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theamberfist · 2 days

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Leave it All on the Dance Floor! Part 5 | Alastor x Overlord! Reader

Platonic! Alastor + Best Friend! Reader who's also an overlord + Rosie

Description: The day of the long-awaited Overlord Gala has arrived, but when you feel too sick to attend, Alastor and Rosie make it their mission to pull you out of bed and onto the red carpet; for your own sake.

(Notes: CW Alastor, mentions of torture) (final part of Leave it All on the Dance Floor!)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Words: 3,745

"Where could they be?" Rosie questioned with concern in her voice as she glanced over at the clock in the middle of Pentagram City. "They're hardly ever this late for anything." Beside her, Alastor nodded in agreement.

"And I do doubt they would miss this event for anything." He added as his eyes narrowed, "Not when they seemed so eager to prove themselves better than that Velvet."

"Could something have happened to them?" Rosie asked now; her tone worried, "I'd hate to think about anybody else making moves on their territory today of all days!" Overlords didn't often threaten any of the three of you, given your strength and general intimidation, but that didn't mean the idea was impossible either.

"Had that been the case, I would have known." Alastor replied seriously. He always made sure to have a few eyes on the Swing Sector for your sake; after all, you were his best friend, along with Rosie! He had to make sure the rest of hell knew better than to threaten either of you in any way. Still, he couldn't help feeling slight concern over your current lateness.

The two overlords waited a few more minutes for you to arrive, hoping you'd show up and ease their worries eventually. But when you didn't, Rosie turned back to the Radio Demon with a frown.

"Something's gotta be up." She decided at last, "They wouldn't risk missing the gala after spending so much time making our looks for it; perhaps we should-"

"Sorry to interrupt!" A voice cut in suddenly and both overlord turned around to see a familiar-looking feline demon running in their direction. She seemed to be panting heavily and held a slip of paper in her hand. Upon recognizing her, Alastor immediately took on a more demonic form and grabbed her right off the ground.

"Where is your superior?" He demanded, though his voice was relatively calm as he stared the sinner down. She shook slightly with fear but held up the slip of paper in her hand anyway.

"T-they sent me to give you this!" Joan exclaimed, "Boss says they won't be attending the gala today but wanted to give their regards anyway."

"What do you mean they won't be attending?" Rosie questioned as Alastor dropped the cat and reverted back to his normal form. "They've been preparing for this event for months!" Joan panted from her place on the floor but pointed to the note Alastor now held.

"That should explain it," she said breathlessly. Rosie took a step closer to the Radio Demon so she could read over his shoulder. A few seconds passed as they looked over your note, which was sloppily written and to-the-point.

'Got sick. Not going to the gala. Have fun without me though; flip Velvet off.'

That definitely sounded like you but it didn't seem to be enough for Alastor, who looked up from the slip of paper with his eyes narrowed in your assistant's direction.

"They've fallen sick, have they?" He asked as she nodded quickly, "And tell me, did you and their other underlings make any attempt to prevent this from happening?" He was beginning to get scary again but luckily Rosie stepped in before Joan could be harmed. She knew he was just concerned about you but that these circumstances likely hadn't been brought about by the catlike demon.

"Now, Alastor, I'm sure she did all she could." Rosie told him as she looked towards Joan herself now, "Thank you for delivering the news to us, but I think we'd better go see your boss ourselves." At this, Joan immediately shook her head.

"N-no!" She exclaimed, "They specifically asked that no one be in their presence right now!"

"Well, I think it's safe to say that rule may not apply to us," Alastor replied as he immediately picked up his microphone-cane and began walking in the direction of your sector, "Especially on a day we were all meant to spend together!" Rosie nodded, following after him with a smile on her face.

"Thank you for delivering that message, sweetheart, but we can take it from here!" She informed Joan, who shrunk back in fear, knowing she couldn't stop the Radio Demon and cannibal overlord, but that you wouldn't exactly be happy to be plagued with visitors today, either. As a highly powerful overlord of hell, you rarely ever got sick, but when you did, it wasn't a pretty sight to behold.

..........

You sniffled, pulling the fluffy blankets covering your bed a little closer around yourself. A bucket lay on the floor beside your bed in case you needed to puke your guts up again and a box of tissues sat by your head. You honestly had never felt worse in your entire afterlife.

You couldn't help but wish for a second death as you lay there in your own little pile of sickness and sorrow. You'd been looking forward to today's gala so much, and you knew both Rosie and Alastor had been excited for it too; even if just because it meant you three could spend more time together. They didn't have as much personal stake in the event as you, but they were supportive nonetheless.

It briefly occurred to you that you should have sent more than just a note with Joan when she left. Though Alastor would have been understanding if the information had come straight from you, you knew firsthand how protective he could be over his friends. Hopefully, he hadn't given the poor cat-demon any trouble.

A knock at the door startled you out of your thoughts now and you groaned, raising the covers higher above your head. You'd told everyone you wanted to be left unbothered today. If someone had ignored your orders, you decided they'd be the next ones dancing until they collapsed as an example to the rest of your owned souls.

"Leave me alone to die!" You exclaimed when another knock sounded from the door. It clicked open a second later, though, as you groaned.

"Now now, as your dear friend, I could never allow you to die!" Alastor's voice exclaimed as he came into your room. You could hear another set of footsteps behind him, too. "At least, not again, that is."

"Why are you here?" You asked; your voice muffled by a pillow you'd placed over your face to block out the world. Your tone was exhausted but there was no hint of animosity in it as you addressed the Radio Demon.

"Why, to take you to the gala, of course!" He replied cheerfully and you heard him go over to the window by your bed, pushing the curtains open.

"I'm not going." You said from underneath the mountain of fluffy covers, "I'm sick and dying, Alastor."

"That's why we're here!" Rosie's familiar voice chirped from beside you and you groaned, rolling over so that you were laying face-down now.

"I can't even get peace on my deathbed." You grumbled, though neither of them could really understand what you were saying.

"Now now, you aren't dying!" Rosie assured you as she reached down and gently patted your back.

"And even if you are; all the more reason to make an impression at the gala first!" Alastor added as he went over and opened your other window now. You sighed, finally pushing yourself up and into a sitting position. The pillow that had been covering your face tumbled off the bed and Rosie bent down to pick it up as you turned to her.

"Look, I appreciate you guys coming by, but I'm really not up for this today," you told her finally, "You should just go without me."

"Nonsense!" Alastor exclaimed, coming over to where you two were sitting on your bed, "Darling, you have been preparing for this event for months; if you think there's a chance we would let you miss it now, you're quite mistaken!"

Rosie leaned in a little closer to you, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face. "I have a recipe that'll have you feeling better soon enough!" She assured you, "And I brought you a whole new makeup bag with all your favorite products from the emporium!" You softened at that and Alastor lay across the bed on your other side now, kicking his legs like a girl at a sleepover as he eyed you.

"That cat of yours has already gotten to work in the kitchen," he explained, "Now, all that's left is for us to get you looking perfect for the gala!"

"I really appreciate it, you two," you said with a sigh as you pulled your knees up to your chest, "But I can't even stand without getting dizzy right now and I look like absolute shit. Plus, won't the reporters notice that I sound sick? You can hear it in my voice!" You buried your head in your knees but it seemed the two overlords at your sides weren't ready to give up yet.

"Don't worry about your appearance; I'll work my magic!" Rosie assured you as she pointed to the makeup bag she'd left on your vanity nearby.

"I can do something about your voice," Alastor said, "And not to worry; should you feel like falling, I'll be sure to catch you in the nick of time!" You were a little touched to hear that but still felt hesitant as Rosie took both of your hands and helped you off the bed now.

"But what if I get you guys sick?" You asked, "And if you catch me, Al, people are going to start theorizing that we're dating again like last time."

Rosie dragged you across the room towards your bathroom as the Radio Demon stood now and adjusted his suit. "Then let them theorize!" He decided, "I certainly have no time to worry about the thoughts of the masses, and if I recall correctly, you saw sales to the boutique spike the last time we were rumored to be in a relationship, did you not?"

You paused. He had you there. The same had happened before when Rosie and you were seen having dinner together in the Swing Sector one night, too. And while you’d never been that interested in relationships, you supposed rumors about you and your close friends were better than ones about total strangers, considering a bit of gossip was unavoidable.

"And don't worry about us getting sick!" Rosie assured you, "Should that happen, you can pay me back with a good basket of livers; sound good?"

"...Fine." You sighed at last, making both overlords perk up. With that, Rosie pushed you into the bathroom to take a quick shower before going over to your closet to find your outfit for the evening. Being the overlord of the Swing Sector with your own popular boutique, your closet was gigantic. Every design you'd ever come up with could be found there; save for a few that you'd decided were now so out of style that they were dead to you.

Alastor followed her inside as they both began searching for your outfit. After ten minutes of walking through the rows and rows of clothes, the Radio Demon managed to locate it in a fancy display case near the back of your closet. Taking it out, he and Rosie returned to your room, where you were now waiting on your bed once again in an extremely soft, fancy-looking robe.

"Good, you're ready!" Rosie exclaimed as she went over to you, pulling you off the bed and over to the chair in front of your vanity.

"I still don't feel all that-" You began, only to pause immediately with a concerned look on your face. You glanced at Alastor, who seemed to realize what was happening because he immediately made his way over to your bed, grabbing the bucket that rested near it and handing it to you just in time for you to throw up.

"There, there," he said as he gently patted the crown of your head, "We'll have you feeling better in no time!" You didn't believe him but a moment later, one of your owned souls came in to take the no-longer-empty bucket away.

You turned around, letting Rosie get to work on your makeup so you'd at least look a little less close to a second death. You still weren't sure about doing this, but it seemed as if they'd left you no other choice.

While the cannibal overlord worked, the other, also cannibal overlord stayed nearby, creating something else using his own power. You couldn't see what it was, but after a moment, he seemed to finish it and came over to you.

"Here you are, darling." He spoke, placing the small item in your hands. It looked like a button, but upon further inspection, you realized it highly resembled the staff-microphone he always carried with its shape and the little eye in the middle.

"What's this?" You asked, glancing up at him but being sure not to move your head too much since Rosie was still working on your makeup.

"To mask your voice, my dear!" He explained, "I made it a button so you can wear it alongside your clothes tonight. This way, no one will realize how sick you actually sound!" You turned the object around, inspecting its design and color scheme with scrutinizing eyes. If you were going to be wearing it, you decided it had better match the rest of your look. And luckily, it seemed Alastor had accounted for exactly that, because the colors fit perfectly.

"Thank you." You smiled, "It's perfect." His grin only widened.

"Don't mention it! Anything for a friend, of course." Though having you speak with a radio filter all night would only further convince everyone you were in a relationship, he elected not to mention it for the sake of getting you to the gala.

A few minutes later, Joan entered the room just as Rosie was finishing your makeup. She held a tray in her hands with a steaming bowl that had a smell that was already making your mouth water; and you hadn't even seen what was in it yet. She set it by your vanity and then Rosie finished up the last bit of your makeup.

"There; you look perfect, honey!" She exclaimed as she took a step to the side so you could see your reflection in the mirror. And, just as she'd said, you did look perfect. She'd somehow managed to cover your sickly complexion while also accentuating your face in a way that made it almost seem like you were glowing.

"Wow..." You whispered before bringing a hand up to your mouth to cover the fit of coughs that left your lips.

"This soup should help with that," the overlord told you now as she began packing up the makeup she'd been using in order to clear the space. "I promise it's vegetarian!" Though, with her, that mostly just meant that no other sinners had been used to make the dish.

"Thank you, Rosie." You smiled as you reached for the soup and tried a sip. It turned out to be exactly what you needed right now after not eating at all these last twenty-four hours since you'd felt so horrible, and you easily began gobbling the food down. Meanwhile, Alastor moved to stand behind you as Rosie stepped away.

"Now, to do something about your hair." He spoke as he took products from your vanity and got to work. You let him do his thing; after all, Alastor was surprisingly good at doing hair; no matter the texture or length, and he'd styled yours many times before. He was always careful about it, too; never pulling too hard or harming your scalp in any way. Between him and Rosie, as well as your own design skills, you practically had a whole glam squad on your hands.

You finished your soup as Alastor worked on your hair, and then once he'd finally finished with it, he took a step back so you could inspect it. The style was beautiful, as expected, and you knew it would go perfectly with the outfit you'd made for the event. He really did have an eye for this sort of thing, didn't he?

"You know, if radio ever gets old for you, you could have a very fruitful career doing hair," You told him with a smile.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but I believe working on anyone else's hair would become too tiresome too quickly." Alastor replied as he very carefully patted the top of your head; not misplacing a single strand of your hair. "So, I suppose you'll have to remain my only client."

"Works for me!" You replied more cheerfully now that you were feeling a little better. You were still sick, of course, but at least for now, you weren't about to immediately throw up or faint on them.

"Now, let's get you into these beautiful clothes!" Rosie said with a clap as she pulled you from your seat at the vanity. You let her drag you over to where the outfit had been laid out on your bed, taking a second to once again admire the glory of your work as the other two overlords headed for the door. "We'll be right out here waiting to see the finished look!" Rosie told you but then paused, "And if you feel as if you're going to collapse, please don't hesitate to call." You nodded, chuckling quietly as she closed the door to your room behind them.

Then you turned back to your clothes with a grin; excited to finally get to wear them for the event you'd been planning to for months.

Once you had the outfit on, you grabbed the button Alastor had given you and fastened it onto the front. It turned out to be a good accent piece, to your surprise, and even added to the look, rather than taking away from it. You went over to your vanity to check out your reflection before showing it to your friends.

Compared with how you'd been prior to their arrival, you looked like a new person. In fact, you might not have even been able to tell that you were feeling unwell, if not for the pounding in your head.

Finally, you went over to the door, pulling it open and stepping into the next room, where Rosie and Alastor were trying not to look like they'd been eagerly awaiting the sight of you this whole time.

As soon as her gaze landed on you, Rosie gasped. "You look gorgeous!" She exclaimed, immediately coming over to take your hands in hers, "I can't wait to read all about how you had the best look of the night in the paper tomorrow!" You giggled but thanked her, nonetheless. After all, if not for her help, you wouldn't even be attending the gala right now.

"Indeed, you look much more alive than before!" Alastor agreed, "I, for one, cannot wait to see the look on the V's' faces when we all enter the event together!" You grinned.

"Well then, I suppose we should get going!" Rosie spoke, "We're already quite late to the event, but what loser shows up on time to these things, anyway?" She took your hand again, pulling you along and right out of the boutique as you shouted for Joan to be the one left in charge. There, a car was already waiting to take you three to the gala. It was old-fashioned, looking as if it were from yours or Alastor's time, and you all filed in to attend the event.

The second your car pulled up, you could hear the shouts of reporters outside, along with the clicks of cameras attempting to snag photos of you.

"Ready?" Rosie asked and you nodded, still feeling a little nervous.

"Remember; we're right behind you!" Alastor said as you opened the car door and stepped out, immediately being bombarded with reporters, cameras, and a thousand eager questions. Your clothes seemed to gleam in the light; soaking it all in as you walked across the red carpet. One of the reporters, who seemed to work for Vox, called you over and you decided to humor him.

"Tell us, who made the outfit you're wearing tonight?" He asked curiously as you just smirked.

"Why, I did, of course!" You replied, not sounding the least bit sick thanks to Alastor's mini-microphone button. Instead, your voice was masked by the static of the radio. “And I made theirs, too." You pointed back at Alastor and Rosie, who were taking their own respective poses on the red carpet. The reporter said something else, appearing to be in awe, but by now you were done answering his questions and headed back towards the entrance of the venue.

There were a few photos snapped of you, Rosie, and Alastor all standing together in your respective outfits before they finally let you head inside. As you did so, Alastor subtly went to your side.

"How are you feeling, my dear?" He asked.

"A little dizzy, but otherwise, alright!" You whispered back as his smile widened.

