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zoropookie · 2 days

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WHAT YOU WON'T DO FOR LOVE (WYWDFL) — THREE

YOU couldn't be having a worse halloween night. choose your fate with your fellow readers and see if it gets better!

chapter two — chapter four

soulmate!wanderer x gn!reader

I need to run, like yesterday.

That was the only thought that multiplied in your mind, similar to a bird attempting to flock to their kin yet again. Your thought immediately shredded into tiny ribboned fabric and sawdust, scrambled and incoherent to you, no matter how much you attempted to find it.

Those footsteps were coming for you, no matter how close, no matter how far. Over something you thought you'd only see on TV, at that. Didn't even think murder was real until now. Your heart remained in your throat...until your fight or flight propelled you.

Your chest ached in uncertainty, not being able to breath as deeply as you needed to, too afraid of being caught, but not afraid enough to spot your next opening. Or to be more accurate, the opening in the bushes and greenery that lead back to your (probably compromised) apartment.

Who the fuck's idea was this to even "check out what was going on"? Oh...wait.

You propelled yourself off the wall to give yourself a boost in your sprint towards the bushes. Adrenaline took your body and shot within your veins like a bullet, legs stretching distances you didn't even think you could do before. The air of the night was thick to you, every sound was amplified in your ears— the rustle of leaves, the distant hum of the nearby city, and the brutal pounding of your own heartbeat urging you to just run.

Branches and thorns scraped against your skin as you dove into the nature, dense foliage closing around your costume like protective cocoon and also shredding some of the fabric that you wore. Making a swift turn, you ducked your whole body beneath the low rising canopy of the trees, loose material making small rips with each movement as some of the branches even scraped your face.. You couldn't mind it; you didn't dare stop.

Making a swift turn, you ducked your whole body beneath the low rising canopy of the trees.

Finally breaking out of the trees, the glare of the saturated orange street light broke your vision and you managed to find yourself staggering after the panic. You sucked in deep and uneven breaths, each one feeling like fire in your lungs. You wheezed, the pavement under your feet was a stark contrast to the pinching and piercing of the environment.

You held onto the light pole of the lamp post for dear life, trying to keep yourself on your feet. "Oooh," You groaned, wincing. "Shit..." You hissed in pain.

Glancing back, your heart moved with an uneven rhythm, urging you to keep moving. The quietness stretched far, which make you uneasy. It was dead quiet in the little suburban street stretching ahead, eerily still, the only sound was your manual breathing as you turned your head to look back.

Maybe he didn't see you after all?

You took this opportunity to remove all of the accessories that weren't completely ripped off your body, groaning at the dull ache that already surrounded your ankles from the stupid plastic/foam leggings you decided to wear with the costume as a joke. Wasn't very funny anymore, was it? The edges completely stabbed into your ankles when you were running, causing an open wound you had no choice but to limp on.

Starting your travels back home again, you walked, or rather limped across the parking lot of this permanently closed restaurant you used to go to all the time with Yoimiya. The breeze picked up rapidly, an icy whisper dragging against your bare skin in its undertones and leaving you chills on your body.

Sure enough, there that guy was. Stood directly under the street light, his cap still pulled down to hide his eyes and the cast of the light of an ominous shadow around him. He stood dead still. Watching you.

You were mortified, looking in disbelief as you stiffened. You didn't even know what to say, or respond with, other than scrambling back and hoping he got the hint that you didn't want issues.

He took long strikes, making your efforts useless. He gave a small and halfhearted laugh at your rigidness. "Relax," His voice smooth and light, void of burden as though he didn't just murk a guy X Games mode and you didn't just watch him. "I won't hurt you."

"You won't?" You said skeptically, a lot louder, and a lot more dull than anticipated. "Uh...could have had me fooled, mister...killer, psycho killer sir. Hey, we can always call truce, ya know? I know a few criminals myself, and uh...know what, let's just grab a bite to eat or something! My tr..eat!"

As he was still approaching you, and you were spluttering every single thought you had in mind to keep you at bay while treading back in a struggle, the breath that you just caught was knocked out of you like the wind. You stumbled back, falling straight on your ass just as he stalked towards you.

"Hm." He was practically stood over her, smiling at the sheer terror on your face. "You're so tense...so weak. I could snap your neck if I really wanted to."

"You...you definitely could, yeah!" You laughed nervously, a frown immediately lodging itself back onto your face after a moment. "Are you..?"

This close, you could see the drips and smears of blood that laced his hands and the side of his face. It made your stomach churn...and then you saw a mark on that same crimson hand.

A familiar mark? You would have elaborated further on that thought if the man didn't continue, "No." His lip twisted a little more. "I just thought of something a lot more fun."

"Like...bouncy-house fun, right?" You stammered. "Like...clown at a birthday party fun? Not my kind of fun, but still...pretty fun!"

"Sure." His voice remained silky, but a lot more sultry than you expected. It was like everything he did was something that he actually really got off to! "Eager to find out already?"

