#so she can grab the Note in the meantime
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CARING FOR YOU WHEN YOU'RE SICK—
ଘ drabbles
ft. pairings :: charlie, lucifer, adam, angel dust, vox // gn!reader
wc :: 3k
note :: i am sick (◞‸◟;) so i wanted to bring a little comfort to others in the meantime. enjoy !!
warnings :: canon typical language, pet names used instead of y/n (darling, sweetie, love, babe, sweetheart)
꒰ CHARLIE ꒱
The door to your bedroom slammed open, “Okay!” hurried shuffling and fumbled footsteps accompanied a strained voice. “Oh, no! Wait, wait, wait! Ugh.” Charlie was able to grab the glass of water before it fell off her tray. “Got it!” Her arms were filled with extra blankets, a thermometer, a tray topped with a bowl of hot soup and water, about three bottles of pills, and one with liquid medicine. “Phew! Okay!” She scrambled over to the bed you laid in.
You groaned, the throbbing in your head getting worse every time there was a loud noise. The bed dipped with new weight. You slowly turned over, shifting the blankets around you to do so, feeling them drenched in sweat. “Charlie?” You rasped, seeing her blonde hair swish as she turned to look at you. Her eyes creased in a nervous worry.
“Hi! Okay, look.” She turned back to her things. “I cooked up some soup, I read that the clear broth is supposed to be really good for you! Oh! Also.” She grabbed a few of the pill bottles, held them up. “One of these helps with headaches and muscles aches! And the other will help with your stomach… I think.” She pouted while reading. “Or! I can give you this,” She held up the liquid medicine. “And it should help with… Everything?”
“Charlie…” You tried sitting up, feeling the aching throughout your muscles. You groaned but fully sat up.
“Oh! And we can take your temperature. I’m not sure how that will work though… Hellborne temps are way higher than Sinners but Sinners temps change when they get here and run higher. Do you think there’s a conversion?”
“Charlie!” You sputtered, sending yourself into a long coughing fit feeling a sharp pain throughout your head with each one.
Her brows furrowed, “Here, drink!” She held up the glass of water to your lips, her hand rubbing your back as you did. A few drops of water leaked past the brim before she pulled it away. She moved her palm up your shoulder, then your neck, before coming to your chin. Her thumb brushed away the trail of water that was left.
You looked up at her, bleary-eyed and clammy. Her features brought a weak smile to your face. “Don’t worry, this happened to us before we got here. We get through it… Eventually.” You explained through your raspy voice.
“I just wish I could make you feel better.” Charlie spoke, head tilting to look at you softly.
“Having you here is enough.” You giggled. “You’re lucky you can’t get sick or I’d be kicking your worried butt out.” She laughed in response. You turned to look at the liquid medicine and pointed. “That one will work.”
“Hey.” Charlie spoke, both her hands squishing your cheeks. “Anything you need, and I am right here. Okay?” Her glistening eyes were accompanied with a caring smile.
You melted. “Thanks Char.”
꒰ LUCIFER ꒱
It may not have been the best idea to try and hide the fact that you were sick from everyone at the hotel. After the battle with Heaven, and rebuilding the hotel, you really didn’t want to be the one caught slacking off. The grand re-opening was soon and everything needed to be perfect.
Which brought you to the present, standing atop of a ladder as you helped hang the very sign that stated what you were prepping for. Lucifer stood at the base to make sure it didn’t tip in the process.
“Okay, a little to the left!” Vaggie called out, standing some feet away and eyeing the placement. “Up a little!” You stood on your toes to make the adjustment, legs straightened to their max as you did so. You began feeling your head fill with pressure, vision slowly overcoming with weird splotches of black and purples. “A little higher on the right.” Vaggie was addressing you, but it seemed muffled the more you tried to shake the increasing feeling of dizziness.
“Hey, you alright, darling?” Lucifer called up to you, seeing you sway ever so slightly, hand dropping the banner before your body completely leaned backwards and fell off the ladder. He was quick to catch you, calling out your name as you landed in his arms. He cradled your figure, worried eyes staring down at you before being directed to take you to a room by Charlie.
“Dad, don’t worry!” She tried to reason with him, seeing how he watched you with concern. “Angel Dust said that Sinners get sick like this all the time! Some rest and things will be back to normal!” Her dad didn’t budge, brows still creased with worry as he held your hand, seeing your chest rise and sink with raspy breaths. His daughter sighed, “I’ll go get some water.” She took her leave.
Lucifer had no idea Sinners dealt with things like this, even after their deaths. He wished he could take away any discomfort you were feeling. If only he had the power to do so, he would in a heartbeat.
A groan from your lips brought his focus back to you, he watched your chapped lips become slick with your saliva as you licked them. “Luci?” You felt his hand squeeze, your eyes sliding to see your partner. His hat was missing, hair tousled and wrung as if he couldn’t keep himself from threading his fingers through it, troubled at the thought of somehow losing you.
“Hey, Sweetie.” He did his best to smile but nothing could prevent the worry from leaking through. “You uh, you gave me quite a scare! Ha-Ha!” He tried to push a smile though it was obviously strained. “H-How are you feeling?”
You glanced around, seeing that you were in one of the newly refurbished hotel rooms. Your eyes squinted, trying to recall the events that led you to waking up here. You had been feeling all but ill for the past few days and did nothing but try and push through it. “I, uh… I’m fine.” You tried to sit up but Lucifer pushed you to lay back down gently.
“You’re anything but fine.” You met eyes with him once more. “If I hadn’t been there to catch you, it could have been worse.” His voice was shaky as he spoke. “Why didn’t you tell me that you weren’t feeling well?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time I fell.” You tried to scoff out a laugh but seeing his expression you quickly stopped. You sighed, reaching for his hand again, searching for any comfort. He met you with his own, fingers intertwining tightly. “I just… Wanted to help out as much as possible.” You felt his thumb begin to rub along the edge of yours. “I wasn’t feeling well but… I didn’t want to let anyone down.” You saw him melt, now understanding. He felt his heart swell with even more adoration for you.
“Oh, my love.” His other hand caressed your cheek. “There is no way you’d ever let anyone down. Especially with me.” You leaned into his hand a bit more at his words. “If anything is wrong, please promise you’ll come talk with me?”
You smiled softly before nodding your head. “I guess I should thank you for being there to catch me.” You yanked him towards you, arms wrapping around him tightly into your chest. “My gaurdian angel.” That nearly made his wings pop.
꒰ ADAM ꒱
“Hey Babe!” The door to your bedroom opened, a familiar voice announcing his entrance. “Saw you weren’t at the high council meeting and Danger Tits said you’d be here.” He strutted closer, seeing that the only thing on your bed was a weird lump of blankets. “Uh…” He poked it, “The fuck is this?” He did it a few more times.
“Sto~op.” You groaned out, muffled through the layers of fabric.
“Uh, ew.” He took a step back, the disgust was ever present in his response. “Sounding a little gross there, babes.”
“Oh screw you.” You threw the blankets off you, narrowed eyes squinting at the intruder. “Why am I sick in Heaven! I thought Angels couldn’t get sick.”
Adam stared for a moment before he bursted into an obnoxious laughter, “Ain’t no way you caught the Angel Allergies!” His cackle continued, clutching his stomach.
“The what?” You spoke flatley, watching him walk around the bedroom and into the on-suite bathroom.
“Every Angel gets them after being in Heaven for a while. It's a side-effect for human angels.” He explained shuffling in the cabinet. “Can’t believe you actually caught them, that’s so lame!”
“Oh, like you’ve never been sick before!” You tried to challenge but your stuffed sinuses made you sound like a little kid throwing a tantrum.
It only caused Adam to laugh even more. “Fuck no. The first man doesn’t get sick.” The water ran for a second before he walked back out, throwing a white bottle that rattled familiar to pills. “You’re welcome.”
You caught them, all but ungraciously. “What are these?” You glanced at them before having a glass of water shoved into your other hand.
“I can’t have my arm candy looking like a wreck, okay?” He sat down next to you on his side of the bed. Arms crossed behind his head. “Take two of those and you’ll be fine.” Your tired gaze slid over to see him resting, his mask now gone and eyes closed. “You’re stuck in bed until they go away.”
You huffed before quickly taking the pills with a few gulps of water. You drank the liquid entirely and set the empty glass on the bedside table. You immediately turned towards your man and tackled him. Your body cushioned by his and the impact was followed by a breathless grunt from him. “What the–”
“Thanks, babe.” You hummed, and squished your face into his chest. His hand hovered your form before settling around you, pulling you closer into him.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He glanced down at you, seeing your eyes close with a peaceful sigh. “Just get better, okay?”
꒰ ANGEL DUST ꒱
“See ya whores later!” Angel threw his right hands into the air as he walked through the lobby. “This body doesn't get paid the big bucks for nothing.” He pushed his fluff up, eyes catching a peek at your hunched over form at the bar. He immediately stopped walking.
“What’s the matter with you?” He took a few steps closer. “Hey,” He poked your arm, causing you to finally sit up straight and wearily turn your head towards him. “Oh, you look like shit.” His lip curled at the sight. Dark eye bags, bleary eyes, dull complexion.
“Thanks, Ange.” Your tone had no inflection of appreciation as you rolled your eyes. “You’re a real confidence booster, you know that?”
“No seriously, what’s going on?” His voice deepened, brows creasing as he sat down on the bar stool next to you, scooting closer.
You waved a hand in the air, shooing him away. “Nothing, I’m fine.”
“More like anything but fine.” Husk spoke as he walked behind the bar. “Spends most nights sitting here rather than sleeping.”
“Shut. up. Husk.” You snapped at the bartender.
“Insomnia, huh?” Angel sighed, hand hovering your shoulder. He hesitated. “Listen, I gotta go but… Take care of yourself, okay?” You glanced at him before holding your hand out. He grabbed yours and felt you squeeze.
“Don’t worry about me.” You tilted your head and smiled, though unconvincingly. “I’m okay… You should go before you’re late.” Your brows creased knowingly.
“Right…” He stood, nervously looking over your figure before letting go and turning to leave. As much as he wanted to stay, to take care of you, he couldn’t do anything to upset Val when he was needed at the studio.
The next time he saw you was when he had finished shooting. Finally making his way back to the hotel and seeing you in the same spot where he had left you. Except now, you were passed out.
“The fuck, Husk?” He stomped over, “You can’t just pour out the drinks without regard to someone’s health!” He angrily glared at the bartender.
“I didn’t pour anything.” He huffed, tone blunt as ever. “Started snoozing the minute you left. Figured I’d let them catch some sleep for once.” He shrugged.
“You– but– Ugh! Nevermind!” Angel came closer, arms wrapping around you softly before lifting you up. He made his way to your hotel room, kicking the door shut with his foot and walking in to lay you on your bed. The jumble finally brought you out of your sleep with a hummed groan.
“Ange?” You asked, eyes squinting to see his dual colored eyes, a sense of relief flooding your body. You sighed. “You’re back.” You reached out for his hand, searching for his. He returned quickly, though confused. “I’m glad.” The comfy bed now felt like a warm cloud, pulling you back to your slumber once more.
“Wait a minute,” His eyes widened, falling to his knees next to your bed. “Is that why you’ve been staying up?” He whispered in shock.
“Well someone’s gotta make sure you get back safely.” You mumbled into your pillow, feeling your eyelids becoming heavy. He let out a long sigh, overwhelmingly filled with a sense of warmth, hand coming to your head and resting there.
“Thank you.” He laid his head in his other set of arms next to you. “For everything.”
꒰ VOX ꒱
The man released an exasperated sigh after reading his most recent text from Val. He had to do everything around here, didn’t he? All to keep up appearances with the public and uphold their reputation. Because if it wasn’t his dear Val running up a storm, then it was Velvette.
Vel’s on a rampage~ ♡
He pushed open the doors to said woman’s studio, seeing her shouting at her workers and her assistant cowering behind one of the trash cans. Taking cover from the throne spools of fabric and occasional scissors.
“Velvette.” Vox cascaded in a calming tone, walking closer to her and dodging an incoming hairbrush.
“The fuck do you want, flat face?” She snarled through heavy breaths, “Can’t you see, I’m busy!”
“Yes, of course, so busy.” He rolled his eyes. “And why are you destroying your department this time?” He leaned forward, eyes intent for an answer.
“My star pupil decided to show up late today!” She shouted, “Do you know how much money was spent for this show! And out of nowhere, cough cough, the bitch is sick!” She swiped at her phone, dialing a number. “If that dumbshit doesn’t show, I will kill every last one of you!”
Vox’s brow raised instantly, knowing exactly who she was talking about. “I’m sure someone as smart as you will figure things out.”
“You don’t think I know that!?” She turned towards him. “Go get me my lead!” He huffed and with a zap, he disappeared through one of the many security cameras and into your apartment within the building.
He took a few steps, searching for any sign of you. It was eerily quiet until a symphony of coughs could be heard from the kitchen. They became louder the closer he got, seeing you hunched over the sink. “Oh, No…” He walked over, placing a hand on your back and rubbing to ease your discomfort.
You finished out your fit, “Don’t mind me.” You sniffled, grabbing a tissue and wiping your mouth clean. “Just hacking up a lung.” You stood up, turning to fully see Vox. “Let me guess… Vel told you.” You spoke flatly, knowing his appearance wasn’t a coincidence.
“You should have called me.” He frowned.
You rolled your eyes, walking over to the hot tea you were brewing until you were rudely interrupted by your weak immune system. “I knew your schedule was busy…” You poured in some more honey. “Not to mention, Vel went off before I could even finish telling her I couldn’t make it today.” You raised the mug to your lips, letting the warm liquid relieve your scratchy throat.
“Velvette’s show is the least of your problems.” He spoke and watched your turn to him. “She can find a new lead. You need to rest.”
“Yeah, but you’re all about saving face.” You poked the corner of his screen, flashing a small smile before walking past him. “Faking it on that runway for an hour won’t be hard.” His steel claws grabbed your wrist and stopped you.
“You’re not doing her show.” His eyes glared down at you. Screen flashing a few times before revealing his face once more. “I’ve canceled my appointments for the day.”
“What?” your eyes widened. He grabbed your mug, hand falling to your back and guiding you towards your bedroom. “And you expect Vel to just be okay with that?”
“Let me handle it.” He brought you to your bed, setting your tea on your bedside table before pulling back your blankets. “You’re on bedrest until this thing has flushed itself out of your system.”
You propped your hand on your hip, “If I didn’t know any better, Vox. I'd think you cared about me.” You watched his face glitch, blue-screening for a moment.
“sħᵾⱦ ᵾp ⱥnđ lie down!” His filtered static appeared for a moment with his flustered order.
“Oh, kinky! I love when you get all dominant on me.” You smirked, seeing his face continue to malfunction. “Cool your hard drives.” A soft giggle escaped your lungs before you started coughing again. You slid under the comforter, getting situated as he flicked the blankets over. He passed you your tea and watched you take a sip to relieve your coughing.
“Stay.” He pointed and glared down at you before turning away. Your fingers swiftly caught the tail of his suit, stopping him. He swiveled his head, brows raised.
You turned away, “Thank you.”
A gentle smile graced his mouth. He stepped closer, hand on your head to lean you towards him ever so slightly. His warm screen grazed your forehead as he softly kissed it. “Anything for you, my love.”
likes and reblogs appreciated ༊*·˚
#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel lucifer x reader#hazbin adam x reader#lucifer morningstar x reader#charlie morningstar x reader#angel dust x reader#vox x reader#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin vox x reader#hazbin hotel x gn reader
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𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐀 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄, 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄?
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: any nct member!ghostface x detective!fem!reader
𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: “horror”, thriller, yandere-ish, smut, halloween special, scream!au
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: in these past months your only goal is to find the killer that is terrorizing the town of Woodsboro, but when you get close to him and feel like you finally have the upper hand, Ghostface turns the game around again.
Or, Ghostface wants to play with you but not like he does with his victims, and you let him.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: dark content, talks of [m*rders, sl!tting throats, v!olent stuff in general], dr*g/anaesthetic use [to make mc fall asleep but unrelated to any sexu*l act (she’s awake and willing)], mentions of [dubcon] phone s*x + masturbation, implied stalking, use of restrainers, cl!t rubbing, rough t!t/n!pple play, protected s*x turns unprotected, kn!fe play, ‘fear’ play, clothes cutting, fake sympathy, pet names used in a mocking way, degradation, rough s*x, hair pulling, spit (1), p*ssy slapping, dacryphilia, possessiveness, 1 brief talk of carving, polaroids pictures, all consensual but i’ll still put a dubcon warning just to be safe (tbh it’s more like hate sex bc the mc would rip his head off but also fuck him), reader is kinda fucked up herself. | inclusivity notes: reader has hair long enough that can be pulled (no mention of texture, type and color), no mention of body type but reader is manhandled a few times and has b**bs and *ss big enough that can be cupped, no mention of skin color, no use of y/n
𝐖𝐂: 10.662k
𝐀/𝐍: this year i had vague ideas for halloween but not even a defined good one, i had some suggestions i liked but were far too complicated, and i had no energy to write them in time. but a ghostface/scream au was an idea i had in mind for some time, the original was a ghostface cosplay, but then i went with this one, and I’m happy with how it turned out. i had 2 members in mind (johnny/haechan) for the og plot, then someone suggested jeno and jisung (as a duo) but if i unmasked him the plot wouldn’t have made sense anymore, so he’s whoever you want him to be! the other ghostface is mentioned but doesn’t appear physically in the story, you can pick who you want for him too. i never wrote blankly for the male mc so let me know if it was good. please, if you like it, leave feedback through reblogs or asks! and also let me know who you imagined behind the mask 👀 enjoy and happy halloween
𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐄.
Your mother always told you to mind your business or else your curiosity was going to be the death of you one day.
It’s clear you never treasured her words, and your curiosity led you to be a private detective with only a few thrills in your life since now, nothing too exciting ever happened in your small town, until one day you received a phone call from the district of Woodsboro. A string of murders was terrorizing the town after years and all the evidence led to another psycho who thought it was funnier to kill people while putting on a Ghostface mask.
Months have passed since that call and you have nothing concrete. It’s like he’s only messing up with you and, in the meantime, innocent people keep dying. But you have your theories, the ones you only keep to yourself, stored away in the privacy of your diary, hidden under the pillow of your bed. Your colleagues seem decent people, but with time, you’ve learned to trust nobody.
And your secret theories led you right where you are now. In the open country, away from the small town, where a small barn grabbed your attention the first time you moved to Woodsboro.
The barn seems empty but eerie vibes surround it. The strong smell of the grass stings your nose as your black boots walk on the muddy ground, the rain of this morning still lingering in the air and in the countryside.
When you reach the perimeter, you squeeze your eyes to see inside, but the few tiny windows don’t allow you a big view. The more you walk around it to make sure it’s empty, the more the hold on your concealed carry with the gun inside tightens.
It’s late October and the cold penetrates your brown leather jacket, but the temperature is not the thing that makes you shiver.
You should’ve never followed your instinct and come here alone. You should’ve spoken to somebody else in the department, told them your theory and have some backup in this crazy plan of yours. But when your impulses take over, your smartness slips away, and you find yourself in the worst situations ever.
Like right now. You stand in front of the wooden door and find the courage to push it open. You should feel thrilled, you found him. You found the psycho that has been haunting the town for months now, messing up with you with clues and mocks that pushed you farther away from the right path. Yet, you beat him, for once it looks like you have the upper hand now that you’re walking around the empty barn away from the town. But something doesn’t feel right, your guts are telling you something but you don’t listen, you can’t walk away now that you’re so close.
There’s not much to inspect, a few pieces of furniture, a disheveled mattress in the middle of the room, and a few chairs in a corner. It almost looks like an abandoned farm if only it wasn’t for the unnerving vibes that carries with it and for two walls that call your attention. On the right, there’s a map of Woodsboro, pins linked by a red thread, connecting all the places where Ghostface hit in these past months. Your hand quickly reaches the back of your pocket to pull out your phone and snap a picture, hoping there will also be places he didn’t go, and this time you can be faster at stopping him.
What’s on the other side is worse.
“What the fuck…” you mumble under your breath as you step closer to the wall. Polaroid pictures hanging from it, Ghostface and the victims, you guess, moments before they were brutally killed. You’re not surprised, one of the gifts he would leave on the scene of the crime being Polaroids, but they didn’t make much sense. “He’s a fucking psycho,” you scoff as you take another picture.
“Surpriiise!!”
Your phone falls on the floor with a loud thud and your heart jumps in your throat when his voice breaks the deafening silence in the room, but your reflections are swift enough to make you reach for your gun and turn around, shooting.
“Boo, fail,” Ghostface laughs, hitting your wrist hard enough to make the gun fall on the floor next to your phone. “You’re really not as smart as I thought you were, don’t you know intruding on someone else’s property is illegal?” he points out, pushing your body against the wall, the sharp blade of his knife grazing the skin of your neck.
You try to keep calm, deep slow breaths as you try to don’t look scared for your life. You might die today, but you won’t give him that satisfaction.
“Don’t look so frightened, my dear. I’m quite happy to have you all to myself,” he chuckles, his hand lifts to caress your face and you struggle to avoid it, but the click of his tongue makes you stop. “I wouldn’t act too careless, it’s sharp.”
You stop moving. You are smart, and you can get yourself out of this situation. “Do you want to play a game, Ghostface?” You ask, ignoring his taunts, the irony in your voice is clear, just like it’s blatant in the slow bat of your eyelashes, but your words only make him laugh.
“Oh, that’s not how it works, detective. That’s my line. You didn’t study the script?”
You scoff, trying to take time to free yourself. “We’re switching roles. Do you want to play a game? It’s called you turn yourself in and I put you in jail.”
He snickers, and his head tilts to have a better look at your face. He’s had many people in this position before and never saw so little fear in their eyes. “Now you want to act like you don’t love the chase?”
“Fuck you, I don’t love it,” you spit out, narrowing your eyes, desperately trying to get a glimpse of anything under the mask. Another failed attempt.