"Wonderful!" He replied, "And it seems our present company has noticed your arrival." You followed his gaze to see the V's all sitting around a table inside; Velvet looking furious as she stared you down. You understood why too, seeing the outfit she had on. Compared to yours, it was extremely plain and even a bit unoriginal. You held your head a little higher at that revelation, knowing she wouldn't dare approach you tonight and risk having a camera snap a picture of you both for direct comparison.

Once again, you seemed to have won the fashion game. You followed Alastor and Rosie to a table of your own, where you finally plopped into a seat and accepted some appetizers from a waiter.

"I'm glad you managed to convince me to attend tonight," you admitted finally once things had wound down, "Though, I won't lie, I think I'm about to pass out." The room was spinning, and not because you'd drank any alcohol this time.

Luckily, Alastor managed to catch you in his arms before you fell out of your chair, just as he'd promised. An amused chuckle left his lips despite you being temporarily unconscious from the dizzy spell. "That's what friends are for, dear!" He said as Rosie nodded.

"And don't worry," she added with a kind smile, "We'll be sure to keep looking out for you."

..........

Bonus:

You stared down at the magazine in your hands; where a photo of Alastor holding your passed-out self in his arms was printed on the cover along with the words 'Radio Demo Back With Ex-Lover?!'

"I told you they were going to theorize!" You called to Alastor, who was preparing tea in the next room. “Since when did they start assuming we were ex’s, though?” All you heard was the sound of light chuckling before he came out and handed you a cup, sitting down next to you on the lush couch that rested on your balcony.

"If nothing else, it will be great for your business, dear!"

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #Alastor x best friend reader #alastor best friend reader #best friend reader #Alastor x friend reader #gender neutral insert #gender neutral reader #platonic hazbin hotel #platonic alastor x reader #platonic hazbin hotel x reader #fanfic

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sumwan · 1 month

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It's still kind of sad how c!Dream acts pragmatic about his torture but secretly does want people to acknowledge how messed up it was and that he didn't deserve it. With c!Sapnap, c!Tommy and c!Foolish, he brings it up to achieve certain goals and then drops it quickly once that doesn't work or the goal has been achieved. But then with c!Sam, he insists that he didn't deserve to get tortured and that it is evil and wrong to torture others or to allow it to happen. And then there's c!Punz who talks quite emotionally to c!Purpled about how the torture was not okay (so you can imagine what he said when Dream told him). As much as Dream tries to leverage his torture, I do think he desperately wants to hear others say that it shouldn't have happened, that not even he deserved to go through that.

#like the way he mentions the torture and then immediately drops it is just so sad #I feel like he does want to hear “it was messed up that this happened”#even if he would not really respond or know how to respond to that #I mean yeah I don't think he wants to get pitied but just having that reassurance is already something #c!dream #dreblr #analysis #kinda I guess

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noearchives · 4 months

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things that you do that make his heart skip a beat!

characters: portgas d. ace, sabo, trafalgar d. water law, sanji.

note: you ever get that feeling when your heart feels like it fell out of your ribcage when the person you like does Something . yeah

cw/ tags: gender neutral reader, short drabbles, fluff ^_^

portgas d. ace

when you say "i love you" out loud.

- it's simple, yet it makes his heart stop every time you say it. many people throw around those three words like it meant nothing at all, but to him, it weighs heavier than the entire world.

- when you say it out loud to his face, he immediately beams brighter than the sun.

- he'll never get tired of how those three words roll of your tongue-- it's a reminder of how you love him and him only, out of everyone else on this planet.

- even if the whole world's against him, you still chose him.

- "say it again," he says, the glint in his eyes like a puppy's.

- when you do, he lets out a chuckle and wraps you in his arms, squishing the air out of your lungs as his cheeks turn warm.

- "oh, i love you. iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou," he mumbles into your neck.

sabo

when your fingers accidentally brush against his.

- god, it makes him feel so stupid because you've been together for a while now, and it's silly to get so flustered over something so minor. what is he, 12?

- but whenever the two of you reach for the same pen at the same time and your fingers overlap his during the process, the way you giggle as you say "whoops, sorry about that" makes his poor little heart flutter.

- the effects only double if it happens when the both of you are on a mission together with the rest of the revolutionaries.

- he's supposed to be professional and serious, but when your hand brushes against his when you walk side-by-side, he feels like he has to drop everything he's doing to kiss you silly.

- oh, darling, how can you do something so scandalous as such in front of your fellow coworkers...

- he fights against every fibre of his being to not hold your hand right then and there. it's like torture to him!

trafalgar d. water law

when you bandage his wounds.

- most of the time, even when he says he's alright and he can handle it on his own, you insist on helping him bandage his wounds and take care of him until he's healed.

- he was forced to mature too early when he was a wee child, and he's been taking care of himself ever since-- there's no time nor place for him to be gently cared for.

- so when your mind is focused on nothing but his wounds, delicate fingers wrapping him up as if every movement is calculated to make it hurt the least, his heart melts right there in his ribcage.

- "sorry- did i press too hard?" the look of worry in your eyes is so adorable. he might just pretend that it actually hurt so he can see the knot between your brows tighten more as you apologise frantically.

- not to mention the way you unintentionally stick the tip of your tongue out as you focus on taking care of him is so goddamn adorable. he would tease you with a kiss if not for the fractures in his bones.

- your cool fingertips on his skin makes his entire body tingle. thank god he doesn't have a monitor showing how fast his heart is beating right now.

sanji

when you hug him from behind his back.

- his favourite love language is definitely physical touch...

- when you catch him off guard when he's busy cooking for the crew, he feels like he just ascended to heaven.

- the way your arms rest so perfectly around his waist, the way your face is buried in his back, the way that you smile at him when he turns his head around...

- it just feels so domestic! it's like everything he's fantasized about when he was younger, with him cooking on a casual friday afternoon, with the love of his life behind him saying something like "mmm, love, that smells so good..."

- this is all he's ever wanted. him doing his favourite thing (cooking), with his favourite person (you), in his favourite place (the thousand sunny).

- it makes him think of a future with you in it.

- he bites his tongue to hold himself back from saying "let's get married right now."

#one piece x reader #law x reader #portgas d ace #portgas d ace x reader #sanji x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #sabo x reader #revolutionary sabo #one piece fluff

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theobsessivesideblog · 5 months

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Trust Issues

An anxious Astarion falls back into old patterns of behavior.

Warnings: vague mentions of Astarion's past but seriously the rest of it is just fluff, this boy deserves someone who treats him well

————————

He loves you. Of that much he’s certain now, despite the mental battle he waged to get to this point. And you love him. He believes it even though the voice in the back of his mind tells him that he could never be worthy of a creature like you, all goodness and light in direct contrast to his tortured darkness.

But old habits die hard. A minor disagreement earlier in the day (truly it was nothing, a mere gentle dissuasion away from his more violent tendencies) has him wound tight, worry clawing at his throat as you both retire to your tent for the evening. Surely now you’ll realize, now you’ll see the truth of him and you’ll run, leaving him behind like the monster he is.

He can feel his mindset shift, falling into old routines as he turns up the charm to seduce his way back into your good graces. He knows how to wield his body as a weapon, has used it countless times for his, and his master’s, benefit. If he makes you need him then you can’t leave him, and he intends to make you very needy tonight.

“You were magnificent today” he whispers into your ear, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

You chuckle lightly and lean into him, closing your eyes as he begins gently kissing the sensitive hollow beneath your ear that has you arching further into his embrace.

“You flatter me,” you hum. “I’m still not sure why everyone has decided to act like I know what I’m doing. I never planned on being a leader.”

“And yet you do it so flawlessly,” Astarion purrs, gently kissing his way to your shoulder.

You twist in his hold, your breath catching as you see the look in his eyes that he’s praying you interpret as hunger and not helpless desperation.

He takes advantage of your distraction to pull you against him, lips claiming yours in a feverish dance that takes your breath away as you wind your hands into his hair, clinging to him as if he’s something worth having.

His hands shift suddenly, grabbing the backs of your thighs and lifting you as he lowers you both to your knees. His hands drift up, pulling your shirt from where it’s tucked into your pants and caressing his way across your stomach to your ribs, teasing the edge of your bra.

“I…” you take a sharp inhale, pulling yourself away from his searching mouth. “Astarion, stop.”

He freezes immediately, eyes instantly searching for an injury, for anything he may have done wrong

“Are you okay, my love? Did I hurt you?”

“Of course not, I just…” your fingers flit across his cheek, searching for answers to questions you’re afraid to ask. “You don’t seem like yourself. Are you alright?” He hesitates for a split second and your brow furrows, latching on to his lie before he can even tell it. “Tell me. Please?”

Your request is so earnest, so loving, that he has to pause for a moment to regain a hold of his emotions. If Cazador could see him now… the thought snaps him back to the present. He’s been a fool. You would never treat him like that, use him like that.

“… I’m sorry” he breathes. “You’re right. Of course you’re right. I… I lost control today, and I was afraid that you… that you might not...”

“I told you it was nothing to worry about, love. You were just—”

“Just being myself,” he interjects, dropping his head. “Just being quick to judge, to assume the worst, to—”

“Stop that,” you frown, nudging his chin up to draw his eyes back to yours. “You know I couldn’t do this without you, any of it. What you thought of me when we met, that I was naive and overly trusting and gullible…” At that Astarion chuckles, you’ve really only proven his first impression right, though at least now he finds it endearing rather than frustrating. “You weren’t wrong. You don’t realize how much I rely on your judgment, how much I need your help to keep us all safe.”

His eyes close as he presses his forehead to yours.

“You’re too kind to me,” he whispers. “No one has ever… I don’t understand how you can just…” he sighs, shoulders sagging as the facade crumbles and his hands come to rest in yours, holding them as if he’s afraid he’ll get lost if he lets them go. “It was wrong of me to try to manipulate you like that,” he murmurs, releasing a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.” You press a soft kiss to his cheek and duck your head, gently nuzzling your face into his neck. He feels you frown against him, a touch of cold alerting him to a teardrop falling onto his skin. “No, pet, please don’t cry, I—”

You lift your head suddenly, gaze piercing into him with an intensity he hadn’t expected.

“I need you to trust me, Astarion.”

His brow furrows in confusion.

“I do, my sweet,” he replies, letting out a wry chuckle before adding “despite the recent evidence to the contrary.”

Your gaze softens as you grin at him, brushing a stray curl off his forehead before bringing your hand to rest on his cheek.

“Then trust me to love you.Trust that you don’t need to earn that or convince me of anything more. I’m yours. I’m not going anywhere.”

Astarion’s eyes drift closed as a weight he didn’t realize he was carrying slips off his shoulders. He leans forward and captures your lips with his, tender and unhurried as you relax against him.

“Have I told you recently how much I adore you, darling?” he asks, tilting his head to slowly kiss his way to your jaw.

“Hmm…” Your eyes twinkle as you pull an exaggerated thinking face. “I’m sure you have but it’s been such a long day, I just can’t seem to remember…”

“Cheeky little pup,” he chuckles, gently nipping at your neck. You giggle as you pull him back to your mouth, smiling against his lips.

“Maybe you should jog my memory?”

“Oh, believe me,” he smirks, “I plan to.”

#astarion #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #bg3 #bg3 astarion

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aha-chuu · 10 months

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Here's the thing. "Renheng but Blade is immortal and nothing goes wrong" goes totally against the themes set up in HSR. But it's so fucking funny.

So, Dan Feng loves Yingxing whatever. They decide to make Yingxing immortal together and then BAM no one finds out (so no big crime to be arrested for) but there's two ways to play it. Either they have to slowly gaslight everyone into believing YX was a long life species this whole time, or they have to somehow pretend this is not YX, this is some other 100% naturally immortal dude and Dan Feng just has the Most specific type ever, to the point that he basically got his exes twin but immortal with a cooler haircut.

And with the gaslighting idea - I think it could work. No one's gonna notice that YX isn't aging for at least a few years, probably more since everyone they know is long-life and they likely have a warped perception of how regular aging works. So DF & YX just gotta wait like 5-10 years, slowly dropping hints that "oh yeah can't wait till our 150th anniversary!!" And Jing Yuan is like "... Hmm is that normal? That's probably normal?".

Cos also. Who's gonna mention it? Like it's gonna take so long for anyone to notice, is Jingliu gonna eventually sit them down like "you did a big sin didn't you" and then YX and DF just play dumb: "what??? Jingliu what are you on about? Is Mara eating all your memories of YX definitely being immortal this whole time?" So that's not good for Jingliu's mental health but whatever.

Anyway so Dan Feng and Yingxing have successfully scammed everyone but DF is still definitely the High Elder and absolutely no one wants him to be dating this guy. Also the dragon heart is missing cos it's in YX's chest and surely the Preceptors would check up on that? Like a renewal service? Some sort of 200-year check-up? Does DF have to take his bf with him so the aura is nearby? It's just a game of "how dumb are these guys?" Until all those preceptors reincarnate into ones who DF can convince "oh no the High Elder is supposed to give the dragon heart to their beloved. Yeah it's a ritual. Oh the immortality uh no Yingxing had that forever obviously".

Eventually YX is gonna get stabbed and he's definitely more immortal than everyone else. More gaslighting ensues probably, cos otherwise it's like?? He's just an abundance monstrosity (Jingliu is seeing red rn) and Jing Yuan has sussed it out at this point but yknow he likes YX; he prefers him being alive than dead. Jingliu is gonna stab YX for being an undying monstrosity and JY steps in - "nooo don't you know I mean ig your parents never told you but if uhhhh you suck enough dragon dick this is totally normal -" and anyway Sanctus Medicus get a lil fetishy sex crazed from that conspiracy theory.

Then later DF has to be reborn which is sad, but I like to think YX just takes like. A gap year from their relationship. He's a divorced old man he deserves a mid life crisis while DH gets the "plss don't fall in love this idiot guy again" speech from the other Vidyadhara but it's working like reverse psychology, DH is all "pshh I'm way too put-together for that!!" And anyway YX is still a hot piece of ass so DH fails immediately.

One day DH gets a dream memory about the whole sinning part of their relationship and has to come to terms with That™ meanwhile YX is sipping a mimosa while he's having a moral dilemma. "No babe it's fine it's like. Yeah it is a hellish sin but it's cute that you're so worried about it. No they can't try us for crimes we did so long ago don't worry" meanwhile JY is still dealing with the paperwork nightmare from YX's birth certificate definitely not being that of a long-life person's but ehh.

Basically fluffy unproblematic renheng where no one gets amnesiaed or tortured is great and good even if it laughs in the face of canon.

#renheng #yingyue #hsr #blade hsr #dan heng #dan Feng #Yingxing #imbibitor lunae #Honkai star rail #jing yuan #jingliu

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sunsetsimon · 8 months

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simon 'ghost' riley x reader

mentions of ptsd, abuse, torture, touch aversion, nightmares

always remember, you are loved and cared for. reach out if you need help, i am always here to provide resources. you are not alone, do not go through this alone.

─────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───────

☼ jealousy. it wasn't a feeling that simon felt often, and not in the ways most people experienced it, he could care less about any materialistic items. his jealousy would stir in his stomach when he saw people doing to them - normal things. a hug goodbye, holding hands, it was all foreign to him.

he's used to a playful punch from soap or a pat on the shoulder from price, but he never initiates. when you first get together, he's uncomfortable with physical affection and will often unintentionally shut you down. your hand will reach for his but he doesn't move, not even noticing you attempting to touch him. he won't hug you before he leaves, only giving a nod and heading out.

he knows it hurts you but it's hard.

slowly he works on it, giving a loving squeeze and reaching for your hand, but it's a long process before it becomes an unconscious habit.

☼ simon doesn't sleep much to begin with, but when it gets bad, he starts to have nightmares almost every night. they're intense, seeming to last forever, as if he'd lived days in the dream. his sleepy mumbling will turn into physical reactions, his body starting to twitch, fists clenching so hard his knuckles turn white. gasping awake he shoots up, his hand immediately on his gun and ready for combat. he's sweaty, heart beating so fast it seemed like it'd jump out of his chest.