Oh my fucking god, you're in the presence of a necrophiliac, aren't you.

#zoropookie #wywdfl #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin scaramouche #genshin #genshin impact #genshin smau #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin x you #genshin x yn #scaramouche x yn #scaramouche x you #self insert #kunikuzushi #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer x reader #wanderer x you

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kindlingkeen · 2 days

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Keen!! No pressure or anything but will you ever write Jason&Damian-centric fics? hehe

Dick finds him on the top of the Old Gotham Cathedral at dawn.

Jason hears the sound of boots touching down behind him and doesn’t bother to turn around. Nightwing has always had a different cadence to his landing than the Bat. It’s lighter, softer. He can never really suppress the bounce to his step.

Jason runs his hand over the head of the stone gargoyle to his right once more, the weather-roughened stone catching against his bare palm.

“I’ll be gone by tonight,” he says evenly. “I just had a few things to take care of while I was in town.”

“Hood,” Dick calls softly, “Jason, please.”

Jason hunches deeper into his hoodie. He feels naked without his leather jacket.

In front of him, the Gotham’s skyline stretches out. The buildings are bathed in the pink rays of the newly rising sun. For a moment, the city’s darkness, the poison-riddled grime that covers everything, fades away in the sun’s burgeoning glow.

“What do you want, Wing?” Jason asks irritably.

Dick’s boots scuff against the roof's slate tiles as he moves closer. Jason knows Nightwing can be absolutely silent when he wants to. His shoulders climb up higher, practically to his ears. He doesn’t turn around.

“Aren’t you going to ask about the kid?”

“No,” Jason grinds out, ignoring the way his stomach twists. His hand clamps down hard against the gargoyle’s head, his fingers digging into the stone. He feels one of his thumbnails crack and tear.

“He stabbed Tim.”

Jason snorts softly as he rolls his shoulders back slowly, letting his hand fall away from the statue to rest in his lab. “I warned you about letting him near weapons.”

“It was a butter knife!”

Jason huffs a breath out his nose, amused in spite of himself. He pretends not to notice when Dick plops down onto the roofline three feet away from him. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches as the vigilante hunches forward, propping an elbow onto his knee with a sigh as he drops his chin into his hand. Even with Nightwing’s domino in place, Jason can feel Dick’s eyes boring into the side of his face.

“Jay, he’s refusing to speak in anything except Arabic. B is the only one who can understand him.”

The tilt to Jason’s lips falls away. “Don’t call me that. And the kid knows English. He’ll come around.”

“He’s not even five years old. He lost his mother. His home. He got dragged halfway around the world only to be left with strange people in a strange place.”

Jason glances over sharply, finally meeting Dick’s gaze directly.

“Does the Bat know you’re here, Wing?”

Dick grimaces. “He won’t stop asking for you, Jason. He cried himself to sleep last night, and the only thing he would say was your name.”

Pain lances through Jason’s chest as white-hot heat clogs his throat.

“What are you to him, Jason? You bringing him here—it’s more than just you owing Talia a favor.”

Nightwing’s white lenses stare at him unblinkingly. Jason looks away.

“You still haven’t told me what you want, Wing. You can’t guilt trip me into something if I don’t know what you’re asking for.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Dick says softly, “Come home, Jason. Please, we need you.”

Jason surges to his feet, stumbling back a step before he catches himself. The scar across his neck throbs.

“The manor isn’t my home,” he rasps. “Not anymore. I’m not welcome there.”

Dick springs gracefully to his feet, following Jason’s retreat with measured steps as Jason continues to back away slowly across the roof.

“It is, you are,” he entreats, and then more softly, “please, for Damian. He needs you.”

Jason swallows, his throat working. He feels the echo of a warm weight in his arms, soft hair tickling his face, the fresh, clean smell of a baby wafting thickly through his nose.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” Jason whispers, his voice cracking at the end. But he stops moving away.

He can see the knowledge that he’s won wash over Dick’s face a second before the man smiles tentatively. Jason scowls in return.

“One week,” he spits out. “Just until the kid settles in. And the Bat stays out of my way. Don’t start playing happy families in your head.”

Dick’s smile grows. “Sure, Jay, whatever you want.”