He laughs darkly, so deep it hits you to the core and makes you shiver — in fear or excitement, you’ll let this decide to your better judgment. “I know you do,” he coos as his thumb covered with the black glove caresses your lips. “Enjoy the little clues I leave you around? You were interested in the pictures, I knew you loved them, that’s why you get the prettiest ones. I tell you so much, but you don’t understand me,” his voice is calm, scarily calm, and full of sarcasm filled with a sweetness that feels like a slap across your face. “I was a bit mad it took you so long to find me.”
Rage shoots up inside of you, but you instantly push it down, you can’t lose your composure. “So, what are you going to do, kill me?” Your voice drops of a tone, and your eyes turn into a teasing gaze, making him chuckle.
“Talking about death so nonchalantly with me, mmh… are you brave or dumb? Because if you ask so nicely, I just might let the knife sink in.”
You laugh lightheartedly, putting up the best performance of your life before your eyes flutter seducingly at him. “No, please don’t kill me Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel,” you coo, lips in a pout and innocence in your eyes, until you hit him with a swift, strong kick between his legs, the distraction of your performance giving you time to slip to the side, causing just a bit of your skin to cut and bleed.
“Bitch,” he mutters under his breath as he kneels to the ground. You reach for your gun, but barely have time to grab it before he pushes you on the floor again. “We were having so much fun, you just have to ruin everything.”
You’re waiting for the worst when he traps you on the floor with his body on yours, but his arms don’t lift to stab you in your chest or stomach, the last thing you see before passing out is his hand lifting in the air and the sting of a needle pushing past your skin.
The white light of the room feels like staring directly at the sun when your eyes blink repeatedly as you try to come back to earth and push away the hammering of your headache. You groan hoarsely, trying to adjust to the light, but the biggest discomfort comes from your shoulders, pushed behind your back and around the chair you’re now sitting on.
“Sorry, I had to tie you up, but you’re a bit feisty today. Didn’t want you to get hurt,” Ghostface replies to your silent questions — not so silent, considering how loud you’re groaning and struggling on the chair, trying to break free. He’s standing in front of you, but a chair is right behind him so you guess he was sitting there before you woke up.
“You can’t even take one down without a fight? Need to kill me without breaking a sweat?” You taunt, eyes dark and a deep frown on your forehead.
But your teasing seems to leave him unfazed as he walks toward you with a glass in hand. “Drink.”
You scoff, staring at him. You hate that you can’t see him, not even because you want to find out who’s hiding under there, but also because you feel like you can’t confront him well enough. “You think I’m so stupid to accept a drink from a psycho?”
His head rolls back followed by an annoyed sigh as he stops right in front of you. His black boots bumping against yours. “You know that’s not how I move, no fun in killing with these shortcuts. Drink. I would never want you to pass out here,” he coos while his free hand pushes your hair out of your face. You can’t see behind the mask, but you know he has a shit-eating grin on his face. He moves the glass to your lips, but you turn to the side, he doesn’t give you a choice when he strongly grips your chin, pushing your lips open, and forces the water down your throat. “Oops, it spilled all over, you’re so messy, detective,” he snickers when water drips on your chin and shirt. As if he didn’t do it on purpose.
“Asshole,” you mutter, eyes closing into fissures while you look at him. His head tilts, “Oh, brave. I could slit your throat right now, add you to the collection.”
You chuckle darkly, shaking your head. “You won’t,” you say firmly. “You’ve never had someone quite as fun as me.”
A low laughter escapes from the mask. “So, you are at least a bit smart?” His hand places on your thigh and you try to move away, but the chair screeches on the floor, and his hold only tightens.
“Don’t play games now. Don’t fake it,” he groans, hand moving up on your blue jeans. “You enjoyed our last conversation,” he whispers, the mask close to your face, so close you can almost see his eyes behind the blackness of the two holes. “Had shivers run down your back when the phone rang in the middle of the night, haven’t you? You sat up straight in your big bed, all alone, and felt fear take over. Never answer unknown numbers. That’s what they say, that’s what you say, running around town, warning everyone about me,” he laughs deeply. “And then look at you, picking up that phone call, eager to hear my voice on the other side.”
“You’re a psycho,” you spit out, struggling against the restrainers. But once again it is an act; he is a psycho, but you are starting to fear you aren’t much different.
He chuckles darkly. “Oh, I am, never denied that. But don’t act better than me. You stood right in front of that window, stripping for me, touching yourself for me, moaning for me. How fucked up that is?” He snickers. “You have fucked up fantasies, my pretty detective, but I’m not one to judge. I’d gladly help.”
You laugh quietly, trying to look confident but it comes out shaky from your throat, “If you want to help, take the mask off and show me who you are.”
“Wow, wow, darling. Not so soon, I’m not one to burn stages in a relationship. What next? Want to meet my mom?”
You inhale sharply, and spit on him, “God, you’re insane.” Your eyes snap open when he pulls out of his back the sharp knife, your breath is stuck in your throat and fear runs all over your body. And once again you regret how impulsive you are. You did well all these past years of training and then on the first real-life experiences at pushing this side of you in the cage, but it looks like it’s coming out like a beast that’s been trapped too long.
“Don’t be so scared,” he huffs, the fake sympathy in his voice should make you mad but it triggers something else inside of you, and you hate to admit that he might be right, you’re enjoying this more than you should, you’re enjoying this entire chase more than you should. It’s like a game, but it’s not when real people are dying. “I would never hurt you,” his voice is raspy, slightly muffled by the ghost mask he’s wearing, and the knife sits on your sternum. “I hope you didn’t like this shirt too much, detective.”
You don’t have time to react, the steel cuts your shirt neatly, the sound bouncing in the small room and the sharp tip brushing your skin. You shiver, gulping hard and closing your eyes, already feeling the sensation of it cutting through you, but it doesn’t happen.
He clicks his tongue and shakes his head disappointingly. “You truly don’t trust me. I’m offended, and I don’t like when people offend me. Just like I don’t like when they hang up the phone while we’re playing. If people were respectful, I wouldn’t have to kill them, you know?” You stare at him with a furrow on your face, you’d like to take the mask off and see his eyes, not really to find out who’s hiding underneath that mask, but to see if his gaze is as insane as you imagine it to be.
“Let me go,” you say, the skin of your wrist bruised from the pressure you’re applying against the ropes.
“Don’t struggle too much, it turns me on,” he warns, kneeling at your level. He smiles softly and thinks it’s a pity you can’t see it, you’re just so pretty, with your beautiful face filled with different emotions and your eyes looking at him with a gaze that wants to be threatening but it’s all the opposite, almost making you look like a lost puppy.
“Why?”
“Why? It’s funny to see the victim beg for their life, it makes you feel powerful, you could show mercy, but you don’t,” the smug smile on his hidden face can be heard in his voice and you shiver at how cold he sounds, the shrug of his shoulder is just the cherry on top to his unhinged behaviour.
“So, you’re just going to keep me here?”
“No, I want to play with you. Do you want to play a game, detective?”
Your gaze falls on your thighs where his hand is placed again, the black gloves preventing it from leaving traces behind, as it slowly moves closer to your heat.
You snicker, pretending to play it cool, but your breath twitches at the contact. “’Cause if I said no you would stop?”
“Hey, I’m a killer, not a rapist,” he defends, shrugging. Yet, you still don’t reply, and he doesn’t like that. “So? I’m not so patient when I ask people if they want to play with me, so don’t test me.”
You swallow hard, swiftly looking around to see if you can pull a move on him. Damnit, it’s your chance to get him and throw him in jail but instead, you’re seriously thinking about his proposal. You fool yourself that you’re only doing this because maybe he could slip, maybe he could say something in the heat of the moment that could give you a clue, or he could leave his traces on you somehow, maybe his mask could fall, but you know you’re feeling something else. Attraction.
“I said,” he mutters, his face comes closer to yours, making you pull back, and the knife pushes flat in the hollow of your chest, “do you want to play a game, detective?”
“Yes, yes, I do,” you mutter, starting to breathe again when he pulls the knife away.
“Good, I love playing with you.” His fingers move to unbutton your jeans and then pull the zip down, you look at him attentively. “Lift your hips for me, love?”
You glare at him at the pet name but he only chuckles deeply. “What? If I’m rough with you, you get mad, if I’m sweet with you, you get mad. I can never win, can I?”
You huff, deciding it’s better to not reply and just do as he says. Your pants are quickly at your ankles and suddenly you feel even more trapped than before now that you can’t even move your legs, but his touch on your naked skin takes you away from that thought.
“Pretty panties just for me?” He coos, tilting his head to the side as he stares at your burgundy panties with the lace trim. “Were you hoping to find me here so we could finish what we started on the phone?”
“Shut up, this is not for you,” you retort, your forehead creasing with a furrow.
“And who is it for?” He asks, cupping your pussy, watching your body shiver. “Oh, no, please don’t tell me there’s a boyfriend I’m not aware of. I’d hate to kill him.”
You bite your lips and keep the contact with the mask, but words struggle to come out when his index finger starts rubbing on your clit, moving from the slit —where you can feel you’re starting to get wet— to your sensitive nub. “It’s not for you,” you repeat, trying to don’t show how much his touch is affecting you.
“Well, you want me to work so hard too, I’ll have to find out on my own if someone is playing with what’s mine,” he replays nonchalantly. “I know where to find you, maybe I’ll come visit again.”
“You talk so much for someone who wants to play so badly,” you retort, a teasing grin curling your lips.
“Sorry, I didn’t know my princess was so eager,” he replies, saccharine voice filled with mockery, before a harsh slap lands on your pussy making you jolt and whimper. “Want my fingers?”
The glare you give him would be enough to kill him; isn’t this pathetic enough? How much more does he want you to humiliate yourself?
He rolls his head back and then the knife is against your neck again. “Do we have to do this every time I ask you a question? Do you want my fingers, detective?”
“Yes,” you whisper. Your body relaxes momentarily before tensing up with excitement again, but it quickly shifts to disappointment. “What are you doing?” You ask when his covered fingers press against you again.
“Oh, you’ll get the gloves too, I’m not dumb, you know? Don’t leave fingerprints on dead bodies, won’t even leave them on yours,” his voice is smug, all the confidence of someone who didn’t make a wrong move and somehow was always ahead of you and the police department.
You hate him. You hate he’s so much better than you at this. And you hate him even more now that he has you fighting whimpers and moans.
“Are you seriously going to pretend you don’t like this while your hips are bucking up?” He taunts, clicking his tongue in a mock. “Think moaning is more pathetic than humping my fingers like a bitch in heat?”
Your mouth opens to retort but you can’t deny the evidence; your hips are rolling against his hand, chasing for more, your panties are darkening as your wetness leaks through the fabric and your chest is heaving in erratic motions.
“Look at me,” he sings, hand moving up to graze your neck, thumb pressing on your carotid, making your head snap up. “You listen so swiftly when you fear for your life. It’s funny, you know, because I truly would never hurt you.”
You chuckle, shaking your head, trying to pull away from his hold when his hand moves up to caress your jaw. The gentleness of his touch is even scarier than when he has his knife pointed against you. “Is this what turns you on? The fear in their eyes?”
His head tilts to the side, shoulders lifting in a shrug. “Partially. But not in your case, what turns me on with you it’s the chase, and the fact I always win.”
You scoff bitterly, struggling in his hold but his hand quickly grips your chin and pulls you closer. “Didn’t you see the movies? The villain always dies.”
“If the heroine is not busy getting fucked by him,” he mocks, squeezing your face harder and moving his fingers faster on your clit. Your head rolls back and so do your eyes while a chocked moan leaves your lips. “See, I doubt you will shoot me in the head if you keep moaning like this.”
You groan angrily, you’re madder at you than you are at him. You want him and it’s so wrong that you do, but there’s not even a siren ringing in your head, telling you to make this stop.
“No, shh, shh, angel, it’s fine, this will be our little secret,” he whispers to your ear, the mask rubbing against your face, and when your eyes turn to look at him, you can see small dots of blood on the white varnish. “We could play another game: one secret for you, and one secret for me. If you behave, maybe I’ll reveal myself to you, if you promise to keep it to yourself.”
Your teeth sink into your lips harder when he delivers another harsh slap on your clit before resuming his quick movements. “Just — just tell me if I know you,” you mumble. You know he will never reveal himself, but maybe you can get something more, anything to complete the missing pieces of the puzzle.
He chuckles darkly, staring at a spot behind you as he pretends to think. “Mhh, we’ve met.”
You frown and your heart jumps in your throat for a moment at the thought you’ve seen him. “Only met?”
“We talked,” he adds, finally letting go of your face, making you breathe normally again.
Your eyes widen while your brain hurts as you try to quickly connect the dots, and find out who’s hiding underneath the mask, you just have to put a face on a voice — even if distorted, but you can’t. And suddenly realization slumps on you.
“Will it — will it break my heart?”
He snickers under his breath as he looks into your sad eyes, you’re looking at him like a dog when it’s being scolded, but in this case, you’re also silently praying he’s not someone close to you. He has no idea why that would make you feel better, if you care more about Ghostface or whoever is hiding under the mask, but it doesn’t matter, and he mocks you again, mimicking you in a high-pitched voice. “Will it hurt if I was someone close to you? A colleague? A friend? A lover?”
Your breath gets faster. Will it? Would you turn him in or defend him? And you can’t stand you’re even questioning it, of course you’ll turn him in, that’s your job, but most importantly, your duty. But will you? You could be doing it now, and you’re not.
“See? It’s not as funny if you know me,” he laughs at your face, your thoughts so loud he could get a headache. “It’s not as exciting, you love the thrill of this too, more than you like to admit.”
“Fuck,” you curse when his other hand cups your covered breast, it’s a harsh tug and the leather feels weird on your skin, yet, it makes you clasp your thighs and forget what was tormenting your morals, again.
“They’re so perfect, I can’t believe you always keep them hidden under those ugly clothes,” he pouts, giving it another hard squeeze. “Sorry.”
“For what — what the fuck?” You scream when he cuts your bra with the knife, first the middle and then the straps, the matching burgundy bra falling in pieces on the bottom of the chair.
“It was getting in the way, and I don’t like things that get in my way. I cut them off,” in his voice lingers a hysterical laugh that makes you shiver, and in times like this, you’re glad you can’t see his face.
You gulp and automatically close your legs.
“Not you,” he reassures you, forcing your thighs open again with a smack, “you entertain me. And you suck at your job, so it’s clear you also don’t get in the way.”
“I’m good at my job and I will get you and put you behind bars —”
“Uh, uh,” he clicks his tongue, knife under your jaw before you can even finish the sentence, silencing you in an instant. “We were having so much fun, don’t ruin it, babe.”
You swallow and look down following the path he’s tracing with the knife, goosebumps bloom on your skin and you hold your breath when it gets closer to your neck, only releasing it when the blade sits in the hollow of your chest.
“It’s so funny how you shake like a leaf, I’m a professional,” he says, sounding almost offended. And you furrow, is he talking about the knife or his fingers? “Both, love.”
Another groan leaves your lips before he moves the crotch to the side and the cold air of the room hits your burning core. You’ve never been so ashamed your entire life, you shouldn’t be an open book to him, you shouldn’t be so malleable in his hands, it’s pathetic and humiliating.
“You’re so fucking wet. I’m quite pissed I can’t run to the police department and let them know how much I turn you on. I can already see the disappointment on their faces,” he taunts, the slick sound of his gloves against your dripping pussy burns your body in shame and excitement.
“Don’t you dare,” you spit out, but you don’t sound so menacing since your voice breaks, and a pathetically high-pitched moan rolls from your tongue right after.
“I said I’m not going to, I keep my promises,” he kneels to the ground, one hand keeping you spread more and the other is still busy taking care of you. “Maybe if you promise you won’t shoot or put me in handcuffs right away when you’ll find out who I am, I can eat you out. I bet you let out the prettiest moans when you have someone between your legs.”
Your head rolls back, and you hiss. “You wish,” you retort through gritted teeth, but a part of you dies to know what that would be like. “I will never give you the satisfaction.”
He laughs mockingly. “Maybe I should blindfold you and do it now, will you recognize me by that?” At those words your body tenses up, head standing straight again as you look down at him with terror in your eyes. “What?” He asks in a giggle, surprised by your reaction. “You’re fucking with me right now, I still have blood on me. Would that be the most problematic thing? Having fucked with me before? Without this mask?”
“You’re just messing with me,” you mutter but your brain is trying to think, the list of the people you’ve been with is not that long, he can’t be so stupid to out himself like that, right?
“Maybe… I love it when I can see you think,” he whispers. “Usually, you have your hands in your hair, pulling at it even if you just washed it or spent hours styling it, and then you nervously bite your right thumb, somehow there’s always a hangnail to pull until it bleeds, oh, and you also nervously walk back and forth, two steps forward, two steps back. It’s cute, really. You have no fucking clue how to stop this, but you look so into it, chasing after me… well, so you think because, let’s be honest, you’re only chasing after your tail.”
You can’t believe he knows all of this, how close to you is he? And a few names start popping into your mind, but for each face that you see, your only answer is it can’t be.
“Why are you surprised? I told you, I love watching you,” he says, voice scarily soft even through the distortion of the mask. “You’re very pretty, detective. When you work hard to catch me, and even more when you screw it all up to moan for me.”
“Ugh,” you groan through gritted teeth, wrist rubbing against the rope keeping you in place and hips bucking up, anger and pleasure mixing like a drug in your brain. You hate to admit it, but you’re close and you doubt you can push back your climax any longer.
“It’s alright, love, I told you, I won’t judge you,” he hums. He studies your face for a moment, admiring how your teeth trap your lips in the vain attempt to don’t truly show how much you’re enjoying this, but your eyes are filled with lust, lightly glassy, and your cum is painting his gloves white. “Now, will you come for me?”
He doesn’t have to tell you twice, your body shutters as the orgasm washes over you, the quick movements of his fingers on your sensitive clit making your nails dig into the palm of your hands while your moans slip out of you freely. Your morality disappears, getting dragged away with the orgasm that consumes you before leaving.
You forget where you are for a moment, or to be more precise, with who you are with, as you let your head roll back, close your eyes and take deep breaths, waiting for the high to pass.
The thing doesn’t bother Ghostface, though, he sees enough fear in people’s eyes, he likes it better when you stop pretending and relax around him. That’s the thrilling thing about you, you are the most entertaining game he has ever played. With all the others he knows how it will end, their lifeless bodies laying in a pool of their own blood and the sirens of the police going off in the background as he blends in with the crowd, but with you? It’s unknown. Like a Russian roulette.
He’d love to shred all your clothes off, but he knows you’d have to spill your guts (not literally) if you walk out of there completely naked, and he’s sure the version you would tell the police would add another crime to his name. So, he takes your shoes off and then pulls your pants down.
Your laugh makes him raise his face and stare at you. “What’s so funny, dollface?”
You shrug, wetting your lips. “You scare me more when you act all sweet, you know?”
He scoffs, standing up again, and caressing your face. “You want me to hurt you so badly. I could carve a heart right here,” he presses the tip of the blade next to your heart, tracing the shape of a heart, causing goosebumps to appear on your skin. “It would look so pretty on you, and you will always carry me with you. Isn’t it nice? Couple goals.”
You raise a brow at him, he doesn’t even realize it, but he’s giving away so much of his personality, even if you don’t find it out now, you’re pretty positive all of this is leading you somewhere. You shake your head quickly, trying not to show how hard you’re thinking about your plan. “I only want one thing from you, and you know what it is.”
He chuckles, leaning next to your ear. “My dick.”
“Oh, fuck off,” you curse, accidentally kicking him now that your legs are free to move. You suck your breath in, fearing your move, even if involuntary, might piss him off.
He hisses but doesn’t do anything else. “Don’t get all bratty here, doll. You said you wanted to play a game, and we’re going to play it until the end.”
When he cuts your panties and balls them in his fist, saying “keeping them as a souvenir,” with a grin that can be heard in his voice, you only reply with an “asshole.”
Once again, he doesn’t pay your insults any mind, and you wonder why he’s so nice to you. Should you fear it? Will you be his last victim, getting the worst death of them all because he needs to put on a show? “Now I will untie you, if you play any trick on me… you know how it ends.”
You nod quickly, watching him disappear from your view as he stands behind you. You inhale when the knife places against your neck again and roll your eyes back. “You don’t have to do this every time, you know?”
“It turns you on,” he retorts firmly. “And I need to make sure you don’t do any funny business.”
Your eyes roll back again but you try to relax anyway and keep still when your wrists are finally free. Your shoulders are in a more comfortable position again as you subtly roll them to ease up. “Get up,” he orders, and you follow, moving carefully because the blade is still close to your body and you don’t want to end up dead on the floor. “Good, now lay on the mattress.”
Your face twists in disgust when you’re reminded of the mattress on the floor, but he pushes you forward.
“We didn’t kill anybody there.”
You stop, turning around swiftly, and his reflections are rapid enough that he doesn’t push the knife into your chest. “We?”
“Oh… it didn’t click yet…” He laughs darkly at your expression, the whole world falling on your shoulders as you wonder how could you be so stupid to not realize it. “Sorry, love. But hey, aren’t you happy I helped you out?”
You glare at him but then bring your hand to your hair and your thumb to your lips. Of course, there are two of them, that’s the only way they could always be so headed of you.
“Not the right moment to think about that,” he warns, voice dropping lower, making you stop your nervous ticks. “Get on the bed.”
You turn around again, suddenly aware that he’s completely covered and you’re bare. That thought makes you seek the cover of the mattress more, and swiftly you’re laying where he wants you. But it also turns you on, being so exposed to him while he’s giving you not even a peak of who’s under the mask and the clothes send chills down your body and more cum drips out you.
“Promise you’ll be good? We can play cat and mouse later if you want to,” he asks, the blade running flat on your boobs, making him chuckle darkly when your nipples harden at the contact and your hips buck up. “You promise, detective?” He repeats with urge when you don’t reply, too busy watching the knife move on your body as he pins you down.
“Promise,” you reply, looking into the blackness of the eyes of the mask.
He chuckles under the mask, and you watch him unbuckle his pants. You could easily grab the weapon that’s on your stomach and stab him, you could even un-mask him, but you lay still, almost mesmerized. And the conscience inside of you likes to remind you how fucked up you and your morals are, but you brush it off, shaking your head quickly.
