow as he reminded himself to swim in happy memories, rather than drown in the ghosts of the past.

His phone vibrated against the glass top of the coffee table as it startled him out of his stupor, causing him to almost roll off the couch in surprise. He scrambled to grab the phone, and relaxed when he saw your name on the screen. Straightening himself up, he cleared his throat before answering, “hi sweetheart.”

“Bucky!” your excited voice on the other end of the line made his heart relax as he just imagined you bouncing around your small floral shop, making sure everything was perfect, “it’s about time you answered, old man. I’ve called you like three times! Did I disturb your afternoon nap, Barnes?”

“Hey, watch who you’re calling an old man,” he snorted as he stood up and stretched, surprised by how easily you were able to read him, “I got decades on you, kid, respect your elders.”

“Respect me when I’m right,” you grinned as he laughed lightly. How easily everything seemed to flow between the two of you; he’d never thought he could have anything like this again. Even once he’d left Wakanda and life slowly went back to a semblance of normality after the Blip, he still had a hard time trusting people; perhaps, more than anything else, he didn’t trust himself.

While he knew he was himself again, Bucky, and not the Winter Soldier, he still was never quite convinced that he wouldn’t ever go back. For so long he had been nothing but a killer, it was hard to believe that he could ever be fully himself again. So he’d closed himself off, steeled himself, despite the constant reassurance from the people around him that it was okay to let others in. He couldn’t trust himself - after so long...how could he? How was he just supposed to be able to pick the pieces and just be James again?

But he was learning, over time, slowly, bit by bit, that it was okay to let people in, okay to feel, and be okay and also not be okay. Sure, some days were hard, but the good days were good. And they were getting to become more and more frequent.

“Bucky? Hello?” you called his name from the other line, trying to get him to snap back into attention, “James? James Buchanan Barnes?”

“S-sorry,” his voice was soft and gentle for a moment, “I...yeah.”

“Yeah,” you teased softly, “zoning out again huh, my love? I know how you get. What are you thinking about, Bucky?”

“Nothing much,” he admitted, shrugging to himself despite the fact that you weren’t able to see him, “when are you off?”

“Whenever I want to be,” you reminded him, “I’m the boss now, remember? Why do you ask? Got some grand plans for us?”

“Nah,” he confessed, “just want to come and see you. Is it okay if I stop in? I’d come and bring you some flowers...but that would seem a little...on the nose.”

“Ahh, look at you,” he could practically hear you grinning, “very clever, aren’t you? Come and see me - it’s been slow so I might as well close up when you get here. Maybe we can go for a walk and get dinner?”

“Sounds great,” he agreed softly, “see you soon.”

“See you soon, Bucky.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

While you waited for Bucky to arrive, a brilliant idea popped into your head. You quickly grabbed a vase and started to gather some of the flowers that reminded you of him. It wasn’t long before you had a variety of them, neatly arranged and topped off with a bow, ready and waiting for him. He walked into your small shop, ready to announce himself but quickly found that he didn’t have to.You were perched up on the counter, swinging your legs back and forth as you tilted your head to the side and studied him with a small smile. He was dressed casually today, sporting a dark blue henley and a pair of well fitting jeans. His arm, intricate and beautifully designed golden and black vibranium, wasn’t on full display, nor was it completely hidden. Progress; a step in the right direction, albeit small. He’d get there when he’d get there and if that took another five years or fifty, you planned on being there for him.

“Hi James,” you popped off the counter and met him halfway, letting him wrap you up and envelope you in his warm, tight grasp. His arms, his body, was your favorite place to be. You never felt more safe and secure than when you were wrapped up in him, “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed me?” he chuckled as you just nodded, pouting lightly as he couldn’t help but kiss you softly, “it’s only been a few hours since we’ve seen each other.”

“I know,” you ran a hand through his dark hair, “but it doesn’t mean I can’t miss you, does it?”

“I suppose you’re right,” he agreed as you took his hand and pulled him over to the counter. Bucky dramatically rolled his eyes as he trailed after you. Your hand looked so small in his hand; delicate skin contrasted against harsh callouses as you gave him a squeeze of reassurance. Whatever hesitation or tension was left in his body seeped, replaced by a feeling of saccharine bliss, “what are you up to?”

“You always think I’m up to something,” standing in front of the flowers, you paused, studying his features before reaching up to tenderly cradle his face in your hands. Bucky, resilient and strong, turned into a puddle of mush and practical whimpers as you traced a delicate fingertip across his features, “perhaps this time you’re right.”

“Tell me then,” he turned his face, pressing a gentle kiss to your palm as you used your free hand to reach behind you and push the vase to your side so he could see the ornate display. Blue eyes narrowed, highlighting the wary crease in his brow before they widened, softening all the way through. His hand slinked down to your waist, a light squeeze followed as he shuffled to the side and studied the flowers. Bright yellows and oranges, brilliant crimsons and pinks, and mellow pastels were suddenly under his intense scrutiny as he took in the sight of the blossoms, “w-what are these?”

“And here I was, thinking you were smart,” standing behind him, you wrapped your arms around his waist, delicately and slowly at first so you wouldn’t startle him. His frame stiffened for a mere moment before he relaxed, the weight of your head on his back a welcome burden he was happy to bear, “these are called flowers.”

“Very funny,” you could feel the laugh vibrate through his chest as a hand, one colder and more metallic than normal, but still all him, settled on your own. Pressing a line of soft kisses to his shoulders, you listened to the steady beating of his heart, “what’s the occasion?”

“There is none,” you insisted, “I just thought you would enjoy them. Look at the colors and blossoms, they all reminded me of you. So brilliant and warm and bright and lovely - just like you, Bucky.”

A few beats of silence met your ears as he inhaled and exhaled deeply, a million thoughts swirling around his mind. Before you could speak or say anything else, he turned around in your arms so he was facing you. He gestured between you and the flowers for a few moments, finding himself at a loss for words, “me?”

“Yes,” you promised him, “for you. Do you like them?”

“I love them,” he reassured you, an easy warmth settling over you, “back in the day I would have been doing this for you…”

‘You’ve gotten me flowers plenty of times,” you laughed, a sound that had easily become his favorite thing in almost no time, “besides, you deserve some nice things too.”

“I’ve been thinking…”

“That’s a new one,” you teased as he jokingly groaned, “ I jest! I’ve noticed you’ve been a little more quiet and stoic lately...I didn’t even know that was possible for you. What’s been on your mind, my love?”

“There’s this quote that came into mind...I heard it somewhere, but I can’t remember from what or who,” he mused as he rubbed thoughtfully at his chin, “it’s something along the lines of ‘when you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can stand in front of them and show yourself and their response is “you’re safe with me” - that’s intimacy.’ I feel like...I can do that with you - like I can be myself and you’re not judging me, even though you know who I am.”

“Bucky - James - I know who you are,” it was surprising you didn’t melt into a puddle then and there, melting into nothingness at his feet. You leaned in, looking at his eyes for a few moments before capturing his lips in a soft kiss. You broke apart slowly, reluctantly before resting your forehead against his, “I know exactly you who are. And I love you for it - a good man, friend, partner, and so many other things. You are good, and it doesn’t matter what anyone else says or thinks. Fuck them - the people that know you know who you really are.”

“Even after…”

“Even after everything that’s happened,” you promised, “you are safe with me. I’m not going to suddenly turn my back on you and walk away. I love you, Bucky. You have me, now and forever, and I’ve got you, always. That’s not going to change. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you could feel him smiling against your lips as he breathed you in and let you overwhelm his senses, “I know that.”

“Good,” you smiled as you reached for his hand, “let’s go to get dinner. I’m starving.”

“Don’t you need to close up?”

“Nah,” you winked at him, “I closed up as soon as we got off the phone earlier so we would have interruptions. C’mon Buck, I’m going to take you for a night on the town! What do you say?”

“Sounds perfect,” he agreed, “there’s just one more thing.”

“Hmm?”

“This,” he pulled you into his arms and kissed you deeply as your body melded into his, “I love you too.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #tfatws #bb imagine

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bratkook · 4 years

Text

like you used to. jjk

“So kill me like you used to...”

part two.

pairing. ex boyfriend!jungkook x reader genre. angst, mentions of smut, toxic exes warnings. very toxic depictions of relationships, hints at infidelity, drunken mistakes, they’re both very toxic for each other and just can’t stay away, brief mentions of smut word count. 2.9k note. this is just a lump of angst that my mind conjured at 1am last night, i just love angst and messy relationships that are destined to fail 😌(its not edited so if u see a typo no u dont)

It always started with a phone call.

Whether it was from you or him always changed. Sometimes he’d get the call at two in the morning, vision blurry as he brought the phone to his face and saw your name illuminated on the screen, that old goofy selfie you had together still set as your contact photo. He’d hesitate for a moment just to keep you on your toes before pressing accept, already getting up and putting pants on because he knew just what you were calling for.

Tonight was your turn to be on the receiving end, laying in bed comfortably as you scrolled through random posts to try to help you sleep, the flash of his face fills your phone, it’s a random close up photo of his eyes staring right into the camera, crinkled up in a smile. Even though his name is changed in your contacts, no longer having the cute bunny emoji tacked to the end, you know you’ll still pick up in a heartbeat. And you do.

The second you press accept you’re met with the familiar sound of his voice, slurred and thick as he speaks so jumbled up you would barely be able to understand him if you didn’t already know what he was saying. It was the same things he always said whenever he got like this, proclamations of love that only cut up your freshly scabbed over wounds, salt rubbing into them when he cries about how he misses you, promises to change.

They get cut off when the phone is yanked away from his grasp, the second familiar voice belonging to his buddy Yugyeom now speaking into the receiver. “You gotta pick him up Y/N.”

The annoyance is evident in his voice, the babbling of Jungkook still heard in the background along with the dull beat of whatever place they were outside of.

“He’s not my responsibility Yugyeom.”

He simply sighs into the phone, staring at his mess of a friend before rubbing his jaw, sore and aching from where he had just been socked after attempting to force him into an uber. “Yeah well he won’t let anyone else take him home, he’s drunk as fuck. I’ll send you the location.”

Not waiting for a response he hangs up and sends you a pin of where they’re at, thrusting the phone back into his friend’s hands before getting into that uber and leaving Jungkook alone while he whines against the dirty bar wall, crouching down onto the filthy sidewalk as the car drove off.

Yugyeom knew you would come to his rescue like you always did, never once saying no and letting Jungkook fend for himself because on the rare occasions where you’d call him drunk and crying he’d do the same.

Getting into the car still dressed in your pajamas, shoes thrown on without being laced up, hair still messy, it felt like routine now from how often it happened. Jungkook called you sober, text you while in a sane state of mind, but without fail at least once a month he’d get absolutely shit faced and call you, leaving you what he thought were heartfelt voicemails if by some chance you didn’t answer.

It was the same bar every time, a bar you used to frequent with him, knowing the location and all the small side streets to get you there without needing directions. Doing this felt like such a normal part of your life it almost made you forget that you and Jungkook weren’t together anymore. It’s been a year since you split and you still find yourself thinking if things could be different.

Would it have been best if you never confessed to each other, never admitted to the small inkling of a crush before it was able to fully blossom? It was hard not to wonder how different life would be now if you had walked away the first time things went south, if he had walked away after the first argument.

Whenever he called you, pulled you in with those drunken promises it was easy to convince yourself that your relationship was perfect, that it was worth all of the struggles. Your brain morphed each fight, each time you cried alone, twisted it around and molded it to make it easier to consume, easier to believe you were meant to be.

You thought you were soulmates, and maybe you were, two people destined to be together, meeting at the wrong time, under the wrong circumstances. What was meant to be perfect puzzle pieces connected had slowly turned into jagged edges that no longer clicked regardless of how hard you tried to jam them together, foolishly thinking you could spill your love into the gaps to mend the spaces, making the pieces whole once more.

Love was never enough.

Love made you stupid, made you blind and gullible, smiling through lies to avoid arguments, going to bed angry until he was hovering over you, coaxing you into forgiveness with soft kisses and gentle touches. It always went this way, regardless of who’s fault it was without fail he’d end up slot between your legs, the only time the puzzle pieces connected perfectly, allowing him to fuck you as if he’d never see you again. Murmurs of love and adoration were passed between panting breaths, sloppy kisses, shared moans to mask the empty promises you made every time.

Staying away from each other was a hard habit to kick, the two of you stuck on an endless game of seesaw, neither of you having the guts to get off and move on. All it took was a simple drunk phone call for you to go his way, the slur of his voice as he cries into the receiver about how much he loved you, missed you, needed you next to him, wanted to try again. It reeled you in so easily, winding you up until you were hauling your sloppy ex boyfriend off the dirty floor and into your small car.

He remembers none of this, he never did, not fully anyways. Small tidbits of words he said flash in his mind as he comes to, drool on his cheek and neck sore from the unfortunate position he had slept in, groggy and unaware of his surroundings.

He knew your apartment too well, recognized the green wall he had helped you paint, now holding endless pictures of you and your friends. None of Jungkook anymore.

All of those photos were gone now, not burned or shredded in some ritual to get over him, simply tucked into a box and shoved so far into your closet you hoped you would forget it. You never did of course, the way the box laid dust free made it clear how often you pulled it out and sorted through the photos whenever you had too much wine, whenever you had off days where you just felt so alone and wished you could go back to the times you had convinced yourself were better. They weren’t, you knew they weren’t once you sobered up and balanced out your emotions.

Jungkook doesn’t feel bothered that not a trace of him remained visible in your home, he knew his presence lingered in the cracks, buried so deep in the crevices of your mind he knew you would always think of him.

He groans softly as his eyes roam the interior of your home, the throbbing in his temples making him stop and shut his lids, not needing to analyze the place he was at less than two weeks ago when you had called him over. Jungkook briefly wonders if he should sneak his way out, not used to waking up on the couch instead of in your bed right beside you, maybe he had said something last night that crossed the line and landed him on the couch as a punishment.