“Don’t call me that,” Jason grumbles. But he follows Dick off the roof all the same.

~~~

More details on this AU in progress here.

#the answer is yes anon #if that wasn't clear #but this one is a long way off from seeing the light of ao3 #jay and dami meet in the loa #post aditf au #baby dami #damian wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne #batman #keen converses #tumblr drabbles #my fics

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pyrepostings · 2 days

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Cw: blood mentioned, needles, noncon drugging, noncon use of a straitjacket, defiant whumpee, old timey abusive mental asylum setting, medical whump, carewhumper, multiple whumpers, accidental self inflicted wounds

Whumpee bit down, hard, on the hand clasped over his mouth, and simultaneously pulled his free hand out of the grasp of the second orderly. He pushed, and headbutted, and somehow managed to scramble away, to underneath the nearest hospital bed. Despite the ringing in his ears, he heard the orderlies he just escaped cursing him out.

He was under no illusion that he was safe now, but he couldn't just stand there and let them do what they want with him. He had just earned the right to not wear the straitjacket in the common room, and now a simple mistake was going to erase all of that. He wasn't going to just let it happen.

He heard the door opening, and chatter. The one he had bit was getting chewed out for putting his hand near a patient's mouth. He struggled to control his breathing. He just needed the steadiness to undo the buckle of the hand they restrained with the hand they didn't get to. He knew he was smearing blood over the white canvas fabric, but he just needed it off-

the chatter was gone, replaced by the sound of a pair of women's heels walking towards him. With the jacket off, he balled up tight. There was only one pair of legs in the room he could see, but he wouldn't put it past them to be perched on one of the beds. His breathing was still too ragged for him to try to listen for others' telltale breaths to give away an ambush. Still, he pushed himself away from the side of the bed she was on.

She didn't do anything at first. Listening, probably. He pulled his knees to his chest, ignoring the pain in his bad leg from the struggle, and running his hand through his hair while he still had the chance. He needed to calm down. He wouldn't be able to escape, but there had to be a way to put off the torture, for just a little while longer. He couldn't find it if he couldn't calm down and think-

"whumpee?" She called, as if she knew him. As if she wouldn't hurt him like the rest. "Whumpee, I want to help you. My name's caretaker. Can you come out from under there please?"

Whumpee couldn't help the strangled laugh that bubbled out of him. Oh, she was here to help. Like they always were. Right before they stab him in the back. She wore enough of the uniform to tell him she wasn't on his side. No, he would not come to her beck and call, heeling for her like a trained dog. She would have to drag him out, kicking and scratching and biting if she wanted to put him in a jacket again, or to prick his neck with sedatives.

"Whumpee, they told me you were hurt pretty badly. I just need to clean and bandage the wound, how's that sound hm?" He could see as she crouched down and spoke.

He shuffled further away. "No. No, I won't please don't-" his pleas were barely audible. The was no point in making sure she could hear them, she wouldn't listen anyway. She would have him punished. But it was a mistake, a slip of the hand. He just wanted to go home.

"whumpee, if you don't come out on your own, or at least talk to me, I'm going to have to call the boys back in, and we're going to have to drag you out from under there. You don't want that, do you?" Her voice was sickly sweet, and did nothing to draw him out.

If she wanted to drag him out, she could do that. But he wasn't going to just let her. He watched her feet like a cornered animal would watch a tigress, knowing she could smell blood on the wind, which wasn't all that dampened by his clutching his injured hand to his chest.

She lost her patience eventually, and did as she said she would. The original two orderlies were called back, and they circled the bed, hunting strategy now much closer to that of wolves.

Between the three of them, he didn't have a side to back out of, couldn't fight them all off. They all crouched down, and he curled on his back, gripping the bed frame from below. He heard them coordinating, but it did him little good as hands were on him, twisting into his clothes, yanking his deteriorated limbs free.

He was soon out, and he struggled. He clawed and spat and bit and snarled, but they pinned him down on the floor and he soon felt the needle pierce his skin and steal his fight.

He felt his resolve drain from him like pouring water from a cup, coating his limbs and nerves in cement. He could barely keep his eyes open as they lifted him to put him in the jacket, stopping only to wipe the blood on his hand away and bandage it.

It was over. There was no use fighting anything anymore.

He let them manhandle him to the bed, not listening to their orders but knowing they weren't expecting him to anyway.

The thick leather straps were overkill, but it meant they would leave him alone for awhile to let him cry in peace.

#PyrePrompts #This is a direction I thought about taking free birds and fiddlers but I decided on sending him to an actual prison instead #So now you get this as an independent drabble #Whump drabble #Whump writing #Cw needles #cw blood #whump scenario #whumpee #whumper #whump #Medwhump

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blackcherryvelvet0909 · 2 days

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Porcelain Penance (Sebek Zigvolt & Diasomnia)