"you okay, si?" you whisper from beside him, snapping him back to reality. simon takes a deep breath, setting his pistol back down on the nightstand, unable to speak. immediately you recognize it was another nightmare, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his back. his head drops into his hands, needing to take time to relearn what his reality is; he's home, he's with you.

but fuck, why doesn't it feel that way then? why is he haunted every time he closes his eyes?

"'m so tired," he mumbles, fighting back tears of frustration and pain, trying not to question what he did to deserve this hell he calls his own mind.

"i know si... i wish i could take it all away," you attempt to comfort him, but know that nothing you do could help him right now, he just needs time. he gives your arm a pat before standing up, leaving to take time for himself. you hear his footsteps trail down the stairs and a door open, simon deciding to retreat to the garage for the next few hours until he feels okay again.

☼ he wouldn’t ever tell you what actually happened to him, just making vague comments here and there when the opportunity arises. he's scared to talk about it, not wanting to remember anything or try to process it.

your soft fingers trail along the pale scars littered across his skin, wondering what must've happened to him, all the pain he's been through. you stop at a small one on his left wrist, "how'd you get this one?"

"my dad was a piece of shit," and he leaves it at that. you don't push any further, accepting the curt answer with a nod. you softly kiss the scar, beautiful eyes flickering to his. it's things like this that slowly heal him, and instead of thinking of the pain that came with each scar, he thinks of your lips kissing each one as if that'd make it all better. you make it all better.

#im so sad i love him so much #also on my period so feeling even worse #.wbm #cod x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #angst

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cupid-styles · 5 months

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the yoga class (hockey!h x ballerina!yn)

in which y/n has to lead a yoga class for the hockey team, and harry doesn't miss out on making fun of her (but maybe he needs her help, too).

I actually love this blurb and I hope you guys enjoy it too :))

word count: 1.8k

content warnings: none really! y/n and harry both being stubborn little shits but minor strides made by the end :)

hockey!h x ballerina!yn masterlist

main masterlist | talk to me

patreon

. . .

When Mrs. Lei asked Y/N if she would mind instructing an entry level yoga class this evening, she neglected to mention that it was for the hockey team.

What she had said implied something along the lines of, “You’re one of my star students and always go above and beyond, and I know I can sucker you into doing nearly anything because you’re an incredibly disciplined dancer with the inability to say no.”

So, naturally, even though it felt like every single tiny muscle in Y/N’s body was aching from practicing grand and tour jetés (Mrs. Lei was ruthless about them), she said she’d do it. Because she’s a sucker without a backbone, and getting placed as a frontline dancer or receiving a glowing recommendation from Mrs. Lei somewhere down the line was more than enough of a reason for her to teach some measly 45-minute yoga class at the end of the day.

She assumes it’s some type of volunteer work, an open call to students across campus. There was a fairly large performing arts sector and, like any other university, a decent amount of sports teams, so Y/N assumed there would at least be a class of 10 or so. Mrs. Lei sets her up with a basket of yoga mats from the gym and some simple instructions of, “it’s meant to be a stretch-heavy, restorative flow, so don’t go too hard on them.”

Easy enough, right?

But Y/N’s stomach slowly begins to churn when 6 pm comes around and the only people filtering in are big, burly men that she feels like she’s only seen in layers upon layers of protective equipment. Y/N isn’t short, nor is she a particularly small person — her abilities as a dancer have been questioned time and time again because of this — so she doesn’t feel intimidated by them, considering she knows she could go toe-to-toe with them in a smattering of physical activities. Running wasn’t her strong suit, but a decent amount of cardio was required to maintain the appearance of keeping it together during longer performances, while the muscles of her arms, back, and legs were chiseled from years of nearly daily practice.

But when Harry walks in, she assumes this is some kind of prank. Mrs. Lei would never be put up to something like that (she’s a woman with decorum), but maybe the hockey team somehow caught wind of the class and wanted to torture her, just like Harry’s been doing for the past three years.

She stomps over to him the second he crosses the entryway, grabbing his wrist and pulling him back outside.

“No,” she says immediately, dropping his arm like it’s poisonous, “Get out.”

“What?”

“Get out.” she repeats through gritted teeth. “This isn’t funny. You can’t fuck with me when I’m doing something like this.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrow and he seems to look genuinely confused. It’s only then that he cocks his head to the side, a smirk threatening to curl at the edges of his lips. “Cinderella, did no one tell you who this class is for?”

She shrugs her shoulders and crosses her arms over her chest. Y/N doesn’t like being taken by surprise, let alone other people knowing she’s out of the loop.

Harry damn near chortles in response as the smirk grows into a wicked grin. “Oh, sweetheart. You signed up to teach the hockey team yoga.”

Once Harry gets his boyish laughter out of the way, Y/N makes quick work of changing the rundown of the class. She moves her yoga mat all the way to the back in fear of having 15 hockey players stare at her ass the entire time, instructing them to watch her in the mirror or raise their hand if they need help getting into a certain position. She lowers the lights and puts some soothing music on to tune out any teasing laughter, but it already seems like they’re taking it seriously based on the way most of them are already in cross-legged positions, allowing their eyes to fall closed. It eases Y/N’s nerves some, until she looks over at Harry, who’s sitting there with his legs straight out like a toddler, a goofy smile on his lips.

With a roll of her eyes, she begins the class.

. . .

“This one might be a little tough so let me know if you need some help, but we’re gonna shift into a reclined pigeon pose now,” Y/N instructs, “With your back flat against the mat, bend your knees. Good. Now, with one knee still bent, we’re going to create a figure 4 by crossing the right ankle over the top of the left knee.”

She gives them some time to process, standing from her own mat to ensure no one’s desperately flopping around.

“Great,” she praises, “This is excellent for opening your hip flexors, thighs, and chest. Make sure you’re breathing into the pose.”

She hears a chorus of deep exhales and it makes her smile. Not only is she glad that they’re actually taking it seriously (there’s a possibility she judged them all a bit too hard), but there’s something about having some sort of power over the team that strokes her ego, too.

She weaves in and out between the mats, continuing to encourage them to breathe and stretch deeper. When she passes by Harry, who’s doing the pose a bit wrong, she resists the urge to simply kick him.

Instead she quietly gets down on her knees, “Do you need help adjusting?”

Harry’s eyes flicker open. Instantly, he has a scowl on his face. So much for relaxation. “Why?”

“Your ankle bone should be pressing into your thigh,” she whispers, pointing to where his ankle is just barely grazing the edge of his leg, “If you deepen the pose, it’ll help with any stress you’re feeling in your hips and thighs.”

He huffs, clearly contemplating her offer, before rolling his eyes and mumbling out, “sure.”

She wants to tell him that touching him certainly isn’t at the top of her to-do list today, but she doesn’t want to disrupt the rest of the class. With her knees pressing into the surface of his yoga mat, she sits in front of him, gently grasping his right calf and shifting it to the side.

“What the fuck, Cinderella?!” he whisper-yells, nails clawing into the thick foam he’s laying on. Y/N shushes him and sends an irritated glare his way. “That hurts!”

“Probably because your hips are tight as fuck.” she mutters. “How do you walk around like this all day?”

“I don’t know, you try being a goalie—”

“Shut the fuck up,” she whispers under her breath. She hates that argument, where people automatically assume that ballet is some pretty artform that requires minimal effort. It was gorgeous, but the amount of painful injuries Y/N’s sustained from the sport would send Harry into a tizzy.

It’s clear that he’s not bending any deeper into the pose so Y/N stands up, deciding to finish up the class instead of focusing all of her attention on Harry and his fucked up hips. She keeps them on the floor for the remainder of their time, having them do light twists and stretches, finally closing out class with some positive self-affirmations. When 6:45 pm ticks by, she slowly turns on the lights and stands by the door. They’re all very polite, thanking her graciously for spending her evening with them. It’s almost enough to make her feel pure happiness until Harry, the last to leave, stops in front of her.

“What?” she asks, crossing her arms defensively.

“Can you shut the door?”

Y/N squints her eyes at him. “No?”

“I have a question and I don’t want anyone to hear it.”

“I swear to god, if you ask me to jerk you off or something, I will punch you so hard in the dick—”

“Oh, shut up,” Harry mutters, “That’s why puck bunnies exist, asshole.”

Y/N’s stomach tightens, though she’s not exactly sure why. Every sports team had some form of groupies with “puck bunnies” being the name of the ones for the hockey team. It seemed somewhat derogatory to her, but it didn’t seem like the girls held much of an issue with it.

“Sounds gross.” she finally replies, her face twisting into an expression of disgust.

“Well it’s not like we all share them, the girls have their biases—”

“Is this what you wanted to ask me about?”

Harry’s eyes dart to the door and she sighs, closing it gently. Annoyed, she motions for him to say whatever it is he needs to say.

“Goalies have to wear, like, a shit ton of stuff on the ice and I hardly ever stretch after a game—”

“That’s awful for you, Harry.”

He shoots her an angry look.

“So, yeah, my hips are fucked. And they hurt really fucking bad.”

“Start stretching after games, then?” Y/N replies as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah… that’s kind of the idea,” he says slowly, “Do you have, like… other… yoga poses that you know of? That would be good for that type of thing?”

Y/N thinks for a moment. It’s something she has to do before and after performances or practices, too, since a number of moves and jumps rely on the joint movement in her hips. From an athlete-to-athlete standpoint, she gets it. In fact, she almost pities him, because the pain must be awful.

“Yes,” she eventually says with a nod. “There’s a lot. If it helps, I can put together a little guide for you and text it to you.”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “Really? You would do that?”

She shrugs. “You must be hurting badly to ask for my help.”

He scoffs, digging into the pocket of his athletic shorts for his phone. He pulls it out, bringing up his contact page. “You have no idea.”

She hums as she quickly types her number in. For the contact name, she always puts emojis in so people don’t forget who she is. She settles on Y/N🌷🩰🍒. When she hands it back to him, he snorts.

“What?”

“Those emojis definitely aren’t staying.” he replies with a roll of his eyes.

“Why?” she asks with a slightly pouty bottom lip.

“Because emojis are childish and I don’t put them next to anyone’s name?”

She balks at his criticism as she slides her shoes on.

“That’s mean. I put emojis next to everyone’s name on my phone.”

Harry snorts, “Yeah? What are you gonna put next to mine, then?”

It doesn’t take her more than a second to decide: “The devil horns, probably.”

He cackles as he opens the door to the studio with a shake of his head.

“Wouldn’t want it any other way, princess,” he calls out as he walks down the hallway.

#writing #hockey h #harry styles writing #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one direction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x oc #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles oneshot

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exhaslo · 5 months

Text

Puzzle Pieces Ch15

(Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)

Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9, Ch10, Ch11, Ch12, Ch13, Ch14

Warning: Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, torture, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex, praise

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

It was abnormally quiet. You had finally been released from the hospital and Miguel was escorting you to the car. It was almost creepy by how quiet the hospital was. Everyone kept silent as Miguel walked out the building.

Slowly entering the car, you rubbed your eyes and let out a soft cheer. Hospitals were never fun. You had enough time within them to hate them. Waiting for Miguel to sit, you scooted beside him and rested your head against his shoulder.

"Conejita (bunny), I'm going to give you a choice. I can drop you off at home to rest, or...you can come watch me torture Eddie. I won't force you to do anything you aren't comfortable with." He said softly.

You furrowed your brows as you felt your heart race. You had been in the hospital for three days and Miguel had told you what he had been doing each time. You knew that everyday you were injured, he made sure Eddie received dire punishment.

Part of you was nervous. You really did not want to see Eddie again. Not after everything he has done to you, but...Part of you wants to see Eddie get what he deserves. Would it be so bad to watch your abuser get abused?

"Um...I-I...I don't...k-know how I'll....react....b-but...but I want t-to s-say something...to him," You stuttered, shaking from your nervous. Miguel gently pulled you onto his lap,

"Shh, baby, you don't need to force yourself," Miguel whispered, kissing your nerves away, "You did so well for me already. You just need to watch until you don't want to anymore."

"Mhm," You held onto Miguel, melting under his touch and kisses, "M-Miguel...W-Will....it...be b-bad?" You muffled, moving your head back as he kissed and sucked against it.

"Yes. But I don't do this all the time. Only because he hurt you." Miguel hummed as he rubbed circles around your waist, "I don't want you to think differently of me...when you see the state of that bastard."

"I won't,"

You closed your eyes, enjoying his touches. No matter the outcome, you knew that Miguel could never harm you. No matter how scared you were, you felt safe in Miguel's embrace.

"You seem nervous, why don't I help you...destress?" Miguel chuckled lowly as he raised your skirt. You huffed your cheeks out, slowly giving in,

"O-Okay...B-But...be gentle...I'm still bruised..." You whispered. Miguel kissed your chest, grinding into you,

"Of course,"

----------

Holding onto Miguel as you entered a creepy warehouse, you felt your nerves return. Even after his little 'destress' session in the car. Hearing a scream, you immediately grabbed onto Miguel, hiding behind him as he led the way.

There were men everywhere. Each working on something or standing watch. Miguel asked you to close your eyes for a moment before he grabbed your hands and led you again. Something foul started to fill your nostrils.

You tried to breathe through your mouth, but you felt like puking. You were starting to get dizzy. Miguel must have noticed because he placed your head in his jacket. All you could smell was his cologne now and it eased you.

"We're here. It isn't a pleasant sight, baby." Miguel whispered.

Slowly raising your head, you glanced at two large metal doors. They slowly began to open. Once they were, you shuddered at the sight. There in the middle of the room was Eddie.

His face was unrecognizable and there was blood everywhere. His arms were tied to the ceiling and you swore you saw that his finger's were missing. His legs were broken and dangling as blood trickled down his body.

"Wake him up," Miguel demanded.

You yelped as Eddie screamed as cold water splashed against him. Just hearing his angry yell made you flinch. Acting on instinct, you hid behind Miguel and started to shake. You were terrified. Even as you saw Eddie tied up, you still held the fear of him attacking you.

"Fuck! You fucking asshole!" Eddie screamed. Miguel grinded his teeth as he felt you shake,

"Have you learned nothing?" Miguel asked, his arm snaking around your waist, "There's someone who wants to say something to you."

"Hahaha, what's that bitch going to say?! She's just a dumb little fuck doll." Eddie roared in laughter despite his pain. You felt tears form,

"I-I...I-I don't..." You whimpered but felt Miguel shake in anger, "I-I want him...t-to shut up," You begged. Miguel's lips twitched into a smirk,

"As you wish."

Miguel rubbed his thumbs over your eyes, signaling you to keep them close. He then placed some sort of headphones over your ears. They were soundproof so that you could hear nothing. Miguel hummed as he stole a quick kiss from you and proceeded to head to Eddie.

"She's really got you wrapped around her finger...or is she wrapped around your dick?" Eddie spat, forcing a laugh.

Miguel kept his glare towards Eddie as he kept his hand out. One of his men hurried and placed a knife in Miguel's hand. Ben was in the corner with a sewing kit, waiting for Miguel's order.

"Is shit talking how you ignore pain? We're going to have to take that away." Miguel whispered and slashed Eddie's clothes off, leaving him in nothing but his boxers, "You won't be able to do that much longer. (Y/N) demands your silence."

"I don't know what you see in her. She was only good for a quick fuck and her parent's supermarket." Eddie hissed. Miguel scoffed as he pressed the knife against Eddie's shoulder, slicing down, "Fuck!"

"Even if I were to tell you, you wouldn't understand." He hissed, enjoying the blood drip before slicing another part of his body, "Each mark matches one of hers."

"Argh!! Fuck! Fuck! You're fucking insane! You fucking dick!" Eddie screamed. Miguel nearly laughed as he kept cutting Eddie,

"I'm insane?! (Y/N) should have never felt the need to cut herself! (Y/N) should have never been your stress relief! Each scar, each mark that you gave her...that she gave herself, I want you to have but double. I want you to feel her pain!"

Miguel couldn't help but smile as he listened to Eddie's screams. If only you were okay with hearing them. Miguel wanted you to feel the joy of enjoying his screams. Once Eddie was covered in marks, Miguel stepped back and threw the knife across the room.