As you finally emerge from your room his plan of escape is put to a stop, his eyes gravitating towards your bedroom door, seeing the way you cautiously step out. Having heard Jungkook wake up since you had already been awake for the past hour, your body not allowing you to sleep while knowing he was in the other room, it took a few minutes of courage before you were able to face him.

Spotting him on your couch shows how much he doesn’t belong, the pinned leather jacket he wore looking so harsh against the light coloring of your furniture, his dark disheveled hair contrasting with the tidy way you organized your apartment. He senses it, the skin crawling sensation that spreads the longer you stare at him, how he felt so out of place somewhere he used to call home at one point.

“Thank you for picking me up.” He chooses to break the silence, voice raspy, his internal self screaming at him for always doing this. His eyes are sincere, genuinely meaning it, knowing just how messy he got when he had too much to drink, how his friends could never handle him when he crossed the line and began to call for you.

Like always his words were routine so he expects it when you huff and say, “You need better friends Jungkook.”

“I know.” Because he did, he knew his friends enabled him, riled him up and once he became too much they pushed him onto you, knowing Jungkook’s grip on you was still too strong for you to ever say no.

“What if I hadn’t picked you up? Would they have left you on the side of the bar to fend for yourself?”

“Probably,” he shrugs, from past experiences he knows very well they would have. His friends had dealt with Jungkook crying over you far too much, their patience fully stamped out, no longer able to tolerate him when he became like this.

Not even realizing when he begins to smile as he thought of the nights you didn’t pick up, how he had ended up in the most random locations because he refused to go home to a place you weren’t, he snaps out of it when you scoff. “It’s not funny Jungkook, you could have gotten hurt or something.”

There it was, the reason you were upset. Not because he had called you and spewed the same bullshit he always did, no that you could tolerate. You were upset, and worried, that you’d get a following call from someone stating he had injured himself while calling for you.

“I know.”

You pause to breathe, his short responses not irking you like it should, arms crossed over your chest as you observe your ex boyfriend still sitting on the couch, looking like a scolded child.

“You can’t call me anymore Jungkook.” How you have the nerve to say that to him is funny, acting as if ten days ago you weren’t the one doing this to him, telling him you missed him, securing your anchor around his foot and dragging him back under with you.

This is the checklist you needed to go down, a formality of the morning after so he doesn’t mind it. Instead he frowns at the way you continue to say his name, the way it rolls off your tongue makes him wince, missing the way you’d call him Kookie, playful pet names like Bunny, something he swore he hated but secretly loved. Jungkook wished he could hear you say it again, humor you with that damned bunny eared headband he’d wear to hear you laugh, squeal as he posed and dance for whatever silly video you recorded as you shouted out the ridiculous nickname.

The last time he heard those words spill out of your mouth had been too long ago.

“I’m sorry.” he admits, he knew he had to stop, couldn’t continue to hold onto the past, knowing how wrong you were for each other but he wasn’t the only one. Those were the same words you told him ten days ago, apologizing with guilty eyes for asking him to come over when you were lonely, needing a familiar body to occupy the space next to you, wanting his hands to soothe you, make you feel whole again just for a night.

Once the sun came up it was back to normal, the two of you having the repeat conversation you had every time, the exact one you were having now. A formality. Nothing more, just mindless words that you would both agree to just to move along, to make you both feel better, more secure with yourself until the next time the phone rang.

Your heart twists in your chest as you look at him, the same toxic love you had for him brewing in your heart, spilling over and burning you but you ignore the pain, convince yourself you don’t feel it as you breathe in. That same rope latches around Jungkook’s ankle as you avert your eyes for a brief second before looking back at him with a small sigh. “Do you want breakfast? I know how you get when you have a hangover.”

He smiles for the first time, charming as always, looking up at you through the subtle waves in his hair. “I probably shouldn’t.”

You know this. He definitely shouldn’t because breakfast will turn into words exchanged, civil at first, flirty the next, a coin flipped to decide if a petty argument would begin or if you’d reminisce about the good times. Regardless of the outcome, what always followed ended with you moaning out his name as he rocked into you, those same empty promises spilling through his lips that you swallowed with a kiss.

A brief moment of bliss, a small dose of the past that only serves to hurt you further but you crave it, loving the small rush that came with arguing, the roughness of his hands as he pushed you around before sliding home, burying his face into your neck as he broke you down all over again.

Normally you’d try to convince him further, but as your mouth opens to protest you get flashes of the night before, how you had carried Jungkook up your flight of stairs, hearing him ramble about nonsense so slurred together you paid it no mind. You would have had him sleep in your bed beside you like you always did but when you fish his phone out and begin to slide his jacket off it buzzes to life.

Always being nosey you type in his password, smiling when you realize it was still your old anniversary but when you unlock it and see a flood of messages from a girl named Natalie, calling him babe, asking where he was, the smile falls from your face as you start to snoop.

It doesn’t take much scrolling through their thread of messages to easily discover she was his girlfriend, blissfully unaware that he was shit faced and calling you, confessing to his love for you while she laid at home and wondered if he was having fun with his friends. She reminded you of yourself, of the way you used to be with him and it left a sour feeling on your tongue.

“Yeah you probably shouldn’t.”

He stands up now, following you slowly as you approach the door, heavy boots thumping on the hardwood as he reluctantly steps closer to the exit. He doesn’t want to leave, wants you to try to convince him to stay, not knowing that you knew the dirty secret he was hiding buried in his phone.

You don’t decide to tell him you know, it was pointless. That was just how Jungkook was wired, so much love to give he had to spread it out, give everyone a fair share of it, choosing to pretend he wasn’t being selfish. It was naive to believe it, to think all the love he held was strictly for you, it was why he was able to pull the hood over your eyes so easily.

Even when you pull the door open and give him a tightlipped smile he knows you’ll still call him, forget all about Natalie when you’re lonely once more. So when you look him in the eyes and sigh, “Goodbye Jungkook.” He knows it’s not for long, maybe a week or so, maybe less.

He simply smiles, stuffing his hands into his jeans as he shuffles out, turning to face you as he steps backwards. “See you later Y/N.” And his words sting in a way he doesn’t mean, knowing just how right he was.

Jungkook would never mind how heavy the anchor you hooked on his ankle was because he knew you would forever be a sucker for him.

As you shut the door behind you it feels like a small weight starts to hang from your shoulders, the same tug starting from your chest, guiding you into your room until you’re pulling out the cursed box and sorting through those damned photos. With stinging eyes you flip through them for a moment, focusing on all the laughs captured on film, blurry vision moving to your phone beside you, hands already itching to call him again.

It’s as if he knows, still inside your building, lingering in the lobby to give you a moment and it doesn’t take long. Once his phone starts to vibrate he smiles, staring at the photo of you as you call him like clockwork. With a clear of his throat he answers the phone, barely saying hello before he hears a small sniffle through the speaker.

“I miss you Kookie.”

Jungkook lets his eyes shut as he presses the elevator button, loving the feeling of being needed by you, already knowing to head back up because this was routine.

“I know you do baby, I’ll be right up.”

And just like that you’re once again desperately trying to make those stupid puzzle pieces fit together, hoping that maybe this time love would be enough.

#ficswithluv #goldenclosetnet #heartsforbts #btsghostie #btswritingcafe #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts angst #jeon jungkook #new

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skellebonez · 3 years

Note

Because I'm sure this is going to be inevitable, how about some angst for the Chaos Trio (Mei, Jin and Yin)? With 61 and 52

Oh I have been looking forward to Chaos Trio angst since you sent me this, anon. Despite how they act in show... I think Jin and Yin are not exactly harmless. Especially if you mess with people they start to consider family.

The Cursed AU and the Chaos Trio in it come from @winterpower98!

Warning: blood and head injuries, enemy demons limbs (not detailed).

That is not a good hiding spot./I am a really bad actor.

Things had been going pretty well, all things considered. Jin and Yin had no problem getting Mei to join them in a little bit of... let's say "competitive insurance" as it were. They had to make sure they were secured in their own little tech related ventures, and after some financial setbacks they needed extra fallback. They’d planned the whole thing out with her help, more than 2 steps and everything! She was good at that.

The problem was that someone got a lucky hit.

They would have made it out with no problems, if they all hadn't decided going on Mei's motorcycle as a group (which, now that Yin thought about it, was probably incredibly dangerous and illegal with 3 of them on it... not that they cared about legality for themselves but somehow when it came to Mei that suddenly made them concerned). But nope. 1 bike. 3 people.

One lucky shot to the rear tire.

The three of them went flying, Mei landing very impressively on her feet whole Jin and Yin bounced on a bush and thanked anyone listening that demons were sturdier than humans. They didn't thank anyone for the pieces of bike that came flying at them all, and they were certain that they heard a piece make contact with something hard, maybe the nearby light pole, but couldn't be sure.

By the time they looked up they just knew they had a group of very angry demons that were pissed they stole and then wiped their code for... something, didn't matter to the twins what it was. They just wanted their competition out of the way. For solely selfish reasons. Nothing else. Not like they wanted it to see what it was and maybe figure out a counter attack so that certain overpowered people with monkey motifs would have an easier time in the future.

Not a chance.

As they fought off the attacking demons they insisted to themselves they didn't care that much.

"That is not a good hiding spot!" Jin yelled across the battlefield as Yin ducked behind crates. "Just chuck it for now and beat em with the blunt end of something else!"

"Just give me 2 seconds, I can fix it!" Yin yelled back, trying his best to reassemble a part of his sword hilt that had broken off.

"Come on, these guys ain't so tough!" Mei laughed out, easily dodging projectiles and backsliding and slicing and dicing as she went. No one was actually killed, but they were lucky because the only reason for that was the young woman wasn't exactly out for blood. They'd be feeling every single hit well into morning though! She was doing much better than the two of them. "Grab a pipe or something! Wish I had MK's magic building power though, I'd rather not be here all-YIN!"

The younger twin looked up from where he had been crouched, eyes widening as he saw the form of a much larger demon hulking over him and ready to batter him with a club.

Things had been going well. All things considered. Then someone got a second lucky hit.

Right as Mei dove in to push the younger silver twin out of the way.

For a second the fighting stopped. There was just the sound of wood hitting hard plastic and fiberglass as the club was sliced in half by her sword and the lopped off half continued it's trajectory and slammed into Mei's head to lead to her crumbling on top of Yin. Jin stood on too of a pile of crates, watching as a line of red seeped through a crack in her visor and stained the white of her suit.

And then his entire vision was red as he lunged at the demon and sliced, sending his arm flying in the opposite direction.

The demon screamed, holding the stump that was his arm from the elbow down, backing away as quickly as he could. "W-what the hell!?"

"Mei," Yin said softly, carefully clicking the emergency release button to make her helmet digitize away. Her eyes were closed, blood dripping from a slice running along her scalp... but as far as he could tell it was from part of the helmet being cracked and cutting her. She was most likely knocked out from the impact, breathing odd but steady in her unconscious state. "You... we're going to get you to the hospital."

His tone hardened as he carefully laid her on the ground, standing tall as he grabbed his broken weapon and a nearby piece of broken steel.

"You. Are going. To pay for that," Yin said coldly, stance no longer lose and half playful as it had been the whole battle. His stood tall, eyes wide and cold and the demons surrounding them felt a chill run down their spines.

Jin stood in front of him, blood from the other demon splattered across his face and chest in a stark contrast to his orange visage.

This... this wasn't the pair of Gold and Silver Demons they had heard about before. They were known for not taking almost anything seriously, making bad deals and pacts and weird blood oaths they wasted on bizarre favors. They were known for being good at tach but not much else, most demons in the area knew vaguely of their history with the Monkey King but even that ended in failure. Their plans were half baked, goofy, and lately they'd heard they'd gotten roped in with the Monkey King's successor and renewed flame of the Six-Eared Macaque.

The two standing before them did not look like the demons they'd heard about.

Mei hadn't wanted to seriously hurt anyone. The demons heard her yelling as much on the battlefield. But now Mei was hurt.

And the twins did.

It happened fast. They wanted to get it over with quickly. Mei had also not wanted to kill anyone at the very least the twins could do was keep up their promise from earlier in the day to avoid that. And they did.

That didn't mean there weren't lost limbs. Hands and arms. A leg or two. More than a couple eyes were lost. Someone lost an ear. Another a tail and horn.

Injuries they could recover from meant as warnings.

All it took was 3 minutes and the entire storage area they crashed in was a mix of grey and brown and red. Demons holding their injuries or running off.

The one who had attacked Yin and hurt Mei stood in awe and fear, looking down at the smaller twins who has decimated an entire group so fast.

"I-how!?" He yelled, backing up slowly. "This isn't possible, you're not this strong!"

"Who told you that?" Yin asked slowly, tilting his head and watching as the demon realized... he'd never heard they couldn't fight. "We don't fight like this because we don't want to. Never meant we can't."

"Why?"

"We are really bad actors," Jin said, wiping the blood off his weapon on an unconscious demon's shirt. "Why bother trying to hold back when we can just hide it by not trying?" He turned to the demon, glowering coldly as he watched his brother pick Mei up carefully. "Tell anyone who asks nothing. We'd like to keep it that way. Unless you want a round two where someone else doesn't hold us back."

And then they were gone.

"What in the actual hell happened?" Macaque asked in an even tone. Practiced even. A dangerous even.

"Well-" "You see boss-" "we kinda-" "-there was-"

Jin and Yin tried to think of a reasonable excuse, faltering as everything they thought of sounded worse and worse in their heads.

The two sat in Mei's hospital room, towels draped around their shoulders. They’d been smart enough to stash Mei's bike somewhere safe and wash off in the ocean before coming to the hospital, less covered in demon blood meant less scared humans when they rushed in with Mei in tow, and it was easy to make the nurses believe them.

Simple bike accident, friend hurt, help please.

With Macaque staring them down with his patented death glower, shadows growing and warping around the room in response to him, it was infinitely harder.