Content Warning: Minor blood and injury, self-deprecation, light angst Note: Commission for @riktorart ! Thank you so much! <3 <3 Loosely inspired by Edgar Allan Poe's "The Tell-Tale Heart"

***

Schink, schink, tink - CRASH!

No…no, no, no, NO! This couldn’t be! This could not be happening! How could he have made such a grievous error? He, Sebek Zigvolt, his highness’s most trusted attendant, second only to the honorable Lilia Vanrouge? Sebek, who the young lord trusted with such crucial tasks; the high prince, who left his very well-being and comfort in Sebek’s capable hands? How could Sebek Zigvolt make such a grave mistake?!

Sebek fell to his knees as he beheld the crime scene that was his own doing. Black porcelain shards - a few tinged with chartreuse, chestnut brown, white, and blue violet - were scattered across the floor. Just moments before, they had made the elegant body of a porcelain mug. The beverage bearing vessel was bestowed upon the bastion of Briar Valley shortly after his enrollment into Diasomnia. It was a most precious gift that Lord Malleus used often; it would serve that purpose no more. Its remains twinkled across the hard stone floors, like winking stars in the night sky.

Sebek didn’t know he was crying until tear droplets dripped down from his cheeks and onto the floor. A few hit the porcelain fragments, which made them reflect the light above all the more. They highlighted the direness of his sins - they were unforgivable. In a moment of hysteria, Sebek gathered up the pointy shards in his hands, desperately trying to use his magic to piece the mug back together. Unfortunately for him, Sebek had yet to master such practical magic. His breath grew ragged, heart thundering in his chest as he squeezed the porcelain pieces in his hands, desperate to fix his mistake by sheer will alone. All he got from such a brutish attempt was pinpricks and cuts through the fabric of his black hand gloves and into his flesh.

The young man barely registered the pain. In fact, he deemed himself deserving of it. As he unclasped his hands, he simply stared down at the pieces of porcelain now stabbed and lodged in his palms. Any stragglers, ones not pierced as deep, slipped through his fingers and fell back to the ground to rejoin their kin. This mistake, this vile mistake, could not go unpunished. Sebek surely deserved the gallows for this.

Yet, the thought of presenting his error to Malleus was heart wrenching, indeed. All of his sins laid bare; Sebek’s bond with his prince and liege torn asunder, never to be repaired. Silver would surely take his place - Sebek could not let such a reality come to pass! Sebek’s ears twitched as he heard voices, footsteps approaching the kitchen. As quickly as he could, the first year snatched a dustpan and brush from the corner of the room and hastily swept up the shards. He flung open one of the bottom cabinets and fished out a small garbage bag used for the little waste bins stationed in each dorm room and bathroom. Sebek emptied the tiny pieces of porcelain into the bag and tied it close just as his classmates entered the kitchen.

They were none the wiser to Sebek’s plight. Sebek struggled to remain calm as he put the dustpan and brush back in its proper place, shut the cabinet door, and exited the kitchen with only a nod of acknowledgement to his fellow students. He then quickly - but not too quickly - made his way up to his room, located on the second floor of the dorm. Luckily for him, his roommate was nowhere in sight once he arrived at his shared quarters. Sebek shut and locked the door before he let his false demeanor slip. There was a loose stone underneath the foot of his bed; it would make a suitable hiding place. Swiftly, Sebek knelt down and pried the stone out of its hole, which was just deep enough to fit the plastic bag without crushing its contents any further.

Once Sebek replaced the rock, making sure it was snug in the floor, he hugged his legs, knees under his chin as he wept and sobbed.

***

The man’s mistake was believing he could live with his lie. He could never - not for very long, at least. The morning and afternoon went by without a hitch, Sebek going about the day like it was any other. It was the beginning of the weekend, so Sebek participated in his Equestrian Club activities, completed all of his required assignments and homework, and paid his training dues. By the time evening came, all the anxious jitters he’d felt before had dwindled away. To keep one’s mind occupied was the key to success, after all. A few more hours and he would be in bed at the appointed time, ten o’clock sharp, to rest up for the next day.

All was well until Malleus made a request of his attentive attendant.

“Sebek, would you fetch me a coffee?” he asked, formally yet politely, as always. “I wish for my mind to keep sharp tonight; Lilia will not best me at chess again.”

Although Lilia giggled and carried on with his teasing of the young lord (most unbecoming, but Sebek would not speak out of turn), Sebek’s resolve came crashing down. The coffee would need a place to settle, a place for Malleus to keep it warm and hot as he sipped the bitter brew. He would require the very mug that lay in tatters underneath the stone at the foot of Sebek’s bed. The man’s heart bounded in his chest, as did the blood in his ears. He began to feel his body quiver, for it knew the sins it - he - carried. Sebek needed to do something, anything, to avoid them.

“Wou…Would that be wise, young master?” he asked, somehow keeping the tremble of his tongue at bay. “The hour is late, and you have duties to attend to tomorrow. Surely to drink such a highly caffeinated beverage would be ill for your slumber.”

“Hm, he is right, Malleus,” Lilia commented. “It’s not a good idea for someone as young as you to stay up too late. You need to keep strong and well-minded if you are to become king.”