“Turn around,” he orders, but you hesitate. That’s too much vulnerability. It’s clear he doesn’t like your hesitation when he groans, grabbing the knife and pushing it aside. “God, I have to do everything with you,” he sighs as he forcefully flips you on your stomach before his legs trap you again. This time you can’t do anything even if you want to, but once again, you don’t want to.
“Fuck,” he moans, hands cupping your full ass and squeezing hard, the firm hold eliciting a moan from you. “Look at you, so fucking pretty. Keep your head down, don’t try to even get a peak,” he warns, and your immediate reaction is to turn around to understand what’s going on, but you know better, so you press your face into the pillow and only when you hear the loud sound of a spit and a glob of saliva drip between your folds you understand what happened. “Not that it was needed, you’re dripping. But you know, I like to get messy at times.”
You turn your face around, resting your head on the pillow, and bite your lips. The smugness and insanity of his voice causing more cum to ooze out of your pussy.
“I want to feel you so bad,” he hums, spreading your cunt, making you feel so exposed, “but will you run to the police? Will you tell them ‘oh no, I had to fuck Mr. Ghostface to have a bit of his DNA and save the town from this psycho’?” he mocks with a high-pitched voice, it doesn’t sound like you at all, more like a hopeless, brain-dead, blonde girl that dies within the first minutes of any horror movie.
You snicker. “You underestimate me, I could say I got those traces from somewhere else.”
“But will you? Also, I’m pretty sure they will find traces of you too. How humiliating would that be? Come on, honey, I won’t blackmail you, but you will screw yourself over? That’s not very smart of you.”
He’s right, you hate that he’s right. You will have to out yourself in the process of trying to turn him in. “I — I won’t.”
Deep down he knows you won’t, there’s no way they won’t trace it back at you too, and he also knows you won’t try to play the victim when you’re not, but he needs to be conscious, one wrong step and you could turn the game around. As much as he likes to mock you, he knows you’re smart and have been close to discovering them a few times, it was a matter of luck, and they were extremely lucky.
“Better safe than in jail,” he chuckles darkly, you don’t even try to peer around, and only listen to the plastic of the condom rip.
You whimper when you feel the tip against your slit, and you hide your face in the pillow as if that could change the reality of what you’re willingly doing. You’re too excited to be so ashamed of your actions, but, even if some may argue your morality is nowhere to be found, it still feels like a big balloon hovering over you.
You shiver when you feel the mask rest on your shoulder, “Nah, ah, angel, no being ashamed now. I told you I don’t like rude people, so don’t be rude and ask me nicely to fuck you.”
The urge to slap him is stronger than anything else, but once again your greed makes him win. “Please… please fuck me.”
“Not what I want to hear, you know what I want. We practiced the other night, haven’t we?” He reminds you, a hand creeping around your neck, holding tight enough to make buzzes of fear run through your bones.
You close your eyes, inhaling as deeply as you can while trying to find the courage to humiliate yourself one last time, but then the words slip out, “Please, fuck me, Ghostface,” and the air gets knocked out of your lungs when he pushes into you. It’s a strong, deep thrust that fills you to the brim and knocks you over. Your head falls against the pillow again while his loud groan fills your ears, “Fuck, it sounds so good from your lips.”
“Oh, fuck,” you curse through gritted teeth when he starts moving right away, barely giving you time to adjust to the feeling, thick dick grazing your insides and strong hands wrapping around your waist tightly.
“Is it too much for you, detective? My sweet little angel can’t take it?”
A groan slips past your lips, you try to stand up on your elbows, but he pushes you down. His body presses against your back and you feel trapped again. “Don’t move. I will fuck you so deep into this mattress that I will feel your scent for days after this. I want your face smashed against the pillow, I want it to be wet with your ruined makeup and tears, got it? ”
You nod quickly, shoulders dropping as you slump against the mattress. His breathing next to your ear makes you shiver, and you wonder if that’s the last thing the non-so-lucky people have met him heard before dying. But you push it away, for the sake of your sanity, you have to fool yourself that you’re not so attracted to a bloody murderer, that your morals are still intact, and that you are a good person.
It’s pathetic how all the anger you feel disappears with each calculated thrust, pleasure getting to your brain so quickly you stop holding back. Soft whimpers and moans roll out of your tongue and unconsciously your ass grinds back into him.
“Fuck, that’s what I want to hear,” he hums, standing up while his hands wrap around your waist. He never wanted to burn those gloves so badly, feeling the urge to feel your burning skin and mark you with his bare hands, but he can’t risk it. That doesn’t mean he can’t leave marks in other ways. One hand leaves your hips and cups your boob, eliciting a broken moan from you. “Have I told you they’re so pretty?”
“Mhh,” you mumble, eyes closing as he pinches down on your nipple. You wish you could say it hurt you but instead, it makes you clench hard around him, cum leaking out more with each pinch on your delicate, sensitive buds.
“Shit, you really are into pain,” he comments, there’s mockery in his voice —like always— but there’s also a genuine surprise. “Who would’ve thought, my innocent detective is way more fucked in the head than I thought.”
“I — I’m not,” you retort, groaning and forcing your eyes open, but the deep chuckle that rumbles in his chest makes you quiver, and your attitude drops in a moment.
“Honey,” he slurs, voice dipped in honey, “you’re letting Ghostface fuck you dumb, you are fucked in the head.”
You shake your head quickly, but he’s had enough of your lies. The rough tug at your hair makes you let out a choked gasp as your head is lifted from the pillow. “I know you better than anyone else, angel,” he groans, mask pressed against your hot face. “I know your dirty, little secrets. I know what runs into that dirty, little mind of yours. You can’t lie to me,” he almost purrs, a low chuckle making shame fire up inside of you, “and I can feel you, princess. Squeezing me, barely allowing me to pull out to fuck back into you. Fuck — I should feel you right now, no stupid rubber between us.”
Another broken moan slips from your lips when he roughly lets go of the hold on you, your fingers clench hard around the thin sheet under you, and your hips jerk up even more. It’s like you want to feel him more, to have him imprint himself deep into you, so far under your skin that you won’t be able to wash him off, and you don’t even know why you feel like this. Why it made you feel like this a week prior too, all the hesitation and fear as you picked up the phone and heard his breathy, distorted voice, flying out of the window the moment he started ordering you around. But was it truly an order when your only hesitation came from the fear of judgement, and you could only feel your body tingle with excitement? Sitting in front of the window, having no idea where he was hiding, putting on a show for the killer you swore you hated and making yourself come the hardest you’ve ever done.
“It makes you feel special, doesn’t it? The way you’re the only exception. The only one I would never hurt.” His voice is lower, hitting you to the core, making your toes curl and your breath falter in your chest. “You’re like a daisy in a garden of bloody, red roses.”
“Please,” you breathe out, choking on your tongue, eyes fluttering open shyly.
“Want me to stop?” He coos, head cocking to the side as he lands a sharp slap on your asscheek that makes you hiccup on a whimper and then another to your boob that drags a louder cry out of you. “Don’t want to hear how special you are?”
But that’s not what you meant. Your pleads were about something else, something you struggle to confess.
A deep laugh resonates in his chest as he looks down at your already wrecked face. You’re so precious, he can’t believe you sometimes think he could hurt you. His prettiest game, his wildest fantasy. The thrill he feels in his bones every time he’s close to you, so, so near to being discovered and yet always safe. It’s exciting, getting to his brain so much he can hardly hide how much it turns him on. But you’ve never been this close before. He dreamed about fucking you, having you pressed under him, begging, moaning and crying as his dick hit deep into your sweet pussy, pounding into you over and over again until you were nothing but mush in his hands. He wanted to strip you down completely and leave nothing of the women he sees and admires every single day. He dreamed of having all this power over you, watching you get weak on your knees and let him do anything he wanted, watching your body convulse in pleasure and your brain empty. And here you are now; wet, fucked-out eyes looking up at him while your pretty, plump mouth opens and closes as your shut-down brain tries hard to find the words.
“Speak up, princess. I don’t like to wait.”
“Please, wa-want to feel you,” you slur in a whisper, eyes blinking lazily as you try to hold onto what’s left of your sanity.
He chuckles, his thrusts coming to a stop that makes you whine in disappointment. “You want me to fuck you raw, detective?”
You hum, nodding slowly, not for the lack of enthusiasm but for the amount of shame that’s looming over you like a tornado. But Ghostface doesn’t like your silences, he doesn’t like it when you hesitate, that’s not what turns him on about you. It’s your impulses, the way you jump into things headfirst without thinking, for some it may be dumb, but to him, it’s just that sprinkle of insane bravery that makes life exciting. Your head is yanked up again with a rough pull of your hair, but his hold quickly moves to your neck. “I thought we were over the phase where I have to drag the words out of your mouth, detective. I’ll ask nicely one last time, do you want me to fuck you raw?”
You swallow your pride and reply meekly, “Ye-yes.”
He chuckles, pulling out of you almost completely before sinking in again with no warning, knocking the air out of your lungs, air that’s already struggling to fill them as his hold on your neck doesn’t loosen up. “See? It wasn’t that hard, was it? Even your stupid brain could put two words together.”
You gasp for air when he finally lets go and your face sinks on the pillow again.
“I’d love to, but I won’t risk it. Maybe next time, maybe if I’ll ever feel like telling you who I am,” he replies, and you groan in disappointment. Not only he doesn’t give you what you want but he also mocks you, reminding you why you’re here and how your mission flushed down the toilet as you let him play you like a violin.
“Then — fuck — please, fuck me harder,” at this point you want him to fuck you so hard your brain will just unplug and your superego can stop nagging at the back of your mind. You don’t want a single thought in your brain, just pleasure and lust.
“That I can give it to you,” he hums happily, and in a second, he complies. His hips start snapping against you at a fast speed, his tip hitting you deep repeatedly as he keeps you arched back with one hand around your waist and the other one wrapped around the makeshift ponytail he made with your hair.
You can already feel the orgasm build up at the tip of your stomach, but it only worsens when Ghostface roughly pulls you flat against him. Your head falls behind on his shoulder, eyes rolled far in your skull as your lips hang open to let out desperate moans and suck in as much air as possible.
“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he moans, his thumb rubs against your neck and jaw while his right hand squeezes and pulls your boobs hard before pinching the nipples. “Listen to those pretty sounds you make,” he snickers, “and you still want to pretend you’re innocent and pure? You’re fucked up just like me, baby, that’s why I like you so much,” he slurs.
You blink, once again adjusting to the light is uncomfortable but you make out just in time the fact he’s holding a Polaroid camera. “Smile for the camera, babe,” his voice rings in your ears but doesn’t reach your brain and before you know it, you’re coming just like that. The look on your face is not a smile but an expression of blissed pleasure, the exact moment as the climax explodes inside of you, making you clench around his dick and shake in his arms, your arm twisting back, letting your hand claps on his bicep and sink your nail in the thick fabric of the black cloak.
Ghostface would like to say he’s disappointed and scold you for misbehaving, but he can only stare at you with amused disbelief written all over his face. But you only see the constant expression of the mask and once again, you fear for a second he’s mad at you. Truth be told, he could even kill you right now, you wouldn’t mind much or even notice, too lost in the pleasure that’s still looming on your body.
“Fuck,” he mutters, hips slowing down until they stop completely, “you just gifted me the most precious pic in my collection,” he whispers. You feel like the edge of mockery is still persistent but at the same time something genuine lingers in it, it doesn’t make it less creepy, but the ‘fuck me harder method’ worked because you don’t question his, and yours, fucked morality and just smile dumbly.
And that smile, united with the slow bat of your wet eyelashes, is what he needs to lose it.
“Oh, fuck it, I’ll clean you up once we’re done and if you’ll try to turn me in, I’ll find out, so you better keep your promise, alright?”
You don’t get what he’s talking about right away, too fucked out as you lay on the mattress waiting for his next move, but when he pulls out of you and swiftly pulls the condom out, you get it. You bite your lips in anticipation and swing your hips in invitation.
The sight would be enough to make him come right there, and he damns himself because out of all people, you can’t be his biggest weakness. It got to be some fucking joke of destiny. “Will you go to the police?”
“No,” you mumble.
“Good girl, because these little games are just for us, me and you, you can’t use what we do here to help you with your case.” When he sinks inside of you again, he feels like he could lose it all for the way your wet, warm walls wrap around him. “Fuck, fuck,” he curses, voice even more distorted now that he murmurs through gritted teeth, “you feel so fucking good.”
His thrusts now are almost primal, desperately pounding you against the mattress, keeping you pinned down with a hand on the back of your head —not that you need that, you wouldn’t be able to hold your neck up even if you wanted to— and holding for dear life on your hips with the other. You’ll probably have some bruises by the end of the night, if not colored prints on your skin, surely light discomfort at the touch will follow you for a few days. And you almost want to beg him for more, to mark you in some other ways, to leave something just for you to see and carry with you. Sick and perverted thoughts cross your mind, and you push them away swiftly.
You bite down on your lips when his hand leaves your side to torture your nipples again, he can barely push his hand between your body and the mattress, but he has just enough space to play with your sensitive nipples, making them even harder and causing you to clench even more around him. He loves how sensitive you are there and how each rub, pinch, and slap has you easily squirming and moaning under him.
“Look at you, going all dumb on my cock,” he groans, mockingly giving one harsh slap to your tits before his fingers trace your cheek. Your skin is so hot he can almost feel it through the fabric separating you, but what he’s most fascinated about are your tears, black mascara running down your beautiful face, dying on the pillow and your tortured parted lips. “Are you still thinking about being better than me or — fuck — have you finally embraced your dark side?”
Not a word comes out of your mouth when you whimper back, and not even a thought crosses your mind.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he grins smugly. “You know,” he breathes out, head thrown back as it gets harder and harder to contain the orgasm, but he doesn’t want it to end so soon, “you should fire yourself and be my toy, just my toy, every time I need you, everywhere I need you. You’d love that, wouldn’t you? It’d make you feel even more special.”
You mumble a weak reply, it’s a whispered ‘no,’ but your body doesn’t deny how much the thought turns you on. Too many responsibilities in your life and your job, too much to carry daily, but right now? Nothing. Guilt will eat you alive tomorrow but not now. Something feels exciting about being on the run with him, being the one that runs, instead of the one that chases. But it won’t happen, you believe in your job, and you want this slasher to end.
“Cause only I can get you like this, ugh,” he grunts, hips slamming faster but more sloppily against your ass, the vulgar sounds filling up the room. “No man before and no man after will make you come this hard. Nobody, love. No matter how much you’ll want to, they all will disappoint you and you will look for me in every single one of them,” he groans, each word punctuated by a harsh slam of his hips, “well, the lucky ones that will get a taste before I’ll get them and kill them.”
You don’t reply, just lay there, looking like a mess as you try to fight another orgasm because coming again would be humiliating.
“It turns you on, doesn’t it?” You can hear the grin on his face and his voice has the edge of insanity of the usual. “Let’s be honest, you’ve got a list of shitty partners, you would’ve been grateful if I got rid of some of them.”
“Fuck, just — just fuck me,” you beg, your hand reaching behind to touch him somehow, but he doesn’t like it.
He grips your hand and pins it behind your back bending your arm, you hiss in discomfort, but he doesn’t let go. “Oh, no, angel. You don’t make the rules in this game, I do. If I want to sink into your brain and get so deep into you that I’ll make sure you will never come out the same, I will. I’m the darkest side of yourself, the fucked up filth you’re too afraid to face,” he groans. “And I know you’re close again. Your tight cunt is squeezing me, and you made a mess on the mattress,” he snickers. “Imagine if they find this place, this mattress, your DNA on it,” he stops, leaning next to your ear, voice dropping lower, “or better, imagine if they find us now. What do you say, detective? Would they be disappointed? Would they just jack off at the view? You look so hot right now, I wouldn’t blame them if they’d get off to you, to us together. Kill them surely, blame them not. We’re so hot, detective.”
You squirm under him, feeling like the room is spinning fast and you can’t ground on anything. You have a darker thought in mind, something you can’t confess to him or else he won’t stop mocking you. You want to get caught, but not by your colleagues, by his partner. What would he do if he saw you and his partner in crimes like this? Would he understand this, or would he snap? Maybe even feeling betrayed. Does he even know you and him have been playing this game of attraction for a while now?
Your silence doesn’t make Ghostface suspect anything. You simply look totally fucked out, brain empty as you plead in soft whimpers and moans.
“You sound so fucking good,” he praises. “Why don’t we play another little game, uh?”
Your eyes open in surprise and you hum with no strength, “what?”
“Beg me to save your life,” he says, grabbing the knife again and placing it close to your neck. “Come on, do it for me, I won’t ever hear you say it because I will never want to kill you. Please, detective,” he coos, hips slowing down because your pussy is fogging his brain and he’s not sure his always-perfect aim and reflexes will work right now.
You take a deep breath and then speak. “Please, Ghostface, please, spare my life.”
His head rolls back, and a deep, groggy moan comes out of his lips. “Fuck, yes, keep going,” he orders, hips picking up the rhythm again as he skillfully flips the blade to the lesser sharp side just to be safe.
And you obey. You beg, choked-up words slipping from your lips that soon turn into please, fuck me harder, and then please, wanna come. You feel boneless, your body is too hot, and you feel you might pass out, you need a release and then hope something bigger than you will make you get back on your legs and walk out of there as if nothing happened, as if you never followed your guts and found his —their— safe haven.
“Come for me, love,” he orders, throwing the knife to the side before his hand sneaks under your body to roughly slap your clit a few times, enjoying the louder moans he drags out of you by doing so and watching with pleasure as your body squirms and shakes. “And don’t forget to smile for the camera.”
This time your eyes lock with the polaroid that he points toward your face as his chin rests on your shoulder. But it only lasts for the time of the picture, your body collapses again when he lets go of your hair and you let the pleasure pervade you from head to toe. It’s breathtaking and mind-blowing, and next time you’ll fuck someone else you’ll hate that he’s right. You will feel him everywhere, you will feel his dick deep inside of you every time your fingers will desperately try to take its place, and every time you’ll let someone in your bed, but you don’t hate that thought as you should.
“Fuck,” he groans, giving you a few more pumps to make sure you rode your high before slipping out and then roughly flipping you over. “Close your eyes,” he orders, and you follow with no hesitation —honestly, you were struggling to keep them open in the first place.
Your heaving chest, your parted lips still letting out cries, your wet cheeks, and your trembling closed thighs are the last drop he needs to let go. Deep moans reach your ears while his hot cum drops on your face, most on your skin but some in your mouth, and they get even louder when you shyly swallow it and lick your lips for more.
“Fuck, fuck, you’re —” he gasps but doesn’t finish, holding onto nothing as he empties himself all over your face. “Fuck.”
He feels dizzy, the orgasm still shaking him up, but then he looks at you and has to bite back a moan. The white strings of cum are covering your blissed face, your eyelashes are clumped together by the tears, and your lips are plump and darker, he knows he doesn’t want to forget what you look like right now. “Smile one last time, baby.”
And you do, the corners of your mouth lift and then you hear the click of the polaroid. You think for a second you should’ve told him to don’t take them, he could easily blackmail you, or straight-up get you fired, but once again, you don’t truly care, and you don’t deny how much the idea of those photos turned you on.
You should get up, grab your pants, jacket, shoes and leave. But you feel heavy and tired, you’re still shaking, and your breath didn’t go back to normal, yet.
“Don’t worry, detective,” Ghostface whispers, something passes on your face to clean you from the mess, but you don’t know what, and only then you open them ajar, just to see he’s still wearing his mask. “I’ll take care of you.”
The Ghostface mask is the last thing you see.
When you wake up, you’re in your bed, wearing your nightwear, completely cleaned up, but your bones and muscles are still sore, and a terrible headache is throbbing in the left side of your brain. You turn around, rubbing your eyelids with your palms before you can fully focus on the pillow and see three things on it. The Ghostface mask, a polaroid of you two from before, his face next to yours as he pulled your hair, and a note.
“It was a pleasure playing with you, my pretty detective. Can’t wait to see what our next game will be like♡ ”
general taglist: @froggyforyoongi , @wingsss45 ; @tddyhyck ; @technologyculturedneo
© neowinestaindress; all rights reserved. do NOT repost, modify, or translate any work from this blog on any other platform and claim it as yours. you can find my works on ao3 (neowinestaindress) and wattpad (winestaintedress_; currently inactive).
#nct fanfiction#nct 127 smut#nct dream smut#wayv smut#haechan smut#johnny smut#jaemin smut#jeno smut#jisung smut#jaehyun smut#taeyong smut#yuta smut
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Spiderverse Characters When You get Hurt
Pairing: Peter B. Parker, Miles Morales, Gwen Stacy, Miguel O'Hara, Hobie Brown, Pavitr Prabhnakar x Reader
Tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, late night visits, hospitals, injury, sneaking in, flowers, soothing kisses, anger, self-blame
A/N: I wouldn't be me if I didn't put as much angst in here as I did fluff.
Peter brings you flowers, a lot of them, so many that the hospital staff thinks you died in the meantime. He's slumped over in the chair, worried eyes taking in the bandadged spots, the stitches and he can't help but feel like he should have saved you sooner. He doesn't even know you that well, you're a new reporter but you were there with him, for him, for Spider-man. Now he needs to make sure he makes up for this when you get out.
Miles gives it his best to not freak out as he cleans the cuts on your hands. You shouldn't have grabbed the railing like that, you could have gotten an infection. It might be mild compared to some injuries he gets, still he doesn't want to see them on the person he loves. It goes the same for you but its... not as easy. He can't promise you won't ever get hurt if you're with him but he can promise to give it his all to protect you. And with your smile being his ultimate reward he will work even harder.
Gwen nearly has a heart attack when she sees the state you're in when she rushes to your place. Secret identity be damned cause she's in your room, in full costume, scolding you, then crying then kissing you so desperately like its gonna be your last ever kiss. If someone comes in right now and sees her kissing you her secret would be out. She can't think about that now, all she needs is to make sure you're safe.
Miguel is beside himself with guilt that this happened to you on his watch. You can see his eyes, red from both tears and anger,roaming your body along with his hands as he takes notes of every pained sound you make. This is gonna take a while to heal up without a healing factor but he won't let you tell him that he's acting too worried or being too dotting. You act like this when he's hurt, so its only right.