Of course Mei's emergency contact was MK. Of course MK could call Macaque before her parents (who were apparently on their way back from some kind of dragon family business trip when they learned). Of course Macaque would show up almost immediately and begin asking questions.

"It was my fault," Mei chimed in, voice slightly off from having awoken with a nasty concussion. "I thought it'd be fun to go on a joy ride late at night, I've done it before without issues! But, uh... I've never had two passengers before... and we hit something. Don't be mad at them?"

Macaque looked like he believed Mei as much as he believed Tang would lose interest in the Monkey King and switch his field of study to obscure methods of basket weaving. Which is to say: he didn’t. But he sighed, giving Mei a small smile as the shadows returned to normal.

"Ok," he said softly, tone much more gentle with the dragon descendant as he reached out to brush loose hair out of her face. "I won't be mad at them. I'll be very disappointed-" his tone hardened for a second at those words as he turned to the twins with a glower again. "-but I won't be mad. Do you need anything?"

"Maybe a candy bar from the vending machines outside?" Mei asked with a smile.

"Sure," Macaque laughed and shook his head, moving to the corner of the room. "I'll be right back."

He sunk into the shadows, a cool trick that the twins would always be impressed by, and they breathed a sigh of relief at knowing they were alone. For now.

"You didn't have to do that," Jin said, frowning at Mei in concern. Maybe it was just because he was now the eldest in the room, but some kind of protective feel pulled at him.

"I know," Mei said with a tired laugh, laying back into her pillow. "But you guys are like... my bros. I gotta stand up for my bros."

And that made both Jin and Yin pause. They looked at each other, eyes widening as they both came to a realization that was probably a very long time coming at that point.

"Yeah..." Yin said, a soft smile forming on his face. "We'd do the same for you... you know, if you didn't take that hit for me you probably would have kicked everyone's ass way better than us! We barely got out by the skin of our teeth!" A full truth and a blatant lie, but he hoped Mei wouldn't pick up on that second part.

"You know it, boi!" She didn't.

It was odd for him in particular. Yin had never really thought of himself as an older brother before.

First time for everything.

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #gen fic #cursed au #warning: blood and injury #jin and yin #dragon form mei #long xiaojiao #the chaos trio #prompt fill #six eared macaque #but only a little #dad macaque

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arknights-imagines · 3 years

Note

henlo!! could i request a mountain/doc imagine where an unexpected attack is launched upon the doctor and mountain quickly goes to protect them? if possible, could fluff be incorporated into this too?

..man, the line where mountain says; “rest assured, im here to protect you” had me turning into a small blob…

Hiya anon!! 🥳 Tysm for this request, it's so sweet sgshsgsh!! 🥺💕

Sbjshsjs Mountain is a great character!! Aaa he really grew on me while I was writing this, I'll happy write for him again!! 👉👈 and yes, some of his voice lines are so gentle and sweet sgshsgsh!! 🥺😭 I can definitely see why you transformed into a blob because of them lolol

I incorporated the voice line you mentioned into the writing piece just because it fit so well! 🙏 This is my first time writing for Mountain so I hope I handled his character okay 🥺👉👈

Tysm and please enjoy!! 🥳 Hopefully I did Mountain justice sbjshsjs 🌸

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

Safe Haven

Imagine format; mixed perspectives (written in second person!)

Contains: Mountain, gender-neutral Doctor as the reader, brief mentions of explosions and injuries, fear, slight violence, very vague spoilers for Episode 8 regarding the Reunion, implied established relationship (Sort of? It's up to the reader!), and a fluffy ending at the end!! 🥺

Word count: 1.8k!

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

You weren't prepared. How could you have been? It all happened in mere seconds.

A small groan left your lips as you regained consciousness, ‘What...happened?’; you recalled being distubed by yelling while you were reviewing a battle formation, sitting around idly and waiting for Amiya to brief you on the squad’s next steps. Before you could investigate, a massive, ear-splitting explosion erupted in the center of the camp, tossing you backwards into crates of cargo - the bomb might as well have gone off inside of your head, because it shook you so much that every thought in your brain had scattered.

How they found the small Rhodes Island camp that had been set up, you didn’t know; you didn't even know who ‘they’ were. But that was irrelevant, first priority was figuring out what had happened and evacuating.

Considering the pain that was throbbing through your body, you were in no state to move, and you were most definitely in no state to think critically, but you forced your mind to gather itself regardless - now was no time to start floundering.

As you sat with your back against what was probably one of the crates you had been thrown into, your vision came into focus; your eyes flicked around in an attempt to get a better grip on your surroundings. There was billowing, thick smoke coming from farther away and the camp tents you could see were collapsed, flapping limply in the wind - you didn't see any Rhodes Island Operators or staff nearby.

Your eyes grew wide when they caught view of your arm; most of it was being pinned under a cargo crate, one too heavy for you to pull your arm from under it. Unfortunately, before you could even begin looking for a way to free your limb from its trap, the sound of nearing footsteps and voices sent a frisson of cold shock through your body: “Did you find them yet?” There was a beat of silence before a second voice answered, confused, “Find who?” An aggravated groan came from the first speaker, “Who else; the one called the Doctor! One of you better find them now, or this’ll all be for nothing!”

For a moment, your heart stopped in your chest - these people were looking for you, and there was clear malice in their intent. Panic began making your heart palpitate and your stomach feel heavy; you were in no condition to fight, with your arm stuck you couldn’t run, and the only thing keeping you hidden was a few crates of cargo.

One of the voices from before caused your shaky breaths to halt; “Did you check over there?” There was a pause, then another voice replied, “Those cargo crates? No…” They trailed off - when you began hearing footsteps nearing, tendrils of heavy dread constricted your chest. You screwed your eyes shut, bracing for a hit, a yell, or whatever came next.

You heard the crate in front of you scrape the ground; even with your eyelids shut tight and your limbs - apart from your trapped arm - pulled inward you could still feel a menacing aura hang over you when the crate was pulled aside. You had been found.

Your assailant took in a sharp intake of breath before spitting their words out, “There you are. Trying to hide, are yo- UGH!!” Their pained yell caused you to jolt, as if ice water had been poured over your form, and finally your eyes snapped open. Your assailant had been slammed into the ground, and when your gaze looked up - your widened eyes came upon a familiar, imposing figure of white and black.

“Mountain?” Your call of his name came out as a gasp, filled with uneven amounts of fear, confusion and relief. Over your assailant he stood tall and threatening. His ears perked up at the sound of your voice, and when he met your eyes his own softened by a hair. The Feline must've only read the fear in your voice, because his next words tried to bring you ease, despite being a stark contrast to his following actions - “Doctor, calm yourself. I’m right here; rest assured, I’m here to protect you.” He then returned his attention to your disoriented assailant; with a yank of their ankle and a harsh blow to the face by Mountain, they were no longer a threat.

The Guard Operator was crouched before you seconds after, hands surprisingly gentle when they came to rest on your shoulders, “They’ve been dealt with. Now breathe, Doctor.” His tone was firm and steady - you followed his instructions and let the tension release from your body. Eyes carefully scanning over your form, Mountain took note of your trapped arm before you could point it out yourself. Carefully, he lifted the crate and laid your arm in your lap; you were bleeding, but thankfully the pain wasn’t unbearable.

As the Feline helped you to your feet, he spoke again, “Are you hurt anywhere else?” You shook your head, “N-No, I don't think so…” A nod came from him in reply, “You need to stay alert, there's still more of them searching for you.”

Expression now less panicked and full of thankfulness, you looked up at him, “Thank you Mountain, thank you. I was worried that no one was coming-” “I owe my life to you, I would never leave you to fend for yourself.” The sincerity in his voice caused your heart to warm - unfortunately the sensation was ephemeral, cut short by the distant pounding footsteps and shouting racing closer. The people after you were clearly persistent.

Firm but gentle, Mountain pushed you behind him before standing in front of you protectively. He looked towards the direction of the clamor, then spoke to you quietly from over his shoulder, “Doctor, stay close and follow my lead. I’ll protect you.” At those words, the icey fear in your body melted; it was as if you had been standing in a bitter Kjerag snowstorm and the Feline had come to wrap you in a soft, warm blanket.

Your assailants approached fast; they had you and Mountain surrounded within moments. Like a fire, his aura roared with intensity - though it intimidated your attackers all you felt was safety. The Feline’s tone of voice didn't waver once as he addressed the crowd around both you and himself, “If you want them, you’re going to have to get through me.” Finally, he readied his fists,

“Bring it on, you scoundrels!”

…

“You’re awake. Don’t be afraid, I’m right here.”

Rather than jolting awake, a certain Feline’s voice gently coaxed you into consciousness. Eyelids fluttering open, you mumbled Mountain’s name softly; your head rested in his lap and his coat was draped over your body, acting as a blanket. Your gaze scanned around a little more - the wound on your arm was now dressed with bandages, and you were no longer at the Rhodes Island campsite, but it didn't look like you were back at the landship either.

Before you could ask, the Guard Operator spoke first, “Amiya had called in air support to transport everyone away from danger just after the explosion. We and the rest who were stationed at the camp are flying back to Rhodes Island as I speak.” He paused, and you let out an audible sigh of relief, “The attackers fled, and they were quite uncoordinated. It’s unlikely that they’ll pursue you again. This is simply a guess but… I assume they must’ve been whatever is left of the Reunion.”

Understanding, you nodded a little. A comfortable silence soon embraced the both of you; you lost yourself in thought and Mountain’s eyes looked down towards his lap, studying your facial features gently. Your voice was gentle when it broke the quietness - “Mountain? Thank you again, for protecting me back at the camp. I mean it.”

The Feline tilted his head to the side and lifted a brow up, “You’re thanking me again? I can't tell if you’re being sincere or repetitive.” Absent-mindedly, his palm hovered where your arm was draped over the middle of your torso, “Don’t worry. Protecting you is… important to me. You are important to me.” He hesitated for a moment, but then his larger hand came to rest upon yours, “I may not have the power to save you from all harm, but I will keep fighting so I may become strong enough to face any threat that crosses you.”

His words were so honest - you could tell from the expression on his face that he was a little uncertain, however. The last thing Mountain wanted to do was scare you, but he was also intent on being his truest around you. The Feline sighed a little, “So there you have it. If that makes you afraid in any way, I-”

He stopped short when you lifted your head from his lap and sat up; before the Feline could even ask, you had sat yourself comfortably in his lap then met his gaze with sincerity in your eyes, “Anthony.” His real name from your lips was not entirely unfamiliar, but it still caused suripse to paint his face. Now that his rapt attention was on you, you went on, “You’ve never scared me, not at all. I know you see your true nature to be violence but… you make me feel safe. You’re my safe haven.”

Perhaps that was nonsensical. To most, and even Mountain himself, he embodied anything but safety. When faced with opponents, he always lived up to his name - immovable, towering, strong. However, as fierce as this mountain was, he never frightened you; he kept you from harm, he stood between you and danger without any hesitancy. For you, nowhere else felt safer than his side.

Your gaze never left Mountain’s once - you watched as eyes widened at your words, then filled with warmth. He was quiet for a moment, then - “You… you’re an interesting one, huh?” He exhaled, “I want to reprimand you for being so carelessly trusting, but I can't bring myself to.” You grinned softly, and the Feline mirrored it. “But… if that’s indeed how you feel, then I’ll keep going further. Thank you, Doctor.”

You were quick to shake your head; shifting closer, you let your head rest on his shoulder before you replied, “No need to thank me, Anthony. I should be the one thanking you.” Your words were repetitive again, but Mountain felt his grin widen at them regardless.

You two were only just escaping danger, and yet there was not an ounce of tension or worry in the air around you. He was marvelled; you were causing a smile to come to his face and warmth to bloom within his chest, simply by allowing him to hold you. With you in his lap and your head on his shoulder, Mountain felt embraced by warmth, by safety.

It was there, with his arms wrapped protectively around your body that he decided:

He was perfectly okay with being your safe haven for however long you wished - because you were slowly becoming his.

#I had I Bet On Losing Dogs by Mitski on loop while I was writing this sgsjbshs 👉👈#arknights #arknights imagines #arknights mountain #arknights x reader #mountain arknights #arknights imagine #arknights fanfic #arknights fanfics #arknights writing #imagine #imagines #writing #anthony simon

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bestialchorus · 3 years

Text

“The Invisible String” (Falling for Donna Beneviento)- Chapter 2

The head of House Beneviento covers your hand with hers, instinctively making you look at her for a split second from the corner of your eye, before darting your gaze back to the doll on the desk. You pray the glance was more subtle than it felt, you’re not even sure if it was as quick as you imagined it for everything suddenly feels off, as if something uncanny was bleeding into reality. Whatever surrealism you speak of you don’t see, only feel as Donna’s contact continues to linger over your hand, making your anxiety start to rise by the second.

Seconds feel like eons as Donna stays frozen in place, her veil making it impossible to interpret what she could possibly be feeling or thinking.

You follow her lead by trying to keep a neutral face, staying silent as your mind begins to race. To say you were overthinker would be an understatement, you try unpacking everything from the gesture’s meaning to its sudden appearance, and whether or not this was all just a cruel dream. You’ve had daydreams similar to this situation but none that ever felt like this, none that ever felt so…..engulfing.

You feel that flutter in your heart, a flutter from the word you desperately try to avoid day in and day out whenever Donna crossed your mind, hope. You immediately fight back any hope of the woman ever returning your feelings, even the smallest semblance of it. A woman as distinguished as Donna Beneviento would surely never fall for a common painter…..would she? Donna had power, she had wealth, she had talent and passion of the likes you’ve never seen before….she could have anyone she wanted…so why do you find it difficult to come up a platonic explanation for her action right now?

Regardless of the reason, you feel your skin burn under her gentle touch. Even the simple gesture has Donna written all over it; deliberate but not hostile, soft but not limp. You also can’t help but notice how smooth her hand feels against yours, you wonder if it’s the result of an extravagant lotion or if she’s simply this soft.

The ticking from the old clock fills the air as neither of you react.