With a snap of his fingers, Miguel went to wash his hands as Ben started to sew Eddie's lips shut. Once the deed was done, Miguel returned to you and took the headphones off. He kissed your head, watching you slowly flutter your eyes open,

"Now's your chance to say what you want to say."

"Mhm," You were hesitant, but slowly turned to face Eddie. You felt your stomach twist as you saw his lips sewn, "Y-You...You caused me n-nothing but pain!!! I-I hate y-you so much!!! I-I'm glad you're s-suffering now!!" You cried.

Miguel smiled as he wrapped his arms around your waist. His intense glare towards Eddie, whom returned the same gesture. Miguel decided to have some more fun and kiss your neck and shoulder, smirking.

"Mhpm!" Eddie struggled. You inhaled sharply,

"F-FUCK YOU!!!"

This shocked both Eddie and Miguel. As much as Miguel wanted to laugh, he knew that this was a serious situation for you. Once calm, Miguel grabbed your hands and took you back to the car. You were a crying mess as you kept cussing Eddie out.

"You did good, baby," Miguel whispered. You sobbed, hugging onto Miguel once you got into the car, "Shh, it's okay. You did so good. Let me take you home to rest."

---------

You sniffed as you buried yourself in your plushes and stuffed animals. It was already late at night, but you were having trouble sleeping. You raised your head as Miguel entered the room with a mug in his hands.

"Here, some hot chocolate. This should help you sleep," He whispered, handing you the mug.

"T-Thank you," You whispered, slowly drinking the hot liquid.

"How do you feel?" Miguel asked for probably the tenth time today.

"...I-I want...I want to say ill...b-because even after all that...I-I'm still scared t-that...T-Telling him off...felt so good...S-Seeing him like that felt...good...but...sickening."

"I know. My secret life isn't for the faint of heart. I wanted to keep this side a secret from you, afraid that you'd leave me." Miguel sighed as he sat beside you.

"Miggy," You placed your mug aside and cuddled into his chest, "I-I trust you...so...so much...I don't care what you do...I love you, and I'm so happy...with you," You whispered.

Miguel hummed in response and pecked your lips before stroking your hair. It didn't take long for you to fall asleep. Miguel finally let out a exhale, relieved to hear those words from you. Today made him anxious about your feelings, but you did so well.

"Now, to see how tomorrow will go."

----------

Peter smiled brightly as he arrived in front of a gorgeous house outside the city. He fixed his suit and tie and approached the front door. The first thing he noticed was a small drawing at the bottom of the door. It gave him a light chuckle before ringing the door bell.

"Can I help you?" A man asked as he asked through the intercom. Peter cleared his throat,

"I'm here to escort you to the city for final negotiations with your supermarket." Peter hummed. The door opened, revealing an older couple.

"I thought we already finished negotiations. It was a one and done deal," The man huffed in anger. Peter kept his smile,

"Yes, but our boss always wants to make sure everyone is...happy." Peter lied. The older woman huffed a heavy sigh,

"A drive to city at this hour? You must be mad."

"Oh no, ma'am. Our boss has made a reservation in the finest hotel in the city for you two. He told me to make you as comfortable as possible."

"Well, in that case, I suppose we can go." The woman chirped, hurrying to prep a bag. The husband still scoffed,

"What a pain in the ass."

Peter's smile never faded as he watched the two fools fall into Miguel's trap. Approaching the car, Peter whipped his phone out to send a message to Miguel.

'(Y/N)'s parent's are taking the bait'

Miguel was nowhere near done with your revenge.

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#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #across the spiderverse #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel x reader

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erinfern0 · 5 months

Text

contrasts of intimacy.

simon "ghost" riley x inexperienced!afab!gn!reader

— gender-neutral nicknames, afab anatomy, only pronouns used are you, etc.

summary: you're not very experienced, but you want to try something new, changing things in the bedroom feels like a good idea. All those fantasies of yours, Simon turning rougher, turn you on more and more until he finally agrees.

warnings: inexperienced reader, talk of safe words, use of safe word, manhandling, slight spanking, discomfort, possible sub drop, etc.

a/n: based on this lovely request! I've been away for a while, but I'm so glad to be back here with you, guys!!

Convincing him was difficult, not only were you a little embarrassed to ask for such a lewd thing, but also — he's such a stubborn man. The idea itself was tempting, Simon got so hard just listening to you explaining what you wanted. Shifting his hips on the couch, adjusting his sweats as he just nodded his head.

Pure torture and such a betrayal of your innocent, inexperienced nature to ask for something like this. Not that it was wrong or immoral, as Simon made it clear that he's more than happy to try new things with you. But God did he adore to watch you squirm in your seat, trying to get some coherent sentences out.

His mind was slowly coming back to his senses when you mentioned that you'd like him to do anything seemingly painful, like pulling your hair or spanking you. He just couldn't imagine himself doing something like that to you, immediately thinking about actually hurting you.

You thought he's going to deny you, turning your offer down and never thinking about this again, but he surprised you, holding your hands in his and slowly rubbing your palms with his thumbs.

“We'll have a safe word.” he assured, a smug smirk on his face before he looked up at you. “You'll let me know when's too much, yeah?” his hand slowly rubbed your thigh as he waited for your answer.

“Of course!” you said happily with a stutter, almost falling into his embrace as you tried to hug him. Simon's muscular arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you on his lap, your cunt pleasingly pressing against his crotch. “We can just go with the traffic lights.”

Simon started prepping kisses to your lips the way he always used to, sweetly and slowly before he sped up, easing his hot tongue into your mouth, devouring every little gasp that left your throat.

The contrast of his harsh, sloppy kisses and his hands groping all over your body make you dizzy, mindlessly reaching down to untie the little knot of his sweatpants. Your other hand pulls his hair, grazing your nails over his scalp.

He groaned, pulling on your lower lip while pulling you closer, his hot breath mixing with yours as you ease your way under his pants and boxers, wrapping your fingers around his twitching cock.

You were not really experienced, but Simon made sure to teach you exactly how to make him feel good, so that's exactly what you did. Slow strokes down his shaft, combined with your thumb teasingly rubbing on his slit, made him grow harder in your hold.

Your actions caused his usually soft touches to turn into him sinking his fingers into your hips, guiding you to rub yourself over his clothed thigh and bulge. His kisses followed a path down your neck right before he flipped you, laying your body on the couch, your back and neck pressed into soft pillows.

“Take 'em off.” he demanded, looking down at your shorts before he suckled another hickey into your shoulder. The dark rasp of his voice, hoarse with desire, made your stomach turn in arousal.

You obeyed, pulling your shorts and panties down your legs to throw them on the floor, looking up at him to meet his dark eyes, looking completely black in the light of your living room.

You felt like prey, just waiting to be hunted down and devoured, but that's exactly what you asked from him. That's exactly what you wanted, needed, even.

Simon pushed your legs apart, pulling them closer to your chest so he could watch the way your glistening pussy kept clenching around nothing. His eyelids felt heavy as he played with your folds, pulling them apart just to chuckle at your little squirms and pants.

“This really gets my angel wet, huh?” he asked more to himself as he kept your legs up with one hand. The other left a gentle spank to your pussy, watching your legs shake from the stimulation with a choked-back moan of his name.

He always loved your sounds, not only your voice but also the way your skin rubbed against his, how your hair nuzzled into the bedsheets, and how your juices squealed under his fingers.

But the thing that kept him going the most was the way you kept chanting his name as your nails dug into his forearms. Your soft pleas for him to finally fuck you and not just make sweet love as usual.

“Si, please, please…” you mewled, watching as he pulled his sweats down, his cock pressing right between your folds. Simon slammed his tip over your clit, quiet curses slipped off his tongue as your thighs twitched.

He complied, gently pushing his cockhead into you, working you open to stretch around in such a familiar, breathtaking manner he had to grip the underside of your thighs. Pushing you down just to feel you all over him, your gasps making goosebumps appear all over his back, just where your nails tried to reach.

His fingers deepened their hold on your skin, probably leaving bruises, making you shiver in such a pleasurable sting of his nails making their way through the thin layer of your plush skin.

“Desperate thing.” he groaned, his leaking tip finally reaching your cervix, so deep you felt as if it was pushing right against your brain, making you all dizzy and hazed with pleasure.

Everything was just as you imagined, starting with deep, slow thrusts, pushing all the nice spots that made you see stars, but then Simon quickened his moves. His hands kept your thighs up, knees as close to your chest as possible as he rammed in and out of your slick, clenching hole.

You two lost yourself completely in the feeling of each other's bodies, so different from your usual sex. You've turned into a shaking, panting mess under his form, towering above you, fucking you with such force the whole couch shuddered under you.

As much as you loved it, loved him, your perfect little fantasy became too much. It was perfect until you couldn't breathe as clearly as before. Legs pressed against your chest too much for you to appreciate his filthy words or the mess between your bodies, noises of both pleasure and slick spread around the room.

The pain in your thighs became unmissable, and even when he asked, you tried to stay strong. You were the one to ask him for this, you didn't want him to feel bad for possibly hurting you, just as bad as you didn't want him to stop. So you kept your cool, tears pooling on your eyes that were closed shut, and moans turned more performative than ever.

Simon couldn't miss the changes, though. The way you clenched around his cock made it harder for him to slip back in every time he pulled out. Your grip on his forearms has become harder, leaving marks all over his skin as he slowed his moves again.

“Look at me, love. I need you to look at me.” he murmured under his breath, hand pulling away from your thigh to cup your chin, thumb caressing your dry lips, bringing your attention to him. ”You're okay?”

You shivered, both palms now resting against the couch, too tired to touch him again. You swallowed harshly, nodding your head almost mindlessly, thighs already shivering from how exhausted you got after just a couple of minutes. They hurt, a strange sting running all over your legs caused by being held up for too long,

Breathing deeply, you allowed him to slowly pull out, his palms running calming shapes over your skin, waiting for you to gather your thoughts. His thumb caressed your face, letting you focus on his touch rather than the pain.

Tears started running down your cheeks despite your desperate attempts to stop them. Sobbing underneath him, you closed your eyes, trying to cover your face with your hands, but Simon pulled them away with quiet 'shhs' spilled off his tongue.

“Just say it, it's okay.” he mumbled, the dark browns of his eyes locked on yours, his gaze softening. His hair was messy, slightly over his forehead as he leaned forward, waiting for you.

“Red.” you gasped out, embarrassment filling your voice as you shivered. He kissed your knee right before he helped you relax your legs, placing them flat on the couch for you.

“That's it, sweet thing. Just rest for me, yeah?” he cooed as he stood up, collecting your clothes off the floor and slowly slipping your underwear on your body. Your body melted perfectly the way he wanted, allowing him to pull his bigger shirt over your head, covering you with an addition of a blanket.

Simon kneeled beside the sofa, his fingers pushing stray hairs away from your face. “Too much?” he questioned, nuzzling his nose into your shoulder.

Nodding your head, you smiled weakly, words of an apology coming out of your mouth before you even thought about them. He just looked at you, his jaw clenching. “Nothing to be sorry about. You were so perfect, sweetie. Stopping when you don't feel good anymore shouldn't make you apologize, ever.”

Slowly, you accepted his hand reaching under the blanket to interlock your fingers with his, the reassurance you needed was right there. Sleep tried to take over your body as he hummed into your exposed neck, leaving gentle kisses on the fading marks he had left there before.

“I'll get us something to eat and some tea when you wake up, don't worry about anything.” he added before he sat on the couch right beside your head, pulling it over his sweatpants-covered lap, massaging your scalp just the way you loved the most, letting you rest.

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#simon riley cod #ghost simon riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod ghost #cod mw2 #cod mwii #gender neutral reader #riri writes

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earthtooz · 2 years

Text

fluff!!! little mentions to bakugou's past as a bully :/ but he's now very much in love with you <3

the best way to let bakugou katsuki know that you’re mad at him is by refusing to hold his hand.

handholding is one of bakugou’s all time favourite affections. although subtle, it’s grounding. he likes to know that you’re safe by holding you close to him, and he has the chance to pull you away from danger the moment it happens. also, to know that you trust him to keep you safe is another bonus.

he is destruction’s incarnate and it is from his hands that danger is initiated: hands that have threatened and bullied many- good and bad alike.

hands that have also pushed you into a corner when you were younger for defending a vulnerable midoriya from any more harm.

hands that have sparked explosions in your face during many school festivals as he sparked threats to match.

hands that gradually, but surely, learnt how to chase after you longingly.

after months- years of maturing and apologising for his stupidity, bakugou thinks he is the luckiest man in the world to be able to hold you with the same hands that sparked fear during his youth. he thinks he is the luckiest man in the world because you have trusted him to protect your heart in his very hands. similarly, you openly cherish his with your two palms and despite how it bleeds with love for you, you have never once let it break.

he also thinks he is unfortunate that you’re not compassionate enough to be against torturing him when he fucks up.

and the best way to show that you still have not forgiven him is by revoking his hand holding privileges.

bakugou hates it when there’s tension between you two and despises it even more when you have to pretend like nothing is wrong when in fact, everything is wrong. you’re mad at him for some shit he said last night and now you don’t want to hold his hand, let alone look at him, and he wants to crumble.

instead of finding a chance to talk, you both had to hang out with sero, kaminari, kirishima and mina as part of your obligatory monthly meetup and it was very obvious that something was off between you and bakugou.

when a merciless gust of wind hits, bakugou sees this as his moment to react. as goosebumps emerge on your exposed skin and you audibly shiver from the cold, it earns you a fair share of concerned looks.

“you okay, y/n?” kirishima asks and you nod, shrugging up your shoulders as a futile attempt to shield yourself from the frostbite. from the corner of your eye, your boyfriend is already shrugging off his jacket, keeping his sassy muttering to a minimum.

“just cold, thanks for asking,” you murmur, extending your palm to anyone in the group, “can someone hold my hand?”

bakugo immediately reaches for you, grumbling an ‘i’ll hold your hand’ but you retract from him with a dirty glare before he could even touch you. his jaw drops and his crimson eyes become windows to how betrayed he’s feeling, and even more so when you utter the next words:

“can someone else hold my hand?”

“but i’m your boyfriend?” he all but screams, earning a few snickers from your friends. they knew this dance all too well, sero and denki hissing ‘roasted’ at the blond.

mina’s the only one brave enough to challenge bakugou, “i’ll hold your hand, y/n!”

she’s almost successful too if it weren’t for small explosions stopping just in front of her face as bakugou glares at her with the ugliest (affectionately) expression you have ever seen. no one can resist laughing when he yells out a ‘touch y/n and you die, racoon eyes!’ before snatching your hand into his; his grip far too tight for you to even try and wrestle out of it.

“yeah, laugh all you want extras! at least i get to hold y/n’s hand, dipshits!”

“y/n’s got two hands though, can i hold your other one?” denki asks, feigning ignorance to the daggers bakugou was sending him and before you could giggle out a ‘sure!’, bakugou is lunging forward and shielding you from the electric blond.

“none of you are worthy, go away morons!”

your stomach is cramping at this point, your throat is begging for you to stop laughing, and your cheeks are so very sore that it hurts. your laughter has been mixed with the rest of the groups- with the exception of bakugou who is pouting with irritation laced deeply in his expression, but so long as he gets to see you smiling at him rather than frowning, he doesn’t really mind.

“whatever, laugh all you want,” he mutters before stuffing your hands into his pockets, where he can keep them warm. the remainder of the squad continues forward, knowing to leave you two alone.

his thumb is soothingly rubbing circles on the back of your hand as he shares his warmth with you. when bakugou katsuki meets your eyes, all the tension from last night dwindles away as he visibly relaxes, relieved that you’re at least allowing him to hold your hand again.

“we are okay, right?” he asks tentatively.

you shrug playfully, “i mean, i don’t really have any other choice than to say yes, do i?”

his next comment is quick, passive, but heavy in its meaning, “you do.”

you soften at his vulnerability, squeezing his hand before reassuring him that “we’re okay, katsuki, and we will be for a long time.”

hello hello everyone!! thank you for reading, if you enjoyed the fic PLEASEEEE reblog!!! even if you don’t think it’ll do much, reblogs is how tumblr accounts function. you don’t even have to leave a message bc i appreciate every single interaction nonetheless.

hope you like my writing and i hope to see you around!!