Hobie doesn't get a wink of sleep when he caries you home up until morning when you open your eyes. He's trying to stay positive and maybe even crack a joke like he does to soothe you when he's injured but all he wants is to do is to cuddle up to you, to pull you on top of his chest and listen to your breathing and your heartbeat. Once you get better he will go out and throw both words and fists at the person who put you in this state but until then he is all yours.
Pavitr can't stop the tears from running down his face as he slowly kisses your hands and then your cheek. He was so scared he was gonna loose you. Now you're hospitalized and... he can sneak in if he really wants to, and he will but he would love to be able to give you every second of his day. Since he can't do that he will bring you a get well soon gift every day, and kiss you every day too, it will make you heal up faster. Okay no it won't but it will make you feel better and happier.
#peter b parker x reader#miles morales x reader#gwen stacy x reader#miguel o'hara x reader#hobie brown x reader#pavitr prabhakar x reader#spiderverse x reader#spiderverse imagine#spiderverse headcanon#spiderverse fluff#spiderman fluff#marvel x reader#marvel imagine#marvel headcanons#marvel fluff#marvel x you#peter b parker fluff#miles morales fluff#gwen stacy fluff#miguel o'hara fluff#hobie brown fluff#pavitr fluff#x reader
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you know my tongue is a weapon || gojo satoru x reader
synopsis: Shoko suggests a study night, but Gojo's bored and he doesn't want to study. So, instead, he offers to play a game, when all the others have left to get some food: every time he gets an answer right, he gets a kiss.
As you soon find out, Gojo can be very good at studying, as long as he gets something out of it.
word count: 3.8k
genre: college!AU, mostly fluff i think
cw: kissing, making out, semi-public kissing, unresolved sexual tension, reader is insecure and is therefore an unreliable narrator, dry humping ig, fem reader (the word girl is used once)
a/n: first time writing for jujutsu and for gojo! any feedback is appreciated, and i hope you enjoy yourselves :)
soundtrack
prequel
Exam season is never a fun time to be on campus. Stress fills the air, the hallways, the always full libraries, even the coffee shops where people usually meet to relax between two classes. It’s the only conversation subject between sleep-deprived students, looming over their head threateningly at any time of the day and night. It’s stifling, a weight on their chest that never quite wears off.
As for you, well, you’re doing alright.
Oh, for sure, it’s a lot of work, and you’re not thrilled about it by any stretch of the imagination, but academia is your thing, so you don’t find it nearly as crushing as others do. You’re more terrified of the time period that comes afterwards, while you’re waiting for the results like Judgement day.
In the meantime, you’ve given up on trying to find a spot to study in the library, and you���ve been doing most of it in your small student room. You haven’t stepped outside in days when Shoko texts you to suggest a study night. You suspect that she hasn’t started working and intends to cram, but you take her up on the offer nonetheless.
You show up at her place right on time — you always are — with your notes and some snacks. You wait quietly after knocking, trying to make sense of the chatter you hear on the other side of the door. She had mentioned she would ask a few other people if they wanted to join, which you had assumed would be fine, but faced with the reality of it now you can feel a lump growing in your throat. Academia might be easy for you, but people… aren’t.
When the door opens to reveal Gojo Satoru, piercing blue eyes meeting yours through white locks of hair that he pushes out of his face a second later, you fully consider turning around and leaving.
“You made it,” he says, shooting you a wide grin.
“Hi,” you squeak in reply.
Gojo is a… friend. Ish. Kinda. You think. Well, he’s a friend of Shoko’s, anyway, so the two of you have hung out, socially, before. Up until last summer, you assumed he didn’t even know your name.
“Thank God you’re here,” Shoko says, appearing from behind him to grab your hand. “No one here wants to work. We need to whip these imbeciles into shape or something.”
“I’m working,” Nanami sighs from the table in the living room, where he’s sitting alone.
“I was just waiting for everyone to be here, Shoko,” Geto says, his voice soft and even, as he approaches the table.
You set your bag down, giving Nanami an sympathetic smile, and he pushes his glasses higher on his nose. When he nods at you, you’re pretty sure it’s a silent way of saying ‘thank you for not leaving me alone with them’.
“What are you guys starting with?” you ask, pulling some books out of your bag.
Everyone here has different majors, but with some classes in common. You’re not sure how efficient this enterprise is going to be, if you’re completely honest, but as Gojo lets himself fall on a chair with a dramatic sigh, you suppose it can’t be worse than if he was left to his own devices.
“I’m doing literature, algebra and physics tonight!” Haibara announces, perhaps a tad too enthusiastic. You don’t want to crush his hopes and dreams, but—
“You’re never going to get through all that in one night,” Nanami says with a frown.
“Don’t listen to him”, Gojo intervenes, “you can do anything you set your mind to.”
There are stars in Haibara’s eyes when he looks at him, but you notice the glances Gojo is stealing at Nanami, and the way his smile widens when Nanami grits his teeth in annoyance. You bite your lip so you don’t let out a chuckle.
“Do you want to start with literature with me?” you offer. “Nanami, you’ll have to handle algebra because I’m not taking any algebra classes this semester.”
The corner of Nanami’s lips curves to form a smile.
“It’s good that someone here is taking this seriously.”
“Ugh,” Gojo mutters. “Fine. Hey, Suguru, do you know what tests I have next week?”
Nanami buries his head in his hands with a pained groan, and you laugh again, lump gone from your throat now, as you move your chair to come sit next to Haibara. Gojo’s eyes follow your movement silently. When you lean over the same textbook as Haibara, shoulders brushing against his as you push a lock of hair behind your ear, his expression turns thoughtful. It’s only when Geto drops a book in front of him that he snaps out of it.
“Are you sure you don’t want to do shots instead?” he asks, tone sour.
“Man, don’t tempt me,” Shoko whines as she sits down as well. “The shots will have to wait.”
Truly, Gojo thinks, sadder words have never been spoken.
Nanami calls it quits right before 10 pm. He’s tried to leave a few times by then, usually because of one of Gojo’s quips, but Shoko’s managed to keep him around until then. It doesn’t help how delighted Gojo gets by his reactions, and you can’t blame him for abandoning you. You don’t doubt for a second that he would have been much more productive without everyone else around.
“If they pass their exams, we should give ourselves all the credit for that,” he comments at your intention, right before walking out the door. “Good luck with them.”
Then he’s gone, before Gojo can start to protest about why he is not getting any encouragements, even though he’s suffering so much, and everyone is mean, and nothing about this is fun, and—
Haibara, despite his best intentions, falls asleep on the couch less than thirty minutes later. It was just supposed to be quick nap, but by midnight he’s still down, and you can’t bring yourself to wake him up. Plus it’s not like you were making a lot of progress with him anyway, so he just might be better off sleeping.
It’s not long after that that Shoko starts to get real antsy. So far, she has kept on track despite Gojo’s attempts at distracting her, but you can tell she is starting to get incredibly bored. Somehow, that doesn’t seem to be Gojo’s case, even if the way his leg bounces underneath his chair tells you he’s itching to do anything other than sit here doing nothing.
“Fuck it,” Shoko says, finally giving up. “I’m going to get something to eat.”
Geto frowns.
“Now? Alone?”
“As if anything would happen to her,” Gojo says, spinning a pen between his fingers. “She’ll be the scariest person out there.”
Geto rolls his eyes.
“I’ll come with you,” he tells Shoko, and she shrugs. “Do you want to come too, Satoru?”
Gojo lets himself fall down on his chair, looking at Geto with his head hanging behind the back of the chair.
“Nah,” he says after a few seconds of intense deliberation. “Can’t abandon the teacher here.”
You feel your face heating up.
“Oh, I mean, I’m sure I’ll be fine. If you want to go, you should—”
“It’s fine,” he handwaves your protests away. “I’ll finally get some work done without Shoko here to constantly distract me with—”
He bursts out laughing when Shoko throws her pen at him.
“We’ll be right back,” she announces, standing up. “You,” she points at Gojo, “play nice. And you,” she gives you a severe look, “don’t hesitate to hit him. I’m not joking.”
She leaves the room, escorted by Geto. Haibara doesn’t even stir when the door slams.
“Alright,” Gojo says, not wasting a second to reach for your chair so he can pull you closer to him, “it’s my turn to get my own personal tutor.” His fingers brush against your leg as he pulls you in, and you know, from how his eyes seem to drink in everything about you, that he doesn’t miss your quiet gasp nor the way your breath quickens. You’ve noticed this before, too. If he likes annoying Nanami, he seems to delight in your reactions at least as much — though he tries to make you laugh or to fluster you rather than piss you off.
“Um,” you say, with the eloquence that characterizes you around him, “what do you need help with?”
He tilts his head to the side as he studies you. You find him breathtaking, you always do, but you think you’ve gotten better at hiding it, so even if it feels like he’s looking right into your soul, you give him an easy smile.
Somehow, he is the one who ends up averting his eyes.
“How about philosophy?”
Right, the two of you share that one class on the history of ideas.
“Sure,” you say, already grabbing a book and thumbing through it. “I’ve taken quite a few notes for that class, actually, I can give them to you if you—”
“That’s boring,” he interrupts you. “We should do something else.”
You put down your book, intrigued, and something twists in your stomach when you see the look he’s giving you. He’s like a cat with a mouse, with exactly the same hunger in his eyes.
“What—” you clear your throat when your voice cracks. “What are you suggesting?”
“Well,” he leans forward, resting his elbow on the table and putting his chin in his palm, “I need an incentive to work, you know?”
You swallow. Sure.
“So how ‘bout I get a kiss for every right answer I give you?”
And you almost choke on air.
“What?” you manage to croak. Blood is rushing to your face, and it feels like your brain is short-circuiting. Your heart’s beating faster, hammering in your chest, and you feel your palms grow sweaty.
“C’mon,” he teases, reaching out to pull on a lock of your hair and twirl it around his finger, and you know, you know, he knows he’s got you right where he wants to, “help me study.”
“Gojo—”
“Satoru,” he all but purrs.
“Satoru,” you say, “what are you doing?”
“What do you mean?” he blinks innocently. “Just trying to find a fun way to study.”
You examine him carefully, try to figure out what, exactly, is going on behind these beautiful eyes of his. You’ve had— moments, with him. He fell asleep on your shoulder in the car once. He held your hand through a busy festival, teasing you about not wanting you to get lost, and later helped you get on his shoulders so you’d get a better view of the stage. The one time you agreed to accompany Shoko to the club, you remember his hands on your hips, his breath against your ear, the ghost of his lips to your neck. But nothing actually happened between the two of you. You’d told yourself that it was all a distraction for him, that he didn’t want more.
This isn’t exactly confirmation. You don’t doubt that it’s all in good fun still, and knowing you, and how hard you tend to fall, you should walk away while you have the chance.
But you really, really want to kiss him. Want to know what it would feel like to taste his lips, to have his body pressed against yours, to feel his hands all over you.
You always take the smart decision. This is not the smart decision. But…
“What if you get it wrong?” you ask.
Satoru blinks.
“You can, uh, spray me with a water bottle?”
You let out a brief laugh.
“Isn’t that a dog thing? That feels unethical, Satoru.”
He preens at your use of his name.
“You should take your chance,” he drawls. “Shoko says it’s really cathartic.”
You’re not sure you need catharsis, but you feel a little lighter now. It’s all a joke to him, clearly, and from what you’ve seen in the past couple of hours, he hasn’t seriously studied once. He’s not going to get the answers right. You don’t think he’s even trying to.
“Fine,” you say with a playful roll of your eyes, reaching out for a water bottle and positioning your chair so you’re facing him. “Who came up with the notion of civil disobed—"
“Thoreau, 1848, but the essay was republished with that name in 1866.”
You stare. Gojo gives you a lazy smile.
“Now where’s my kiss?”
“Um,” you say. You feel incredibly awkward now. He’s leaning back against his chair, with eyes that have not left you once since he’s suggested that idea. You— have to move, now, don’t you?
Very slowly, very hesitantly, you push yourself to your feet. Satoru doesn’t move at all, and you don’t know if it relieves you or stresses you out even more. The position is quite uncomfortable, too, with you standing and him sitting down. You don’t know that you’ve ever towered over him like that. Gingerly, you put a hand on his shoulder, and then you’re leaning over him, and then you’re kissing him, and then you’re moving away as fast as you can. This was just a peck, really, a press of your lips to his that lasted a second, tops, and that you’re already trying to forget about.
You’re not a teenager anymore, and you know this shouldn’t be getting to you that much, but it’s— it’s Satoru Gojo. You’ve worked very, very hard not to think of him like that, because you didn’t want to let yourself get hurt. And now, you’ve let yourself be dragged into this so easily? Ugh. You wish you could slap yourself.
“Okay,” you say, voice more high-pitched than you’d like, but still understandable, which you’re grateful for. “Next, um, can you explain what philosopher kings are?”
Surely—
“Of course,” Satoru pretty much sing-songs. “Plato thought that cities should be ruled by trained philosophers, because only a philosopher would know and act for the good of a city.” There’s a brief pause, before he adds, “Aristotle thought that was bullshit, though. For the record.”
And then he waits. You narrow your eyes at him.
“When did you study for that?”
“I never study,” he answers lightly.
Instead of standing up this time, you scoot your chair closer to him, and you lean forward. Satoru chuckles, but humors you — even if the temptation of leaning further back to make you come to him, because you’re just adorable when you’re flustered, is great. This time, when you kiss him, though, he presses forward before you can move away, his nose brushing against your cheek as he chases after you. And oh, what a sight you are after that, wide eyed, lips parted, hands tightening on your notes.
“Next?” he asks.
“Right,” you say. You’re— not sure what’s happening here, to be quite honest. Should you stop this? You— don’t think you want to, but you’re also not sure what this charade is all about. “Um. Spinoza thought that free will—”
“—could only be reached through knowledge, and that most people never obtained it.”
Okay.
“Aren’t you supposed to be a physics major?”
He raises an eyebrow, looking genuinely amused.
“Determinism’s a pretty big deal in science, actually, but let’s not change the subject here.”
You bite your lower lip, and his eyes track the movement like he’s starving for you.
You’re feeling hot all over, anticipation burning inside of you, and this time, you can’t pretend that he hasn’t done this on purpose. That he wanted to kiss you. You can’t quite reconcile the way you see yourself with that thought — how could Gojo Satoru want you, of all people? — but you find that it doesn’t matter.
You lean towards him once more, and this time, you let yourself kiss him. Really kiss him. You press your lips to his, soft at first, but when you don’t move away immediately, you feel him pressing against you, one hand coming to cup your cheek. His teeth pull at your bottom lip, and you let out a involuntary gasp. He doesn’t waste the opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth, and you keep inching closer to him, hands coming to his shoulders for support. You can feel yourself melt into him, and you curse your common sense when it leads you to break away from the kiss.
It doesn’t deter Satoru, though, because as you do, his hand slides under your knee, and next thing you know, he’s pulled you into his lap. His face is deliciously flushed, pink hue under the pale skin. He looks up at you, long fingers tightening around your thighs.
“We should waste less time like that,” he says.
Shoko likes to say he’s insufferable, and you can see why. Everything all seems to come so easy to him, and you’re defenseless against the way your heart races. When his eyes are on you, it feels like you’re the only person in the world. You’re not usually the type to indulge in that idea, but, ah, what’s the harm, as long as you know how to come back to earth later on?
You shake your head as you take him in.
“How are you even doing that?” you ask, mildly peeved.
“Haven’t you heard?” he grins widely. “I’m a genius.”
You roll your eyes at him. You’ve heard about that, of course, about how he maintains stellar grades without breaking a sweat. You just hadn’t seen that in application until now. In class, he’s usually asleep, or taking great joy in bothering the teacher. You’ve never seen him try to get something.
“Well, where’s my question?”
You sigh, putting your arms around his neck. You left your notes on the table, meaning that you might be less prepared than he is, actually.
“Descartes famously said—”
“Cogito ergo sum. C’mon, rational doubt is at the heart of science. I’m starting to think you’re just trying to kiss me.”
You do want to kiss him, but you have the self-control to shrug.
“Well, if you don’t want to—”
His mouth is on yours before you can think of how to end that sentence. He kisses you hungrily, hands gripping your hips as he tries to pulls you closer to him. Your chest presses into his, and you tighten your hold around him, fingers running through his hair. He grunts when you pull on it slightly, tilts his head back a little more to give you better access to his mouth, and when his tongue brushes against yours once more, you can’t help but to rock your hips against his. The friction makes you gasp into his mouth, and one of your hands falls down to his shoulder, fisting his shirt as you try to find better support.
“Fuck,“ you hear him mumble underneath you, right as you feel him grow hard. He pushes up against you. His fingers dig into your skin, one hand slipping under your shirt to run over your skin, leaving a trail of fire behind. It moves higher, brushing against your bra.
Against your better judgement, your hands travel down his body, tracing over his muscles. You feel him twitch under you, and when you roll your hips once more, with much more intent than the first time, he groans.
“Satoru,” you whisper, though even you don’t know if it’s a plea for him to stop or to keep going.
His eyes widen, and you feel him lift you up easily, pushing you onto the table. You lean back slightly, resting your weight on one hand. He’s red all over now, from his ears to his neck. His pupils are wide, his lips swollen, his hair messy. He looks like sin.
You don’t want to think about what you look like.
“C’mon,” he says. “Last question.”
“Haibara’s in the living room,” you point out. Even you know where this is leading.
“He’s dead asleep,” he merely shrugs. He’s mesmerizing, but you note that the glimmer of amusement that always dances in his eyes. This feels— serious.
“Um,” you say, licking your lips and watching how he bites his as his grip on your waist tightens once more — like he’s holding himself back. “Confucius—”
And then, the front door opens.
Gojo clicks his tongue and reluctantly steps back as you jump down from the table, beelining for the bathroom — you know that kiss is written all over your face.
You glare at yourself in the mirror. Your body’s still tingling, and you’re aching with want, now that release has been denied to you, but you know better. You’re supposed to know better. You take a few seconds to comb through your hair with your hands, and when it no longer looks like someone’s, well, kissed you senseless, you cautiously step back outside.
“We got you some fuel,” Shoko announces loudly, before getting shushes by Geto. He points in Haibara’s direction, who’s started snoring slightly.
“Thank you so much,” you say sweetly. “I’ll— Why are you wet?”
Gojo deadpans as he looks at you but, well, there’s water dripping from his hair, down his chin, and onto the shirt your hands were fisted in just a few minutes earlier, so, you think the question is valid.
“He was splashing water on his face when we got here,” Geto supplies helpfully. “Gojo runs hot.”
“And now it’s all over my floor,” Shoko mutters. “Next time, just wait ‘til the bathroom’s free, huh?”
Gojo looks like he has something to say just on the tip of his tongue, but he glances at you and seems to swallow it back.
“If anything, I made it cleaner,” he proclaims, leaning back on his chair. “Shoko, how long has it been since you cleaned in here? We really need to find you a partner who’s willing to do that stuff, otherwise you’ll keep living in fil—”
Shoko’s pencil case lands right in the middle of his face.
“You absolute brat,” she spits out, “I can’t believe you’d have the nerve to tell me something like that when you rely exclusively on Geto to—”
The bickering continues, but you tune it out. Under the table, Satoru’s knee brushes against yours. It’s almost hesitant at first, before he leans his leg against yours, when he realizes you’re not moving away. This isn’t the smart choice, either, but, ah, you’re always, always the smart girl. Is it so bad to have a night of fun? Is it so bad that you want to know what it would feel like to have him, even if it’s just once?
He’ll break your heart, the voice of reason says in the back of your mind, but then Satoru looks back at you, checking to see if you’re laughing at how he’s making fun of Shoko and, well.
You think you’ll let him.
Any and all feedback in the form of asks, reblogs, comments, tags is highly encouraged and appreciated~ If you enjoy my work, interactions are what keep me writing and motivated!
I haven't written anything in months and I think it shows but, well, I have to restart somewhere lol, so I hope it was still fun for you and you enjoyed yourselves here for a little while. Thank you for reading <3
prequel
#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo fluff#jjk fluff#jjk x you#my writing#gojo imagine#jjk x y/n
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could you maybe do a part two of the reader getting pregnant and kicked out.? Like they have the baby and her parents try seeing the baby but reader doesn’t want them to so rafe protects her and the baby ?
sorry if it’s a lot to ask for 😭
you hurt me pretty good too pt 2
pairing(s): bf!dad!rafe x gf!mom!fem!reader
warnings: toxic parents, pet names, protective rafe
summary: after finally getting settled in, your parents try to barge their way back into your life.
authors note: thank you for the request!! i loved writing the first part so i had fun writing this part two :))
part zero | part one | part two
not edited
do not copy my works. i do not condone rewrites, translations, or edited versions. all my content is my content that i wrote.
not my gif
“i just put lily down for a nap incase you wanted to take one yourself. i can make some food in the meantime,” rafe suggested with a gentle kiss to your forehead as he walked passed.
it had been a long couple of months. since getting kicked out, ward and rose had helped you both to buy a house of your own, you’d had your daughter which you and rafe decided to name lily, and you’d began dating officially.
“thank you, baby,” you replied before walking over to the couch and flopping down onto it. you grabbed the remote and began flipping through netflix for some movies to watch. “hey, you know my mom called me the other day?”
he stopped his shuffling through the pantry and poked his head out to look at you. “what’d she want?”
“she asked a ton of questions about the baby since obviously she didn’t come to any of the parties beforehand. and all of a sudden she cares to be in her life,” you said sourly. “i didn’t tell her anything.”
he rolled his eyes and continued looking for something to cook. “good. they’re assholes. lily doesn’t need ‘em in her life.”
you smiled to yourself and clicked on a movie, tucking yourself under a blanket and getting comfortable. you heard the stove turn on and settle on a setting before something was being poured into what she assumed was a pot of water.
pasta.
rafe knew it was your favorite. you began to smile even harder, barely even focusing on the movie now.
you felt his weight by your feet just before he was grabbing your legs and tossing them over his lap so you weren’t cuddled up in a ball.
interrupting your quiet time, a loud knock sounded through the house. rafe immediately prepared to stand, to which you urged him back down. “i got it, babe. rest for a little. you’ve been running around all day.” you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips before rushing to the front door and opening it.
you began wishing you never had when you caught sight of your parents standing on your doorstep with a woven basket full of stuff inside in your mothers hands. “hi, honey,” she greeted cheerfully. “we were wondering if we could see the baby?”
you scoffed and laughed. “no?”