You decide it best to hide your internal distress, well at least as best as you can. You keep your face as blank as possible as you gently lower your paintbrush down. You stare down at the small doll, assuming it best to allow her the time to properly explain herself, away from the pressure of your gaze. You try your best to focus on how anxious she must also be right now as communication had never come easy for Donna.

Her voice almost doesn’t sound real as you sit in a dream like daze.

“I…what I’m about to say does not put you at risk, Y/N.”

The clock’s sounds are drowned out by your heart beating through your ears, your gaze stays on the unfinished doll.

Despite her concealed face, she turns her head away from you as she continues, her hand never leaving yours. She takes a small pause before continuing.

“I harbor feelings for you, Y/N. But I chose not to tell you for several reasons.”

Your mask instantly falters the second you hear the confession, eyes widening in disbelief and shock. You jerk your head towards her, she catches your incredulous expression from the corner of her eye, still not meeting your gaze. Something begins to flood your system, excitement? Fear? Hope? You’re not entirely sure but it feels as if each of your senses have awakened to an extreme.

“For one, I feared you would never return my feelings...” She ends with a whisper.

The statement makes something in you snap.

“But I do!” You immediately counter, louder than you intended, your tone earnest with a hint of desperation. You mentally chastise yourself for how dramatic the response must have come off.

The raise of your voice finally makes her look at you as she isn’t used to it. Once again, you have no facial indictors to tell you how she’s taken the response. But you realize her hand feels warmer…that must be a good sign, right?

You try to hold back as you feel months of repressed emotions try to take control of your tongue. The last thing you want to do is overwhelm or embarrass her.

“I care deeply for you, mistress…you don’t have to worry about that.” You say softly while instinctively leaning closer to her.

The dollmaker’s face is hidden but you assume she must be taken aback by her feelings being returned; you know you are. She silently processes your words until you suddenly notice her start to mirror your distance, whether by instinct or by choice you can’t tell.

Time starts to melt away as the image of Donna leaning towards you makes you both want to run away and never look away. You use every fibre of courage you have to keep going, you’re eventually close enough to smell the smallest hint of a floral scent, which is strange since normally Donna doesn’t wear perfume.

You’re both just a breath away…when suddenly Donna pulls back at the last second, removing her hand in the process, you instantly miss the contact. At first you wonder if you’ve been too bold, assuming too much but she quickly explains herself.

“No. You don’t understand, I’m not what you think. This veil hides my true nature….and it is unworthy of you. Unworthy of what you should have.” She says with sadness in her voice, tightly holding her hands to her chest while shaking her head. Even with the veil you notice the contempt behind her words, contempt clearly directed towards herself.

You start to frown the more you process her statement.

You feel a sting in your heart as you realize something. The rumours of Donna Beneviento having a monstrous disposition were more than just rumours, for her they actually held some weight. Whether it was an event, a person, or the entirety of her life leading up to this moment- she truly believed she was unworthy of experiencing one of the largest aspects of life, love.

Even if every rumour about her is true you don’t care, for you’ve fallen for the woman with the veil, regardless of what lies beneath it. Donna Beneviento isn’t a scary story, or a title to you but a real woman whom you’ve grown incredibly fond of. You lightly shake your head as you refuse to accept her words.

“You’re wrong. Even if you are headless under there-“

You notice her tilt her head in response to the comment but not the small smile that also emerges on her face, appreciating how you always seem balance out her melancholic nature.

“It won’t matter to me because…I already think you’re beautiful, Don-mistress.” You quickly correct yourself, still unsure if she’d be comfortable with you referring to her by her first name.

Once again, you miss the warm expression on her face as she addresses your self-correction.

“You’re more than welcome to call me Donna, Y/N. I believe we’re past the point of titles…..”

She looks away as she finishes her sentence, “…I think I’d like hearing you call me Donna.”

For once her veil can’t hide the flustered tone in her voice, you imagine her hands must also be getting warmer again. Unfortunately, Donna is not the only one effected by her confession, your own cheeks now wear a slightly pink colour to them.

But before you can answer her, you notice her hands slowly reaching towards her veil, fingers trembling. The room feels off kilter as you hear the courage in her voice.

“I truly don’t want to lie to you, Y/N. I want you to decide for yourself if this is what you really want….if I’m what you really want.”

You almost try to stop her, not for your sake but to make sure if this is really something she wants to do but you’re too late. Her voice lowers as she finally lifts her veil up.

“…I’ll understand if you never want to come back.”

And just like that, you’re finally face-to-face with Donna Beneviento.

A heavy silence follows as you take in her bare state, completely engrossed by how human and occult she is all at once.

The dollmaker shrinks under your gaze, anxiously rubbing her hands together as she looks at the floor.

At first your eyes can’t help but fall on the mutation over the side of her face. Her right eye is covered with small mounds as visible veins sprout from them; an image akin to eldritch horrors. You now understand how important her veil is to her, how much courage and trust it took for her to show you the flesh that laid beneath it. Anyone else would have run by now, screaming towards the hills of how Mistress Beneviento is as monstrous as the rumours spoke of but not you, for even now- she is anything but monstrous to you.

You take a step closer as you process the rest of her features, your hands moving by themselves as you gently hold her face to study them. The gesture makes her quietly gasp but she doesn’t pull away, she instead focuses on fighting back a blush as she fails to avoid your heavy gaze. You’ve never seen such alabaster skin, it almost glows under the light. But what stands out the most is how her dark hair and eye contrast against it. Without thinking, you lightly push a strand of hair away from her face, lightly grazing her soft skin. Every instinct within Donna is screaming for her to run away while also wishing the moment will never end, no one has ever treated her with such tenderness.

The air surrounding you both feels warmer as you stand just a breath away.

Your eyes finally fall onto the woman’s plush lips, and you can’t help but wonder if they’re as a soft as they look. You look at the woman in complete awe as you process the full picture of the woman you’ve fallen for and as you predicted, you love her all the same, perhaps more.

You feel yourself lean in closer and she mirrors your movement. Neither of you can hear the grandfather clock anymore as you become lost within your personal world.

#the invisible string #donna beneviento #donna x reader #Donna Beneviento x reader #female reader #ana oop #super excited to show...just how the reader appreciates donna next chappter

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kyotarou · 3 years

Text

say “i love you”

characters: kei tsukishima

warnings: angst with a happy ending

word count: 1.5k+

a/n: never thought i’d get emotional over my own work but here we go :’)

Four months. It’s been four months, three weeks, and six days since you stormed out of Tsukishima’s home with tears and a broken heart. Four months, three weeks, and six days since you ended your five-month-long relationship and uttered the words he never thought he’d hear.

“Goodbye, Tsukki. I hope your life is better without me.”

You’d come back for sure, that’s what you always did, because you depended on him, and he depended on you. But four long months passed and you hadn’t come back. No calls, no texts, and your scent was fading from his bed and clothes. The closest he got was when you came to his house while he had practice and cleared the separate drawer he kept for your clothes, then left the spare key on the dinner table along with the keychain of a picture of you and him in the trash. Tsukishima picked it out, cleaned it, and kept it on his desk. No matter how much it broke his heart to look at it, it hurt more to throw it away. It was the rare proof Tsukki had the ability to smile, though it took your whining and begging for him to do so, and he now wished he did it more often.

At school, you walked past him without a glance in his direction like he didn’t exist. In a way, he didn’t—with the little effort he put into your relationship, it wasn’t worth your time to consider his existence, because he blended into the background like the other nameless students you saw at school. It was unfair. You could avoid him, but he couldn’t avoid you. Your friends were his teammates and it felt like you purposely came by after practice to torture him, laughing and chatting with Tanaka, Kiyoko, and even feeble little Yamaguchi while he stood to the side watching.

Why did you have to come by? Couldn’t you wait until he wasn’t around to fraternize? Or were you trying to punish him by showing him how happy you were now that he was gone, because it worked, and every time he saw you he regretted not giving you the love you deserved? There you were, getting more love from your friends than your lover—well, ex-lover now. But they didn’t know you like he did; all your fears, your aspirations, what made you break. He knew everything about yet you knew nothing about him.

Tsukishima kept his feelings hidden well, but now they began to seep into his daily life. His blocks weakened, mind hazy, grades slipping. Did you know the effect you had on him, how he fell apart in those months? Did you know he laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, whimpering your name, sobbing into the empty darkness? Did you know he clutched his pillow to his chest every night, dreaming it was you, wishing death would come so he wouldn’t feel this pain?

But it wasn’t your fault. It was him who made you leave, who was the last straw, all because he couldn’t say those three stupid words. The day you left played on loop in his head; if he told you he loved you that night, would you have stayed? Would these four months never have happened? Too late, they already have, and unless someone made a time machine, he couldn’t go back. Tsukishima brought this pain on himself and whatever you felt during your relationship must’ve been worse.

Five months. Five months since you’ve been gone but still there. Tsukishima missed his block once again, the ball flying over the net and barely grazing his fingertips before landing on the floor with a sad bounce. While his teammates and Coach Ukai scowled in annoyance, he stared at the empty bleachers where you once sat. You used to watch him with glowing eyes and a bright smile, keeping your lips sealed since he told you your voice distracted him. Little did you know your presence itself was a distraction because all Tsukishima could focus on was making you happy. Even if Karasuno lost, your boyfriend’s passion was enough to make you cheer until your lungs hurt.

“Tsukishima! What the hell was that?” Coach Ukai snapped.

“Keep up the good work. We’re totally gonna go to nationals,” Kageyama muttered as he took his position by the net.

Tsukishima kept his hands up to hide the way his lip quivered and hoped his glasses blocked the tears forming, but the shaking in his legs gave it away.

“Tsukki, what’s wrong?” Yamaguchi asked. “Are you feeling alright? Did you get sick?”

“I’m-” Tsukishima’s voice cracked. “No, I’m not okay. I’m an idiot.”

“Wha-? What are you talking about? It was one block.”

“I’m an idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot.” His face burned with shame as the hot tears flowed like water from a broken dam. Tsukishima stormed out of the gym, wiping at his eyes while his body succumbed to the strongest, most painful sob he’d ever felt. His feet carried him further from the gym, the calls from his teammates falling on deaf ears until he bumped into a wall. He wailed, he wailed like the world was empty because it was. The world was so empty without you. He didn’t care if the whole school heard him if they were going to make fun of him for it after.

“Are you done moping?”

Kageyama stomped towards the tall blond who had his head pressed against the wall, body trembling with each gasp and cry.

“Go away.”

“You’re upset about (Y/N), aren’t you?”

“What would you know about them?”

“I know they’re not as happy as they look.”

Tsukishima turned his head. Kageyama stood with his hands on his hips, a tired look on his face. He rolled his eyes.

“I know they’re really breaking inside, because they miss you, Tsukki. I don’t know if they’re hurting as much as you, but it’s not all sunshine and rainbows. What I do know is that they’re starting to get over you, Tsukki. So if you want them back, just say it. Say what you want them to know, because if you don’t, you’re gonna lose them forever, and you’re gonna beat yourself up over it for the rest of your life. So go. Do it, you idiot!”

Tsukishima ran faster than he thought was possible. He ran through the halls, up the stairs, around the corner, not stopping even though his lungs hurt and his legs burned. He ran until he landed where he was sure you’d be, in the empty classroom where you had club meetings. Although they were finished, you stayed behind to revel in the peacefulness of the room, a stark contrast from how it buzzed during the school day.

He burst through the door like a madman and collapsed over a desk, sucking in as much air as he could.

You jumped from your seat. “Ah! What the hell are you doing here?”

“I-” Tsukishima gasped. Hearing your voice clearly for the first time in months was enough to fuel the fire in his veins. “I need to tell you something.”

“What could you possibly want?” you snarled and began to pack your stuff. “I don’t want to see you ever again.”

Tsukishima picked himself up and trudged to your desk before falling to his knees. His heart threatened to burst from his chest as his hands tentatively reached for yours. Relief washed over him when you didn’t pull away.

“I love you.”

You stiffened. “What did you say?”

“I love you.”

You stared down in shock, then your open mouth turned into a scowl. “You think you can fix this, fix us? No, you ruined it. It’s too late.”

His arms slipped around your waist, forehead pressed against your stomach. “I know. I messed up, big time. I’m not asking for forgiveness, but I miss you, and it’s killing me. I love you, (Y/N). I’m sorry I never told you, but I really did, and I still do.”

Your eyes narrowed in fury.

“N-No! You think you can come in here and win me back just as I was getting over you? You think you have the right to do that, to break my heart again?” No matter how hard you pushed, Tsukishima clung to you with an iron grip.

“I love you.”

“Liar!”

“I love you.”

“Liar.”

“I love you.”

“Liar…” You, too, began to cry. You pounded on his shoulders in rage, wishing he would let go and disappear, but your heart swelled after hearing the words you never thought you would. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! I hate that I love you, too.”

Tsukishima stood and cradled your face in his hands, wiping the tears away. His gentle kiss, lips hot and soft, took you by surprise. Out of instinct, you kissed him back, his warm breath meddling with yours. “I love you, (Y/N),” he whispered once you parted. “I’ll always be angry at myself for hurting you, but I want to try again if you’ll let me. I’m sorry.”

You closed your eyes. “Say ‘I love you’ and I’ll think about it.”

“I love you, forever and always. I love you.”

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lepusrufus · 3 years

Text

Double edged scalpel ch.10

Ch1 ch2 ch3 ch4 ch5 ch6 ch7 ch8 ch9

Summary: scary moms are scary

---

Nicole stilled.

Moms.

Well this just got a million times worse.

Surprisingly enough, Nicole could count on her fingers the times she had crossed paths with either of the Ladies. Lady Dimitrescu was often busy and not bothering with the staff. Most things that needed communicated went through the Steward. Mistress Esteria was, as some would call her, a ghost. She preferred her solitude or time with family so it wasn't unheard of for new staff members to take months before they even see her around the castle. Paired with Nicole's job that had her in the dungeons almost all the time, she never got an actual introduction to either of them.