Malleus waved his hand dismissively, visibly growing annoyed. “I am no longer a child, Lilia. I do not require a set bedtime; I am fully aware of my needs and limits.”

“Are you quite sure of that?” Sebek watched as that familiar smirk crossed Lilia’s lips, paired with the narrow of his eyes and the teasing lint to his tone. “Just the other day, you overindulged on ice cream and gained not only a brain freeze, but a stomach ache as well. It was not the first time, either.” The fae rested his chin on the back of his hand. His fangs poked out from under his upper lip as he gave the prince a sly grin. “And need I remind you that it is not the first time that has occurred.”

Malleus narrowed his own gaze - out of irritation, not playfulness. “That was a simple error, Lilia. I simply got carried away with [Name] on our little excursion, nothing more. Would you have had me ruin our time and denied them the pleasure of every treat their heart desired?”

“Not at all,” Lilia replied, unbothered and undeterred by the prince’s piercing glare. “You youngsters deserve to go out and make a little mischief of yourselves.” The former general’s smile only grew. “You are children, after all.”

Malleus kept his furious gaze on Lilia as he addressed Sebek once more. “Sebek, the coffee, if you please.”

Though Sebek could feel the rising tension in the air, he still sought to avoid his mistake. “But, young master-”

Malleus’s hands gripped the armrests of his chair, trimmed black nails digging into the plush, expensive fabric. “Now!” Sebek flinched at the sharp edge of his prince’s tone. For a moment, those furious slitted eyes met his own. “Or do you also think me a whimpering babe who cannot decide what is right or wrong for himself?”

Lilia frowned as he gave his highness a disapproving look. “Now, Malleus, it is not right for you to-”

Before the elder could finish his sentence, Sebek dropped to his knees before the prince. He prostrated himself before the dragon, hands clasped in prayer, expression unseen as he faced Malleus’s heeled boots. “I BEG FOR YOUR FORGIVENESS, MY LORD!” To the side, on one of the tufted couches, Silver stirred from slumber, groggy eyes fluttering open to behold the commotion before him. Many other pairs of eyes joined Silver, Lilia, and their headmaster in watching this confession unfold. “I CAN NO LONGER BEAR TO LIE TO YOU!”

Malleus, his previous transgressions suddenly forgotten, looked upon Sebek with a puzzled expression. “What do you mean?”

“I CANNOT OBTAIN THAT WHICH YOU REQUIRE!”

“My coffee?”

“YES!” He was beginning to sob now. “I AM UNABLE TO DELIVER YOU YOUR COFFEE BECAUSE-” Sebek sniffled and sobbed. “BE-BECAUSE-!” In a flash, the first year sprang to his feet, still avoiding Malleus’s eye as he bowed deeply. “PLEASE EXCUSE ME FOR A MOMENT!”

With that, Sebek rushed up the stairs. He ran until he reached his room, slamming open the door and startling his roommate. Sebek paid no mind to his roommate’s confused prodding as he pried up the loose stone at the foot of his bed. There, where he’d left it that morning, was the plastic garbage bag filled with the remnants of his young master’s prized mug. Tears continued to stream down his reddened cheeks as he cried and sobbed the whole journey back down the stairs. When he reentered the Diasomnia lounge, all eyes were on him, befuddled and intrigued.

Sebek marched back over to Malleus and fell to his knees once more. He tore open the bag and held it up for the housewarden, his lord and liege, to see. “MY MISTAKE, YOUNG MASTER - MY FOUL GRIEVANCE! PLEASE, PUNISH ME IN ANY WAY YOU DEEM FIT! I BEG YOU!”

For a terribly long, silent minute, only broken by Sebek’s sobs, Malleus simply stared at the broken pieces of porcelain. His brows furrowed in confusion as he examined them, studied their color and material. Finally, he spoke, “...What is it?”

“YOUR MUG, YOUNG MASTER!” Sebek confessed. “THE PRIZED CHALICE YOU RECEIVED UPON YOUR ENTRANCE TO THE COLLEGE! I HAVE RUINED IT - CARELESSLY DROPPED IT WHILST WASHING IT THIS MORNING!” Sebek nearly pushed the bag into Malleus’s face as he thrusted it up closer to him. “I ADMIT THE DEED! HERE, HERE, YOUNG MASTER, MY LORD! IT IS THE PORCELAIN MUG, THAT WHICH HELD THE DISASOMNIA CREST, THAT YOU SO VALUED!”

Once again, there was silence. Whether out of shock, an uncertainty of what to say, or complete bewilderment, not one soul uttered a word. Not even Malleus - his highness simply held a surprised expression. Silver simply blinked, still half-asleep and unlikely unsure just what was transpiring.

It was Lilia who finally broke the recurring silence. He said, on the cusp of an exasperated sigh, “Sebek, my boy, we can always buy another.”

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lalottycupcake · 1 year

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Guess who has injured eardrums? (Medical term is 'ruptured' but I think that's a bit extreme in this case) :')

#stabbing pain in the ears that come and go #constant headache #this constant GODSDAMN tinnitus #and I can't bear any loud noise #bareley speak myself #and absolutely no headphones #injury /tw #peanut speaks

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azullumi · 2 months

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”know it’s for the better” ; aventurine

summary — memories come in waves and tonight, he’s drowning; the grief of his past haunts him and visits him in his dreams; alternatively, you comfort and assure him after his nightmare.

pairing — aventurine (w/gender-neutral reader)

warning — 2.1 QUEST SPOILERS (about his past)

tags — established relationship, angst with comfort, soft and kind of insecure aventurine, mentions of alcohol (he just drinks a glass that’s all), there’s some fluff if you squint, lots of metaphors, mentions of death, mentions of depressing and negative thoughts, all told and narrated in aventurine’s POV, i never proofread, 2.1k words ; one-shot

tagging — @toorurs !! dedicating this to you