“what?” she asked in disbelief. “we—we drove all this way though just to see her.”
“i didn’t ask you to though,” you replied. “how’d you even find my address?”
your father rolled his eyes. “are you serious? we drove a long way here and brought a gift just for you to deny us our right to see our grandchild?”
“what right do you have?” you asked genuinely. “you kicked me to the curb and made it very clear you wanted nothing to do with me or my child over these last few months. and now what? you suddenly wanna involve yourselves in our lives?”
“we deserve to see her,” your mother argued.
you heard rafe get up and before you knew it, he was at your side, face to face with your parents. “you don’t deserve shit.”
your mother gasped while your father looked taken back. “excuse you? watch who you’re talking to, son.”
“you abandoned her and supported us in no way. you have zero rights or claims on our child,” he stated. “and not to mention, this is our home and our property, which you are trespassing on and possibly endangering our child. i could call the police right now and—“
“no!” your mother said quickly. “that won’t be necessary. we just want to meet our grandchild.”
rafe laughed and raised his eyebrows. “you never wanted anything to do with our family before, so you both can fuck off,” he replied with a sarcastic grin before slamming the door in their faces.
he turned to you and scanned over your features. “you okay, my love?”
you nodded and smiled at his protectiveness. “yeah.”
“you don’t need them,” he reassured. “you’re doing the right thing. and you’re doing an amazing job with lily.”
you loosely wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned into him slightly. “thank you. and you,” you paused and kissed his lips softly. “are doing the best that i could ever imagine.”
“fuck ‘em, right?” he smiled against your lips.
you nodded and chuckled. “fuck ‘em.”
#gracie writes rafe cameron 🌺#gracies asks and requests 💌#rafe outer banks#rafe imagine#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron#rafe x y/n#outerbanks rafe#rafe smut#rafe x reader#rafe obx#obx imagine#obx
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{☆} characters arlecchino
{☆} notes drabble, fem reader, sub reader, transfem arlecchino
{☆} warnings 18+ content, breeding kink, degradation, stomach bulge, dacryphilia, restraints
"Arle, hah..please. I can't– I can't wait any longer."
The pleading, almost pouty, words had her letting out a deep, husky chuckle as she fiddled with the buckle of her belt, admiring your body as she stepped up to the bed. Her knee sank into the mattress as she knelt down, pressing a placating kiss to your brow and gesturing for you to turn over.
"Come on, dove. Be a good girl, or I'll treat you like the whore you are." Arlecchino clicked her tongue, firmly grabbing your hands and tightening her belt around your wrists, giving the leather a firm tug to test its strength– and to make sure it wasn't too tight. "I'm in a good mood. Don't spoil it by being a brat, little dove."
The pout it drew from you made her grin, canines flashing beneath her lips as she settled in behind you, cupping your ass in her calloused hands with an appreciative grumble. Your panties were already sticking to your cunt, the fabric soaked. She couldn't help but drag one of her digits across the fabric, teasing your folds beneath it.
"Lucky I adore that pretty mouth of yours or I'd have cut out your tongue," She gruffly spoke, her tone neither in jest or too serious– perhaps she would, maybe she wouldn't. She liked to keep you on your toes. "Hm. Maybe I'll use your throat after– shut you up properly. You look so pretty gagging on my cock, you know?"
Arlecchino slid her fingers beneath the waistband of your panties, tugging them down just enough to see your slick cunt, her fingers pulling the folds apart. Fuck, she could feel her cock throbbing against her boxers at the sight– she'd never get tired of it, just like she'd never get tired of using you like a toy.
"But in the meantime.." She finally pulled down her own boxers, her aching cock slipping free and slapping against your thigh– she slid right between your thighs, forcing you to squeeze them together around her. "Fuck, that's it." She growled, pumping her hips a few times before she was satisfied, lining up her cock with your entrance.
She had the decency, at least, to sink in slowly at first..let you adjust to her size for a brief moment before she snapped her hips forward and sank fully into your cunt with a sharp hiss.
Arlecchino typically enjoyed teasing you first, making you practically beg just for her to give you her cock at all, but she had other plans tonight– she wasn't going to waste time playing around this time. Her hand slipped down to your stomach pressed against the mattress, a low chuckle building in her chest at the distinct bulge her cock left. It was a wonder she fit at all– but she'd make it fit even if she hadn't.
"Be a good girl now and don't complain." She grumbled, leaning down to press you down into the mattress with her body, nipping at your ear before she pulled her hips back, hissing at the way you clenched around her in response. She took a moment to sit there, letting you ruminate and squirm at the lack of movement– only to grab a fistful of hair and start pounding you into the mattress before you can even think to whine about her lack of movement.
How quickly, how easily, you turn into a blubbering mess as she uses you like a toy for her own enjoyment. Not that you won't enjoy what she has in plan for you– just maybe not as much as she does. The mental image of filling you with her cum..it drives her thrusts harder, faster. She wants to fuck you stupid with her cock, fill you to the breaking point until her cum pools on the sheets, unable to be fully plugged up. Just the idea of watching her cum dripping down your thighs makes her control slip just the slightest bit.
She's already big enough to bulge your stomach with every thrust, but she wonders if she can push it further.
She certainly wants to, and she intends to.
The fat tears rolling down your cheeks only got her more excited, her hands gripping your hips so tight she can already imagine the bruises in the shape of her fingers against your skin.
"That's it, dove, give in," Arlecchino hissed, a low growl rumbling in her chest as she continued to pound into them relentlessly, her thighs already stinging from the sheer force of it. "Fucking take it, you whore."
Her muscles flexed in faint restraint, the shifting of your arms against her as you nearly screamed at the intense rush of pleasure making her sink her teeth into your shoulder in warning– a futile effort, really, as your body twitched when you came so hard she briefly considered if she had to stop..but you were still moaning even through the tears rolling down your cheeks, rocking back into her thrusts weakly, unable to keep up.
She wasn't too far behind, either. Her teeth dug deeper into your skin, muffling the growl as she plunged into your soaking wet cunt, bucking into you in much shorter thrusts until she finally felt her cum spilling into you. It was almost enough to send her over the edge again– fuck, you were practically sucking her in with how tight you were, squeezing around her cock.
Her head slumped against your shoulder as she pulled her teeth from your skin, taking a moment of respite to catch her breath and let the sting and ache settle in deep– she welcomed it, if anything. But she wasn't done.
She was going to fuck you till you were full– fill you up until she couldn't fit another drop.
For now..she pulled out, admiring the way her cum dribbled out of you. She didn't mind all that much..she was going to replace it tenfold, anyway.
She couldn't wait to plug you up and see you squirm during the meeting tomorrow, full of her cum and unable to find relief– maybe she'd make it a toy, see how long you last before someone realizes what's going on. She was going to enjoy it thoroughly.
#genshin impact smut#genshin impact x reader#genshin smut#genshin x reader#minors dni#writing tag#arlecchino smut#arlecchino x reader#so. um. yeah. we r not gonna talk abt this one I was feeling indulgant and shdhdgsjsjsjsj#arlecchino awakens smth in me idk dont ask me#i considered making this tmasc arle for a hot minute but ill save that for another day#anyway manspreading arle agenda thsnks 4 coming 2 my tedtalk#anyway² slamming hands on table arle breeding kink arle breeding kink arle breeding kink#technically no actual direct mention of breeding but shes still trying anyway#sorry im in an arle phade i need her to do unspeakable things to me yknow. you get me.#PHASE not phade its 3 am and i csbt sleep twirls hair#accidentally posted this draft premature im AHHHHHHHH#okay im fine now
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She's Out To Please, She Pouts Her Best (Soldier Boy x Reader)
Summary: Soldier Boy’s been pulled from the European Theater to sell war bonds to the American people, the goodwill tour dotted by big cities and small towns alike. In the meantime, he gets familiar with the variety of women in dazzling costumes that accompany his speeches with carefully choreographed dances. You’re, without a doubt, his favorite of them all.
Note: Female (blink and you’ll miss it implied plus size) reader, but no other descriptors are used. This fic is so short because it’s pretty much PWP. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.
Word count: 2k
Warnings: Dressing room sex, mirrors, breeding kink, daddy kink, power imbalance, overstimulation, implied baby trapping. Do not interact if you’re under 18.
Chattering from the packed high school auditorium somehow seeped through the walls. The rural town that was the latest stop in Soldier Boy’s war bond drive had shown up en masse out of patriotism or sheer curiosity. Usually both. Electricity was always in the air before the show in small towns. Some of them didn’t even have movie theaters.
You and the other dancers on the tour had set up camp in one of the bigger classrooms, using it to get ready in since it was near one of the bathrooms. Dresses, sequins, and makeup scattered about the room, making the place of learning look like a department store had exploded inside. You’d been helping another girl with the curlers in her hair until a masculine voice called out your name from the doorway.
“Soldier Boy wants to see you in his dressing room.”
You nodded, giving an apologetic look to your colleague, who waved you off. It wasn’t unusual for Soldier Boy to call on one of you to help him “warm up” before the shows. Lately, however, he’d almost exclusively been asking for you, to the detriment of your jaw.
Grabbing a nearby tube of red lipstick, you hastily applied it in the illuminated mirror in front of you. The lipstick residue soon adorned a tissue that you discarded, and you used your fingertips to gently massage the muscles in your face in preparation for taking him again. You hoped you’d at least get to come this time.
A flyer had gotten you to this point, stark white with patriotic motifs, pinned to a board in the nightclub you had been working in prior to getting the gig. Uncle Sam declared, “Ladies, you can serve your country too!” You figured why not, there was a war on, and if you could do something to help, you might as well.
Your qualifications led you to your local USO office, where you were handed a star-spangled outfit and joined a gaggle of other girls to be the supporting act on Soldier Boy’s war bonds tour across the country. At times, you felt silly, kicking and shimmying to audiences who were clearly only putting up with the opener just to catch a glimpse at the world’s first superhero. A man larger than life in every sense of the word, as you and your fellow dancers on the tour would learn.
Wandering the hallway, you checked each door for an indication of which commandeered classroom was his. Not one for subtlety, his dressing rooms always had ‘SOLDIER BOY’ printed in large letters, declaring his presence. You found the sign toward the end of the hall, giving a smile to the usual group of people who congregated around him, assistants and handlers to keep him on schedule.
You knocked on the door, announcing your arrival.
“You wanted to see me, sir?” you asked when he opened the door.
He smiled, putting his hand on your lower back as he ushered you inside. “Sure did, sweetheart.”
His dressing room always betrayed his vices—alcohol, drugs, porno mags. It didn’t faze you anymore, not like the first time he asked for you, a stuttering mess in his presence. Back then, you had to take a shot with him to settle your nerves enough to blow him without feeling too self-conscious. Now, it was routine. You moved to get on your knees, but he stopped you, to your confusion.
Instead, he disarmed you with a passionate kiss that nearly knocked you over. You steadied yourself on his strong arms that had made their home near your hips. He squeezed them, pulling you closer so your body was flush against his as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.
You let him take the lead, he always did—strong, masculine, hard-working. Wasn’t America lucky its hero was easy on the eyes too? Except he had a temper, a mean streak that could go for miles. Not that you’d ever been on the receiving end of it. No, for all his faults, you seemed to get the best of Soldier Boy.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” he whispered against your lips.
“You have?”
“Don’t sound so surprised. You’re—“ he paused, searching for the word he wanted to use, “special to me.”
You weren’t sure why he was laying it on so thick. It wasn’t your first rodeo with him. “Special?”
“‘Course you are. You wouldn't be here if you weren’t,” he said. “I wanna try something different today, alright, doll?”
“Alright,” you agreed softly.
He smiled. “That’s my girl.”
Your body came alive at his praise, and you pressed your lips to his for another kiss. He guided your body backward until you bumped into the vanity. Parting his lips from yours, he turned you around, bending you over it so you were face to face with yourself in the mirror.
You looked at him from the reflection, brows furrowed as you wondered what he was doing.
He leaned down, voice husky in your ear as he growled, “I want you to see how pretty you look when you come.”
Your eyes widened, and you grabbed either side of the vanity in preparation, to his amusement. He pressed a kiss to the back of your neck as he pushed up your shimmery skirt, exposing your red, satin panties, specially made to be on display. Soon, your panties were around your heeled feet, one of his hands reaching to play with your clit while the other squeezed one of your breasts through your top.
“We look good together, don’t you think, sweetheart?” he asked, intense gaze studying your reactions.
“Y-Yes,” you moaned, trying to keep your eyes open.
He always wanted you to look at him. From your knees when you were sucking him off, when he’d be standing on the side of the stage during your act, in his hotel rooms when he couldn’t find local girls to fuck around with. This instance was different, though, able to really see him, and yourself. You didn’t find your glassy gaze or parted lips particularly flattering, but he couldn’t seem to get enough.
His fingers had already brought you close to climax, and you whined when he pulled them away from you for a moment to free his hard cock from his pants. You shuddered, feeling it on your skin before he guided it in your pussy. Your hands curled around the vanity you were bracing yourself on. You weren’t sure if you’d get used to how his cock seemed to split you apart every time.
One of his arms wrapped just below your chest to hold you up, as you struggled to support yourself when he started pounding into you. Your pussy was already wet and pliant for him, and you'd be embarrassed by the obscene squelching sounds if you weren't so focused on getting off when he had brought you so close to the edge already.
You were your own voyeur, your brain feeling like it was going to melt, watching yourself getting fucked by him. His superhuman strength always caught you off guard, from the first time he shocked you by lifting you above his head on stage for a roaring crowd to the way he could make your body feel—and look—like you were little more than a ragdoll.
“Gonna put a baby in you,” he grunted as he thrust into you, items falling from the vanity and onto the floor at the force he used to fuck you. “Want you up on that stage with my cum leaking out every time you kick up those legs—fuck—you’re mine.”
Your pussy clenched around him at the vulgar image he conjured up. “Yours daddy.”
His voice was strained, words slurring together. He was close. “‘S right, baby. Keep fuckin’ you ‘till you make me one. You like takin’ daddy’s dick, don’t you?”
You had to force the short affirmation out of your mouth, pleasure’s chokehold creeping up on you. That wasn’t enough for him or his ego.
“I wanna hear you say it.”
“I love taking—oh fuck—taking your dick, daddy.”
He came, hard and sloppy as your pussy milked his cock. You cried out, feeling so full it almost started to hurt. Something in you finally snapped, releasing the pain and pressure as you rode out your orgasm on his softening cock. Your arms gave out from under you so that it was just his strength holding you up. You weren’t sure how you’d be able to go back to having sex with men who weren’t well-endowed superheroes. Go back to faking it, you supposed.
Your throat was sore. You hadn’t paid attention to how loud you were being. Everyone outside the room must’ve known what was happening if they didn’t have an idea when you first showed up looking for him.
Soldier Boy pulled himself out of you, and you could hear fabric rustling and the sound of his zipper again. You didn’t bother trying to stand up, still needing time to catch your breath.
He used his fingers to swipe up some of his cum that had begun dripping out of you, causing you to gasp at the slight sensation of them brushing against your pussy. You whimpered when he pushed his index and middle fingers inside you, already aching from the orgasm he’d just pulled from you.
“I—I can’t—“
‘I can’t get pregnant and ruin my career,’ you wanted to say, but all that came from your lips was a desperate, animalistic moan.
“I got you, baby,” Soldier Boy whispered, voice low and husky in your ear. “Give me one more so it sticks.”
You choked on air as his thumb brushed your clit, rubbing circles in the sensitive bundle of nerves. His fingers pushed deeper, and your hips bucked at the overstimulation, your spent pussy reactively pulsing around his cum-slicked fingers that curled inside you.
The woman staring back at you in the mirror was a mess with her mascara stained cheeks and smeared lipstick. You were utterly unrecognizable as you came again, harder on his fingers this time, crying out as you gripped the edge of the vanity, threatening to break one of your manicured nails.
“Good girl,” he praised, pressing kisses to your cheek, as you came down from your second orgasm, pulling his hand from between your legs. “You alright?”
“I think so,” you breathed. “Jesus Christ.”
Your legs felt like jelly beneath you, and you wondered how the hell you were going to be able to dance in less than half an hour. You’d have to reapply all of your makeup too.
He turned you around, looking at you with a brief fondness before kissing your lips, soft and quick.
“I need to fix my face,” you breathed.
He smiled. “Why? You look great.”
You laughed softly as he gave you space. You pulled up your panties from around your ankles, knowing his cum would stain them by the time you made it back to the dancers’ makeshift dressing room. Taking some of the tissues from the box on top of the vanity, you began wiping your ruined makeup from your face. He stared at you in silence from the spot he’d taken on the loveseat that’d been brought in for him.
“I think I’d be a good father. Better than my old man,” he said finally.
You paused, looking at him from the mirror, giving him a sardonic smile. “I don’t see you as the settling down type.”
“Maybe I just need a woman worth coming home to.”
“Maybe,” you echoed.
“C’mere.”
You obliged, joining him on the loveseat. He wrapped an arm around you, holding you close. You let yourself bask in the intimacy.
“Things aren’t always gonna be like this,” he said. “Once the war’s over, what’re you gonna do? Go back to dancing in nightclubs?”
“Why not?”
His jaw clenched, cheek twitching as he pulled his gaze from you. “I don’t want you doing this for anyone but me.”
This could have been any number of things, dancing, fucking, being at his beck and call. Knowing him, he meant all of it.
“Ben,” you said, grabbing his attention, “then you have to tell me what you do want.”
“I want you. I want the white picket fence, kids running around the yard with the dog,” he said, the intensity in his voice wrapping tendrils around your mind, pulling you into the world he was describing. “I want dinner to burn ‘cause I was busy putting another baby in you when I got home.”
“Oh,” you whispered.
A voice through the door startled you. “Soldier Boy, the mayor’s here to see you!”
“Think about it,” Soldier Boy said, getting up from the loveseat to grab his helmet and shield.
The door shut behind him, leaving you to agonize over the future he presented to you. Part of you wondered if you’d really have a choice.
#soldier boy x reader#the boys x reader#soldier boy#soldier boy the boys#soldier boy imagine#soldier boy smut#the boys#the boys amazon#the boys tv
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Quality Time
Request: Hey can you write a soft Dean one shot of reader having a bad day? Like he helps her relax?
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Masterlist
Note: I really liked working on this request today. I didn't get much sleep last night due to nightmares, hurt my foot this morning so the walk to work was pretty painful, somehow managed to cut my finger when I got home, and my foot is still sore at the end of the day. I wish I had a Dean.
Story:
[Y/N] lay in her bed, a pillow over her head and covers pulled up as far as they would go, completely cocooned from the world around her. It was late afternoon, and she'd been having a bad day that was just getting worse and worse. It had started with no hot water in the shower, then no food left for breakfast in the kitchen, then her car not starting when she wanted to go on a supply run, and since Sam and Dean had gone to help Donna out with something, she just had to walk. Then she couldn't find half the things she wanted to buy, then it rained on the way home, and then the handles on one of her shopping bags snapped halfway home and had to carry everything in her arms. She'd struggled to get back into the bunker while holding everything and had dropped several items onto the ground in the process, scraping her hand off her key when she reacted too quickly to grab everything. There still wasn't any hot water when she checked the showers again, and she'd ended up just slinking into bed after peeling off her soaked clothes, cold and shivering with a headache.
She didn't hear the knock on her door, or the squeak as the door slowly opened. "[Y/N]? You in here?" Dean's voice was muffled from under the pillow, but she heard him and sighed, pushing the pillow off her face and turning to face him. "Hey, what's wrong?" His eyebrows furrowed together in concern as her took in her state; he could clearly see that she'd been crying. He quickly made his way over to the bed and rested the back of his hand against her forehead. "Are you sick? Why didn't you call me? Or Sam?"
"I'm not sick", she sighed, pulling Dean's hand off her face but keeping it in her hand. "Just a headache, I'm having a bad day". Dean was the only person who [Y/N] allowed herself to be vulnerable with. He'd seen her at her very worst, and she'd seen him at his too. There was no question about the absolute trust between the two of them.
"Your hand is freezing [Y/N], are sure you're not sick?" He asked, his free hand moving to feel her cheek and then back to her forehead. "Why is your hair wet?"
"Got caught in the rain", she mumbled, but when Dean gave her a questioning look to tell her to elaborate, she sighed and told him about how her day had gone, keeping his hand in hers the entire time, enjoying the warmth and stability that it provided.
"Okay. I'll tell you what we're going to do to make your day better. I'll get Sam to have a look at the water situation, and in the meantime, I'll fill up a hot water bottle, get something hot for you to drink, and I'll get my laptop. We can watch something on it while we get you warmed up. How's that sound?" He pushed a strand of wet hair off her face and let his hand linger on her cheek. She nodded into it, closing her eyes and letting herself enjoy the warmth of his hand. "Okay. I'll be back in a few minutes, you just get some clothes on and wait here", he let go of her face and walked over to her chest of drawers, pulling out her fluffy pyjamas that she usually only put on when she wasn't feeling well. "Here, these will work", he set them down on the bottom of her bed and quickly leaned over to kiss the top of her head before leaving the room.
Reluctantly, she pushed back her covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She took a deep breath before grabbing the pyjamas, and lazily put them on. She quickly got back under the covers and closed her eyes, waiting in silence for Dean to come back. It wasn't long before her door was opened again, and she opened her eyes to see Dean in the doorway. He had his laptop tucked under one arm, a hot water bottle under the other, and a mug in either hand, both with steam flowing out of them.
"Hey Sweetheart", he smiled at her as he walked over to the bed. He handed her a mug which she quickly wrapped her hands around, then set his own down on the bedside table, along with his laptop. He shoved the hot water bottle under the covers where her feet were, and she immediately felt warmer. He had changed out of his jeans and was now wearing pyjama bottoms that [Y/N] had bought him for his last birthday, and an old t-shirt. "Room for one more?"
"Yeah", she said as she moved over in the bed, lifting up the covers for him. He quickly slid in beside her, but stopped her when she tried to pull the covers over him.