Not that she complained. It didn't take a genius to realize that both women were to be feared.

I think I'd like to bleed out now.

"What about?" Her voice was barely audible, due to fear or pain was anyone's guess.

"... I don't know." Cassandra's quiet voice mimicked her own.

"Should I assume it is about your um… choice of partners?"

The realization that, to anyone outside Cassandra, she was little more than a maid turned butcher hit Nicole almost as much as the bullet that until not long ago was wedged into her flesh. Would they forbid Cassandra from seeing her? Or perhaps decide that Nicole has committed an unspeakable offense to their family and punish her? She gulped and Cassandra's reply wasn't of much help either.

"I don't know," she repeated.

Nicole sighed, a slow drawn out exhale, all too aware of the pain it would cause otherwise. "When?"

"Soon. They told me to let them know when you wake up."

Nicole just nodded and laid back into the cushions. May as well be comfortable before facing death. But Cassandra didn't move. Instead, she interlocked their fingers and brought Nicole's hand to her lips, leaving a kiss on bony knuckles. They stayed like that, silently, for a full minute before Cassandra got up and, with a be right back, exited the room.

Left alone, Nicole looked down at herself once more. To say she looked awful was an understatement. Definitely not going to rely on appearance to make a good impression. The painkiller was also yet to do its job and any movement still shot jolts of pain through her body. Wonderful.

It wasn't long before the door opened again and Cassandra came in followed by Lady Dimitrescu, her trademark hat making her look even taller and more intimidating than she already was. Immediately behind, Mistress Esteria took light steps, her long white hair flowing behind her like a silky mantle.

They looked so in contrast with each other, and it went beyond the almost opposite color schemes. While the Lady had the expression of a mother about to scold her child for carelessly running up the stairs and scraping a knee, the Mistress looked about to take out the bandaids. Her eyes, blue and gray, looked at her with something akin to kindness.

"What's your name dear?"

God her voice sounded like rivers deep in the forest. Flowing and ancient and just as powerful as she probably was.

"Nicole," she gulped.

The Mistress came to a stop right by the bed, tall frame bending down and grabbing Nicole's chin between two fingers. She moved her head from one side to the other and hummed.

"My my, what a pretty face. You've always had quite the taste in women, love." She looked at Cassandra who only nodded stiffly.

Then, she was up again and moving towards the other matriarch, who by now was sitting in an armchair. The Mistress leaned on the armrest, opting to ignore the many other places to sit and Nicole had to wonder for a moment if they were the clingy type. What an oddly human trait.

A long drag of a cigarette was drawn out before golden eyes finally fell on Nicole and the Lady spoke.

"I was actually surprised to learn about how… deeply Cassandra cares about you. To actually come to me and ask for help saving your life." She narrowed her eyes slightly, just enough for it to be a clear warning. "I sure hope such kindness was not wasted on you."

Sensing where this conversation was going, Nicole groaned internally. Of all things, she would rather not have the break my daughter's heart and I'll break your legs conversation with Cassandra's mothers while a damn hole in her abdomen was still sending waves of pain through her body if she didn't move just right. In her defense, the painkiller was yet to kick in and there's only so much holding her tongue she can do while in pain.

"With all due respect my Ladies, I'd rather throw myself off the highest tower in this castle than pretend to love Cassandra. Have you met her."

That got a snort from the brunette, who quickly masked it with a cough. The Mistress however laughed. A melodic laugh that, in another situation, would be the most soothing thing.

"Oh dear. While the reassurance is appreciated, we do trust Cassandra's judgement."

"For the most part," Lady Dimitrescu added, eyes still narrowed.

"And we would love to have you for dinner soon," the Mistress went on, ignoring the small glare from her wife.

Another drag of the cigarette. "Well anyways. We didn't come here for a welcoming party. We'd like to make you a proposal."

Judging by Cassandra's furrowed brows, she probably knew as little about this as Nicole did. A proposal from Lady Dimitrescu could either be wonderful news or a death sentence. She couldn't help a gulp when the Lady continued.

"Contrary to popular belief, I do care about my staff. At least those who prove themselves useful." The cigarette was finally done and now Nicole had the luck of having her full attention. "And, as you may have guessed, medical training is not particularly common around here. I do happen to want a castle physician, a position that could be filled by someone skilled that also has a good reason to do a good job and be loyal to my family."

Wait what-

Nicole blinked in confusion, an expression mimicked by Cassandra. Did she mean…?

Lady Dimitrescu raised an eyebrow. "Do you accept?"

"Y- yes." The words spilled from her mouth without a second thought. And why would she have second thoughts after all?

Lady Dimitrescu watched her for a long moment. Then, when she seemed pleased with her findings, she rose to her feet.

"Very well. We will discuss the technicalities once you're in a better state. Now try not to bleed out before you even start your job. And," she sighed, "you are expected at dinner as soon as you're able to join us."

The last part caused her wife's lips to turn into a warm smile. The Lady simply turned around and ducked out of the room while Mistress Esteria lingered by Cassandra. She whispered something only the brunette could hear and then leaned in to kiss her forehead. The Mistress had a couple inches on Cassandra, which meant she was towering over Nicole. Then, with a smile in her direction, she too was out of the room, leaving only the two of them to stare at the door in disbelief.

"Well that went… well."

"Oh for the love of Mother Miranda," Cassandra sighed in relief, hands running through her hair.

Her shoulders lost their tension when she came to sit by Nicole's side, a smile now present on thin black lips.

"Your mothers seem… lovely women."

"Shut up you were scared shitless."

There goes Nicole's attempt at being polite. Not that Cassandra was wrong by all means, but part of her wanted to be on good terms with her lover's family. Maybe it was simply due to her relationship with the brunette, maybe it was due to how her own family never seemed to care much for each other. Not the way the Dimitrescus did, despite how they were seen as monsters by most outside eyes. She didn't let herself dwell on it, instead she took one of Cassandra's hands and started to play with slender fingers.

"Are you hungry? I can ask Cynthia to fix something for you."

Nicole smiled at the effort to make her feel better. She would never get tired of seeing Cassandra's caring and gentle side, especially when she knew how ruthless she could be otherwise.

"In a bit. I'm waiting for the painkiller to fully kick in so I can actually sit up."

Cassandra nodded and looked to the side, seemingly lost in some kind of thought. Nicole wanted to ask what got the brunette pensive all of a sudden, but before she could, golden eyes snapped back to her.

"Also. Don't you dare jump in front of a bullet for me ever again. It wouldn't have hurt me anywhere near as much as it hurt you."

There was a subtle growl in her voice that would have scared any other person. But Nicole recognized how the anger was just veiled worry at how much worse their situation could’ve gotten.

"Sorry. I just saw him with the gun and panicked." There was a reason she didn't pursue her father's idea of becoming a surgeon after all, and pissing him off was only part of it. "And I'm glad you didn't get hurt at all."

Cassandra narrowed her eyes, but her expression quickly softened. The big bad sadist couldn’t stay mad at her lover and Nicole almost teased her about it, but a gloved hand slowly caressing her cheek stopped her.

“I’m just happy you’re alive.”

#cassandra dimitrescu x maiden #unhinged maiden™ my beloved #lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x maiden #fanfic #double edged scalpel

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breakyeol · 3 years

Text

— SQUIRM, BABY.

You don’t like Doh Kyungsoo. Especially not when he’s got his fingers buried knuckle deep inside of you and your seeing stars —goddamn stars!— but can’t make a sound unless you want the entire library to know exactly what he’s doing to you under the table.

┗ Pairing: Tutor!Kyungsoo x Reader

Genre: college au, tutor au, enemies w benefits au, smut

Words: 4.7k

Rating: 18+

Warnings: strong language, sexual acts in a public setting, fingering

A/N; tomorrow is going to be my 1 year anniversary as an EXO-L!! oh my goodness that feels so crazy, time really flies. so here is a little present from me to you, enjoy lovelies!!

“These are all wrong,” Kyungsoo mutters blankly, “start over.”

A loud groan is ripped from your throat, the sound earning you more than a few sideways glares from the surrounding tables but you can’t really bring yourself to care. You’ve been here for two hours, studying one of the most intolerable subjects in the world: Calculus. The mere mention of its name made you shiver in disgust.

To be blunt, you’d always been shit at math. Numbers and equations were never your strong suit, not in high school and definitely not now with the added complexities of derivatives and differential equations (neither of which made even the slightest bit of sense to you). You much preferred the gentleness of literature and history to the strict logic and rules of mathematics and science. Unfortunately for you, the latter subjects were just as vital a part of your education, and opting out of them was not an option.

“Can’t we take a break?” You almost whine the question, pressing your fingers into your throbbing temples. “My brain feels like it’s going to explode.”

“No.”

You scowl at the bluntness of his rejection. “I’m paying you.” You point out, stabbing a finger into his bicep for emphasis. “Shouldn’t I have a say in when we take a break?”

He rolls his eyes, swatting your hand away and shoving the paper back in your direction. “I’m giving you your money’s worth. Do it again.”

You let out a noisy huff of air, slouching over dramatically in the stiff plastic chair until your chin is pressed against the cold table. “I hope you know I am deeply regretting some of my life decisions right about now.” You grumble, shooting him an icy glare that you hope conveys the absolute loathing you feel for both him and the set of problems laid before you.

“I thought that was a daily thing for you.”

Scoffing, you bury your mouth in the thick sleeve of your hoodie. “Your face is a daily thing for me.”

He doesn’t even bother to look at you, though you could almost feel the intensity of his deadpan. “I think that was the shittiest comeback I’ve ever heard.”

“Your face is the shittiest comeback I’ve ever heard.”

“You do realize that that makes absolutely no sense.”

“Your fa—”

“Shut up and do your work.”

He either doesn’t hear or consciously chooses to ignore the colorful array of curses you grumble spitefully in his direction, though simultaneously resigning yourself to the fact that you won’t be able to put off your work inevitably. Kyungsoo was a stickler for proper time management. If he had an agenda set in place for your tutoring session (which he always did), then you better believe he’d be checking off each item within its designated time frame. And if you don’t cooperate— well then, your best bet is to pray that there isn’t a mechanical pencil within his reach.

He might not always be able to reach the top shelf, but Kyungsoo had ways of getting what he wanted. Usually, that chilling glare was enough to get those around him to bend to his will. He could be a scary little shit when he wanted to be. You’ll admit, even you had been the tiniest bit intimidated when you first met him. He was quiet, reserved, strict in manner, but also the dangerous unpredictable type, you gathered that much quickly enough. Maybe that’s why the two of you didn’t get on too well.

Where he was cool and standoffish, “a man of few words” some might say, you were more vocal about your opinions, social by nature, always eager to meet new people and make new connections. You had a tendency to speak loudly when excited and talk with your hands when passionate about a subject. That was something most people learned about you very quickly. Unfortunately, upon your first official meeting at a party in your freshman year with your mutual friends, Kyungsoo had no idea just how emphatic you could be until you’d knocked his drink clean out of his hand and spilled it down the front of his brand new shirt.

It was an accident, of course. You’d apologized profusely and he’d accepted it (albeit somewhat begrudgingly), but that was probably the first of many missteps in your... unique relationship.

With such conflicting personalities, it was understandable that you got into frequent arguments about one thing or another. Petty disagreements would often grow into something larger than they really needed to be. Mostly because despite having such contrasting personalities, you shared the trait of innate stubbornness, neither of you willing to admit when you were wrong. It was easy to argue with him, and you liked when you proved him wrong. You liked the way his brows furrowed and his cheeks flushed. You liked the way he glared, the way his lips pouted. You like the challenge he presented you with every time he opened his mouth. Above, you loved to win. Especially when it was against him.

So you pushed, and he pushed right back. And before you knew it, you found yourself a proper ‘frenemy’, though you aren’t sure that that’s quite the right word to describe whatever it was you two were.

But that’s just how the two of you are, how you’d always been. If you were being honest, riling him, seeing that usually so stoic, so controlled expression crack when you pushed just the right buttons— it was fun. You thoroughly enjoyed fucking with him, discovering new and creative ways to get under his skin. And you knew he got just as much satisfaction from doing the same to you, rendering you speechless with witty comebacks, flustering you with his sharp tongue and impressive rebukes.

So really, was it such a terrible thing?

Not to mention, a number of not-so-terrible things occurred as a result of one of your many arguments, such as hiring him as your calculus tutor. One that started out with you claiming he would probably be the shittiest teacher to ever exist (which seemed a valid argument at the time considering how short tempered and impatient he could be *cough* with you *cough*) to which he rebutted with the claim that he could “teach a goldfish advanced calculus” if he set his mind to it, and considering that you “had an IQ equivalent to one”, he could without a doubt teach you. His words, obviously.

It just so happened that you had a calculus exam coming up that next week, so to prove his point, he tutored you for the three days preceding said test. Even though you loathe being proven wrong, you ended up getting one of the highest scores you’d ever gotten on a math test in your entire academic career.

Putting your pride aside, you made the suggestion that he continue to tutor you. He only agreed when you offered him green in exchange for his troubles and admitted that he was right (it took a few extra hours to convince yourself that your grades should be held above your ego before you could bring yourself to verbally admit defeat).

And now here you are, not flunking out of calculus. You’d consider that worthy of the bruise to your pride, even if only by a small margin.

“Kyungsoo, why’d you mark this one wrong?” You frown at the large red X marking problem two as incorrect. You’d been glaring at your scribbled work for almost two minutes, running over the problem in your head, but you couldn’t seem to figure out where he thought you’d gone wrong. It looks right enough to you.

Kyungsoo shifts over to get a better look, his arms pressing against yours in the process and you are briefly stunned by the sudden, unexpected closeness, wholly unable to stop yourself from noticing the faint, woody scent of his aftershave that caresses your senses. Fuck. You can’t tell if you hate or love the fact that he smelled so good. Partly love it because good hygiene is always something to admire in a man (even if that man was Doh Kyungsoo), partly hate it because dammit it’s Doh Kyungsoo and you loathe finding anything that has to do with him attractive. Plus, it’s distracting. You’re here trying to learn and he has the audacity to go around smelling like pine trees and fresh moss after a rainfall. Unfair.