note — this is what reading his character analysis, character essays, scene and dialogue interpretations, and his whole ass lore and dissecting each one of it does to you. day 3 of writing for him.

“kakavasha.”

he opens his eyes to the sight of his planet: seemingly empty, barren, as nothingness continues to stretch towards the horizon. there was nothing on this land but the stench of death and cruelty that lingers in the air—it was heavy, thick, as if the clouds were binding him down to the ground and forcing him to look at what once was. he could feel the ache in his chest, the feeling of familiarity starting to seep into gaps between his fingers, and the the lump starting to form in his throat.

he knew this place, the stones that surrounded him and the mountain that leered over him. he knew of this, was all too familiar with it—the sunken ground and disturbed dirt from when his sister knelt before him with tears in her eyes as she uttered her promise of reunion before she bid him her farewell (he’ll always carry her last words as if it was part of his existence). the memory plays in his mind all over again, the voice of his sister echoing:

“this is where we go our own way, kakavasha…”

“...this is a gift from gaiathra, and you are kakavasha, whose good fortune will bless your sister with success.”

“as long as you are alive, the blood of the avgin will never run dry. so run, kakavasha, do not be afraid, and do not look back…”

he could feel the rain starting to pour down on his form but he doesn’t run, he doesn’t move, he doesn’t seek for something that will shelter him from the cold. instead, he stands under the pouring rain with heavy shoulders and thoughts that seem to claw and scratch at him. no matter how much he tries to cover up and escape from his past, to run and run until his feet hurt, until he falls and crumbles to nothing, it will still haunt him. it chases after him; it hides in the corners of his room, behind the wallpapers, and amidst the settling dust and cobwebs, and it creeps up on tuesday mornings as he tries to revere the sun that once never shined on him. he’s always painfully reminded of the things that he has to carry—the weight of his sister who carries her parents, and who carries their parents.

“...the rain will accompany you, and the rain will bless you.”

the distant cries, screams, and roars all ring inside his ears but the sound of the rain breaking into smaller pieces as it falls to the ground that he walks on masks it all.

he feels so pathetic. the hatred that he has for himself continues to gather and manifest into his likeness to sing choruses of condemnation in the guise of shattered and broken praises that are shaped like knives, stabbing his guts and making blood spill from his lips (he doesn’t know what his mother looked like anymore yet he could remember the distinct smell and taste of iron as blood stains his skin).

“why are you all doing this…” he remembers what he answers to her sister before she walks off to her death. he remembers asking her as he covers his ears with his small hands—too weak and frail to even carry stones, much less move boulders. he remembers the pain, the confusion, the guilt of it all. he was just a small child who had too much to hold.

what even is the worth of his life? it was just merely 60 tanbas. even if he dresses himself in luxurious and expensive clothing his past self could never dream of having, it doesn’t rid of the grasp the ipc has over him; his shackles. the cold and harsh metal is not there anymore but he could still feel it tugging on his neck, he could still feel the letters burn as it engraves itself—death would have been a more merciful fate for him than being held by such cruel and dirty hands.

“kakavasha.”

aventurine opens his eyes to the sight of his ceiling. there was no empty land that is of semblance of his planet before him but instead there were the patterns, the walls, and the chandelier that hangs in the middle of it. he was in his room; the silence accompanied with the ticking sound of the clock strikes a balance between quietude and noise.

1:56, he looks at the time. it was still deep into the night—the stars cast its light into his room as it poured itself on the cold floor. there was a rustle by his side and he turned his head to look at you, peacefully sleeping in the comfort of his blankets and you mumbled something underneath your breath though he couldn’t hear it. your face scrunches for a moment before it relaxes into a soft one and he watches all of it happen; he wonders what you’re dreaming of.

unable to sleep—a heavy feeling resides in his chest ever since he woke up—, he slides himself out of the bed. slowly and silently, dare he might disturb your sleep. he slips into his slippers before walking off to the direction of his kitchen. he doesn’t even know what he’s going to do there; he’s not even thirsty nor hungry, he just follows where his feet brings him (that’s how it usually was for him, often aimless and wandering with no direction in mind, he just doesn’t where to go, where he belongs).

he’s not an alcoholic but sometimes he just seeks for the bitterness of the liquid—to replace the taste of blood on his tongue and momentarily feel what it’s like to have nothing on your shoulders; his hands are empty yet it holds so much. he pours himself a small glass, honey-coloured liquid spills into it and a few drops gets into the surface counter. he picks the glass up, swirls the liquid for a few moments and watches its motion, before he brings it to his lips and drinks it all.

the scent is harsh against his nose and the liquid burns at his throat. the taste was too bitter and he felt like spitting it all out but he didn't, he continued to swallow it until there was nothing left in his fill. he tried to think of something else, to avoid those thoughts from entering his mind: the plant there needs to be watered, that reminds me of the light bulb has to be changed, do i even have a future ahead of me?, the painting there is slightly out of place, am i even supposed to survive?, are you still in his room?