"You're gonna sit here, in front of me", he spread his knees and glanced down to the space on the bed he'd made between them. "Come on", he added when she gave him a questioning look. He helped her maneuver to between his legs, and then he pulled he covers up over her, leaving her hands out with her mug. He reached over and took a sip from his drink before grabbing the laptop and opening it, she heard a few clicks behind her and then he reached around her to set the laptop down in front of them.
"Scooby Doo?" She let out a small giggle as the cartoon started to play.
"Mhmm", Dean hummed, "the best for the best". She took a drink from her mug and was about to ask him why she needed to sit in front of him when she felt his hands on her shoulders. Knowing she was going to object to him doing something nice for her, he interrupted her before she could say anything.
"You're gonna let me help you to relax. I don't want to hear anything about you not deserving it, I don't want to hear anything about you not needing help. You've had a bad day, I can make it better, so let me". He began to knead his knuckles into her shoulders and it felt far too good, and she was also too tired to argue with him. She just nodded and took another sip from her drink, her mood lifting as she felt the vibrations of Dean's chuckle at a joke from the cartoon in front of them. His hands slowly moved to her neck, working out all of the knots he could find. He took his time with it, he wanted to make sure he was as thorough as possible. He gently pushed her forwards so he could work on her back. He slipped his hands up under her pyjama top, his hands were warm and though his skin was rough, his touch was gentle. He worked up and down, listening as her breathing became slower as episodes of the show played one after the other.
He had to wrap his hand around her front to stop her from slumping forward as she finally fell asleep. He grabbed her empty mug from her hands and put it beside his own, then reached forward to close his laptop and move it to the beside table too. He carefully slid back in the bed to lie down, pulling her down with him and turning her over to lie on her side facing away from him. He turned over and wrapped his hand around her waist, pulling her back against his chest so he could spoon her.
He'd had a tough day too. His trip with Sam out to see Donna hadn't gone so smoothly. The Impala had burst a tyre on the way there, the coffee he'd bought after had burnt his tongue, and the pie he'd ordered for lunch had mould on it. Donna had needed help with a simple ghost which should've been a breeze for them, but had managed to lock Sam out of the house straight away, making him useless, and had knocked Dean out the window into a dumpster. He'd needed to take three showers at Donna's after before the smell disappeared. He hadn't even had the energy to drive home so he'd had to give Sam the keys. Sam had insisted on playing his own music since he was the one driving, and as a result, the drive had felt three times longer than it actually was. When he'd finally got back to the bunker, all he wanted to do was see [Y/N]. He thought he'd have a chat with her then head off to bed, but when he saw how sad she seemed, he needed to take care of her. Every sip she'd taken from her drink, every giggle the cartoon had given her, every knot he'd worked out from her back, released some of his own tension.
He'd needed this quality time just as much as she had, and he would have the best night's sleep he'd had in a long time with her tucked safe and warm in his arms. He was sure that Sam would have fixed the hot water by the time they'd wake up in the morning, and then they could both start their next day right.
The end
Dean Winchester taglist: @123passwort @janineb86 @k-slla @lyarr24 @candy-coated-misery0731 @jackles010378 @hobby27 @angelwiththeshotgun @pizzagirlxnsfwx
#supernatural fanfic#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester fanfic#spn fanfic#spn fanfiction#supernatural#dean winchester fluff#dean x reader#dean winchester fanfiction#dean winchester fic#dean winchester supernatural#dean winchester imagine#dean winchester comfort#dean comfort#spn fic#spn reader insert#spn#supernatural fic#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural comfort#spn comfort#supernatural reader insert#massage#comfort#supernatural fluff#dean fluff#fluffy#sad reader#soft dean
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enha hyung line! — as parents <3
hyung-line!enha x fem!reader ! | genre: fluff ! | wc: 1.8k+ ! | warnings: enha as fathers, kids, mentions of food, not proofread ! | note: i thought about it while having some of our family members over and watching them taking care of their (vv annoying) kids !
— ✧ heeseung ♡
“IM GONNA BE A FATHER” would literally scream this out every time he’s outside.
took him a while to really realize the fact that he’s going to be responsible for a living soul and suddenly he freaks out.
did everything to be prepared and finally after 9 months he held his daughter in his hands.
would probably use his angelic voice to sing lullabies to the baby.
tells you he hopes her first words would be ‘mama’ but secretly whispers “say dada” to her whenever you’re not listening.
would send you off to work so he could stay together with the baby and even would take her to his work as well.
he would be tired as hell at nights when the baby wakes up crying, but he’d always get up before you and would force you to lay down and fall back asleep while he takes care of the situation.
he’d be the coolest dad ever! would teach his daughter basketball even at such a young age, and would support everything that she wants to do.
would be so overprotective and will go like “dont talk to my daughter like that!” whenever someone speaks badly about her.
he’d be so openly with her and would talk about whatever! when it comes to question about ‘how to make kids’, he’d just say that it’s not the time to explain.
as she grows older, he’d get too emotional all the time and would take pictures of everything his child does.
each morning would help her get ready and send her off to school with kisses and “i love you”s
so so so supportive and comforting person, as a father he’d do everything to make his daughter happy.
would be a little worried and overprotective about parties as his daughter grows older, but he trusts her enough to let her do what she wants. as long as she’s being safe.
“hey dad, can we go play some basketball?” your daughter asked. “but i prepared dinner already” you frowned a bit, expecting to eat with your family already.
“eat some snack in the meantime baby, we’ll be back in an hour” heeseung pecked your lips and hugged you. he then grabbed the ball and tossed it to your daughter.
“bye mom!” “bye love!” they both said. “wait!” you stopped them. they both froze and looked at you, you quickly got closer and put on your sports shoes, “the loser washes the dishes for a week” you smirked.
heeseung ended up loosing, watching his daughter and the love of his life getting so excited over playing together had always been his weakness.
— rest of the members under the cut !
— ✧ jay ♡
*insert shocked af emoji* — that would be his reaction after realizing he’s going to be a dad.
“i’ll cook you everyday and style you each morning, we’re going to have so much fun!” literally speaks to your tummy all day.
gets super excited and thrilled to the due date, prepared everything from A to Z and even asked his parents for some tips.
“i know nothing about babies but i can cook and i have good style…?” like 😭✋🏻✋🏻
almost fainted holding his son after 9 months of talking to him through your tummy, but held on a big smiled finally realizing his biggest dream came true.
before you’re coming back home he made sure the house is fully secured and safe for babies.
he’s just worried for the new family member that’s all :(
the softest dad ever! won’t stop snapping pictures and talking about his son with whoever he can.
would wake up early everyday to prepare breakfast for the little one, and would slowly and surely wake up him and help him eat.
wouldn’t give you a chance to overwork yourself, he’d tell you to rest and he’d take care of everything.
ngl i think he’d spoil his son so much and he would buy him anything he wants just bc he wants to see his son happy☹️
MATCHING OUTFITS is a must!! being the best stylist that he is, he LOVES to dress up his son and would match with him as well.
would teach him how to treat people (esp women!) right since basic manners is hella important.
tbh i also think he’d be like so chill about his child going to parties and all when growing up and he’d even drop him off and pick him up whenever he needs.
“how’s the food?” jay asked after setting his plate next to your plate, in front of his son. “good as always” your son smiled warmly at you.
“also, can you drop me off at (friends name)’s? we’re just gonna go out later, i’d be back before 1AM” he added. “sure, me and your mom are going on a date today so we’ll drop you off on our way” jay said, looking at you lovingly and pecking your nose.
“disgusting” your son rolled his eyes and you giggled. “you’re just jealous aren’t you?” “let’s show him some love”
both of you and jay got up and dragged your son to the sofa, tickling him and laughing about his cute reaction, but ending up the fight with a tight family hug.
— ✧ jake ♡
his reaction would be so precious when he’d found out about the pregnancy. literally called his mom and the rest of his family a second after you decided it’s time to officially tell everyone.
“do whatever you feel like doing as long as you’re not overworking yourself and putting yourself in danger” type of person.
would be so hyped up and would prepare himself mentally every day that in a few months he’d have a new family member.
after nine months he let out some happy tears, watching his son sleeping peacefully in his arms.
“you took care of him nine months now let me take care of him” — would use it as an excuse to be alone with the baby.
bought so many baby clothes beforehand and doesn’t know what to do when the baby is growing so fast and the clothes are already tiny on him.
cries every time something emotional happens, as if his hormones are higher than yours😮💨.
really wants his son to have an australian accent so he’s showing him australian baby-friendly videos.
he’d be the funniest dad ever! the one that even his son’s friends would like because he’s so easygoing and funny.
oh and let’s talk about the gaming station he’d build for him and his son to play together, they’d spend all day in the room without getting out, leaving you all alone.
as funny and easygoing he is, i think he might be a little overprotective as well. as his son became a teenager and started going to parties, he became a bit scared, so he texts every once in a while to check if his son is still alive.
i think he’d also be super thrilled when his son would get a significant other and would make sure to have a conversation with him about “how to treat your significant other right”.
he would also take his son to late night walks, just to talk about his concerns and everything he needs, he always makes sure his son knows he’d do pretty much everything to see his smile.
“nice one! go to your left!” jake yelled as his fingers moved fast on the keyboard and his eyes roamed around the computer screen. “they’re attacking from everywhere!” your son groaned.
as another game ended with a fail, jake looked over his son and pat his shoulder, “it’s okay, it doesn’t mean we suck at this game” he hugged his disappointed son.
“boys! i prepared some snacks! get out and let’s hang out!” you called them out for the hundredth time today. “your mother is looking for attention” jake giggled.
“let’s play one more game and then go” his son plead and jake smiled, “how can i say no to you?”
— ✧ sunghoon ♡
“so you’re telling me,” he froze, “that there’s a human being growing in your tummy right now?” *insert dumbfounded emoji*
oh this boy would be so scared for his life, i think he’d mostly be scared of the thought that he wont be able to take care of you right.
that’s why he prepared himself in any kind of way. he read books, went to get some tips from his mother and even his grandma, he wants to be so perfect and he wants to make everything more comfortable and easy for you.
so when he finally held his daughter’s tiny fingers, he cried happy tears. he cried because now his job is to raise his beautiful daughter and protect her from any costs.
since he’s so well prepared, he wasn’t even worried a bit once she started crying and waking up so late at nights nonstop.
would tell her stories and talk to her all day, entertaining her as much as he can, it’s also not his fault, his daughter is just so cute and adorable.
“i can’t believe i’m a father” he goes around the house giggling and playing with his daughter.
would tease you so much when her first words are ‘dada’ and not ‘mama’ — would be like “what can i say? she loves me more” with such a huge smirk on his face.
just like him, he hopes his daughter would take interest in ice skating, so as she grew old, he took her to one of the nearest ice rinks, and singed her up for classes when he saw she was actually enjoying it.
he’d be so supportive and so understanding, would always take her to practices and you two would always show up for her shows and would even skate with her if you’d feel like it.
likes to do different hairstyles and would just go with the flow, one day it can be ponytails and the other day it could be a simple braid.
he’d actually also go around and be like “do you see her? she’s my daughter, she’s so cute isnt she?”.
in general he’d be the softest dad ever! as his daughter grows old, he’d plant some morning kisses on her cheeks and would tell her that he loves her dearly and would send her off to school.
“dad! i have practice in about half an hour!” your daughter noted and sunghoon immediately gasped, “right right! let’s go!” he said and grabbed your hand as well.
“huh? aren’t you just dropping her off? why do i need to come too?” you asked, “because,” he smiled, “she’s our daughter and we need to watch her practice”
“i also wanted us to have a dinner date today, all of us together, it’s been a while since we went to hang out all three of us” he said, “because you always take her to grab some ice cream after practice” you teased and he shrugged.
“we got the best daughter ever” he smiled. “i know” you replied and he then pecked your lips, “thank you, for making me become a father”
#enhypen imagines#enhypen drabbles#enhypen#enhypen headcanons#enhypen heeseung#enhypen jay#enhypen jake#enhypen sunghoon#enhypen reactions#heeseung imagines#jay imagines#jake imagines#sunghoon imagines#heeseung reactions#jay reactions#jake reactions#sunghoon reactions#heeseung headcanons#jay headcanons#jake headcanons#sunghoon headcanons
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Mizu saves you
(Mizu x Fem Reader)
₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊
Summary: Your a princess that were chased by men from your home town. As you were seeking for help, a samurai twice as tall as you came to the rescue. 🤭💕
Warning: (Bit dark content)
How’s everyone day doing? I’m sure it’s doing well💜Tonight I will like to give out another story to read through and enjoy. Pls let me know for Mizu or upcoming characters which are my crushes such as Abby, Kuvira, Revy or so and so fanfics. I have to figure out a story for Abby still, but since I got requests from others, I’ll try to get those started without waiting too long . Besides that, please support my stories. Tysm☺️
A samurai stayed in a brothel at the city for quite some time. But this time it was for the night. She didn't want anyone to come towards as she was in her own time thinking. She never let anyone allowed no company to start causing a problem. Whatever she was doing, you were off to leave her alone til she was done. In the meantime she heard footsteps along the way, trying to ignore. "I said no company please," she says sternly. There was a princess from the main town that have been in some sort of trouble. After all it was you who was in a dangerous situation. "Please sir…” You stutter at your words. Then start freaking out immediately. “I really need your help!" You grab them by the arm. At first you thought it was a man because how well they dressed in a masculine-samurai way, but from the voice, it was sure a woman. “I've been chased by several of men. Please if you can help me before they take me away!" You cried out, tugging piece of cloth that was from the samurai's outfit.
The samurai, known as Mizu, her tone soften quickly when she heard it was a cry for help and that it was literally serious. She turn to face you below, adjusting her glasses. "Stay calm dear. Who's after you actually?" She tried her best to calm you down, but the look on your face tells her that this wasn't the right time to start explaining literally everything and get right to the point. "Look, I'm not sure about their names. They just started attacking few of my bodyguards while I was in my room. I'm a princess coming from this town. And I need someone's help!" You start tearing up, releasing emotions out of your body. Mizu takes note that something was up and that she was willing to gain trust in you.
"Alright. You stay behind me from now on." She says like this type of behavior wasn’t so serious XD. She brings your wrist, turning you around to get behind her back as Mizu takes out her sword slowly, ready to take off. She lead you out of the brothel, walking down to a staircase from outside, seeing if the men were ever gonna approach. You hold onto the back of her arm as you slowly followed her without making a sound. Once you two look around the city in night, few shadows comes from a block away. "There! Right there!" You yell pointing at them. In a quick swift, Mizu drag you to a nearby wall bit far from the men, as she covers your mouth, leaning closer to your height. She didn't want you to make such noise to ruin the time where you two can easily get killed by several of men in groups. From the way Mizu shuts you down, she was literally pinning you to the wall by grabbing your wrist up on the wall with one of her hand as the other on your mouth, keeping you still and steady as possible. She slowly peak out to see if they were coming at her. Few of the guys notice, not realizing it was you two at first, til they start walking by.
You mumble, freaking out when you heard further footsteps. "Stay here. Remain quiet." Mizu says, drawing her sword steadly as few of the guys saw her. She was not having you take your life away from the night. So thankfully, she was that person, the only samurai to save you. (Give you at least another life). The fighting begun when the first men comes running at Mizu with his dagger. She didn't hesitate but to duck under him and slash him from behind. He fall on the ground, done. You didn't notice another guy came as bunch of them runs towards Mizu. She did whatever she can to attack each of them. And one of the men went towards you, trying to kill you. You did your best to throw rocks at him, a way to protect yourself. The guy had his dagger ready to jab in you as he slash you. Your arm was blocked from the dagger and felt the pain of the blood spilling bit. You scream in horror. Right away, Mizu strike the men through the heart, letting him fall on the ground as she bend down to take your hand.
Your face turn pale as you saw all the blood everywhere from every men Mizu attacked. You was so focus on that more than what Mizu was trying to say. A bit blur on your mind, you tried hard not to faint. "Are you hurt, dear?" Mizu asks, still trying to held up her hand at you. You were so speechless, you couldn't think what else to say. "Um..." reaches slowly at her arm. Mizu pulled you up holding you still. Your knees were buckled, as you slowly fainted to the ground. But Mizu catches you before you ever landed straight down.
Few hours later, back in the brothel, you were slightly awake, laying down on a purple mat. Looking around, you can see Mizu carefully pulling up her sleeves to see your wound from the arm. She slowly takes your own sleeve away from this deep scar. Felt like your arm was close to get slice up. Before Mizu was able to open the med kit, she sees your eyes watching her. "...you again..." you said quietly.
You've been unconscious for a little while now since the crazy incident happened earlier. Luckily, Mizu kept calming you down, looking at you; with nothing but a soft expression. "I'll take care of your arm. Must stay still and rest. I got you covered." She says, gently taking her time to stitch your arm, which you wince from the pain. You were able to see her for a quite a few seconds before falling back to a deep sleep.
You thought to yourself: (Who was this…this samurai that…saved my life?)
*Aaaha so glad I figure what to write for tonight :D I was so lazy not writing more stories as I'm suppose to. Been having a passion on writing stories for idk how long. So, enjoy this welcoming fanfic of my beloved, Mizu)
Please reblog would be appreciated!
#mizu blue eye samurai#mizu x reader#mizu x you#mizu#blue eye samurai x reader#blue eye samurai#blue eye samurai mizu#fanfic#men dni#mizu x y/n#bes mizu#mizu fanfic#blue eye samurai fanfic#lesbian
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you’re losing me
based on “You’re Losing Me” by Taylor Swift
pairing: Mason Mount x Reader
tw: cursing // mentions of a proposal
a/n: is this good? probably not, but this song makes me sad whenever i listen to it so i just wrote how i pictured a scenario like this going in real life
note: all references to the song will be italicized and lyrics are bolded
You had been dating your boyfriend, Mason, for almost 6 years. You both met all those years ago while you were in England studying abroad. You guys took things slow, and eventually became much more serious about your relationship and nearly 2 years ago you moved in together.
All was great, and you both tried to make time for each other as often as possible, but lately things felt off. Mason was always busy with training, which you understood as it was his job, but he would come home completely drained and not in the mood to do anything with you.
Even while being in the same room, he would barely bat an eyelash at the sight of you entering the room.
“Hey, Mase. Can we talk?” You asked one day as you sat down next to him on the couch. His eyes were still glued to the TV screen in-front of him, but he nodded his head as if signaling for you to keep talking.
“Is everything okay with us?”
“Yeah why?” His gaze moves to you, his eyebrows are scrunched and a confused look is etched across his face. You audibly sigh at his obliviousness.
“Things haven’t been the same, Mase. You’ve been acting off and I’m just trying to figure out why things don’t feel the same”
“We’re fine. Just been busy with football and stressed about the contract” He says as he turns his attention back to the large screen, drowning out any possibility of further conversation taking place. You sigh as you get up and walk out of the room, annoyed as your boyfriend won’t make any effort to resolve the problems in your relationship.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Weeks passed and Mason was as stressed as before, and you felt like you were coming second to his job. You tried to be understanding, but it was hard. You missed the way things used to be between you both.
There was an important event Mason had to attend tonight, and he brought you with him as his date. You wore a beautifully fitted maroon dress, one that was sure to grab Mason’s attention.
Mason was at Carlotta’s studio as she was styling him for the evening, so you both agreed to meet at the venue.
Upon your arrival, you met up with Sophia & Andrea.
“Where’s Mason?” Sophia asked.
“Oh he’s on his way. He sent me a text a few minutes ago” You smiled in attempt to reassure not only them, but also yourself that everything was fine.
“You guys are such a perfect couple. We’re waiting for the day you guys get engaged” Andrea smiled at you as you tried to fake a smile.
After dating for 6 years, people always say things like this: that they’re waiting for day that he proposes to you. Sure, some people wait even longer, but according to his friends & family, he’s always wanted to get married especially to you. You wondered why he hadn’t proposed yet, but you always ignored the thought and focused on the moment.
Minutes later, Mason arrived at the event. You knew because of the hoard of paparazzi & interviewers racing to take pictures of him and interview him before he entered the event.
You touched up your makeup before making your way to the group you were most familiar with, as it was a mix of your boyfriend, his teammates & their girlfriends/wives. You’d grown close with the group over the years.
As you walked over, all eyes were on you, except for the ones you wanted to be on you: Mason’s. He was too indulged in conversation with someone you’ve never seen before, and they certainly weren’t part of your group.
You sparked conversation with everyone else in the meantime, mentally planning how to make Mason see that you were worth his time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As your group sat down to eat at your assigned table, you could tell that Mason was distracted. You were honestly tired of it, and everyone could see that something was up. Just as Mason excused himself to go to the restroom, Christian spoke up.
“Hey Y/n… is everything alright?” Christian asked. He had always been so kind to you, and you considered him like a brother to you.
“Everything’s fine” You lied, plastering a fake smile to your face as you hoped nobody would believe otherwise.
“What’s up with him? He hasn’t been his usual outgoing self” Kai asked and you could simply shrug.
“No idea”
“Have you tried asking him?” Andrea added and you nodded your head at her question.
“He just brushed it off. I’m trying with this relationship, I really am, and I feel like he’s just given up on us” Everyone gave you sympathetic looks and comforting smiles.
“I’m so sorry, Y/n” Was all anyone could say after hearing what you’d told them.
Mason came back moments later, sitting with the rest of the group, clueless that you’d slightly vented to them about your relationship troubles.
There was an opportunity to dance near the end of the event, and you thought it would be a good chance to talk to Mason.
“Dance with me?” You asked, the hope behind your eyes shining brightly until you watched him shake his head.
“I’m tired, love. Go dance with Chris or something” Your face dropped at his words, disappointment and sadness appeared visible on your features as you turned and made your way to the bathroom.
Sophia & Andrea watched the encounter from across the table. Without a single words, both girls got up and made their way to the bathroom, knowing you would need some comfort.
You didn’t even make it to the bathroom before the tears started flowing. You rested against the wall that was hidden from view and slid down, pulling your knees into your chest as tears streamed down your face.
Sophia & Andrea appeared at that moment, crouching down with you. Andrea went to hold your hand and you jumped at the sudden contact.
“Sorry” Andrea mouthed as she sat down fully next to you, with Sophia doing the same.