- earth

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pia-nor481 · 8 months

Text

A Halloween special

Daniel ricciardo x reader smut 18+

1.7k words

"I don't get it sweetheart." Daniel said looking, down at his girlfriend. She'd been invited to a house party on Halloween by a few of her friends, who insisted she bring her boyfriend. They were told to dress up for the night of drinking. Daniel had the idea of going as the joker and Harley Quinn. Although she shut him down immediately, she had a much better, dirtier idea. "It's fine if you don't get, almost everyone else will." She laughed lifting the make up brush higher on his leg. "Could you at least tell me why you're painting my leg black. I already have a tat of my other thigh." He said, watching her paint the letters on. "Don't get me wrong, I love seeing you in a short skirt and showing off your tits, but it don't know who I'm supposed to be." She was wearing thick framed glasses and had her hair tied up high. A slutty school girl costume was easy to come by this time of the year. "Baby, I'm gonna freeze. I'm going out wearing just as black shirt and boxers. Not to mention, you usually steal my jacket when your cold, which you will be considering you're wearing next to nothing." She stood up quickly going for a kiss.

"It will be fine, we are inside the whole night and we'll be drinking." She spoke quietly, fingers brushing through his curly hair, his hands made way to wards her waist, pulling her closer. "You are so hard to resist right now." He huffed out, running his hand all over her sides, slipping them below the red school skirt briefly. "I can tell." Dropping down to her knees to finish painting his leg, Daniel let a out a groan at the sight, clearly expecting her to suck him off, disappointed when she picked up the brush. "Oh, don't tease me like this, everyone will be able to see." She gave a small giggle and a smirk as a response. Once finished, she stood up, dragging him in the direction of the door.

"You fucking minx." He let out with an exaggerated sigh, helping her down the steps of the house, guiding her towards the car. While diving, Daniel kept looking over to his girlfriend, he couldn't spend hours admiring her like he wanted, so he had to settle for a glace every minute or so. The drive was long, maybe an hour or so of torture for him. He couldn't even touch her for long as his hand needed to be on the gearstick, cure the manual car. They could hear the music from the end of the road. Daniel felt his anxiety rise slightly, he didn't anticipate this party being so big, it was like something from a film. "You will be fine, Danny, I promise." It was like she could read his mind, always knowing how to make him feel better. He parked the car opposite the door a few houses down the road, most of the space already being used.

As soon as she got out of the car, grabbing his hand, she dragged him through the door. He was happy to follow, as always. They quickly reached the kitchen, looking for alcohol. Daniel's hand's remained on her body the whole time, many of the other guys in the room couldn't keep their eyes off her; he felt the need to protect her more than ever, she was his, no one else's. He was the one she spent hours on the phone will, he was the one she came home to, he was the one making her cum. Doing shot after shot was easier than nursing a full drink, so they felt the buzz a lot faster than usual. She always got handsy when she was drunk, Daniel was aware of this, and he didn't see a problem with it. So he walked her to the living room, where the music was coming from. He was immediately bombarded with the smell of green; But he couldn't care when she was feeling him up until she could feel the beat of the song in her whole body. "Owen Grey and a slutty school girl, that's quite funny." She turned her head to the side, upon hearing her friends voice. It had reached a point where she got giggly, so out of it that she couldn't articulated a proper sentence. She was right, Daniel didn't know who he was dressed up as, but her friends did. "I'll be right back, I'm getting another drink." He didn't like her going off on her own in in a situation like this, but he had so many questions for her friend.

"Who is he?" Daniel shouted over the base. Her friend have him a weird look, painted with confusion, Daniel clarified, "Owen gray, considering I'm dressed up as him and she's not told me who he is." Her friend giggled, pulling her phone out and heading straight to safari. "You seriously don't know?" Daniel gave her a look of disappointment, this amplified after he saw what was on her phone. She laughed out watching him walk away.

Blood rushed through Daniel's body, he was scanning the room for her, he wasn't furious, but almost jealous. He couldn't believe his girlfriend dresses him up as a pornstar to go to a Halloween party, it was unbelievable. He was slightly out of breath when he reached the kitchen, from walking with so much pace. She looked so inviting, if he wasn't on a mission now, he would have sweetened her up a little bit, maybe even played with her hair just because she was so stunning.

"I can't believe you, sweetheart. Honestly I'm shocked." He said, placing his hand on her lower back, as she took another shot and poured him one. "What?" She was clearly more than a little tipsy and Daniel planned to join her. Her hands quickly made way up his chest, pulling on his shirt once she reached the collar. She was intoxicated with him, she wanted him there and then, he would tell. "Come on, before I fuck you right here."

They hurried off up stairs, Daniel let her up before him, claiming he was there to catch her if she slipped or fell, and with those shoes and the volume of alcohol she had drunk in the time she was away from him, it was very likely, he also wanted to enjoy watching her. He could see up her skirt from this angle, and he could see where her stockings met and it only got him hard. Daniel smacked her ass once she reached the top step, her gaze shifted left and right, searching for the bathroom.

Once inside, he pushed her up against the door by her neck, careful to not restrict her breathing. Their lips connected quickly as she pushed her pelvis towards him. Daniel’s hand slid up her thigh and into her underwear, feeling how wet her cunt was. “You are fucking soaked baby.” She whined into his mouth, struggling to breathe. It wasn’t rare for Daniel to get rough with her, they had long conversations about what they enjoyed or wanted to try in the bedroom. This was definitely on the list.

“Come here.” Daniel said, walking away from her and towards the mirror. She was keen to follow, not wanting his hands away from her, even just for a second. He pushed her against the counter, with just seconds for her hands to support her weight, she looked up at him through the glass. Daniel always liked to take his time with her, so he began to undo the buttons of her shirt, as she pushed back slightly, pressing her ass against his cock. Normally he tell her off for this but he was becoming too desperate, this was made apparent by the tent in his boxers.

“Be good. Yeah?” Daniel rasped out, pushing her skirt up and pulling her underwear to the side. She arched her back as he pushed his cock in, not wasting time in teasing her. Her head dipped low, looking down at the sink with closed eyes as he began to rock his hips back and forth. She moaned rather load and quickly tried to cover her mouth with her hand. “No. None of that. Not after today, making me dress up as a porn star. Do you think Owen Grey could fuck you as well as I can?” She clenched upon hearing the name and stayed silent, choosing to focus more of the sensation he was giving her. “Answer me.” Daniel enjoyed being dominant, it quickly became second nature when they were together. “No, Danny. Only you could.”

“That’s what I fucking thought, baby.” Wherever Daniel said something particular harsh or degrading he’d follow it up with something sweet, to ease the pain just a little. She began to get drunk on the feeling, the buzz was quickly approaching so she pushed her hips back on his to meet the thrusts. She wanted him deeper. “That’s it. Good girl. Make yourself feel good on my cock.” His hand edged slowly back towards her underwear. Wanting to rub her clit. He wanted to feel her clench around him, he wanted to hear her voice as she neared ecstasy, he wanted to see the pleasure he was giving her.

Her moans got louder, the faster he began fucking her. She was so close, so close to the edge that her eyes began to roll to the back of her head. As a response Daniel grabbed her hair and pulled so she was looking at the mirror; looking at him. “Keep your eyes on me baby, you’ll cum.” It just felt too good, too much for her. The risk of getting caught mixed with the alcohol made it all so much more pleasurable. “Please Danny.” She spoke, cumming hard and fast, shaking in his grip, struggling to stay up right. Daniel followed soon after her. The look on her face, the fact she was on cloud nine just sent him over the edge.

Her makeup was smudged and the glasses she was wearing were no where to be found. She noticed a few buttons on the sink as he pulled out of her dripping cunt. “I know, baby, I know.” Daniel said stoking up and down her sides with his tattooed hand. They kissed briefly again, not wanting to break contact. He pushed her underwear into the right place before tucking himself back into his boxers, letting out a light laugh. “Let’s get home sweetheart.”

If this looks or feels a bit rushed that’s because it is. If there are any mistakes let me know. <3

#f1 x reader #f1 x reader smut #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo x female reader #daniel ricciardo x reader smut #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel riccardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel riccardo smut #daniel ricciardo #danny ric #f1 fic #DR:3

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colourstreakgryffin · 9 months

Note

Can we get Muzan and Kokushibo discussing Muzan's very menacing bratty spoiled, daughter's behavior towards other demons with Muzan defending her every action and seeing nothing wrong with her behavior (while she torment's Douma and Hantengu in the background?)

I think it would be hilarious, thank you for considering my ask<3~

Aaaa! That’s actually really cute in a weird way! I like this idea a lot, thank you, love!

Kibutsuji Muzan- True Angel

“Lord Muzan…” Kokushibo asked softly, sat on his knees in a respectful manner as Muzan turned to his top Upper Moon and frowned slightly, annoyed as he had another duty to finish. What does he want? Muzan raises his hand without so much as a word, as a non-verbal sign that the six-eyed man can speak freely. “Lord Muzan… you need to… talk to the… young Lady” Kokushibo was planning to explain to his rather unforgiving Master about his concerns over his very menacing, spoiled, bratty daughter’s behaviours towards all the other Upper Moons

“What about my daughter, Kokushibo? I dare you to try tell me my daughter isn’t perfect” Muzan barked coldly, the second his servant mentioned his beloved daughter. How dare he think he could try tell him how to parent his daughter! Those harsh words he spat out couldn’t cut down Kokushibo’s confidence as the demon samurai muscled out a response in very little time, he was barely intimidated by his own Master. He needed to get his point across, the Upper Moons are continuously tortured by you, Muzan’s precious daughter

“I’m not… suggesting that… I just… need you to know… about what she… does to us” Muzan titled his head, displeased and annoyed but since he favoured the brother of his worst enemy severely, he was willing to hear him out. But whatever he may say will be such bullshit, he can already tell. “Okay. What is the problem, Kokushibo. Tell me” The blood reds glared, unreasonable traces of anger already rising. To him, anybody merely mentioning his daughter in a negative light is insulting her and he wouldn’t let any breathing being insult his precious love

“Have you seen… how she… treats us?” Muzan’s stroked eyebrow rose in confusion as he shakes his head no, arms crossed over his chest. What could you possibly do to the five demons coursing with his blood, a lone Hashira could not stand a chance against them. “She attacks us constantly…” Kokushibo remarked in his signature low voice, causing Muzan to be thrown back internally. Shock overflowing him, that claim is just ridiculous

“Attacks you? That’s nonsense” Muzan answered firmly and still deep in disbelief, sitting down before Kokushibo after a few seconds of thought, to meet with his hexa-eyes. Kokushibo shakes his head slowly in response without a word, his hands still curled up and laid in his lap, Muzan simply didn’t believe that his perfect princess pulls mischief and causes chaos behind his back. “She does… she treats Hantengu like… a scratching… post and treats Akaza… like a punching bag” As the two built men spoke in a rather passive-aggressive and firm aura

You laughed mischievously under her breath, your blood red eyes glaring hatefully at the whimpering, whining Upper Moon 4 laying on the floor beneath you as you raised your claws up to be seen by him. Hantengu cried out as you swiped at his face with a delighted grunt each time, blood staining your claws. The surrounding Upper Moons all reacted differently to you targeting one of their fellow Moons, most wanted to get away

Gyokko immediately dropped into the safety of his ceramic pot at the mere sight of you, as Akaza flinched in horror at you, shuffling to the edge of the many block-like building’s roof whilst Douma chuckled at you and your mericless attacking on the poor Hantengu, slowly faning his face with his golden fan. None of the Upper Moons knew Kokushibo was trying to convince their Master that his daughter is unnecessarily attacking them, since she can totally get away with doing whatever she wants

“Are you sure she isn’t playing with them? Dokusha has different ways to play, then most kids” Muzan barked in a meaningful, honest response as he didn’t bother to move, completely interested in hearing all his Upper Moon 1’s arguments over you and your supposedly despicable behaviour to anybody, other than him. But he truly couldn’t seen what the problem is, you are harmless. None of the Upper Moons should be cowering at you, this concept sounds like delusion to him

“No… playing isn’t striking until… we bleed…” “It sounds more like you’re all too weak to handle playing with a child who has claws” “Master… She doesn’t play with… us, she hurts us” “What is the problem with her being able to hone her skills? I don’t get the problem, Kokushibo”

As the argument grew up and the voices rose, you leaped at Douma once you were done with the bleeding and pathetically sobbing Hantengu. Snatching his luxurious fan from his hand whilst you pinned him down as he chuckles at you, not even flinching at you stabbing it right though his eye. Your malicious grin spread as you purposefully twisted the impaled item in the Upper Moon 2’s socket, hoping he’d respond in any form. Their torment was your pleasure, but you hissed annoyed when Douma laughed louder and lifted a hand to pat your hair

He isn’t in pain?! How dare he mock you! You always get what you want and you want him to fear you! You hissed outloud, stamping on the fan as you kneed his stomach firmly. The closed fan dug deeper into his skill and spit out more of his disgusting red blood onto the cloor. Hantengu whimpered, shying into the nearby corner as his wounds healed whilst Akaza avoided watching the scene only a few metres besides him, trying his best to not intervene

If he were to try stop you, Muzan would have his head in a instant…

Muzan, on the other end of the gigantic marvellous open arena, didn’t even notice the way you attacked his Upper Moons as he continued to push back on every piece of evidence of your cruel bratty behaviour towards his loyal soldiers, presented by the most trustworthy man he has. Kokushibo didn’t want to give up, believing he had the most chance to convince his Master into trusting his every word he spoke about you. Muzan truly didn’t want to take his top’s remarks and he was tempted to ignore the concerns. Since his precious baby is a angel…

Why would she hurt anybody?

686 notes · View notes

koofete · 9 months

Text

in motion, in 3D. ー jeon jungkook.

pics not mine!

you touched yourself so well through the screen of jungkook's cellphone that he couldn't help but call you in the middle of the night.

jungkook × f!reader.

mature content, maybe fluff, mentions of squirt, sweet and trying something new, sex call.

note: i'm doing a lot of drabbles 'bout jk, but this man is living in my head! especially now with '3D' lyrics.. hope you guys don't mind!

Jungkook drove alone to the hotel he would stay with his band members, being the last one to arrive because he wanted to stay with you a little longer before traveling again.

Getting out of the car, jeon grabbed two bags, ready to go inside when his cellphone vibrated in the pocket of his jeans. Knowing who was possibly calling, he immediately dropped everything that had in hands and grabbed the phone. Your name appearing on the bright screen.

pretty girl 💕 sent a video.

pretty girl 💕 : i'm already missing yoooou

pretty girl 💕 : trying something new, ive never recorded myself like this before

pretty girl 💕 : sleep well ;)

You actually sent him a 'sleep well' after sending that abused pussy of yours gushing cum in a way that jungkook had never in person before?! No fucking way.

How cute of you to think that he could at least close his eyes for more than five minutes without thinking of your little cries in the back of that video, fitting perfectly with the wet sounds.

Her clit clearly needs more than just fingers. ー jeon thoughts making his dick even harder.

Unfortunately, jeon couldn't just grab his bags and go back but he had something on his mind. When entering the hotel, he tried his best to be cool and smile at some people who recognized him, but he was in a hurry.

Anxiously, he locked the door of the room in which would spend the night, not needing to share bed with anyone this time.

gguk: hope you're still awake

gguk: cause i am

You smile at the notification, not expecting him to respond so late at night.

Or maybe you expected, since the sheet beneath your body is a complete mess, your legs are still open and the only piece of clothing you wear is a white tank top from jungkook. You didn't move a finger, wanting to make sure if he would return soon or just the next morning.

gguk is calling . . .

And there you go.

You answered quickly and put it on speakerphone, leaving the phone aside since it wasn't a video call.

"what was that?" Jungkook immediately asks.

"what?"

"you know what i'm talking about, pretty. that fucking video is driving me insane."