“Right here.”

The scowl you don’t realize you’re wearing immediately drops away as the low baritone of his voice thrums through the cavity of your ribcage and you lean forward to see exactly what he’s pointing at.

“You multiplied straight through instead of distributing.” He explains further upon seeing the uncertainty on your face. A few seconds of further inspection and you finally see what he’s talking about.

“Fuck,” you hiss, “I’m so stupid.”

“It’s an easy mistake to make.” He reassures.

“Yeah, but I should know that by now, I should’ve—” you turn your head, only to nearly choke on air as you discover that any space that once existed between the two of you has virtually disappeared, “... seen it.”

He’s close, so close that you can feel the cool rush of his breath against your skin as he exhales, goosebumps bristling across your arms in response. He’s close. Too close. You can’t think straight, can’t even breathe. The moment that surrounds you feels fragile, like even the slightest disruption would rupture it completely.

Frozen, you can only swallow around the sudden dryness of your mouth as your treacherous eyes drop to trace the plush line of his lips. Who even has lips like that? They’re just so big and so pink, that dark, kissable kind of pink that every girl just wishes her lips could be. You, included. They look soft, and you can’t help but to wonder if they’d still taste like the strawberry bubblegum he’d been chewing on at the beginning of your tutoring session.

“Careful, ___.” The sound of Kyungsoo’s voice, raspier than you recall it being before and laced in a faintly taunting pitch, is enough to break you from your trance and, once freed, you whip your head around fast enough to give yourself whiplash.

“Fuck off.” You cough, jaw clenching as you attempt to drag your mind out from the gutter and back onto the calculus problems you have yet to correct. But for whatever reason your brain refuses to cooperate, instead filling your head with images of his pretty mouth and everything it could be doing instead of rambling on about something as uninteresting as calculus. Damnit.

No doubt seeing the distress written clearly across your face, Kyungsoo chuckles, the sound low and smooth where it drips from his lips, and a familiar heat blossoms in the pit of your stomach.

You can feel his eyes on you now, every cell of your being suddenly hyperaware of his presence beside you. The pressure of his knee where it nudges against yours, the teasing curl of his lips as he watches you struggle to focus, the warmth of his palm caressing up your thigh, the— wait what?

Your gaze whips down, breath hitching at the sight of Kyungsoo’s hand gently gripping the lagging clad flesh just above your knee. It’s another few seconds before you’re able to find your voice again.

“W– What’re you—?”

“Focus.” He cuts you off smoothly, fingers soothing over the inside of your leg, squeezing gently. When you don’t look away from him, he smirks, jerking his chin forward in a manner you can only interpret as challenging. There’s a familiar glint in his eye, a dangerous glint that doesn’t fail to provoke your competitive side. You know that look well. He’s challenging you.

And you don’t back down from a challenge.

Especially not from Doh Kyungsoo.

Determination flairs up inside of you, your jaw clenching as you strike him with a single, heated glare that read plain and simple ‘you. are. on.’ before honing all your attention onto the worksheet in front of you. It’s not too difficult to focus at first, to disregard the tingles that erupt across your skin where his hot touch sears into it. You manage to find and correct your error in one of the problems (impressive for you even if Kyungsoo wasn’t feeling your leg up under the table).

But whatever pride you find in doing so is quickly quelled when his hand suddenly shifts higher, and you feel the faintest pressure against your heat. It’s a sensation that robs you of your ability to breathe entirely for a handful of seconds, and you can’t stop the shiver that ripples down your spine.

This, you see, is one of the more recent developments in your oh-so complicated relationship with Doh Kyungsoo. Yet another that began with a disagreement at a party, over something you can’t even remember anymore thanks to the haze of alcohol that clouded both your minds at the time, that spiraled way out of proportion. You remember yelling at him, insulting him, stabbing your finger into his chest, feeling the sting of his lethal glare. God, he’d looked so pissed off, and you just fed off of it, fed off the rage and the frustration that festered like lava in those dark brown eyes. The angrier he got, the harder you pushed, until he finally snapped.

You’re still not sure what you expected to happen. What you expected him to do. But you sure as hell hadn’t anticipated him grabbing you by the throat and pulling you into one of the hottest, most mind numbing kisses you’d ever experienced.

Next thing you remember is being in a bed. Whose bed it was, isn’t important. What is important, however, is the fact that that night you had the best sex of your entire life with the man you thought you couldn’t stand.

Hate sex with Doh Kyungsoo opened your eyes to a whole new world of mind boggling pleasure that you’d never experienced before. Pleasure that no other person had ever been able to give you. God, the things he did to you. No one had ever touched you like that before. It was like he knew all the places on your body that made you unravel. He honestly ruined all other men for you that night because none have even come close to comparing. Which was beyond frustrating especially considering that, at the time, you thought it was a one time thing.

The morning after you both pretended that nothing happened. In the two weeks following as well, neither one of you mentioned it. You tried to erase the memory from your brain, tried to go back to normal, but it was hard considering every time you needed some sexual release (which was more often than you care to admit), it was his hands, his mouth, his cock that you imagined while you touched yourself. You replayed his moans in your head, his deep, rasping voice growling your name, and fuck, you never came harder.

But it was still nothing compared to the real thing.

As time passed you only grew more and more frustrated. Worst of all, you could tell he was feeling it too. It was obvious in the way he looked at you, with fire burning in eyes, in the way he spoke to you, with a pitch of something hot and wanting in his voice, in the way he lost his cool far quicker and far more often than he had in the past, your arguments fiercer and more frequent than they’d ever been. The tension between the two of you was palpable, thick enough to be cut with a knife. It got to the point where even your most oblivious of friends started noticing it as well, though they knew better than to voice their curiosity.

The second time it happened, you were both sober and, somehow, it was even better than you remembered. The pleasure was more intense, more overwhelming, a feeling you can’t even put into words. Then it kept happening. Late at night when he’d show up unannounced at your door. Early in the morning when you had an important exam later in the day and you needed some pre-test de-stressing. Between classes in the back seat of his car just because you could. At parties when your friends were too shit faced to notice the two of you slipping into an unoccupied bedroom.

Just sex. That’s what you both agreed to when it became blatantly obvious that your little ‘arrangement’ wouldn’t be coming to an end any time soon. No strings. Just sex. Just really, really good sex.

And that was perfectly fine by you.

Exhaling shakily through your nose, you try to block out the feeling of his thumb as it begins to caress gently up and down your clothed core, suddenly very grateful for the layers of fabric that separate you from his intoxicating touch. But it’s a gratitude that’s short lived. Just as you manage to adjust and scribble down a correction, he cups his hand over your mound and squeezes. A gasp escapes you, and you try to cover up the sound with a series of short coughs, the sting embarrassment intertwining with the warmth of pleasure as a few eyes briefly glance in your direction.

“You’re such an asshole.” You hiss under your breath, thighs tightening around his hand, locking it in place.

He throws you a lopsided grin, brows lifting and you don’t miss the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “I’ve been called worse.” What he means is you’ve called him worse.

Your lips part, but any intelligible words die on the tip of your tongue as he grinds the heel of his palm down, directly against your clit. Your head drops, eyes squeezing shut, teeth locking down firmly on your lower lip in order to silence the soft moan that threatens to break free.

“F- fuck.”

You hear him coo tauntingly beside you at your slip, the tips of his skilled fingers easily locating your entrance and prodding experimentally. At this point, you don’t doubt he can feel the fabric of your leggings growing hot and wet with your arousal.

Despite being used to the quick effect he had on your body, you can help but to feel the slightest twinge of shame at how he was able to rile you up this much with little more than a few well-placed strokes of his fingers. But fuck, it felt so good. You’d already been feeling somewhat deprived since you’d both been so busy this past week with exams and projects and what not. This is the first time you’re spending time with him since almost a week ago.

And you are in need of a fix.

“You look like you’re having a bit of trouble on that problem. Do you need my help?” Kyungsoo leans into you, his face right up next to yours, and you have to resist the sudden urge to kiss him right then in there in front of everyone in the stupid library.

Instead, you grit out an unconvincing, “I’m fine,” and force yourself to stay focused on the dizzying mess of numbers and letters on the worksheet in front of you and not on the delicious warmth of his hand where it is applying just the right amount of pressure to keep you teetering between pleasure and the insatiable need for more.

“You sure?” There’s a certain lightness to his voice that tells you he is thoroughly enjoying watching you struggle. Sadistic bastard.

“Positive.”

And just like that, he’s gone. You almost gasp as a rush of cold air fills the places he had been, and you can’t help the frown that tugs at the corners of your lips, disappointment and irritation coloring your features before you can reel them in. From the corner of your eye, you chance a glance in his direction. The smug, knowing little smirk staining his lips sends a wave of heat pulsing into your cheeks, and you grit your teeth in frustration.

“So what, you’re just going to stop?” You whisper sharply, not making any attempt whatsoever to hide your annoyance.

A look of feigned innocence overcomes his features. “You said you didn’t need my help.”

You grit your teeth, glaring at him as hard as you can manage with how incredibly turned on you are. But he remains unfazed.

“If you want my help,” he continues, voice dropping an entire octave, “you’re going to have to ask for it... nicely.”

Nice wasn’t a word in your vocabulary when Kyungsoo was involved.

Seeing the resistance you are still putting up, he feathers his fingers over your thigh, tracing slow designs across the thin, black fabric. You swallow, unable to look away as they trail dangerously higher, teasing closer to where you both knew you wanted them most.

“You do want it, don’t you?”

Fuck, you want it so bad.

You know that he knows you want it. It’s just the getting yourself to actually say it out loud part that proves to be a challenge. But that’s exactly what he wants you to do, he wants to hear you say it, wants to see you cast aside your stubborn pride and beg for it. Beg for him.

Lifting your eyes, you glance unsurely around the library. It isn’t overly crowded anymore since most of the other students have begun to trickle out as late afternoon approaches. Plus, the table you were seated at was tucked into the far back corner of the room, secluded and out of the way. But still, your nerves buzzed at the thought of someone seeing. Though maybe — just maybe — there was a buzz of something else as well. Excitement, perhaps?

Grip tightening around your pencil, you chewed on the corner of your lip, refusing to meet Kyungsoo’s penetrating gaze as you let out a soft murmur. “...ease.”

He leans closer, mirth shimmering in his eyes. “What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

Groaning, you shoot him a scowl, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Please help me, asshole.”

Laughter bubbles at his lips, the genuine kind that makes his cheeks lift and his nose wrinkle. You like it when he laughs like that. Makes him look a lot less like a serial killer.

Sinking his teeth into the pillowy flesh of his lower lip to stifle his laughter, he shoots you a lazy grin, “that’s all you had to say.”

Next thing you know, his hand is slipping beneath the elastic of your leggings and into the soft cotton confines of your underwear. Your mouth fell open, a sharp inhale filling your lungs with cold air as his fingers slid through your slick folds.

“I knew you were wet but shit.” He hisses, thick brows furrowing at the feeling of your heavy arousal coating the length of his digits. “I must say, I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be,” you breathe, eyes fluttering, “even Chanyeol can get me this— ngh!”

Without warning, he plunges his middle finger inside of you, and the remainder of your sentence pitches into a strangled moan. One look at his face, jaw clenched, nostrils flared, lips down turned, tells you he isn’t all too pleased at the mention of another man’s name, especially when he’s the one buried knuckle deep in your greedy cunt.

A hazy smirk curls onto your lips and you let out a low hum of pleasure, walls squeezing around him. “You’re sexy when you’re mad.”

“Is that why you enjoy pissing me off so much?” He questions, tone biting and low, and you shutter involuntarily as he rolls the pad of his thumb harshly over your aching clit.

“Partly.” You admit, somewhat breathless. “But you’re also just a really fun person to piss off.”

He chuckles dryly in response, though the sound lacks any genuine amusement. “You are such a brat, you know that?” He emphasizes the word by stretching you around a second finger, and you have to drop your pencil in favor of clasping your hand over your mouth, unable to swallow down the soft whimpers that tremble up your throat.

“You love it.” You manage to get out before you’re forced to bite into the tender flesh of your palm to muffle a desperate cry when the slow thrusts of his digits suddenly picks up speed. Your thighs squeeze around his hand, hips jerking up to grind your throbbing clit against the heel of his palm. Electricity ricochets through your veins, and you feel that distinctive tightening in the pit of your stomach. Kyungsoo also feels the way you throb and clench around him, and makes sure to grind down hard against your swollen clit.

Heat immediately spreads through your core, the intensity of the pleasure becoming more than you can handle. “Oh god, Kyungsoo.” Your voice comes out louder than you intended, and you quickly duck your head, doing your best to make it seem like you’re focusing on your work and not the fingers drilling relentlessly into your g-spot, praying to god that no one had seen the blissed out expression on your face. Still, you can’t help the quiet whine that escapes you when his ministrations slow.

“Are you trying to get us caught?” He asks in less than a whisper, breath hot against the shell of your ear. “Ever hear of subtlety?”

“Ever hear of suck my dick?” You snap back without missing a beat, only to jolt as his fingers curl inside of you, pressing directly against that sensitive bundle of nerves. Every muscle in your body tenses, and fuck you’re so close you can almost taste it. Frantically, you thrust your hips, desperately trying to fuck yourself down on his digits.

“Sit still.” He growls, and you quiver when he sinks his teeth into the lobe of your ear, obeying only because you really don’t want to get banned from the campus library if someone happened to catch on.

“Soo— fuck,” the force with which you bite into your lip is nearly about to break the skin, but you can’t be bothered by the pain, not with how quickly your orgasm was approaching. Sensing as much, Kyungsoo goes the extra mile of drawing hard, fast figure eights over your clit with his thumb while simultaneously thrusting his fingers into you so fast that you swear you can almost hear it.