“It’s okay, Y/n, just let it all out” Sophia said as she rubbed your back gently in attempt to comfort you.
“I’m drained, Soph. I’m trying my hardest to fix this relationship and he’s not even putting effort in. I was hoping to at least get something out of him tonight, some sort of sign that he’s willing to help, but nothings worked. I just wanted him to see me. Not just physically, but emotionally” Andrea handed you a tissue at that moment, allowing you to wipe the flowing mascara from ruining your makeup for the evening.
“It’s just embarrassing. He just turned me down in-front of everyone. My own boyfriend turned me down in a room full of people” Both girls brought you in for a hug.
“I’m really just tired of giving him signs that I’m fighting this battle alone, only for him to ignore them and just keep adding onto the mess that we call a relationship”
“We’re so sorry, Y/n. You of all people don’t deserve this. Try talking to him again, and if nothing works, you tried. You held up your end for as long as you could, and that’s enough. You are enough” You thanked both girls before heading back to the main room and heading to your table.
You didn’t sit next to Mason, but rather the girls and spoke to them. Your encounter with him ruined your night and you weren’t in the mood to speak to him.
Christian made his way back to the table and saw you sitting far from your boyfriend. He gave you a questioning look and you mouthed “I’ll tell you later” to him. He nodded and sat next to you, joining the conversation.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After explaining to Christian what was going on, he was beyond furious with his teammate. You weren’t necessarily in the mood to be near your boyfriend for the time being, but you wanted to go home. Christian offered to drive you back to the apartment you shared with Mason, which you graciously accepted.
You sent Mason a quick text to let him know that you had left and that you would be at home whenever he decided to come back. He read your text but didn’t respond.
You thanked Christian for the ride and he wished you good luck in your impending conversation with Mason.
You settled into the guest room in your apartment, getting under the covers and falling asleep with no issue.
About two hours later you heard the front door open and close, insinuating that Mason was home. You didn’t move; you wanted to see if he would even come looking for you.
News flash; he didn’t. He went straight to your bedroom and fell asleep, not a single thought of you & where you might be passed through his brain.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Every mornin', I glared at you with storms in my eyes
How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'?
I sent you signals and bit my nails down to the quick
My face was gray, but you wouldn't admit that we were sick
The next morning you woke up early. You got up to make yourself coffee/tea (your preference) and a turkey&bacon sandwich to eat as you were rather starving. You saw movement from the corner of your eye and you saw Mason standing there as he watched you.
From his perspective, he had never seen anything scarier than the look in your eyes. You glared at him with storms brewing in your eyes. He had never seen someone so stoic before in his life. He watched as you made eye contact and immediately went back to sipping your drink & eating your sandwich.
He didn’t take the hint and still did his everyday routine.
“Good morning, love” He spoke as he pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head. The nickname only filled you with rage. He hadn’t said the three words you longed to hear in weeks, possibly even months. You felt your face turn gray as your body tensed at the contact.
“We need to talk” You spoke, not a single emotion laced through your words. You were serious. Mason slowly made his way to sit in-front of you.
How long could we be a sad song
'Til we were too far gone to bring back to life?
I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy
And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier
Fighting in only your army, frontlines, don't you ignore me
I'm the best thing at this party (You're losin' me)
“I can’t continue living like this, Mason. We’ve put this off- no. You’ve put this conversation off for long enough. I’ve given you everything I’ve got. Every last ounce of hope I had for us is gone. I’ve tried, I really have tried to be the bravest soldier to fight for us, to keep us strong but I can’t anymore”
“I don’t understand” He said.
“I know you don’t. Last night, I tried so hard to get you to see me, not just physically, but emotionally as well. Fuck, Mason, you didn’t even think to compliment me at all. In fact, you barely even spoke to me. You practically ignored me the entire night. I dressed up for you. I wanted some small ounce of attention from you, in hopes that it’ll signal that maybe you did want to help me fix this, fix us”
“So you’re upset because I didn’t give you attention last night?”
“Oh my god!” You screamed. You were beyond annoyed with this man not taking any hints. You’re being straightforward and he’s just not seeing it.
And I wouldn't marry me either
A pathological people pleaser
Who only wanted you to see her
“What’s going on? Are you just tired of this relationship? Are you tired of me? Are you not wanting us to go forward because you’re afraid of a potential proposal and what our future will look like? I need to know, Mason, because frankly I’ve given up on trying to make this work”
“I’m not ready for the future…”
“Mason that’s understandable, nobody is-”
“…with you…”
“You’re not ready for a future with me? As in, you don’t want to marry me in the future?” You asked he slowly nods his head. You stayed silent for a moment as you took it all in. After a few minutes, you spoke.
“So basically for god knows how long, I’ve been fighting for us to work when you weren’t even happy in this relationship?” He didn’t move. A thick silence filled the air around you.
And I'm fadin', thinkin'
"Do something, babe, say something”
"Lose something, babe, risk something"
"Choose something, babe, I got nothing"
"To believe, unless you're choosin' me"
“I’ll take your silence as a yes then. I won’t waste anymore of both your & my time, Mason. I’ll have my things out of here by the end of the day” And with that, you grabbed your phone from the table and walked out of the kitchen, quickly grabbing a suitcase and a few boxes and started piling your belongings into them.
He didn’t move. He didn’t try to stop you. He just sat there and watched you leave.
Stop, you’re losing me
I cant find a pulse
My heart won’t start anymore
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
taglist
@ithinkimokeei @myheartgoesvroom @mounthings @tall-tanned-tattoo @itsnotgray @alwaysclassyeagle @charlewiss @mortirolo @fallingin20 @chelseagirl98 @lovelynikol16 @username-envy @swimmingismywholelife @pulisicsgirl @notsoattractivearenti @pulisichavertz @fernandezology @bracedes @neverinadream @thoseboysinblue @winterbarnesblog @chaotic-taco-collector-blog
#✎ natalie writes#mason mount#mason mount x reader#mason mount x you#mason mount x y/n#mason mount angst#mason mount fanfic#mason mount imagine
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Please do pavitr x reader please!!
Thanks for the Help
Characters: Pavitr Prabhakar x GN!reader
Genre: Slight angst, Fluff
Summary: After getting sick, you are there to help Pavitr get through it. Thanks for the reqs boo ✨
Warnings: I aged up both the reader and Pavitr to 18 bc there is a slight suggestive scene but nothin to crazy
Notes: this is my first time writing Pavitr so I’m sorry for if it’s ooc.
“You look absolutely terrible, Pav.” You told him. You both were in the nearly empty cafeteria at HQ. He had a runny nose and he was constantly clearing his throat.
“Hey, it’s not that terrible. I’m fine,” he cracked a smile and attempted to get up just for his knees to buckle under.
You caught him before he hit the ground, thankfully. “Someone whose fine wouldn’t fall to the ground like that, Pav. You’re sick and you need to rest so you’ll get better.”
Pavitr struggles out of your grasp and leans on the table to stand, his back facing you. “I am fine, okay. I don’t have time to be sick, Mumbattan needs me. They have nobody else protecting them.”
You grab his shoulders and turn him to face you. You held his face and held it steady, “Listen, I know. You feel like you are the only one who can protect your city and without you, it would fall and crumble to the ground. But you're not alone, Pav. I mean you are literally in a spider society. Plus, you cannot really protect anyone if you're dead on your feet.”
“But I can-” Before he can continue he breaks out into a coughing fit and when he recovers you give him a “I told you so” look. He sighs, “Yea, you're right.”
You start leading him to your room and thankfully Pavitr follows without much fussing. You pulled out some sweatpants and a t-shirt that he should be able to fit. You think that these are Miles’ and Hobie’s clothes that Gwen left. You weren’t totally sure.
“So, do you need help getting dressed or…?” You asked him and in response he gives you a sly smirk and a tilt of his head.
Rolling your eyes, you left the room to give him some privacy. If he can have thoughts like that then he can get dressed himself.
“Okay, I'm good,” you hear Pavitr and you go to check up on him. He was sitting on the very edge of your bed, looking extremely out of place.
“What's wrong, Pav? You wanna go to your room?”
Truthfully you chose your room because it was the one closest to the caf and you wanted him to be in bed quickly. But maybe you should’ve been more considerate about where a sick person would want to be resting at.
“Sorry, do you want to be in your own room? I didn't really consider that.”
“No, no, it’s just I don't want to intrude. And this is my first time being in your room,” he explains to you, avoiding eye contact.
“Oh, no, no you don't have to worry about that, Pav. I’ll go and get some tea for you and vicks for you, okay? And take some cough drops in the meantime. Get comfortable.” And with that you were out the door. You decided to focus on getting the things Pavitr needed rather than what he just said.
This is the first time I'm in your room. Oh and he was in your bed too! Oh, god you didn't think this through. You were so focused on not letting him get out, you didn't even think about it. No, no. He's sick right now. He needs a friend right now, not someone who has a crush. Get yourself together.
You walked back to your room with supplies in hand but then you stopped when you heard Hobie’s voice.
“Mate, what's going on?”
“I'm in her room, in her bed. Dude, I'm freaking out here,” you hear Pavitr answer. “I don't wanna blow it.” It seems like they are talking on the phone.
“So don't blow it then,” Hobie answers casually. “Listen, you are overthinking it because you like her. But like you're sick so just focus on getting better first okay. And let's be honest, if she didn't like you, would she really be doing all of…this? Now go take some cough medicine, you sound like shit.”
No, no you shouldn’t be eavesdropping, it's wrong and weird and what is wrong to you? You decided to drop that train of thought for now and knock to announce yourself.
“Hey Pav,” you greet him with a big smile even though you were screaming on the inside. “So I made you some black tea to help with the sore throat and the Vicks is to help with your stuffy nose.” You place the items on the end table, “Need anything else?”
Pavitr looks up at you with half-lidded eyes and slightly slurred words, “Um, can you put the Vicks on me, please? My arms are heavy, sorry.”
“It's fine, Pav. I told you I'll take care of you and I meant it,” you reply.
You sat on the edge of the bed and started to unbutton the shirt, and you started to rub the substance on his chest. Your gaze met his and god was he beautiful. His eyes, his hair, his smile.
“What are you smiling at?” You asked when you noticed it.
“You. You're really, really pretty,” he answers you and maintains eye contact.
“Oh, Pavitr, listen-” you start off but he interrupts you.
“No, I'm being serious. I've always thought you were pretty and smart and amazing and everything else. I just was too afraid to tell you until now. When I get better, let me take you out on a date?” He confesses to you.
“Oh”, is all you can say while you attempt to take in what you just heard. Because what? “What? What are in these drops?” You reached to grab the bottle but he stopped you.
“It has nothing to do with the drops and everything to do with how I feel about you. I truly mean it.” He tells you. “You probably-“
“Okay, I’ll go. I kinda, sorta, think your amazing too. But you have to do everything I tell you to do. Understand?” You offer to him.
He gives you a beaming smile, “Yea, that’s cool with me.”
Tags: @butterfi, @justbeethings, @jam-skullz, @zomb1te, @dreamxcollide, @shibble, @sciamachy-after-dusk, @sleepdeprivationis4coolkids, @somber-starz, @maypersonne, @hoeboat101, @rosebunny, @midnight-the-shadow-wolf, @mur-docs, @eight-cats-in-a-box, @emgavi, @sawi-06, @707xn, @niktwazny303, @nagi3seastorm, @ghostsimp000, @cloudstrifefantatic, @vixqn, @mewxzx, @yourtsahik, @angelzira, @im-jisoo-im-okay, @itstooearly-its3am, @universallypeanutpizzapersona, @gricelovesu, @sodapopzds, @peter-parkers-gf, @star-light18464, @andhdi68a, @liural, @wraithlueintheirlittleworld, @targaryenstormborn
Taglist & Masterlist & Reqs Info
Reqs are open!!
#pavitr x you#atsv pavitr#pavitr x reader#spiderverse pavitr#pavitr prabhakar x reader#pavitr prabhakar x you#atsv fanfiction#pavitr prabhakar#across the spiderverse#across the spiderverse x reader#spiderman across the spiderverse#atsv x reader
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the perfect father , elias pettersson
note, this was originally written for jacob markstrom but i decided to rewrite it for someone else. just a personal thing. also, this fic is part of the "home with the petterssons" series. check out this masterlist for more.
timeline: this takes place between february 2021-october 2021
pair, elias pettersson x reader
summary, y/n and elias manage to keep a huge secret from the world during quarentine.
warnings, children/kids, pregnancy, covid/quarantine, a little cheesey
word count, 3873 words
(gif not mine)
The NHL schedule was confusing during the regular season, but now you were even more confused with the 2020-2021 season underway. So, to make things easier for you, Elias bought a calendar with your favorite animals and filled it out with all the dates of games.
The calendar really came in handy when planning your doctor's appointment. You had a hunch about what was causing all your sickness and it wasn't a cold.
So, you called the person you knew you could rely on, the one person who would give you the advice you needed to hear and would give you the cold hard truth even if it would hurt.
Holly Horvat.
She did indeed give you the cold hard truth and confirmed your suspicions. She also stayed on the line with you while you booked your appointment.
In the meantime, to ease some anxiety and nerves, you went to the store and grabbed as many pregnancy tests as you could fit in your hands. You purchased them and rushed home as fast as you could.
You sat on the closed toilet lid, head in hand as you waited for your timer to go off. Those two minutes felt like hours. You didn't ever understand that feeling before, but you did now. Time really did go slower.
You and Elias had been together for almost five years, engaged for less than a year, and everything was great. You were great. You had talked about babies briefly, but you talked about it as if it was something in the distant future. After marriage, after a few years more in the league. Clearly, life doesn't always go the way you want it to.
When the timer went off, you jumped out of your skin. You pulled your hands away from your eyes and flipped the tests over, inhaling as you looked at all of them.
"Holy crap." You muttered.
-
“I’m home!” Elias announced a few hours later, walking into the house. He found it strange that Luna, your dog, didn’t immediately run up and greet him. He followed the sound of the TV into the living room, where he found you fast asleep, and Luna curled up around you.
He smiled, turned off the TV, and draped a blanket over you, but not before kissing you on the head. He made his way into the bathroom to take a shower. He was waiting for the water to warm up a little when he spotted something sticking out of the trashcan.
He pulled it out of the trash and his eyes widened. He dug deeper into the trash, not even caring that he was digging into the trash, and looked at all of the tests in front of him, "Holy..." He covered his mouth in shock before he ran as fast as he could to the living room.
He dropped them on the coffee table then shook you awake, "Y/N." He called out, continuing to shake you before you turned around.
"What?!" You snapped, turning around, about to snap at him again, but you stopped when you noticed the tests sitting on the table, "Oh..." You looked back up at Elias, who was looking to you for confirmation, "Surprise." You gave him a nervous smile.
"Really?" He broke out into a smile, and when you nodded, he jumped onto the couch with you and wrapped you in his arms. You hugged him tighter, kissing his cheek as he pulled away, "Are you okay? Do you need anything?" He frantically asked, cupping your face and then looking down at your stomach.
"No, I'm okay." You smiled at his sudden panic, but stopped and thought about it, "Actually..."
"Anything." He stated before you could finish.
"Anything?" He nodded, "That's a lot of responsibility, Mr. Pettersson." You joked.
"I can do it." He nodded.
"If you say so." You shrugged, before listing off the things you wanted at that very moment, which he grabbed from the kitchen with no hesitation.
-
Because your plan to surprise Elias was spoiled, you changed your appointment to a day when Elias would actually be home. When that day finally came, Elias woke up before you and made breakfast big enough to feed a small family.
While you ate, you pointed off to different dishes you didn't want and he gave them to your next-door neighbors, who were thrilled and excited by the Swedish dishes Elias had made.
When it was finally time to drive to the doctor's, he was bouncing off the walls of the car, barely able to contain his excitement, "I really can't go in with you?" He frowned as you slipped your bag onto your shoulder.
"I'm sorry." You pouted, "But I'll ask if I can FaceTime you." You promised.
"Okay." He perked up a little at that, "I love you. Say 'hi' to the baby for me." You smiled, leaning over to kiss him.
"I will." You gave him a salute then were on your way in. You waited anxiously, texting Elias the entire time while you waited.
"Pettersson." You stood up, dropping the magazine sitting in your lap and garnering a few looks from the other people sitting in the waiting room.
"That's me." You announced. The nurse offered you a warm smile and nodded, gesturing for you to follow her. She led you into an empty room and instructed for you to sit down.
"Is this your first time?" She asked, typing a few things into the computer.
"Is it that obvious?" You laughed nervously.
"It's okay." She gave you a smile that let you know she knew what she was doing. After she asked her questions, she quickly took some tests and rushed them off to test. And that left you by yourself in the complete quiet. And in that time, everything started to sink in.
You were pregnant.
You didn't know how much time had passed, you were so stuck in your own little world, but someone knocked on the door, and that shook you from your thoughts. A woman you presumed was a doctor popped her head in and gave you a smile.
"I'm Dr. Rowe, it's nice to meet you." She reached out and shook your hand before she made her way over to the small sink, "Y/N, right?"
"Yes." You nodded. She snapped on a pair of gloves and then sat in the chair next to the big bed-table thing next to you.
"So, we got your results back, and congrats, Mrs. Pettersson, you are pregnant." She told you. You let out a breath you hadn't known you were holding and a choked laugh, "Now, I know this is a little overwhelming, so if you need a minute..."
"I'm good." You shook your head, "I'm ready."
"All right, well, I'm going to walk you through what I'm going to do then do it, is that okay?" She smiled when you nodded again.
True to her word, she walked you through what she was going to do, step by step. She then grabbed all the tools she would need and helped you lie down.
"Can I call my husband? Would that be okay?" You asked.
"Of course." She nodded. You whipped out your phone and immediately dialed Elias' number.
"Is it time?" He asked, picking up before the first ring was over. You and Dr. Rowe laughed.
"Yes." You nodded, flipping the camera around as she squirted jelly onto your stomach.
"All right, let's find a baby." She moved the wand around your stomach. Both you and Elias watched in fascination as she moved the wand and a little blob showed up on the screen.
"Is that-?"
"Your baby." She nodded. Neither you nor Elias could say anything as you stared at the screen in pure awe, "Would you like to hear the heartbeat?" You felt yourself nod and heard Elias say 'yes' immediately again.
She pressed a button on the machine and you were in awe all over again, "Elias..." Was all you managed to say through the tears. A silence enveloped the room, the only thing filling it was the heartbeat of your baby, a sound you had decided was your new favorite.
"Would you like some pictures?" Dr. Rowe asked, breaking the silence.
"Yes, please." You nodded.
You walked out of the doctor's office 10 minutes later, sonogram in hand. You made it back to the car and looked at Elias, "It's real."
"We're actually having a baby." He tearfully smiled.
-
After your appointment, all Elias could talk about was seeing your little baby in a little Pettersson jersey and how cute it would be, so before he came back, you decided to make part of his dream come true.
When Elias finally did have to leave for the little stint of away games, you decided that would be the perfect time to enact your plan. You went to the team store and got a little baby jersey customized, almost crying in your car when you pulled the jersey out of the bag and finally got a look at it.
As soon as you got home, you wrapped the jersey with your nicest wrapping paper, slapped the prettiest bow you owned on it, and began the countdown until Elias would be home.
He wouldn't be home for a few more days, and when he came home, you heard him before you saw him. He came through the door, looking disheveled.
"I'm home." He hummed, dropping his stuff where he stood and making his way over to you quickly, "Did I miss anything? Are you okay? Do you need anything?" He spoke frantically.
"Okay, you need to breathe." You laughed, "I'm fine. We're both fine." You reassured him, "Why don't you get changed and come back out here? I have something for you."
"This feels backwards. I should be bringing you gifts." He laughed.
"Just go." You pushed him towards the bedroom. You waited patiently, trying to keep your excitement at bay. When he finally came back into the kitchen, he looked at the bag on the coutner confused.
"You used the pretty wrapping paper." He pointed out, eyeing the gift suspiciously, "You only use that when it's a good gift."
"Just open the gift, Elias." You told him snappily. He raised his hands in surrender but opened the gift. He froze when he caught a glimpse of the tiny jersey.
He picked up the jersey and held it up so he could look at his name sprawled on the back of it, "Y/N..."
"You talked so much about the baby wearing your jersey, so I got one made." You told him, making your way over to him, "Are you okay?" You asked, worried when you saw he was frozen in place.
"This is perfect." He said, his voice so quiet you almost didn't hear him.
"Oh, Eli." You cooed, wrapping him in a hug.
-
"Cakes here!" Elias shouted from the door. He shut the door with his foot and carried the cake to the kitchen where you were waiting for him.
You looked at each other nervously, not because the cake was bad, but because you were finally, after months of waiting, going to know the gender of Baby Petey, and that thought filled you with both joy and anxiety.
"You ready?" You asked. He nodded, "All right." You took a breath and set up your camera while Elias grabbed the cake cutter from one of the drawers, "Pettersson family gender reveal." You clapped in front of the camera, imitating one of the movie clappers.
Elias pulled the cake out of the box and you both inhaled sharply. He set it down and his hand hovered over the cake cutter. You grabbed his hand and together, you held the cutter.
"One, two, three." You counted down together, then cut into the cake. When you pulled the slice out, you burst into tears.
"A boy!" He cheered, dropping the cutter and wrapping you in a hug, unable to fight his own tears so you stood in your kitchen, crying tears of joy together at the thought of your unborn son.
-
With all the guys away on a roadie, one of the girls decided to have a little get-together at her house so you could all watch the game together.
When you knocked on the door, instead of it being the host, it was Gunner Horvat, who must've seen you through the video camera and ran to the door before anyone could stop him.
"Hi, G." You laughed, "I don't think you're supposed to open the door without an adult." He simply stared at you but raised his arms, wordlessly asking for you to pick him up, "I missed you, too, bud." You laughed when he wrapped his arms around you.
"Let her get in the door, Gun." Holly laughed, grabbing the bag in your hand so you could hold onto the child more easily. She led you to the main room where a few other girls were already.
"Surprise!" They all shouted. You gaped in shock at the scene in front of you. Instead of being a little watch party, there were baby decorations all around the living room and kitchen.