"oh!" You chuckle a bit, feeling dizzy by the way his voice sounded hoarser than normal. "did you like it?"

Suddenly you receive a new notification. It was a photo of your boyfriend sitting on a hotel bed, in front of a mirror wearing only dark sweatpants, no shirt. His tattooed arm held his clearly hard cock through the fabric. Strands of his freshly cut hair fell over his forehead and a silver chain hung around his neck.

Your body will always burn with desire and shyness whenever you see him like this, despite the years of relationship.

"this answer your question, love?"

"y-yeah." Still staring wide-eyed at the photo as your legs close without you even noticing; thighs pressed together.

"i can't touch you through the phone and that's torture, baby." He growls the last word, left hand going down to his dick. "but you can fuck that sweet pussy of yours while i'm away. do this for me, yeah? now."

"mm-hm."

He smiles with the way you already seem so surrendered. "tell me if you're still wearing my tank top, pretty girl. i want to imagine you."

"yes, i'm still wearing." You say in a sigh. Now, with both hands free and the cellphone's close, fingers play with your nipple and pussy at the same time.

"fuck..." Jeon curses. His wide hands are already running up and down on his cock, slowly but firmly. "so wet my tank top and our sheets with your cum, love. 'want to smell your scent as soon as i get back to home."

"koo..."

"just like that..." At this point you can hear how wet he is and vice versa. "say my name louder, princess. put three fingers in like you know i would, fast and deep."

He gives the instructions calmly and affectionately, but still manages to sound dominant to your ears, which makes you even whiny. You do as jungkook asks and he notices it by the way your moans become louder, knowing that maybe you could even have tears in your eyes. He furrows his eyebrows and lets the air escape from his lips adorned with a small silver jewel in the corner, muttering small 'ooh's.'

Jungkook was loving having sex with you over the phone, but nothing compares to the feeling of having your body pressed against his, sweat running down his forehead as he gives his life while eat you out. He simply loves the sound that echoes when his balls slap against your ass and can't wait to see you squirting now he know that you can. But in person.

In motion.

"i'm cumming, koo!"

"go ahead, baby. i'm so close too..."

And more than ever, he can't wait to see you again.

`✦ !

#bts smut #jungkook drabble #jungkook × reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook x oc

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tmpestuous · 2 years

Text

One Step at a Time

summary: when you get brutally injured on a mission with no way to contact anyone, bucky goes out to find you.

pairing: bucky x avenger!reader

word count: 4.5k

warnings: angst, slight protective!bucky, mentions of death and killing, mentions of torture, blood, injuries, trauma, injured!reader

a/n: here’s another avenger!reader one shot from the long list of ideas i have… i’m thinking of making them all connected so it’s the same reader from six days (: i promise my next fic won’t be so depressing i apologize

Trying to fight off the hand currently clasped over your mouth, you were only repeatedly unsuccessful. Steve hadn’t seen you get dragged off, turning around and panicking immediately.

You could hear his calls for your voice become increasingly faint as the men dragged you to a secluded room you assumed Steve wouldn’t be able to access.

“What do you mean you don’t know where she is, Steve?” Bucky sat, still in his disheveled state from being woken up abruptly by Sam for an emergency meeting.

“Buck, wake up man,” Sam said, clasping Bucky’s shoulder lightly and shaking him a bit.

Opening his eyes reluctantly, Bucky wondered what could possibly be so important this early in the morning. He never got much sleep when you went on your missions, feeling the bed to be a little too empty and thus, leaving him lonely with his thoughts.

Looking at the clock, it read 4:17AM.

Looking back at Sam, Bucky knew something wasn’t right. Sam’s usual, playful nature replaced with one that looked remorseful.

“What’s going on?” Bucky asked hesitantly. “Everything okay?”

“It’s Y/n, Buck,” Sam responded, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck. He looked nervous, almost as if it was his fault. “She’s missing. Steve wants to have a meeting with us.”

“What do you mean she’s missing?” Bucky said calmly, though he most certainly felt his heart drop from his chest.

Sam was just as distraught as Bucky in the meeting, bobbing his knee up and down in his seat. He had told you Steve was swapping with him for the mission, second guessing himself after taking it up in the first place. You were upset he wasn’t joining you, having been the only person you trusted enough to go on missions alone with besides Bucky since you recovered from the explosion. It made him feel guilty that it had resulted in your disappearance.

It had taken you a while to feel comfortable enough to start participating in any missions, and even when you did, you always made the effort to stay in the same room as someone else. You couldn’t bear to be alone again, more than just fearful to end up in another situation where you had no idea what to do with no immediate help.

Plunging the knife into the chest of the last man, you exhaled a few shaky breaths.

You had been fighting these men for what felt like hours. One of them had managed to stab you in the side while you weren’t looking, and to your eventual disadvantage, you pulled it out of your suit and used it to deal with about ten other men on your own.

Staring at the last man only pushed you to look at the vast amount of bodies around you, about twenty of them laying in pools of blood everywhere, most of which you barely recalled finishing off.

You had experienced your fair share of moments with blind rage before, most of which came from your time with Hydra. But you made the effort never to kill someone. A vow you made to yourself, which was now broken.

Choking on a sob you didn’t realize was coming, you stood up and placed pressure on your stab wound before searching through the room for medical supplies. It was clearly a doctor’s room, one that reminded you of the office you spent a lot of time in while captured by Hydra.

Finding a first aid kit, you did your best to stitch and patch the stab wound with so little supplies. Once you were finished, you put the jacket of your suit back on, knowing it was freezing outside and you had to find some sort of shelter.

If there were more men coming to the building, the last thing you wanted to do was try to fight more of them off in your current state. You had hoped Steve made it out, now doing everything you can to do the same for yourself.

Finding a nearby exit, you walked out into the cool air.

It was gonna be a long walk.

Steve was still in his suit, dirt covering his face though it did nothing to mask his solemn expression.

He wasn’t sure how the two of you got separated. He was keeping a close eye on you since the last time you were paired together, things went bad. Hell, you almost died. Steve was simply starting to think he gave you bad luck when you were around him.

“I– I’m not sure,” Steve choked out, and he wasn’t lying at all. “We had made it inside and were met with some resistance, but we didn’t split up. We got caught up fighting and when I had turned around, she was gone. I didn’t leave her, Buck, you have to believe me. I wouldn’t do that to her. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Bucky believed him, but he couldn’t help but overthink the fact that you’d been caught up in a bad place in the last two missions you’ve spent with Steve. It was his best friend and, of course, he knew he’d never have ill intentions with you.

He just hoped you were okay.

“It’s okay, Steve,” he reassured. “We’ll find her. Don’t worry.”

God, you had hoped they’d somehow find you.

You swore you’d been walking in circles for ten hours, searching for the safe house Tony had informed you and Steve was near where your mission was taking place.

You were so tired. You had barely managed to fight off all of the maniacs who had tried to hold you captive in the old Hydra base you and Steve were assigned to get rid of. You recognized a few of them from your days in the organization, but it took you a lot longer to fight them on your own after getting stabbed in the side and a few hits to the head.

You had never done any killing with Hydra, seeing as they never got you to commit to it, but something had triggered you to kill almost all of them. The only ones who didn’t reap such consequences were the ones who had ambushed you and Steve when you both had found an entrance into the building.

You felt sick to your stomach because of it, along with all the energy being drained from you slowly but surely with every step you took towards nowhere at this point. You had lost your transponder somewhere in that god-forsaken building, so on top of losing Steve, it wasn’t like anyone back at the compound could track your location either.

Steve.

You assumed he’d started to look for you after you lost each other, but you had no idea if he was still in this general location. He might’ve stayed or gone back to the compound to tell the others you were missing.

It genuinely wasn’t his fault you got separated, and you’d only hoped he knew that. Someone who might not know that, on the other hand, is Bucky. You then hoped he wouldn’t give Steve a hard time, not wanting them to have any more tension than the last time you suffered while paired up with his best friend.

“She still has to go to the debrief, Bucky,” Steve pushed. “It’s been long enough and we’ve pushed past protocol longer than we ever have.”

“What if she doesn’t want to talk about it, Steve? We all went to debrief, why does she have to do it too?”

“She experienced what none of us did,” the blonde countered again. “No one knows what happened in that room but her. We need every detail.”

Reluctantly, Bucky gave in. But he regretted it the second things were rough in the meeting.

“You have to remember, Y/n,” Steve tried to encourage you, but it wasn’t really working.

“I told you I never found where it came from, I’m not making that up,” you defended.

“You said you didn’t remember if you found where it came from.”

“The last thing I remember was seeing one blink of a red light before the explosion. I don’t remember if it was actually the source or something else. I never found it, Steve,” you urged softly.

Bucky was getting irritated. You hadn’t talked much to him about what happened because you hated how you felt afterwards, and now you were sitting here getting interrogated by Steve who hadn’t been there every step of your recovery.

“Y/n–”

“I think that’s enough, Steve,” Bucky said before grabbing your hand and standing up. “We’re done here.”

Your recollection of the memory was short-lived when you felt your suit starting to feel a lot wetter than before, peeking down to see it staining with fresh blood which means your wound had reopened. Limping towards what looked like an empty house, seeming freshly abandoned, you winced at the pain in your side. Walking up to the front door, you quickly jammed it in, glad to feel warmth in contrast to the cold air from outside.

Looking around to see if anyone was inside, you found yourself alone. Settling on a first aid kit from the bathroom, you plopped yourself on the couch and ripped the jacket of your suit off, almost peeling it with the dried blood making it stick to your skin a bit.

You did your best to restitch and patch the stab wound, but you knew you’d certainly have to redo it in a few hours. You could feel yourself getting lightheaded, likely from the loss of blood and lack of nourishment. Trying your best to stay awake didn’t work as well as you hoped, but you held on for as long as you could.

Back at the compound, Bucky was packing everything he possibly needed. He didn’t know how long it was gonna take to find you, but he sure as hell knew he wouldn’t stop searching until he did. He had told Steve it was best for him to stay for this one, knowing he was feeling the guilt of having you go lost in the first place.

Bucky heard a knock at his door, turning around to see Sam in his doorway.

“Ready to go?” he asked, seeing Bucky zip his bags.

“Let’s find her.”

It had been less than five hours since Steve had broken the news that he lost you. First, he told Bucky and Sam, knowing it’d be of most importance to them. Then the rest of the team had joined in on the meeting, immediately making plans on how to find her.

Sam, Natasha, Tony, Bruce, Clint, and Thor had agreed to go with Bucky to help find you. Bucky had no problem going on his own, but Natasha assured that it’d be best for everyone to join in. They attributed your last known location to the last signal your transponder gave off, and thus decided to start there.

Steve waved them off as they left on the jet, but everyone was aware he’d be tracking from back at the compound.

Upon making it to the location of your mission and where they knew you had been at some point, they found your (now dead) transponder in the middle of a pool of blood. There were bodies everywhere, and Bucky had only grown anxious.

You had never enjoyed getting unnecessarily violent, and in that, you always reminded him of himself. He was aware Hydra hadn’t toyed with your head nearly to the extent they did with him, but it was enough to do some damage.

You’d confided in him with all of your stories, never going into extreme detail out of compassion for his own experiences and not wanting to trigger him into those thoughts. However, he knew that you’d never killed anyone. Beaten some people beyond a general healing point, definitely, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take a life. Hydra had their fair share of punishments for you because of that but it hadn’t broken you to the point of reaching that point.

Seeing all the dead bodies scattered across the room, there had to be about twenty of them. Bucky didn’t want to admit it, but it undoubtedly scared him. If you were in that much trouble to cause such damage, he was worried about what state he’d find you in.

Seeing everyone make their way out of the room, Bucky shook the negative thoughts from his head. He didn’t want to distract himself from his priority: finding you, regardless of what state you’d be in.

“If she’s injured, she couldn’t have made it far,” Natasha stated, staring around at the outside of the building from an open window. “She might still be around here somewhere, maybe hid–”

Lights from a series of vehicles appeared outside. About four dozen Hydra men made their way towards the entrance of the building, murmuring about how they needed to find you before the Avengers did.

“We’ve got company, boys,” Natasha stated instead of finishing her previous thought.

Bucky made his way to the window, seeing that horrid insignia his memory would never let him forget. “Hydra. There’s more of them still around than I thought.”

“Cut a head off, two more take its place, huh?” Natasha recalled the organization’s motto. “We need to do this quickly, we don’t know how much time Y/n’s got and we still don’t know where she is–”

“Go,” Bucky said. “Go find her, I’ll handle them.”

“Buck, is that really the best ch–” Sam started.

“I said, go.”

“I’m sticking with you, everyone else can go.”

Bucky sighed before nodding in agreement. Natasha made her way out with Tony, Thor, and Clint, finding a back entrance. Bruce was still in the jet, tracking nearby buildings you could possibly be in. Thor, Natasha, and Clint decided to split up and search each one, Tony trying to find heat signatures that could somehow match yours.

Bucky and Sam made their way to the ground floor, watching all of the men surge in. Bucky loaded his rifle, Sam releasing Redwing to count how many men there were.

“There’s 40 of them,” Sam whispered loud enough for only Bucky to hear him.

“20 for each of us, huh?” Bucky adjusted his hold on his rifle from around the corner of the hallway. “If Y/n can do it, so can we.” Feeling a boost in confidence, Bucky started to make his move, knocking out a few men right away as Sam did the same.

He knew he couldn’t let anyone get to you before anyone from the team did, even if it meant letting the others go ahead of him. He felt a lot more calculated than he usually did, knowing your life (or death) was in the gamble of the entire operation.

You, on the other hand, were about to give up. Staying awake has never been this difficult, but with your pulse going faster by the second and the sudden chills you were feeling, you had a feeling this was it.

Your wound hadn’t opened at all in the last two hours, but you attributed it to pure luck at this point. The way you were feeling could only be coming from the gaping hole on the side of your torso, even covered.

You still tried your best to keep your eyes open, knowing you weren’t going to let yourself die cold and alone in the middle of nowhere. You felt awful, a few tears shedding from your eyes from how sick you were starting to feel. You wanted to sleep, but you were scared to go under and then not wake up.

Not to mention, you couldn’t sleep knowing the nightmares that were inevitably going to come. Feeling physically awful was one thing, but watching all those lifeless bodies fall to the floor after you killed them only made you feel worse. You couldn’t get the memory out of your head, only sobbing slightly to yourself thinking about it.

The thought that lingered even more in your head was how you were gonna tell Bucky. He knew you’d never resort to such drastic measures and you were afraid he’d look at you different once he found out.

If he even found you alive at this point.

The team had searched about 40 houses in the last two hours, eventually teaming up with Bucky and Sam who had dealt with all forty men in the span of half an hour. They even checked the safe house in case you had made it and passed out before communicating with them, but you weren’t there either.

“There’s only one house left on this entire street,” Bruce spoke through comms.

Bucky’s anxiety was only going sky high with every second they hadn’t found you yet. They had no idea what your condition was like and he was doing his best not to think of the worst possible scenario. He’d hoped the tricks he taught you while on missions with him had helped somewhat, like knowing how to stitch a wound or finding a safe place from danger.

Bucky’s racing mind was interrupted by Tony’s voice on comms; he had gone to check the house and determine if there was anyone inside.

“Heat signature matches Y/l/n’s, and it’s not looking too good,” he said as he landed back on the ground.

The team rushed over, Bucky running faster than he’d ever run before. Opening the door in a rush, he saw you laying on the couch, taking staggered breaths with your eyes closed. Everyone had walked in behind him, Natasha alerting Bruce that they had found you and telling him to prep the jet.

Bucky’s only focus was you. He placed his hands on your cheek, startling you enough to push him back before your eyes landed on him.

“Bucky?” you said, definitely not believing your eyes as you looked around and saw everyone else in the room.

Bucky approached you again slowly, not wanting to scare you further since you were probably in shock.

“Hey, baby, it’s me,” he assured you as you stared him down frantically before you started to sob. “We came to take you home, alright? We’re going home.”