he wonders if you’re still tucked in his sheets, if you’re still sleeping in his bed, he wonders what you were dreaming of that got you mumbling and knitting your eyebrows, he wonders when you’ll walk away from him after you realize how ugly and utterly worthless he actually is.

“‘rine?” a voice calls out to him along with the light sound of approaching footsteps. as soon as you enter the kitchen, you are greeted by the sight of him: an empty glass in his hand with a newly-opened bottle of alcohol in front of him. it was currently 2 in the morning, your lover was missing from your side when you woke up but you found him drinking alone in the kitchen.

“what’s wrong, my love? are you okay?” you ask, worry following your tone as you spoke. but aventurine remains silent. he can’t tell you his thoughts, of the overwhelming despair that drags him back down to his misery, and it’s not because he doesn't want to but he can’t—it would break your heart.

(and you know his silence too well. you didn’t carve yourself inside his heart just for nothing, you didn’t consume his flesh to not know the humming of his thoughts inside his chest.)

“you know you can tell me anything, right?” you didn’t care that he’ll break your heart. you wanted all of him and that includes his hatred and anger. if it makes him feel better, break it, shatter it into pieces and you’ll keep on picking yourself up for him. even if you don’t have the ability to stop the downpour, you’ll walk with him through the rain.

after what seems to be moments of hesitation coming from him, he shuffles from his seat and approaches where you stood. and he lets himself fall and crumble for you to catch him in your embrace—he feels safe, he feels okay but the grief, misery, and guilt still tugs at his heart ever so often as it beats.

(“where do i put all of this grief?” he asked you once while you admired the stars with him. “you hold them until it turns to love.”)

you caress his back softly, a small act of comfort as you cradled him in your arms. he doesn’t put all of his weight on you but he pulls you close and buries his face on the crook of your neck, heaving out a sigh as he did; you let him, let him whisper his worries and write his thoughts on your skin.

“did you have a nightmare again?”

“…not really.” the faint smell of alcohol wafts to your nose as he speaks. “i just…”

“it’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it.”

“i’m sorry.” he says and you didn’t fail to notice the crack in his voice and the feeling of something warm and wet on your skin. you hold him closer, tighter, and you brush your hand against his hair, tangling your fingers in his soft locks.

“you have nothing to apologize for. it’s not your fault, kakavasha. nothing is ever going to be your fault.”

“it feels like it does.”

“no, no, my love… you were just a child. you did all that you can to survive and fulfill your promise.”

you start to gently sway him into the melody of your hum and he follows your form like the wind would on your hair. this continues for long until he’ll let go—you’ll hold him for as long as he wants to if it would lessen his burdens.

“i wouldn’t love you any less nor will i think of you as worthless.”

he has days likes this, days where he contemplates and thinks of everything, days where he doesn’t know what to do or what to say, days where he feels like he never changed and he’s still the same weak child who walked away from his sister instead of begging and asking her to go with him (the survivor’s guilt goes hard), days where it feels like everything is falling apart and he’s left on his own again, days where all he wants to do is to just cry in your shoulder—

“are you feeling better?” you ask him as he lifts his head from your shoulder; dry tears are left like trails of stars on his features. you cup both of his cheeks and wipe away the remnants of his misery and ache.

“mhm, a little bit.” he nods and you beckon him closer to your lips just so you could kiss his forehead before peppering his whole face.

—but there are days of warmth and sunlight. days where it all feels a little bit bearable and he can breath, days where every step he takes isn’t heavy, days where he could taste the kindness of the sun on his lips, days where he wakes up with you by his side and thinks he could have this forever, days where he could hear his mother’s lullaby that would comfort him, days where he could hear his sister’s voice telling him that she’s proud of how far he have come, days where everything feels okay and worth it.

years of these little bits of happiness—in silence, in chaos, in tranquility, in destruction—he wants a lifetime of it with you. and though kakavasha was never a greedy man, the ache, the yearning, and craving for those moments with you fills the empty spaces of his thoughts; you looked like what peaceful dreams are made of.

“i love you.” he knows that you know that already, he just thought he’d say it again.

#aventurine honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #honkai imagines #honkai x reader #honkai #hsr aventurine x reader #hsr x you #hsr aventurine #hsr x reader #aventurine imagines #aventurine x you #aventurine #star rail aventurine #aventurine x reader #aventurine angst #honkai x you #honkai star rail x you #azul.writes

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arminsumi · 8 months

Note

First request ever: Can you make a story about Gojo, where their both in a relationship but gojo had to end it because he was afraid that she would be in danger?

Thank you! Keep up the good work, I love your stories!!!

LET ME MARRY YOU

↳ GOJO さとる + fem!reader

The risk of dating you his too much for him to handle, so he breaks it off, only for him to come back to your doorstep years later and ask: "Let me marry you."