"What the heck?" You gasped, tears filling your eyes as you looked at all the other girls.
"Elias told us you were a little bummed that you couldn't have a gender reveal party, so we decided to throw you a little shower." One of the girls explained with a smile.
"This is so sweet." You smiled tearfully. They led you over and grabbed some snacks before leading you to the living room where a small mountain of presents sat, "Wow."
"We might've gone a little overboard." They all laughed. Before they started, they made sure you had everything you needed and wanted before you began.
You opened so many things you didn't even know you needed but all the other mothers told you you needed. The last present was smaller than the others but they all looked excited for you to open.
You pulled out an exact replica of your special denim jacket with 'Pettersson' on the back. Everything was the same, even down to the special patches you had put on it.
"Wow." You gaped, at a loss for words as you turned the jacket around to look at every detail.
"Do you like it?" You could hear the worry in her voice.
"I love it. It's beautiful." Your eyes filled with tears again, and they all crowded you in a big hug.
-
It was really late. Way too late for you to be up late. It was almost 3 in the morning, and you were awake. Why you may ask? Because the baby wouldn’t stop moving, plus she was craving food.
You knew Elias was asleep. It was evident by the loud snoring. Instead of trying to fall back asleep, you got out of bed. As soon as your feet swung over the edge of the bed, Luna was up and standing next to you.
You smiled when she trotted alongside you towards the living room. By the time you made it to your destination, you were a little tired, but the overwhelming hunger outweighed the tiredness. So, you turned on the TV, before making your way into the kitchen. You grabbed an armful of different snacks and headed back to the living room.
You settled on the couch, the dogs curling into you on each side. You got through half an episode when you heard footsteps coming down the stairs, “What are you doing up? It’s almost 3:30.” Elias rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he made his way over to you on the couch.
“I was hungry, and couldn’t sleep.” You shrugged. He gave you a tired smile and carefully sat down next to you.
“Why didn't you wake me and tell me you were hungry?”
“You looked peaceful, and I just didn’t want to wake you.” You told him.
“I wish you had told me.” He yawned, and you chucked.
“I’ll be sure to do that next time.” You nodded.
"How's baby?" He asked sleepily, leaning his head on your shoulder.
“He doesn’t know when it’s time to play and when it’s time to sleep.” You told him, looking down at your bump and rubbing it.
“And how are you?”
“I’m really tired.” You admitted, looking over at him. When you finally met his eyes, he could see how tired you really were.
He grabbed your hand and pressed a few kisses to it. He grabbed the chip bags surrounding you and took them back to the kitchen. By the time he got back, your eyes were drooping, and you were on the verge of sleep.
“Come on. Let's get you to bed." He got off the couch and helped you get up too. He placed a kiss on your head before leading you down the hallway, back towards your bedroom.
He helped you get situated back in bed, tucking you in and making sure you were comfortable. He then climbed in next to you, "Sleep well." He whispered, caressing your cheek. He made sure you were asleep before he fell asleep.
-
Your due date was a few days away, and both you and Elias were getting very excited. Every day, you would wake up, and waddle down the stairs where Elias was already making breakfast. You would sit at the kitchen island, and the two of you would talk about the dreams you had the previous night.
You would spend most of the day lounging around the house. Either watching TV, reading books, going for drives, organizing the house again, it was the same thing every day.
Then, after dinner, the two of you would go out for a walk with the dogs. It was really the only outside interaction you would get all day unless you went out to the backyard.
The night was no different. After dinner, you grabbed your jackets and leashed up the dogs. All throughout the day, you had stomach pain. You brushed it off all the time as stomach pain. Elias usually walked ahead because he had quicker strides, but never too far because he was protective.
You were walking in silence when a sharper pain hit you, and you let out a pained noise. That caught Elias' attention, and he whipped around, “What is it? What’s wrong?” He asked, cupping your face with one hand, while his other went down to your stomach.
“I-” Before you could finish, you felt a wave of liquid trickle down your leg, “I think I’m going into labor.” You winced. You looked at him and saw all the color drain from his face, “What are you doing?!” You hit him in the arm when he didn't move, “We gotta go.”
That snapped him out of it, “Come on, baby. Let’s get you to the hospital.” He helped you walk, well waddle, back towards the house, “Breath baby, breath.” He kept telling you and placing kisses on your temple.
-
“He's beautiful,” Elias whispered as he leaned down over your shoulder to look at the newborn.
“He's perfect.” You smiled at him, cradling your son closer to your chest. Leonardo Michael Pettersson was perfect in every way. When you called and told Brock that you had given Leo his middle name, he almost cried.
Elias had been nothing but supportive throughout the whole process. He waited on you hand and foot, the same way he had all throughout your pregnancy, getting you whatever you asked. He even let you curse at him, and squeeze his hand which was the least he could do.
A few hours after birth, you had fallen asleep, leaving Elias and the baby alone. Elias was sitting in the chair next to your bed without a shirt, cradling little Leo to his chest. He had read somewhere that skin-to-skin contact was good for babies, so he figured he would give it a try. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the little baby.
“We’re so happy you’re here.” He whispered. Leo couldn't understand a word he was saying, but he looked up at him with his big blue eyes. His blue eyes, “We waited so long for you, and now that you’re here, you’re gonna be so spoiled.” He pressed a kiss to his chubby cheek.
“You’re already so loved. You have aunts and uncles who are so excited to meet you.” Somewhere in between his conversation, you started to wake up, but kept your eyes closed, “And of course mommy and I are so happy you’re here.” He added.
You continued to listen to Elias talk to Leo, and it warmed your heart. You knew, from the moment you told him you were pregnant, and he started taking care of you and telling you not to lift a finger, you knew he was gonna be a great father.
And boy were you right.
-
5 months later, February 2022
After months of waiting, you finally got the clearance for Leo to a game, and Elias was thrilled. You slipped the little Pettersson jersey on him, a surprise Elias didn't know you had in store for him.
You bundled him up in a blanket, and even got a little beanie with the number 40 embroidered on the top of it, "Papa is so excited for tonight, and you probably won't remember anything, but it's such a big night." You whispered as you got Leo ready.
You parked yourself in front of the arena, standing alongside a few of the other girls and their kids, as you waited for the guys to skate out.
When they skated out, Elias did his usual skate around the ice, tossing a few pucks over the glass to a few fans, and shooting at the net a few times, before he finally skated around to where you were standing.
You couldn't help but smile when you saw the smile on his face. His face showed nothing but pride as he watched Leo sleep. He blew you a kiss, then blew a kiss at Leo, who blissfully continued to sleep.
He tossed a puck over and one of the guards standing in front of the ice caught it and handed it over to you, "Thank you." You smiled at the man, slipping it into the bag and gathering your stuff.
After the game, and an OT goal from Elias which he chalked up to dad strength in a post-game interview, you finally met up with him in the parking garage.
"I'm so proud of you." You wrapped him in a hug before he could get into the car, "An overtime goal." You cheered.
"I had my good luck charms with me." He beamed, kissing your head and then kissing Leo's. When he pulled away, he finally noticed the jersey and gaped, "It's the jersey."
"It felt fitting for his first game." You shrugged with a smile.
"It's perfect." He picked up Leo carefully and cradled him to his chest, kissing his head again, "I love you." He leaned down, leaning his forehead against yours.
"I love you, too." You hummed, leaning up to kiss him.
-
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#this has been sitting in my drafts since january so you better like it and you better enjoy it#elias pettersson imagine#elias pettersson imagines#elias pettersson x reader#elias pettersson fic#elias pettersson blurbs#elias pettersson#nhl imagine#nhl imagines#nhl fic#nhl blurbs#nhl#hockey imagine#hockey imagines#hockey fic#hockey blurbs#hockey#vancouver canucks imagines#vancouver canucks imagine#vancouver canucks fic#vancouver canucks blurbs#vancouver canucks#taylor writes#taylor writes: hockey#home with the petterssons series#home with the petterssons#dad!elias
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spiderman!ellie
I saw this TikTok and I'm having thoughts. I feel like I've had a revelation because Ellie and Andrew Garfield's Peter Parker give off the exact same energy. Dorky losers who are somehow simultaneously cool, especially when they're in their element. They even look similar. And they both have hot gfs. Oh, sorry. I should say they both had hot gfs.
Just imagine Ellie being confident and goofy when she's in the suit, but then when she actually has to see you face-to-face, she gets all blushy and nervous. The angst! College!Ellie?? Joel as Aunt May?? And her doing the little spidey pose!
I'm actually disintegrating. Someone help.
I'll be posting what could potentially be the start of a spiderman!ellie series very soon. In the meantime, here's a sneak peek ;)
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
"Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. It's just-I forgot my phone and I..."
You stop in your tracks after taking a better look at her. She's cute. Her face is covered in a constellation of freckles, and her eyes are the same shade of green as the Nirvana t-shirt beneath her flannel. From this side, you can see the piece of soft, auburn hair that's fallen from her up-do. Your hand twitches forward, as if to push it back where it belongs.
But that's not all you realize. You've seen her before. You're sure of it, but you can't seem to place where. Those green eyes. It would be hard to forget being under their scrutiny.
She's still gathering her notes, but there are so many papers that she's crumpling them all. Your hands reach over to pull hers away, and you begin to place the papers in a neat stack.
You don't miss the sharp inhale she takes when your hand grazes hers. She reaches over to begin storing the chemicals of whatever project she's working on. Her nervous energy is rubbing off on you, and you feel your heart start to race.
She's the first to break the silence.
"No, God, please don't apologize. I didn't mean to... never mind."
Her mind seems to be following your train of thought because she says, "You're in Huxley's Gen Chem, right? Are you..." she pauses, eyes turning up in thought, "Y/N?"
"Yeah, that's me! I knew you looked familiar. You're in there helping sometimes, right? What's your name again?"
She quirks an eyebrow. "You don't know my name?"
You think she's teasing, but you can't be sure. The apples of your cheeks heat up under her gaze. The room feels too hot, like a sweltering July afternoon.
"No, I know your name. I just wanna know if you know your name?" you say, the corner of your mouth turning up.
She lets out a shaky laugh and pulls her bag out from under the desk. Taking the stack of papers from your hands, she shoves them into the front pocket.
"Ellie," she says.
You motion for her to keep going. There are a million girls named Ellie in New York.
"Sorry," she says, rubbing the back of her neck with her free hand. "Williams. Ellie Williams."
"Okay, good. Just had to make sure."
She nods. In the split second you look away, she manages to clear the rest of her supplies from the table.
All that's left is a single sheet of paper on the floor that she missed. You reach down to grab it, and Ellie's eyes widen. She shoots down to the floor to grab it before you can, but you don't miss the comically large letters titling the page.
Web Fluid Version 3.01
"Web fluid?" you let out a laugh. "Are you Spiderman or something?"
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
#hundredandsix#ellie tlou#ellie williams x y/n#ellie williams#ellie williams x female reader#lesbian#tlou#ellie x reader#ellie williams x you#ellie williams imagine#ellie x y/n#spiderman!ellie#spiderman#peter parker#joel miller#spiderman x reader#spiderman x y/n
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Even Though I’m Leaving
Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader
Natasha says goodbye to your daughter before leaving for a mission
Note: Soft mama Nat! It’s based on the country song with the same title, but doesn’t end sad I promise. It’s just some kiddo fluff. Enjoy!
Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist
“Do you have to go?” You hear your daughter asking Natasha while she tucks her into bed. You stand at the door and let Nat answer her.
It’s the same question she asks before Nat leaves for any mission. You want to ask her the same thing sometimes, but Ali always beats you to it.
“I do. But it’s going to be okay, malyshka,” Nat says.
“Mama, I’m afraid,” Ali says.
“What are you afraid of?”
Ali shrugs, but when Nat softly grabs her little hand she mumbles, “Monsters.”
“Monsters?”
The little girl nods. Nat squeezes her hand three times.
“There are no monsters in your room. I promise,” Nat assures her.
“They know when you leave.”
“Ah,” Nat realizes this is about much more than monsters. “I’ll be back so fast, baby. And in the meantime, Mommy is here to protect you.”
“Mommy?” Ali calls for you.
“I’m right here, sweetheart,” you say, stepping into the room.
“Were you there the whole time?” Ali asks.
“Maybe.” You reply with a chuckle.
“Mommy is always eavesdropping,” Nat teases.
You sit on the other side of Ali’s bed and she takes your hand in her other one.
“We’re always here, my love,” you tell her.
“Not Mama,” Ali says, a frown rests on her lips.
Natasha’s eyes glance to you for a moment and you give her a nod. She’s got this.
“Ali, just because I’m leaving doesn’t mean I’m really going anywhere. You can close your eyes and see me. You can ask Mommy for a picture or video, or better yet I can try and call you tomorrow. How does that sound?”
The girl nods, but still doesn’t seem assured.
“Hey, I love you Alianovna,” Natasha says. “I know you’re scared when I’m gone but I promise I’m always right here with you.”
Natasha points to Ali’s heart and the girl grins.
“Will you stay a little longer?” She asks.
“Of course,” Natasha answers. She moves up next to Ali and lays next to her. The young girl slips into Nat’s arms.
Nat kisses her head and Ali’s eyes droop closed.
“I’m gonna stay a minute,” Natasha tells you.
“Stay as long as you need, baby. I love you.”
“I love you too, detka.”
You leave your two girls with a kiss to their foreheads. Natasha drifts off to sleep with Ali in her arms. She’ll wake up in the morning long before the kids and leave you with a kiss.
Even though she’s leaving, she’ll always be right there with you and your family. And she’ll come home to you.
#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff#soft natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff fluff#natasha romanoff comfort
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Don had been quick to rush out of the plane to get the infirmary ready, but Leo found it was hard for him to put too much urgency into his movements. Twice now Donnie had reacted better to slow, careful motions than abrupt ones. So Leo found he was continuing to be a lot more gentle and careful than strictly necessary when picking him up. He was completely limp, even after having had two and a half hours of sleep. But at least a little bit of color had returned to his skin now. At least Leo thought he looked a little less pale. When both teens were asleep Don had shown Raphael and Leo the video of what Augustine had ordered to be done, and through it they had learned the assistants had taken nearly a liter of blood from Donnie, along with cutting tissue samples from him. It had been enough to get Raphael rapidly walking the length of the plane several times to calm down, and gave Don more of an idea on how to take care of Donnie. Leo just understood a little more why Donnie had reacted defensively towards him, and hoped the teen didn’t wake up in the middle of them treating him.
“Thank April,” Leo found himself saying distractedly to Mom April as she welcomed them home. It was always nice to get a hug from her, but Leo found he was too anxious to stick around and fully catch them up on everything. “I’m okay, can we talk later? Maybe over dinner? You guys might be able to meet the kids then too.”
“...Sure thing, Leo,” Mom April relented, noting how absent he seemed and not wanting to stress him out more. He always had been the one to worry a lot. Even when they were kids.
Leaving them with Mikey, Leo moved quickly to the infirmary to find Raphael sitting near the surgery table with Lil Mikey in his lap, and Don scurrying around the room to gather the supplies he needed. “Over there, Leo,” Don directed, pointing to one of the beds he’d already started gathering items next to. Obediently following the directions, Leo gingerly lowered Donnie to the soft mattress, silently praying that he didn’t wake up just yet. At least they were all breathing better after each getting at least one dose of the antidote. Leo could only wait patiently for Don to finally stop at the bedside, slipping his tactical sleeves off in the meantime, and by then Raphael had managed to convince Lil Mikey to accept treatment and was casually chatting away with him.
“Okay, I think I got everything. Can you support him so his back is to me? I need to figure out how to get that device off,” Don directed, sounding just slightly breathless. Wordlessly doing as he was directed once again, Leo pulled Donnie upright to lean forward against him, looking over the metal backpack from his angle as well to try and help Don figure out how to safely remove it.
“Hey!” Lil Mikey’s voice suddenly grabbed their attention while Don was running his fingers over the cool metal. “Don’t take that off! He needs it!”
The scolding caused Don to flinch, and turn to look over at the other table. “...Needs it as in it’s physically attached to him and offering some sort of life supporting function?” he asked, wanting clarification on what exactly Lil Mikey meant so he could judge if he actually needed to obey his demand, or explain that it was necessary to remove it. He didn’t want to ignore Lil Mikey’s concerns, but he wasn’t sure if they would hinder treatment for Donnie despite being in good will.
“N-no… Nothing like that. It’s just… it’s not safe for him to have it off. Especially when away from home,” Lil Mikey faltered, having not thought his choice of words would make the others think Donnie was some sort of cyborg.
“...Mikey, it’s okay. You’re both safe here,” Raphael assured, reaching out to rest his palm on Lil Mikey’s shoulder.
“Even if it’s a prosthetic, it’s not safe to wear one while sleeping. And I need to check him for injuries. We saw evidence that Augustine’s people may have done something to his back…,” Don explained gently, understanding that Lil Mikey was still wary despite everything that had happened. He couldn’t expect the teens to trust them fully just yet.
It seemed that mentioning that something may have happened to Donnie’s back was enough to get Lil Mikey to completely flip his stance, sucking in a tense breath and wiggling his feet as he considered. “...There’s a button on the inside of the right shoulder,” he relented, frowning miserably. “Just make sure to be super extra careful, okay?”
“We’ll be extremely careful. Don’t worry,” Don assured, grateful for the tip on where to find the trigger to release the device. Once he knew where to look Don quickly found the button and pressed it, marveling as the shoulder pieces flexed outward with a slight hiss, and the belt went slack. “Fascinating…” he breathed, earning a chuckle from Leo as he hefted the metal aside, distracted by trying to get a quick analysis of it while he moved it away..
As Don took the equipment a short ways away, Leo adjusted his grip to keep Donnie supported against him, resting his hands on the teen’s back. But what he felt caused him to stiffen in shock, suddenly afraid to move. His fingers were able to push into what should have been a hard keratin shell, and when his gaze snapped down he saw a significantly flatter shell with four jagged marks across the surface. “....Donnie get back here now,” Leo blurted rapidly, flexing his fingers just slightly to make sure he wasn’t imagining things.
“What is it- Oh!” Don rushed, semi dropping the backpack device the rest of the way to the floor and rushing back over to them. What he saw caused him to freeze as well, but then he gingerly reached out his fingers to brush against Donnie’s back. “...Oh wow…”
“It’s soft right? What does that mean? Is that bad? Shells aren’t supposed to be soft,” Leo rambled, his concern overflowing and pushing his bubbling thoughts to words before he could fully consider them. What had Augustine’s people done? Was it shell rot? Was it some crazy experimental garbage Augustine had infected him with?
“He’s a softshell you idiots. Stop manhandling him!” Lil Mikey blurted irritably, offended on behalf of his brother for the other two curiously running their hands all over his back. “So rude,” he huffed, creating small chains to wrap around Don’s wrists and pull them away.
“Sorry!” Don gasped, snatching his hands back as the orange chains broke him from his stupor, and not minding Lil Mikey scolding him. “Sorry- Let me just… do some quick research- I thought you were both box turtles like us…,” he rambled, pulling his phone out to access the internet.
“Ohmigosh- He’s not an alien. Just treat him like me, but be extra careful, and make sure you clean your hands and everything you use. Leo- my brother says he’s prone to infections. He’s always using antibiotic stuff on him and making sure he gets washed up properly for even small cuts. Otherwise he does everything else pretty much the same,” Lil Mikey huffed again, rolling his eyes in exasperation.
The interaction caused Raphael to snicker despite the situation. He didn’t want to admit he was curious to head over and take a peek for himself, but he figured Lil Mikey would probably throw him across the room with his chains if he did. So he decidedly remained where he was and continued to be amused from afar.
Don listened to what Mikey said, but also sped read through a few sites and different search parameters before he grew more relaxed and sure of his thoughts. “Infection… right, that would explain the fever,” he spoke, mostly to himself, then nodded firmly. “Okay. I got this. Leo, go ahead and lay him back down, then get some water and antibacterial soap. They both need to be cleaned up, and I’ll check the incision sites…”
Leo wasn’t quite as sure of himself as Don was, but at least he had directions now. What Don said made sense to him. If Donnie got infections easily then getting him cleaned up from the grim on him was a priority. Resting him back on the bed, Leo darted off to fetch a soft rag, soap, and water so he could wash off the debris from Augustine’s facility. Don had returned to his focused state after he started peeling the bandaids off, carefully inspecting each injury as he did so. He could at least count it a small blessing that Augustine had apparently ordered only the smallest possible samples be taken. The cuts were only 15 millimeters wide, and less than a millimeter thick. But it looked like they were pretty deep, and Don gingerly cleaned each wound again before rubbing antibiotic ointment on them and getting them covered again.
It didn’t take long before Don had finished addressing the injuries, started an IV with a small amount of antibiotics added to it, and strapped a heart monitor to Donnie’s finger just in case. When he began pulling a blanket over Donnie and tucking him in, Leo knew the treatment was done for now, and asked what he’d been wondering for a while now. “Is he going to be okay?”
Don paused for a second to think, but nevertheless nodded. “I think so. Aside from the bloodloss there isn’t anything incredibly concerning. I think he’s just incredibly exhausted, and that’s why he hasn’t woken up yet. We’ll need to keep an eye on him of course, but at this point I think it’s safe to just let him sleep. The IV fluids will help until his body restores the blood he lost, and we’ll need to get him a good meal when he’s up. But he’ll be fine.”
The explanation, and plans for what to do later, earned a sigh of relief from Leo. It could have been much, much worse. He was glad that, aside from Lil Mikey’s gunshot wound, nothing seemed to be critically serious. “I’ll go check what Mikey is cooking then. And let Master Splinter know we’re all home safe, in case he’s still up.”
“You know he is,” Don gave a small grin, and slight shake of his head.
Leo just laughed quietly, rising to his feet to head to the exit. “Yeah, I know.”
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the fun thing about adding drawings to these is that I can throw in random lil details without derailing the story X'D
Also after seeing some of the comments, don't worry, they're all gonna be fine. I don't believe in hurt without comfort =3= Donnie is just taking an extreme nap to process all the overstimulation and stuff.
#my art#rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#tmnt 2003#rise + 2003 crossover#cross dimension kidnapping#writing#long post#lookit these dummies being confused about a softshell#medical treament#description of injury
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