As the jet landed outside, Bucky picked you up in his arms. You instinctively curled up against him, hiding your cold face in the warmth of the crook of his neck. After everyone boarded, the jet made its way back to the compound.

Bucky had looked at your wound, replacing the dirty gauze for a clean one. You’d cried almost the entire ride, all of your emotions rushing in like a freight train.

It hurt Bucky to see you in such a state, knowing you were tired of all the losses in life. He knew exactly how it felt, but he’d also felt you deserved it much less than he did all those years. You didn’t kill anyone like he did, you didn’t ruin anyone’s life like he did, you didn’t make people scared of you. He tried to shake those thoughts from his head, knowing you’d scold him again for thinking so low of himself in comparison to you.

Running his hands through your hair, he stayed next to you the entire time, reassuring you that you were safe and soothing you as best as he could.

Once you all had arrived to the compound, it only got worse.

A gurney was waiting for you on the landing pad, which you didn’t want to be laid on, to begin with. Once they had strapped you down, your cries only got worse, screaming Bucky’s name out as they took you to the medical bay. Bucky wanted to follow, but Sam stopped him, saying it was best to do the debrief right away.

You refused to let anyone touch you unless Bucky was there, and the doctors in the medical bay were getting so frustrated, the only choice they had was to sedate you in the meantime. When they had finally patched up your wound properly, they left you to rest.

Rest was very much not in your cards, however, with your crying fits continuing and Bucky’s hearts breaking into about a million more pieces than before when he walked into your room to see you crying to yourself.

“Y/n…” he spoke softly, sliding into the bed with you carefully and pulling you into his arms, cautious enough not to hurt you further. Kissing the top of your head multiple times, he rubbed your arms up and down until your cries eventually stopped.

“Y-you’re gonna hate me, Bucky,” you said with a shaky voice. “I don’t want you to hate me when you find out what I did.”

“Baby, what are you talking about?” he looked down at you, but Bucky was well aware what you were thinking of. “I could never hate you. Ever. Not after everything we’ve been through together, okay? Don’t ever say something like that.”

Bucky heard you sniffle and saw a few tears fall down your cheeks, heart aching at the fact that you might start sobbing again. You slowly wrapped your arms around him, hiding your face from him in his chest.

The following days were still rough. Bucky felt lucky enough that you’d have your meals with him, but you didn’t feel like leaving your room. Steve had checked in with you and said you wouldn’t have to update anyone on what happened after you got separated. Not until you were ready to talk about it.

Bucky stayed with you more often, even after you pleaded with him to not tear up his schedule for you. He skipped out on a mission just so he could stay with you, which he assured you was okay because it meant his next mission would be with you.

The only way you got him to go back to his routine was to offer to train with him. He had asked you a million times if you were sure, knowing what most likely occurred back on your mission’s complication. Eventually, he gave in as he always did, but he knew he wasn’t going to rush you into anything.

Picking up your normal tools for your usual, more-intense sparring sessions you always had with Bucky, your hands started to shake. Bucky noticed and rubbed your shoulders smoothly.

“We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for,” he whispered lowly in your ear. “Just take it one step at a time, okay?”

You nodded up at him, putting your tools down. You thought it’d help to move slow, but the second you knocked Bucky down, you kneeled down next to him, anxiously asking if he was okay with tears in your eyes.

Bucky looked up at you quizzically, knowing you knew in the back of your mind somewhere that you couldn’t hurt him detrimentally from a normal sparring session.

He wiped your tears away as you stared at him with fear in your eyes, only making him feel even worse about you experiencing what you had experienced alone.

“Baby, hey,” he said as you shut your eyes and cried. “Look at me.”

Blinking a few times, you sniffled and looked down at him, completely uncaring of your tears that had fallen on his shirt.

“You could never hurt me, my love,” he rubbed your cheeks with his calloused thumbs, though it was the comfort you surely needed. “The only way you could hurt me is by breaking my heart and I know that’s not gonna happen anytime soon, right?”

You shook your head.

“Then don’t worry so much, baby,” he leaned up and kissed your lips softly. “I’m more than okay. You were just better than me. Let’s go shower and watch a movie.”

Standing up and lifting you up with a helping hand, you both walked back to Bucky’s room which was the closest. Stepping into the bathroom, Bucky let the water run from the showerhead so it could get warm. You stripped yourself of your clothes as he did the same, before getting into the shower.

After cleansing yourselves, Bucky rubbed your tense shoulders once again as you leaned into him.

“I killed them,” you muffled into his chest.

“Hm?” Bucky questioned, not quite hearing you over the running water and with your face down. Lifting your chin up to look at him, your eyes were puffy and red from all the crying you’d done all day. “You don’t have to talk about anything, Y/n. Okay? We can talk about it some other time.

Shaking your head, you sighed in faltered breaths. “I killed them, Bucky.”

Bucky looked at you with sorrow. He didn’t know how to tell you that he already knew, he didn’t even know if it was the right thing to tell you. All he did was brush your tears away and kiss your forehead, nose, then lips.

“You need to relax a bit, baby, okay?” he spoke in a soft tone. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”

Staring up at him in confusion, you shook your head again.

“You know already,” you confirmed to yourself, knowing Bucky too well to know he would usually ask if you wanted to talk further about something before putting it to bed. “You know I killed all those people.”

Bucky sighed, staring into your eyes before closing his and nodding slightly. “I do.”

“And you don’t look at me differently?” you asked, your voice a lot more calm and collected now. “I broke my promise, I didn’t even show them any mercy, Bucky—”

“Do you look at me differently knowing all the people I killed?” he interrupted, placing his flesh hand on your cheek and rubbing it slightly with his thumb. “You don’t, you never have. You knew who I was when you first got here and never looked at me differently. Why would I do that to you?”

“That’s different,” you countered. “You had no idea what you were doing, Bucky. I did.”

“You were defending yourself,” he retaliated, doing his best not to downplay your feelings. “If you hadn’t killed them, who knows what they would have done to you? It’s Hydra, they don’t care who they hurt or how they do it. If I were you, I would have done the same thing.”

He was right and you knew it. You laid your head back on his chest, scared to look him in the eye.

“I didn’t want you to look at me like I was broken,” you admitted. “I don’t know who I was when all of that happened and I just— it felt like I was trying to escape them all over again and I’ve never experienced that before. I was scared.”

“And that’s okay,” Bucky reassured you the same way he always had, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “You’re not broken, you’re just healing. There’s nothing wrong with that, baby.”

You sniffled again before leaning into him more. “Can you just hold me for now?”

Bucky kissed your head again, squeezing his arms around you in all the warmth he could possibly transfer.

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

—

I promise this is the last of my desire to write angst with injuring the reader… thank you for reading!

tags: @jessybarnes

#bucky angst #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky imagine #bucky x female reader

3K notes · View notes

ivystoryweaver · 1 year

Text

With You part 11

<-prev next-> || Fic Masterlist || My Masterlist

Summary: Buckle up. That's it, that's the summary

Pairings: Jake Lockley x reader, Steven Grant x reader, Marc Spector x reader. Gender neutral reader. No use of Y/N. Reader is married to the system.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings/notables: Angst, a little fluff, crying, cursing, injury, blood. Sex but language is not overly explicit and remains gender neutral. Mentions of alcoholism and abuse. Lmk if I missed a warning. inaccurate DID, based on the show. Not beta'd

PREVIOUSLY, on "With You"...

"I understand," you whispered, your eyes wide, with a sliver of hope. "But you can say it again."

Tracing your lips with his thumb, he tried to show you everything inside his heart. He didn't deserve you, but he couldn't live without you anymore.

"I'm so sorry," he translated, brushing his lips over yours. "My love... please forgive me." Rubbing his nose against yours tenderly, he breathed against your mouth. "I love you."

You sat with your back pressed against the headboard of your bed, legs stretched out across the mattress. You were so tired, but too wired to sleep.

Your sleeping husband's head rested on your thigh, facing you - lips slightly parted, cheek squished, soft curls stubbornly tumbling across his forehead - despite how many times you'd raked them aside.

Gentle breaths escaped his pliable, kissable lips. The angry slice through his bottom lip made you really fucking irate at the bloody stupid pigeon. How dare he hurt Marc?

And the lip cut was the least of his worries. A bandage stretched across his dark eyebrow, with a huge length of gauze covering the sutures on his side. Multiple scrapes and bruises appeared, littering his dark skin as the night went on.

He may have been restlessly slumbering with physical wounds, but your heart was aching.

Just a little while ago, Jake changed your entire life. After working so hard to find peace without him, he crashed back into your world, bleeding and just as damn infuriating as ever.

But...he loved you.

Even now, hours later, your heart surged with longing as your stomach did somersaults. Jake was so different from your husband, and you were not the same when you were with him either. But these damn injuries hadn't afforded you much in the way of any...physical expressions of love.

With his strong forearm flexing behind your back, pressing you against his body, your foreheads resting sweetly together - his lips brushed yours as he confessed his feelings.

He loved you.

Jake captured your mouth with a surge of passion, immediately hissing in pain as your tongue ran over his cut.

"Shit! Jake, I'm sorry," you gasped, bravely reaching to caress the strong angle of his jaw after feeling so deeply rejected only moments before. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean - "

"Shh, cariño, it's okay," he soothed, his mouth curling at how sweet you were. "Come here." Then he kissed you. It was slow. Passionate. He was hurt, but he had tasted you before and he wouldn't ever give up another chance.

Sucking on your top lip for so long it felt like torture, he finally ran his tongue over your teeth, then rolled his tongue over yours. As you gasped out a little whine, his hands slid down to grasp your hips - squeezing, pulling you demandingly against him.

You jerked back suddenly, tasting blood on your tongue. "Jake, we have to stop," you panted, your forehead dropping to his cheek. His breath mingled with yours as he tried to steady himself.

"I don't want to stop," he admitted, his voice raw and gruff - so much deeper than the timbre to which you were accustomed.

Unable to resist the feel of you, he pulled you into a desperate hug, which you melted into willingly.

"Shit," he hissed, jerking away as pain flared up his wounded side.

"You're hurt." It was stating the obvious, but you were concerned. "I don't want to be the reason you rip those stitches."

With a dark chuckle, Jake's eyebrows shot up, even as he eased out of your embrace to clutch his side. "Could be fun though."

"That's not even funny," you fired back, narrowing your eyes. "It was hell to get those things into you in the first place."

With a self-assured smirk, Jake reached for your fingers. "Keep talking about putting things into me, and I won't care what happens to my stitches, cariño."

Bringing your fingers to his (bloody) lips, he thought to kiss them, just like the first night he "met" you. Remembering his wound, he instead rubbed his nose over your knuckles before squeezing your hand. Pulling your joined hands to his chest, he laid your palm over his wildly beating heart.

"What? No smartass reply?" He teased, eyes darkening as you swallowed hard and wet your lips.

"I-I'm just distracted," you sputtered, taking a moment to clear your throat, "and worried." After all, his mouth was still bleeding.

"Right," he nodded, stretching out his fingers to touch your cheek. "It figures that I would...you know...completely fuck this up."

"What do you mean?" You questioned, your thumb tracing circles on the muscles of his chest.

"This. You...and me. And, you know...us. Me ignoring you for a month - "

"Almost three months," you fired back.

Shrugging one shoulder, he shook his head. "It all feels like one, never-ending wish to see you again, to me."

"Then why didn't you talk to me?" You whispered, leaning your cheek into his touch. "I missed you so bad, Jake."

"I don't deserve you, mi amor. I'll never deserve you." Before you could protest - and the two of you could start bickering again - (which he could not endure unless he felt well enough to take out his frustrations in other ways) - he clarified.

"You save lives. You saved my life. You save Marc's life every day. So that includes Steven too." Swiping his thumb over your cheek, he squeezed your hand that rested on his chest.

"I take lives. I have so much blood on my hands - including Marc's." Reluctantly stepping back, he gestured to the bandage on his side. "This is Marc's blood. It's my fault. You love him and...I hurt him. I hurt people. And you save them."

"You save them too, Jake," you reminded him. "You may have saved Marc's life tonight, and I know you've done it before."

Rubbing his arm reassuringly, you gazed up into his beautiful eyes. "Of course I love Marc. But I love you too. And you're hurt too."

Reaching for his hand, you guided him to sit back down on the bed, which he did with another groan of pain.

"You know what else, Jake?" You leaned in to whisper on his ear, making him shiver with want. "You're just as stubborn as Marc too." Easing back, you gave him a mischievous smile. "Ask him how that works out for him."

Jake was a tangled mess of pain, exhaustion, desire, adoration, unworthiness - his heart was burning for you. He felt alive for the first time in his life. What was he going to do with you?

A hell of a lot, if he could just heal up a little bit.

But to answer your question, he chuckled, referring to you letting Marc know he had met his match when it came to stubbornness. "Uh, he told me. 'Game fucking on'?"

"Game fucking on," you grinned. "Now you need to rest," you commanded, directing him to ease down onto the mattress. "Nurse's orders."

Damn, that did things to Jake. He was unwell on every level and he needed you so bad.

Suddenly desperate at the thought of being parted from you, he grabbed your knee, eyes turning up to you pleadingly. "You won't leave me?"

"Of course not," you soothed, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

Nodding quickly, he tried to get comfortable, pressing a quick kiss to your thigh. "I'm sorry...about tomorrow. I'm never me when I wake up."

"I know that, it's okay," you softly reassured him, directing him to lay his head on your lap. Like an eager puppy he snuggled up to you, absolutely living for your affection.

"I know but...one of them will be here, and they'll be hurt." He swallowed, pausing for a moment as you dabbed his cut lip to try to clean it up again. "Steven won't know what happened...which isn't fair, really. It might scare him at first, to wake up in pain."

With a long, weary sigh, he went on. "And Marc..."

He never said anything else. He didn't have to.

Marc, who had been fighting his demons since Khonshu swept back into his life. Who daily fought his addiction. Marc, who was trying to protect his protector. And Steven. And you. Marc, your husband - the love of your life. Who would give his life for yours in a second, but was faced with the conundrum that anything happening to his own life would hurt Steven too.

Marc who Khonshu abandoned. Betrayed. Hurt.

There was really no preparing for the array of possibilities that came with the notion of Marc being the one to wake up.

"I'll try," Jake murmured, holding onto your leg like a child holding a teddy bear. "I'll try to wake up and be me."

Before long, he was asleep.

You tried to stop your mind from obsessing over everything that had happened - on a personal level with Jake, and on a heartbreaking, rage-inducing level with Marc getting hurt. You were so fucking done with stupid Egyptian deities.

And you worried about which one of them would wake up.

You got your answer a while later, after you had finally dozed in your sitting position. First you heard a groan of pain and felt his body shift. A small whimper followed as his hand flew to his side.

"Bloody hell," Steven hoarsely whispered, his eyes flying open as pain surged through his sleepy body. "What..."

"Baby? Hey," you cooed, caressing his face. "It's okay. You guys got a little hurt last night. You're okay. You're safe."

Attempting to sit up, he moaned in pain, immediately dropping back down to where he started.

"Hey, hey...you have a cut on your side, sweetheart. Take it easy so your stitches don't rip."

"Stitches?" He gasped. "What the hell happened? Feels like my body's on fire."

Shit. Knowing Steven, he probably meant the pain, but you were worried about your less-than-practiced sutures. He likely needed some antibiotics just in case of infection. Ughh, why did you agree to all this?

But...this was Steven. Sweet Steven. Reasonable Steven. "I know and I'm so sorry. Let me help you get dressed and we need to get to A&E."

Yeah, yeah, yeah - Jake had demanded no hospital. No police. But you damn sure weren't going to let an infection or your shitty stitch work take down your husband. If Khonshu wanted his avatar's business to be kept discreetly hidden away in the night, he could lend a healing fucking hand.

"I don't understand," Steven huffed, trying again to sit up. Everything hurt. "I thought...Khonshu. I thought we couldn't get..."

"I'll explain everything," you promised, helping Steven get all the way up. "On the way."

It took zero convincing to get Steven dressed and out the door. Explaining last night's shenanigans was a little more challenging. For now, you left out the 'Jake and I love each other' bit, although you did admit he was there. That it was he who got Marc home.