All at once fire roars through your veins, euphoria consuming you as your high crashes over you. Your walls spasm around his digits, painting them with your release.

He doesn’t withdraw from you until you go slack, thighs spreading, body slumping back in your chair, eyes fluttering as a hazy, blissed out smile touches your lips. You can only watch through hooded lids as he brings his glistening fingers to his mouth, sighing in amazement as he sucks them clean. There’s a twinge of arousal in your core as he moans softly at the taste of you on his tongue, a downright lethal sound that somehow manages to rouse your positively spent pussy.

This man is going to be the absolute death of you one of these days.

“Fuck.” You chuckle airily, heady gaze flickered over him lazily, only to do a double take when you notice something standing upright beneath the zipper of his jeans. The corners of your lips twirled into a mirthful grin, eyebrows raising slowly.

“Need some help with that?”

“Yes.” He answers shamelessly and without hesitation, grunting softly as he adjusts himself in the tight confines of his jeans to make the raging hard-on he’s sporting somewhat less obvious. “But not here.”

“I figured. So... your car or mine?”

“Didn’t you just get a new one with reclining seats?” He questions, running the tip of his tongue over the seam of his lip at the mere implication.

You strike him with a wicked grin, already beginning to shove your things into your bag. “I did indeed.”

“Then what are we— wait.”

“What?”

“You didn’t finish correcting the worksheet yet.” He points out, drumming his fingers across the paper that had completely slipped your mind.

You pull a face, pausing in the act of gathering your belongings long enough to cross your arms pointedly over your chest. “No offense, Kyungsoo, sweetheart, but I’d much rather suck your dick than do one more of those stupid fucking calc problems.”

His brows leap to his hairline, and he offers a single nod of acceptance, in no position to argue with such a valid point.

“Noted.”

739 notes · View notes

thero0ks · 3 years

Text

Carnations and Constellations <Deimos! Alexios> NSFW

Request: hiii!! i found ur blog could u perhaps write about deimos! alexios and or connor catching feelings for a soft girl and they gets obsessed with how her body is so soft compared to theirs? fluff or smut(?) either way is fine!! id just like it to be super cute ;_;

This is my first attempt at smut. Let me know what you guys think! :) Also, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Please don’t read if you’re under 18.

***

A gift for the Deimos. It was an honor, and the gods would smile upon her. The truth was she was expendable, and they were terrified of the monster they created.

Humans were cruel creatures, and the cult of Kosmos were full of twisted individuals. He became what he had to to survive.

"You are to do his bidding." Those were the last words her father spoke to her.

Their control over his rage was slipping. The cultists hoped he would channel his rage onto her, in whatever way he deemed fit.

She was instructed to kneel by a low chair. By the weapon racks surrounding it, she assumed this is where he stripped his armor. "You will not look at him until he deems it." A cultist ordered.

"Deimos, the cult of Kosmos have blessed you with a gift."

He studied the woman, taking in her figure, her soft features looked out of place in the dark room.

Cold steel pressed under her chin. The blade tilted her chin up and she met honey eyes. Eyes that wanted to hold warmth, but churned violently instead. Dark circles ringed his eyes, but he had a face that was more beautiful than Adonis himself.

"If she isn't to your liking we can find a more suitable offering."

In a flash his blade was pressed against the cultist's neck as he seethed, "what are you still doing here?"

The man managed to sputter out a cry as Deimos shoved him towards the door. He thudded against the marble floor, and scrambled out of the room. "What do they call you?"

"Y/N."

He studied her a moment, "I expected you to say I could call you whatever I liked."

"That is what they told me to say." She confessed. "I haven't any reason to appease them." Her jaw was set, and shoulder's square.

She had some spirit about her, which he found amusing. "And you are mine to do as I please," he mused sitting in the low chair next to her. Calloused fingers gripped her jaw inspecting her face once more, "Aphrodite has blessed you, and they have given you to me unspoiled?" He questioned, studying her gaze.

She gave a simple nod, which seemed to appease him. He'd grown up around serpents, and had no patience for liars.

"Well?" He gestured to his armor as he sat. With nimble fingers she was quick to strip him of his armor.

"Would you like me to polish it too?" She inquired, placing the armor on it's stand.

She was startled to find calloused fingers lightly gripping her neck. His low voice was the harbinger of death. "Do you think I'm so easily fooled?"

"Please, just do it." She said laying her hands over his. "If it's not you, it'll be someone else."

Her words startled him, and his grip loosened. "They'll try to exploit you if you ever came to care for me." His fingers ran down the soft slope of her shoulders as he took her words in. She was a pawn too, but to the cult she was expendable.

He knew for both of their sake he should end it now. It would be quick, her bones would be easy to break, and her neck would snap like a twig. However, she was so small, so vulnerable that he couldn't entertain the thought of striking her down.

"Perhaps you are a gift from the gods." He muttered. His fingers catching a bit of silk fabric that hung about her waist.

The touch was fleeting as he dropped the fabric. Y/N could feel his demeanor shift behind her. "Polish my armor." His voice came out gruff as he stalked out of the room.

She set to work polishing the armor and blade until they both gleamed.

He returned late in the night to find her sound asleep against one of the weapons racks. A sound of surprise escaped his throat when he saw the polished armor.

Her calming presence had confused him, and he'd removed himself from the room to ponder it. However, coming back to her sleeping form had stirred a gentleness within him that left him more confused.

He had concluded that he would use this gift the gods gave him. He had never had the time to explore a woman's touch, perhaps she could melt his cold heart.

He made his way over to her, in a gentleness that surprised him, and he placed her on the soft bed. He shrugged on an azure linen chiton before sitting on the edge of the bed. She’d curled into herself, and she looked tiny. Like the carnation petals that littered Zeus’ temple floor. The jewel studded hair pins glittered in the moonlight, and Deimos plucked them from her hair. Ten pins littered the small table when he was finished.

He finally settled in behind her. She looked peaceful as she softly stirred beside him. Her eyes fluttered open. He watched her process reality. His hand shot out to grip her bicep before she could sit up. Again he was reminded of her size in his calloused palms. “Stay.” His deep voice melted in her ears. She settled back down into the warmth of his body.

The bed was cold when she awoke the next morning. His armor gone, and a platter of fruit, cheese and bread were laid out on the table next to her. She ran her fingers through her hair as her gaze rested on the pile of hair pins. He’d taken the time to remove each one, and he even shared his bed.

The man wasn’t a monster, so why did everyone fear him? Her mind replayed the moment he’d thrown the Cultist across the room. Could that classify him as a monster? If she had the power to show the Cult of Kosmos that kind of wrath she wouldn’t hold back either.

The gilded doors creaked open, and several cultists walked in. Y/N’s shoulder tensed at the sight. The cultists appeared to be surprised she was unharmed. The leader of the group spoke, “you will accompany Deimos to the feast tonight.” The cultists took a step closer, Y/N could feel the cultists’ breath fanning her neck. “If he acts out, you will be the first to feel our wrath.”

She recognized that voice. It was amusing seeing her father shocked she was still breathing, and here he was threatening her with violence. He snapped his fingers and a maid quickly rushed forward. A pile of white fabric laid across her arms. “They will get you ready.”

The cult turned to leave, as Deimos entered the room. The cultists scurried fast out of the room to avoid his fury. He crossed the room in a few strides and grabbed her chin. His grip was firm, but slightly tender as his eyes flickered over her body checking for any harm that could have befallen her. “What did they want?” His voice was deep, and demanding.

The maids cowered at his presence, “they wanted me to ensure you would not act out tonight.”

“Or what?” His words came out as a feral growl as he took a step closer. His breastplate felt warm against her skin.

“They will punish me.” Her voice was soft, but her words hung heavily in the air. Anger radiated off his body. He turned to the weapons rack, and in the blink of an eye he sent a bronze shield through the rack. Steel clattered on the marble floor, and the maids whimpers echoed off the walls. Y/N spared them a glance, and could see the women shaking. Tentatively she reached out. His back went ridged when her hand met his arm. “Don’t worry about me.” She said gently, “they fear you too much to take me away.”

“If they lay a hand on you.” He paused, inhaling deeply.

“I know.” She said softly, as he brushed his fingers against her cheek. Her gentleness was something that had been lacking in his life. The thought of anyone laying a hand on such a kind heart had him seeing red.

She pressed a soft kiss to his palm before turning to the maids. The three women scurried to their feet, head down so as not to catch Deimos’ eye.

The ladies unclasped the brooches letting the silk fabric pool at her feet. Deimos had taken a seat to sharpen his blade. His eyes flickered up at the rustling of fabric. Soft curves hypnotized him. They were a stark contrast from the hard worked muscles of his body. It would be easy to dismiss the maids, he longed to feel the softness of her breast, and the roundness of her ass. Before his mind could go much further white silk was fastened into place.

The dress left little to the imagination. It was another way for the Cult to show their control. What was supposed to be his, wasn’t really his, and they made sure it was known to him. He watched them pin her hair up in an elaborate style, applying perfume.

The ladies left as quickly as they came, and Deimos took her in. She looked like a flower to him, and she seemed out of place in the dark room. The only light in his dark and twisted life. She took a seat on the bed and she gripped the blankets tightly. Something tugged at his heart, it was a new feeling for the warrior. She looked terrified, she’d managed to hide it well so far. He did not think the fear was directed at him. Most quaked in his wake, but she hasn’t shown him an ounce of fear.

“I will not let any harm befall you.”

His voice surprised her, and she let go of the linen blankets. “I’m sorry.” The words came out as a whisper, and she’d never felt so small.

Deimos took a seat next to her. He’d never learned how to comfort himself let alone another person. He longed to take her in his arms, but was unsure of his own touch.

Teary eyes took him in: his muscles tense, and jaw clenched. The warrior was trying to console her, even if that meant sitting next to her awkwardly. “You’re very kind.”

A look of surprise crossed his features. He looked down into her earnest (e/c) eyes. “No one has ever used that word to describe me.”

She brought her hand up to brush against his beard. A very tender gesture, and Deimos felt like putty in her hands. He brushed his nose against her’s before pressing his lips to her’s. She melted into his touch. His lips were rough, but his touch was gentle. Fleeting kisses peppered her jaw and neck, as calloused fingers traced her curves. He fumbled with the brooch when the doors slammed open.

Deimos was already at the man’s throat before Y/N could blink. “The cult is ready for you.” The man gasped. Deimos released the man, “come.”

Y/N scurried along behind him. Her legs working overtime to keep up with his powerful strides. A group of horses were waiting outside of the fortress entrance. A sleek black stallion looked decorated for war. Y/N could only assume the stallion was for Deimos. The cultists ushered her to the back of the line. They seated her on a bay horse. A mercenary was ponying her horse. Apparently the cult didn’t trust her to not try and escape.

The banquet was being held at a nobleman’s house. When she dismounted, she could see the gleam of Deimos helmet disappear behind the house. The mercenary that was ponying her to the party guided her through the doors with a push of his hand. She found the mercenary was always in eyesight wherever she wandered. The wine table took too long for her to find. Her eyes flickered across the various faces in the room. She was startled to find her mother amongst some of the ladies. When she caught her eyes, her mother sneered, and turned her back. The group of women laughed, all throwing her judgemental looks.

She wrapped her arm around herself, hoping the floor would swallow her up. She took a deep pull from her goblet. Damaged goods, that’s what she was to her family. They tossed her to the wolves, and had the audacity to mock her. Most people avoided her, but she didn’t miss the hushed whispers that passed around the room. Words like whore and slut were directed at her.

When she finally found a secluded hallway, she pressed herself against the wall. The cold marble felt good against her hot skin. The past couple days had been a whirlwind. The only constant in her life was Deimos. Everyone called him the monster, but he was the only one who had shown her a sliver of kindness.

A crashing noise sent her back into the banquet hall. The marble railing gave her a perfect view of the scene below. One of the large cypress tables was tipped on its side. Wine and oil mixed on the mosaic floor. A middle aged man cowered at the sight of Deimos. His golden blade glinted. Deimos looked like a god in the way his armor glowed in the candlelight. He cut an imposing figure as he strolled around the room. People cowered and stared in awe at the sight of the mighty Deimos. All wondered what depths of Hades had spit him out, his voice held a hint of boredom. The way a cat lazily plays with a mouse before it devours it. “Did you think you would escape me?” Deimos drawled on, his eyes circulating the room.

The man pleaded some incoherent words. He even resorted to pleading on hands and knees. “I grow tired of this game.” Deimos stated, before plunging the blade through the man's throat. Y/N gaped at the sight. Never had she seen such violence. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt hands on her arms. She glanced up to see the mercenary ushering her forward.

The wine and oil splashed across her dress as she made her way to Deimos. He stretched his hand out for her to take. Hands were stained red, and Y/N was unsure if it was the wine or the man’s blood. Her eyes flickered down to the swirling of crimson and berry. Steeling herself she took his hand, showing weakness would give the cult satisfaction. Deimos led her through the crowd. The whispers about her had stopped, she had no doubt they were terrified of Deimos hearing their poisoned words.

The black stallion was waiting at the entrance. Deimos lifted her onto the steed, before mounting. She wrapped her arms around him as nudged the horse forward.

The sun fading painted the sky in brilliant colors of pinks and purples. It was the first time they’d been truly alone. No procession in tow, no walls full of vipers, just the music of the cicadas and the salty breeze that blew in from the sea. The stallion slowed its pace to a walk, as Demios navigated the horse down a steep slope. Deimos dismounted, before assisting her down.

Never had she been somewhere so beautiful. A small waterfall cascaded down the cliff side into a small pool. Deimos studied her expressions, he was glad she seemed to find beauty in this place. He never intended for her to see the monster he’d become. With the Cult of Kosmos it was unavoidable. Her dress was stained with the other man’s blood. He stripped his armor until he was in only his chiton. He turned to her to see her watching him. He laid out a soft blanket, and pulled out a clean dress. He took great care in unpinning her hair, to let it fall down her back. Calloused fingers unclasped the brooches, letting the soiled dress fall to the ground.