Steven was livid. Lacing his fingers through yours in the waiting room, he gripped his side with his other hand. He kept chewing on his bottom lip, only to hiss, "Ouch!" every time his teeth pulled at the cut there.

"Steven, I am so, so sorry," you told him, for the hundredth time.

"Not your fault, darling," he softly said, squeezing your fingers, while staring straight ahead, stone cold. "Stupid fucking pigeon. How could he do that to Marc... I'll speak to the Ennead m'self, I swear to - "

"I know," you interrupted, lowering your voice as a mom, seated beside a young child, glared at the two of you.

"I'll do whatever I can to help you. We'll figure it out, but I want to make sure you get medicine and whatever you need, because you're not as stubborn as the other two."

That made Steven smile. "I realized a long time ago - no use in arguing with you, love. You're always right anyway."

"Oh, I do love you," you laughed, laying your head on his shoulder.

Thankfully, the doctor who treated Steven didn't involve the police. She actually complimented your sutures but agreed a round of antibiotics was the best way to go. She offered to write a script for a strong pain medication, but Steven declined, knowing Marc avoided nearly all addictive substances.

So you spent the rest of the day in the flat with Steven. He asked if you should try to go in late to work, but you assured him that wasn't happening. All you had to do was tell your supervisor your husband was attacked and she said to take all the time you needed.

The two of you made sure to contact Steven's professors and make sure he was clear of his shifts at the university library. Then you sat down with some vegan burritos and had a good, long think about Khonshu, Marc and Jake.

"I'm not trying to put you in the middle here, Steven. I'm just terrified of what could happen next," you explained, your eyes drooping as the two of you rested on the couch.

Noticing how tired you looked, Steven motioned for you to lie down on his lap. You protested by shaking your head, reminding him he was the one who was hurt.

"Darling, you've barely slept at all. You can't go on like this," he soothed, tracing his fingers up and down your arm. "You take care of of us so well. Just rest a bit."

"Maybe we should just go to bed," you mumbled, preferring to snuggle up together than you fall asleep with him in this position.

So you did. You washed up, checked his stitches, put on the coziest pajamas and crawled into bed at 7pm.

You slept for 11 straight hours. When you woke up and realized your husband wasn't beside you, you may have panicked just a little. Bolting out of bed, you called out for Steven. Both Marc and Steven were in the habit of responding to you calling the name of the last person you were with.

But no one answered. If Jake, or worse, Marc, was out on the streets doing any Moon Knight shit, you were going to have a nervous breakdown.

You checked the bedroom, bathroom, living room, kitchen. You looked on the counter for a note about the roof. Scurrying back to your bedroom, you found your phone. No messages. Time to check the roof anyway.

Grabbing Marc's tan hoodie, you hurriedly dialed their number, praying they would answer.

"I'm in the kitchen."

Marc.

You ran, wondering how you could have missed a room you already checked.

"Here." His voice barely rose above a whisper. Shoulders sagging in relief, your gaze fell to the floor - to where Marc huddled beside, and partially under, the kitchen table. He had tucked his body all the way against the wall, near the cupboard, as if attempting to make himself invisible.

His knees were drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped protectively around his legs - head bowed.

"Marc?" You gently called, actually sinking down to the floor to approach him carefully. You wondered how he could sit in such a folded up position with a long, deep gash on his side.

"Is it okay if I sit with you?" You attempted, keeping a little bit of safe distance between the two of you.

Clearing his throat, he kept his head bowed. "Sorry I scared you."

"It's okay - "

"It's not," he objected emphatically.

Drawing a deep breath, you crawled over to sit beside him, back to the wall, knees drawn up, mirroring him. But you didn't touch him yet.

"Okay," you conceded. "You're right. Didn't feel great to wake up and wonder where you were. You're hurt and I'm scared. But you're here, so..."

You didn't finish your thought. It was a little difficult to not touch him. Both Steven and even Jake were a little more handsy than Marc, especially when he was upset. You'd always known what to say to Marc, but you found yourself at a loss right at the moment.

It was like he was on an island that you didn't know how to reach. And that thought squeezed your heart like a vice.

"I feel like I haven't seen you in a while," you whispered, deciding to be transparent with him, as always. "I missed you."

He didn't answer. Okay, new approach.

"Hey, do you want to watch cartoons?" You proposed. Sometimes jumping off-topic would prompt him to talk. Not always. But sometimes a distraction was just what he needed. "We could eat cereal. Are you hungry?"

"No," he mumbled, without an ounce of emotion. He wouldn't even look at you. "I know what you're doing. I...I love you for trying."

"I love you for trying," you affirmed, your voice laced with sweet conviction. "Whatever it is you're fighting through right now...Marc, I'm with you."

"I know." That's all the said for several, long minutes. Finally he lifted his head and used his thumb to fiddle with his wedding band. "Kind of part of the deal now. Sorry about that."

Reaching tentatively over for his hand, you traced the band with your finger. "Sorry about what?"

Turning watery eyes to you, he laced his fingers with yours. "I'm sorry I lied to you. O-or didn't tell you...about Moon Knight." Sniffing, he squeezed your hand. "I'm sorry I got Steven hurt. Almost killed. What would you do without him?"

"What would I do without you?" Pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles, you scooted close enough so your shoulders touched. "You're right - I really wish you would have told me that you were wearing the suit again. That's...it's a lot, Marc."

"I know," he lamented. "I thought I could...I don't know - fix things before you had to worry about me being in the suit again. I was trying...and then Khonshu just..."

His head dropped defeatedly into his free hand. After a moment, he pushed his fingers through his curls. "He told me I was nothing. That I should be dead and Jake should be left alone to be his avatar. He sounded just...just like her."

His lower lip trembled as his eyes met yours.

"Come here, baby," you whispered, pulling him carefully into your arms.

You were angry. Like really fucking livid. Marc had already been struggling with some typical (and some new) self-worth issues after learning about Jake and breaking his sobriety. He panicked more than once about the thought of Khonshu still having a hold on them. And now, an actual deity was echoing a lifetime of PTSD and trauma back on his head, telling him he was worthless? Leaving him to get beaten? Killed? No fucking way.

"I'm with Steven on this," you calmly started to explain. "We have to figure out how to get you the hell away from Khonshu. And it's going to start with Jake not going out at night anymore. Steven's going to do some research - "

"I don't think Jake's gonna like that," Marc protested.

You scoffed as he eased out of your embrace and leaned back against the wall.

"I don't care. This shit is going to get you killed. I don't care if it's Jake's body too. This is fucking done."

"Besides," you went on, "if Khonshu gave a shit about Jake as his avatar, he would have healed him by now. Isn't that his thing? God of the moon and healing and a bunch of other boring shit?"

Reaching for the hem of his t-shirt, Marc pulled it up, revealing his completely healed side wound. "Already done."

"What?" You gasped, running your fingers over his soft flesh. It was then that you noticed, in the dim lighting, that the cut on his mouth and eyebrow were gone. Suddenly it dawned on you what this could mean. Cold fear gripped your heart at the idea of Khonshu interacting with Marc in any way.

"When did this happen?"

Marc shrugged. "Last night I guess. Don't remember."

"Jake," you huffed. "He seriously went out there last night? How could he do that?"

"I don't know," Marc murmured, barely audibly. "I don't know anything. I don't do anything..." Withdrawing back into himself physically, his voice trailed off. He wanted to be anywhere but his own skin.

So you got Steven for the rest of the day. Now healed and rested, he decided to go about his normal day.

But not you. You made sure to drink zero coffee and took a natural sleep aid while Steven was gone. You had slept 11 hours, sure, but you were about to take a huge nap. Because you were not sleeping tonight.

Not until you talked to Jake.

Everything went according to plan. You slept for 3 hours, woke up, called out of work for the next two days and started dinner.

Steven came home, angelic as ever, and read to you for a while, after you asked if he could take your mind off things. Of course he started speaking French which led to him really taking your mind off things.

You went to bed like normal, but as soon as Koala Steven was sound asleep, latched onto you like usual, you carefully pried yourself away and waited for Jake.

Gone were all your notions of letting people make their own choices - acknowledging that you couldn't change someone's mind. Jake better have one hell of an explanation.

Sure enough, after a couple hours of Steven sleeping soundly, your husband dragged himself out of bed. Unfortunately for him, you were ready to pounce.

"Jake?" You asked for confirmation, stepping right into his path as he climbed out of bed.

He actually smiled. As if he might be pleased to see you.

Noticing you were clearly, visibly upset, he reached to grasp your elbows. Classic Jake. "What's wrong, mi vida?"

Dragging in a shaky breath, you tried very hard to give him a chance to explain before you had a complete nervous breakdown - and beat his ass.

"What are you doing? Right now, what are you doing?" You demanded, your voice terse and accusing.

Dark eyebrows drawn together, Jake shook his head. "What do you mean? What's wrong?"

Placing your hands on his chest, your palms pressed down emphatically. "Tell me right now where you're going. Why are you awake? Why is Steven not sleeping? Answer me."

Touching his forehead to yours, his arms slid around your back. "You know where. I have a job."

"Bullshit," you hissed, using your fists to lightly bang on his chest. "Working for Khonshu is not a job. You're not going!"

"Hey...hey," he soothed, trapping your wrists in his hands. His heart shattered when you started to cry.

"How could you do this?" You brokenly whispered, one tear rolling down your cheek. "After what he did to Marc? How could you sneak back out to him?"

"I did it for him," Jake defended.

"Bullshit!" You repeated, jerking your wrists out of his grasp. "You could have gotten him killed!"

"Mi vida - "

"You weren't there when he was beat half to death - when he was stabbed," you sobbed, dodging his attempts to reach for you. "You weren't there when Steven sat in the waiting room half the day, feeling the pain that he caused!

"You're never here when I need you," you went on, fully crying now, eyes glistening, lips trembling. "You waited until I was asleep and then you left - " Your fists clenched angrily by your sides. "You took Marc and you took Steven and you went out there again. How could you?"

You may as well have taken the glass used to tear through Marc's side and shoved it right into Jake's heart. All the air left his lungs as you accused him, your beautiful face so broken - your voice tinged with such anguish.

Fidgeting uncomfortably, Jake blew out a long breath, running his hands down his face before they landed on his hips.

"Look, I know how you feel about them. I know it's Marc you want with you here right now. And not me. And that's why I did it." His breath trembled as he attempted to explain, his beautiful brown eyes glistening. "I leave at night so you can be with him all day. I told you."

"That's not what I - "

"And I only went to Khonshu for Marc," he went on, stepping up to you boldly. "To tell him to heal us. To tell him to never touch Marc or speak to him ever again."

"I'm sure that went over well," you despondently replied, your voice hollow. "Trying to tell a god what to do."

"I did tell him what to do," Jake confirmed, reaching for your arms again. "And we made a deal."

Sniffing, you started to cry again. This couldn't be good. "What deal?" you whispered.

"A deal to give you what you want," he promised, easing down to look into your troubled, tear-filled eyes. "Khonshu gets me - you get Marc."

"What does that mean?" You whimpered. "I don't understand."

"Khonshu healed Marc," he explained. "He'll never interact with him again. Or Steven. As long as I...serve him. Be his avatar - "

"No," you cried, shoving his chest weakly, breaking down completely. "Tell him no."

"It's done. I'm sorry," he whispered, folding you close and rocking you gently. "You get your husband and I...I'm supposed to stay away from you."

Everything stopped.

Your tears. Your sorrow. Your whole world.

With one phrase, Jake caused every tender and sorrowful emotion to boil raging hot and evaporate into the air around you, leaving only rage.

Your breathing changed - your skin heated up - your vision blurred.

Where, only a moment ago, you were a wilting flower in his arms - now you were rigid - wrath consuming every thought - every corner of your mind.

"What did you say?" You harshly whispered, once again, jerking out of his grasp. "What the fuck did you just say to me, Jake?"

Your eyes flashed with fury. "Khonshu ordered you to stay away from your little 'distraction'?" you hissed, "and you just agreed?"

Jake was struck speechless for a moment. But you didn't leave him a beat of silence to respond anyway.

"So everything you said to me the night I sewed you up - that was complete bullshit," you seethed.

"Of course it wasn't!" Jake cried, grabbing your arms, trying to get you to listen.

But you wouldn't, wrenching yourself from him again, only for him to closely follow until suddenly, you ran out of floor, your back thudding against the bedroom wall.

"Move," you ordered, your jaw clenching in fury. "Don't fucking touch me."

"No," Jake growled, pressing his body solidly into yours. Shoving his strong, muscled thigh between your legs, he gripped your hips, locking you in place - trapping you against the wall.

"Move!" you spat, squirming in his powerful embrace. Realizing you weren't strong enough to wriggle free, you pounded on his chest. "You don't love me! Why did you say that you love me?" Your lip trembled, your body fighting his relentlessly, until you finally sagged against him, defeated.

"I love you," he swore, touching his forehead to yours. Then he softly called your name. "I love you. Khonshu told me to stay away from you. I told him we're married. And he could go to hell."

He didn't wait for an answer. No more talking.

Licking hotly into your mouth, he kissed you with four years of pent-up passion. Hands still squeezing your hips, he pulled you roughly against him.

Your body melted into his as he gripped your thighs, pulling them around his waist. This time, when he dragged you back, he thrusted up to meet you, sucking hotly on your tongue.

As a little bit of the shock began to wear off, you tangled your fingers in his dark locks, using the leverage of your thighs to haul yourself to meet his thrusting - your bodies creating a delicious friction.

Tearing his mouth away from yours, he yanked your t-shirt over your head, growling as he ran his hands all over your chest. You did the same - pulling Steven's pajama top off, moaning in pleasure as your bare skin met his.

"Jake," you panted as he kissed across your jaw, hotly mouthing down your throat.

"Jake, please," you gasped, whining out in protest as he pried your thighs from his waist and set you down. Without hesitation, he touched his forehead to yours - a move you were coming to expect and adore from him - pushing down his pajama pants before yanking at your underwear.

The sight of you completely naked made him desperate for you in a way he had never felt before. Rushing back to each other, your mouths fused in explosive passion - the two of you stumbling somewhere - maybe toward the bed, but you never made it - instead melting to the floor.

Jake rolled you underneath him, running long fingers up your inner thigh. Mouthing a trail to your ear, he touched and teased you right where you wanted, his voice tickling and electrifying you completely.

"Please let me have you," he begged, even as his hands made you gasp in pleasure. "I've wanted you for so long."

"Don't stop," you panted, your body already beginning to tremble with euphoria. "Never stop."

Your bodies tangled - pressing, pulling and thrusting as Jake finally claimed you as his own. His hungry kisses stifled your moans and cries of ecstasy, and he whispered that he loved you as he lost himself inside you.

Pulling you on top of his chest, he collapsed, running his hands tenderly down your back, over the soft curve of your ass and back up. Your ear pressed against his bare chest and the sound of his thundering heart made your heart flare with love for him.

"I love you," you whispered, placing a soft kiss to the spot right over his heart. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry, mi amor," he soothed, continuing to stroke your skin possessively. "The other two - they love how calm you are. But I see your fire." With a mischievous chuckle, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "Remember I'm the one who drives you crazy."

@stormydaysxx @laaundromat @kindlover @deezisnotreal @stevenknightmarc @imonmykneessir @marvelouslovely-barnes @evilbubu @usualsworld @rivalriotrenegade @wordacadabra @this--is--music @i-still-dont-like-your-face @avengersinitiative2012 @lockleywife @poppyflower-22 @thursdaywritings @scoliobean @peregrine-nation @local-mr-frog @flyestvenustrap @spxctorsslxt @cicithemess2000 <- these 3 tags never seem to work

dividers by saradika

#moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #mcu #marc spector x reader #with you fic #steven grant x reader #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #moon knight x reader #moon knight fic #moon knight fanfiction #moon boys #moon knight system #jake lockley x gn!reader #steven grant x gn!reader #marc spector x gn!reader #moon knight fanfic #oscar isaac fic

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