She was starkly aware of her own nakedness, as Deimos brushed her hair to the side to kiss her neck. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled into her neck. She furrowed her brow at his guilt, but he’d already swept her into his arms before she could respond. He sat her on a rock, and began to wash the blood from her skin. Honey eyes focused on his task, and Y/N assumed this was his way of atoning for what he had done. Deimos’s hands felt good against her skin. The way his large hands massaged her calves as he scrubbed back and forth until the water ran clear. She wanted to know how his hands would feel everywhere.

When he finished his administrations, he sat her on the soft blanket. Taking great care to keep her warm. With a jolt of courage she softly stroked his beard. His eyes flickered up, confusion evident on his face. Perhaps he expected her to fear him like everyone else. Instead she pressed her lips firmly against his. He was quick to return the kiss. His kisses were rough, but she could feel the longing in them. How long had he gone without connecting with another soul? If Y/N had to guess, she was the first one to willingly touch him.

Soon she found him on top of her. One palm cradling her neck as he peppered kisses along her jaw, while the other balanced him above her. His whiskers brought a pleasant burn against her skin, that his lips soothed as they passed over her skin. The gentle moans that escaped her lips only encouraged him further.

The sight of her breasts caused a sharp inhale in the warrior. The soft shape was a stark contrast to his battle hardened body. He peppered kisses along her breasts before thumbing each nipple. The weight of her breasts felt full in his hands. He captured one in his mouth as he rolled the other with his thumb. Small hands tugged at his hair, as soft whimpers escaped her lips. Deimos couldn’t decide if he liked the feel of her breasts more, or if it was the sinful noises his touch solicited from her lips.

His hand cupped her sex as he captured her lips with his once more. He kissed down her body before settling in between her thighs. Y/N sat up on her elbows in anticipation feeling his breath against her sex. Dark eyes flickered up at her lighting a fire in her core. His arms tightened around her thighs as he lapped at her clit. Fingers gripped his hair, and her back arched on its own accord.

Lustful eyes glanced up at her to see her enraptured in ecstasy. Deimos added his fingers, slowly stretching her to accommodate him. The added pleasure soon had her seeing stars, and that coil soon became so tight it finally released as her orgasm washed through her.

He climbed up her body giving her a deep kiss. She could taste herself on his tongue, it was cool and fresh. Like drinking from a cold mountain spring.

“I want to make you feel good too.” Her voice was soft as she gazed up at him with blissful eyes. This pulled a small smile from his lips. Her sweetness was contagious, and she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Climb on top.” He said softly, ridding himself of his remaining clothes. Soon she was straddling him. “You can go as slow, or as fast as you need.”

The velvety skin was soft in her hand. She gave him a few strokes, which solicited a low groan from him. He gripped her thighs at the sensation. She slowly sank down on him. The pain she was feeling slowly turning into a sweet burn. When she was fully seated she gave herself a moment to adjust. Deimos gripped her hips, he knew she’d probably bruise there, but he wasn’t expecting her to feel this fucking tight. When she started moving again Deimos found himself in pure bliss. He rub her clit encouragingly, which solicited soft moans from her. When he couldn’t take it anymore he flipped the two over. Y/N looked surprised at his strength, he hadn’t even bothered to pull out. “Touch yourself.” He commanded as he set a brutal pace. She went to work on her clit, and soon she was so close. She would cum if he kept hitting that spot. “Cum for me.” Deimos demanded, and she found herself falling over the edge. Deimos wasn’t far behind, he ceased when he became too sensitive. He waited to catch his breath before finally pulling out. She curled into his side, and he brushed back her hair. She looked stunning in the moonlight, her soft curves made her look like Aphrodite.

After cleaning them both up he set to work making a fire. He’d brought extra blankets. He hadn't planned on returning to the fortress until morning.

They gazed up at the stars, and she pointed out several constellations to him. Her knowledge of the stars surprised him. “Why study the stars?” He inquired.

Her brow furrowed, and a peaceful silence settled in the air. “They’ve always seemed so free.” Her voice grew quiet, “people find beauty in what they are. They don’t have to be anything that they aren’t.” She sighed, “I suppose I envy that kind of love.”

Deimos studied her hard, “who taught you to be so small?”

A blush bloomed on her cheeks, “my family I suppose. Though I don’t think I can call them that now.” She added.

“I heard what they said tonight.” Deimos said quietly. “I’m sorry. They only say it because of me.”

Y/N glanced over at him, his eyes looked sad. He’d been called a monster for so long, he actually believed it. “It doesn’t matter what they say.” She reached out to stroke his beard. “You’re a star, and they are nothing.”

_______

Tag List:

@marshmallow--3

#deimos #deimos!alexios #alexios x reader #deimos!alexios x reader #assassins creed odyssey

319 notes · View notes

h2bakugou · 3 years

Note

Ok cool beans, I just wanted to check first! I wanted to request something with a socially anxious, real hates giving presentations and trying to talk to new people(but one that opens up with time)type person. It's Valentine's Day and they work up the nerve to give him honmei choco. I though this would be cute!

a/n: yess!! this is super cute, i did touch base so this request is for bakugou, thank you for the lovely request, i hope this is good since valentines day is right around the corner!!

summary: you’re shy and rarely open up, but with time, you came to get closest to the polar opposite of your personality, bakugou. and on valentines day, you decide to give him some honmei choco

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: swearing, fluff

word count: 1.7k

;cut for length;

»»————-　★　————-««

Bakugou Katsuki. Loud, obnoxious, egotistical, bold, abrasive. The complete opposite of you, quiet, small friend circle, and socially anxious.

But despite the differences, and the vast contrasts of your character, you opened up to him.

You had been paired together on a project, and though you’d both much rather work alone, you toughed it out and headed to his dorm to work. And through minimal to soon a never-ending conversation, you became friends.

The following week, everyone was astounded that you’d begun talking and ‘hanging out’ regularly. Now when you were paired together, you got your work done first and spent the rest of the time chatting.

Bakugou hadn’t really known much about you before the project that started your friendship, all he knew was that he thought you were pretty cute. You were quiet, and based on your rather shy personality, he’d half expected you to avoid him at all costs due to his rather loud personality.

But you weren’t scared of him like he thought you would’ve been. Still, he’d steal a few glances in your direction during classes, or when talking breaks during training.

Valentine's day was coming up. You’d been thinking about confessing your feelings to Bakugou for a while, and if all went well, you’d be hopefully closer than friends. And if it all went south, at least you’d have yummy chocolate to eat.

Trying your best not to think of the negatives, your first goal was to hunt down Sato. You figured everyone was going to buy their chocolates and gifts, but you knew better than anyone that homemade sweets were always the best.

You were good friends with Sato, for more than just his amazing cooking. You’d passed the entrance exams together and when you found out you were in class 1-a together, it kind of further moved that friendship along. He was a pretty sweet guy, pun intended, and his food was always a plus.

Hunting him down was easy, he’d been just where you expected him to be, beside the kitchen reading a book on pastries. You leaned over the table and smiled.

“I know that look. To what do I owe my cooking services?” Sato smiled, marking the page in his book by folding the corner in. You smiled and cupped your hands together.

“I’d like to make some honmei choco.” You expressed quietly. You didn’t feel exactly confident in letting the entire class know you were making ‘true feeling chocolate’ to give to someone. You’d prefer if Mina didn’t know because as much as you loved her, she’d pry until you told her who it was for.

“To whom do i owe my cooking services?” Sato changed the context of his sentence with a devious grin. You rolled your eyes and sighed.

“I’d like to confess to someone, I can buy all the ingredients if you can help make them.” You offer to pay for all the supplies. Sato nods and glances over at where Kaminari, Kirishima, Bakugou, and Sero sat on one of the couches, Kaminari and Sero having a Beyblade battle.

“I’m sure Bakugou’s gonna love them.” Sato’s comment slips past you as you begin to speak.

“Yeah, I think he will too-wait!” You freeze and look at him, your face is hot and red as you stare at Sato.

“Please tell me-”

“I knew it.” Sato grins and hops up, walking into the kitchen to compile a list of all the things you’d need to buy that wasn’t already there.

“Just spare me until Valentine’s.” You sigh, following after him.

The list was fairly simple, so you were off to the store when it had been made while Sato prepared everything back in his room.

When you returned, you were stopped by Sero, one of your closer friends.

“Whatcha’ doin’ with Sato?” Sero asked, helping you with your bags up the stairs. Sero was really there trying to get the inside scoop for Bakugou who had been rather grumpy after seeing you with Sato.

“We’re baking!” You smile, thanking him for helping you carry your bags. Sero nods and pauses for a second.

“You gonna ask him to be your Valentine?” Sero asked bluntly. You freeze and shake your head.

“No! We’re just friends, where’d you get that idea?” You try to play it cool. You’d just friend-zoned one of your friends and now you felt kind of awkward.

“You guys seemed pretty closer earlier, was just curious. So do you have a Valentine at all this year?” Sero’s question was personal for sure, and it made your heart rate quicken.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to ask me-”

“No! Relax, no offense.” Sero laughs, you pat his shoulder and sigh.

“None taken. But I uhm, do have an idea. Just kind of nervous about it.” You were stopped down the hall from Sato’s room chatting.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be fine, just be confident! You’re totally badass, and if they decline, we’ll play Mario kart and eat pizza and snacks and I’ll knock some sense into them later.” Sero jokes. You giggle at his suggestion. You nod and take the bags from his hand and continue down the hall, feeling way better about what the future was to hold. You had this in the bag, you’d be fine.

Making the chocolate was fun. Of course, there were some fails, but the ones that turned out good were the ones you decorated and wrapped carefully, making them look pretty. The fails were still incredibly delicious, and Sato was rather impressed for the outcome considering it was his first go at making them.

“So you and Bakugou.” Sato wiped his mouth with a napkin after eating one of the first attempts. You sigh and nod.

“I didn’t think I’d like him. We’re polar opposites! He’ll kill me for saying this, but he’s really sweet.” You confess, staring down at the wine-red heart-shaped box you’d just set the chocolates in, carefully tying a matching red ribbon around it.

“You anchor him. I think he’s got a pretty big crush on you, but that’s just cause I’m observant.” Sato was reassuring you. He knew you were nervous, tomorrow was either going to be really good, or terrible. He respected Bakugou, but he didn’t know if his cooking was going to be able to console you if Bakugou didn’t like you back.

“What does that mean?” You question, staring at him quizically. Sato begins to elaborate.

“You’re the perfect amount of humble and quiet that shows him how peaceful things can be. He needs you to be the calm and serenity in his life.” Sato’s words drifted around in your head as you sat quietly, processing what he’d said.

“Thank you, for helping me make these, and for making me feel better.” You were confident. You were ready. The most nerve-wracking part was going to come tomorrow, when you stood before him and asked him to be your Valentine.

“Please, he’s going to ask you first, I know it.” Sato laughed, offering you one of the failed attempts. You quickly reach over and pop one into your mouth, smiling at the delightful taste.

The following day, you woke up early, took a shower, and put on an outfit you’d picked out the night before. A cute top along with a pair of cute pants to really make you feel good, you were hyping yourself up. Sato and Sero had both texted you telling you good luck, excited about how the day was going to turn out.

Bakugou had woken up fairly early as well. After Sero confirmed that Sato was in fact not your Valentine, he’d felt better about asking you. Sero had also informed Bakugou that you were planning on asking someone. Bakugou was nervous.

That was new.

He put on something casual, his plan was to ask you out to the park, maybe take you to lunch and buy you some flowers if you wanted. He’d been really stuck up on asking you out, not just to be his Valentine, but to be his altogether. He was going to do it. He had to ask you before-

A knock on his dorm room door interrupted his thoughts. He quickly jolted over to the door, buttoning up his shirt save for the top two buttons, leaving just a little bit of room for him to breathe.

You stood in all of your beauty, hair fixed nicely, your lips glossy and pink and perfectly kissable, your outfit something out of a daydream he’d had about you. In your gentle hands sat a red heart-shaped box.

“Hi, Bakugou.” You said softly. Bakugou’s eyes widened as he stared down at the box.

“Hey.” He replied, swallowing the lump in his throat. Were you-

“Will you be my Valentine?” You asked, offering him the box. Bakugou’s eye began to twitch.

You were asking him?

“I was supposed to ask you first dumbass!” Bakugou placed his hand on the top of your head carefully as to not mess up your beautiful hair.

“Huh?” You stare at him.

"Will you go out with me?” Bakugou asked. You bit your bottom lip and nodded, a smile slowly growing on your lips.

“Then yes I’ll be your Valentine.” Bakugou hummed, taking the box that sat in your hands. Opening it revealed the yummy honmei choco you’d worked on with Sato.

Taking a bite of one, Bakugou was thoroughly suprised. It was much better than anything store-bought. He offered you one.

“I made them for you, not for me!” You giggled. Bakugou admired you as your hands laid against one another, happy that he had enjoyed his chocolates.

“Let’s go out, come on.” Bakugou set the chocolates down in his room and grabbed a jacket, tugging you along down the hall.

Your hand slid into his and you wrapped your fingers around his. Bakugou tried to hide his blush by tilting his head down, but as you walked out you could hear the cheers of Mina, Sero, Kaminari, Kirishima, and Sato, congratulating the two of you.

The date went well considering the hoards of people out spending time with their significant others. The park was beautiful, and surprisingly, not packed. You’d suggested to stop and admire some of the scenery.

Pulling you into him, Bakugou tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Happy Valentine’s day, beautiful.” Bakugou’s lips collided with yours, his hands resting on your hips. You melted into his touch and his kiss, smiling as your hands rested against his chest.

The kiss was warm and sweet, his lips tasting vaguely of the dessert you’d shared at the small cafe you ate at.

Pulling away you nodded, resting your head against his chest.

“Happy Valentine’s day, handsome.”

“Tch.”

Handsome.

»»————-　★　————-««

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