Note : istg each time i edited this... the wordcount grew lol. i hope u enjoyyy 🥹💗 tysm for enjoying my work it means everything

Warnings : angst -> fluff (?) -> happy ending trust me, Shibuya arc spoilers (Ep 9), manga spoilers (chapter 221)

🍒 More from Jay : Gojo works / Gojo fave works / JJK works / oct. reqs open

The risk of dating you is thrilling when Satoru's just a teenager in puppy love. But as he grows older, and heads into those dreaded 20s, the risk makes him more and more nervous.

What if something happens to you?

He presses kiss after kiss to your forehead and feels his chest tremble, feels his lips quiver, as he refrains from telling you the truth about the Jujutsu world. Satoru just can't do it.

There are so many instances of him saving you from curses that you're oblivious about. He just smiles strangely, and you wonder why he looks like he's just seen a ghost. Because he has, those pretty eyes see ghosts. But those pretty eyes also see you, "What am I looking at?" he responds after you ask why he's looking at you so tenderly, "I'm looking at my future wife." he flirts just to fluster you.

That's at the cafe, when things are still simple. He keeps thinking to himself, as he lays with you in bed some nights;

I want to marry you.

I'm going to marry you.

Please let me be your husband one day.

As if he's trying to manifest it.

Everything is okay-ish... until he gets pangs of fright when your name starts to be known outside of his closed circle of friends.

It's October 11th.

Gojo Satoru breaks up with you.

He leads you to believe that the two of you are just "right person, wrong time". It all hurts an incomprehensible amount for him, to finally cut the string that tethers the two of you together.

He sits on the stairs, head in his hands, mourning.

He starts many mornings with crying spells that last until midday.

He destroys evidence of you and him. In case anyone ever finds it and thus finds your apartment, or work, or college... or anything.

But he can't part with a very special photo. It's you and him in Okinawa, sharing a cheesy kiss at the beach. In the moment this photo was captured, Gojo remembers having whispered some dirty joke in your ear and that's why you smiled so big into his kiss.

He drifts to sleep to the lullaby lovesongs that defined your love.

Years pass, he refuses to even talk to you. The heartbreak worsens with time, he laughs when he realizes that on his 27th birthday.

Isn't time supposed to heal all wounds? Someone said that to him once. Well, they must have been lying without realizing it.

The day Gojo Satoru is sealed, he looks into Suguru's eyes, and remembers you through them. When he resides in that awful prison realm, he only thinks of you you you you you you you oh god he misses you so much that it feels like the very thought of your smile stabs his chest. Every memory is painful. Every flashback puts one more crack in his heart.

"Can't I ever catch a break...?" He laughs to himself, chattering skeletons making their eerie symphony around him.

He thinks. Ponders. Wonders. Broods. Daydreams. All about you. Always about you. Never anything else. Just his first love, from the late spring of his 17th year.

His earthly goddess.

The purpose of his benevolent actions.

He cries. And sobs. And weeps. Because no one can hear him but the skeletons and he's sure they don't mind the sight or sound of a 27 man howling in pain over a lost lover.

It's not just your relationship that he's mourning. But the fact he can't feel you in this cube... that he can't feel your presence in the world... that's worse than the heartbreak. At least through all these years, he's been able to sense your existence. Feel the subtle ripples of your soul no matter how distant you are; you'd be stood in a coffee shop, he'd be at Jujutsu High teaching, and yet feeling you.

Because as he promised to you at 17, "Half my soul is yours. And half your soul is mine. I'll always be with you even if I'm not there."

He has the biggest breakdown of his life in that little cramped suffocating claustrophobic eerie creepy box.

It's 19 days later. He's out. He's back in the world. And he feels the sense of you, your existence, swelling in his chest, tickling his mind, prodding his heart.

"Gojo sensei, where are you headed?"

"I'm gonna go find my other half." he says cryptically.

It's a stark bright day.

Gojo Satoru knocks at your apartment door.

You open it.

He looks at you, and you look at him.

"Hi."

"...hey...? Wow. Haha... you grew into your features, huh?"

Your voice fills his heart with life.

"You too... glad you still live in the same place... I was worried you might have moved out..."

"... Ah, Satoru, you'd be able to find me no matter what corner of the world I resided in."

Your laugh fills his mind with pleasant memories.

There's an a magnetism between you and him just like there always used to be. It feels like two magnets connecting at last, after feeling the distant attraction throughout all these years of distance.

"You're right." Satoru says after a silence of just staring into your eyes.

"I'll always find my way home."

A silence ensues after he says this.

"...haha... don't cry... or I'll cry..."

"... Satoru... I thought of you every day after you left me at the station."

"... me too."

"... why did you leave?"

He stares at you.

"... I was scared of you being in danger."

He gulps.

"Me? In danger? But you're the strongest, why would it matter."

Oh god that's right. You said it then when you were 17, "You're the strongest" and he carried that title with him from then. And now you've said it again. He's reminded. He feels a bit stupid. A bit ridiculous. A bit...

"You're right..." he chokes up. "I am. I could have protected you I guess..."

"... yeah, duh."

He smiles meekly.

It was more complicated than that, sweetheart. But I won't tell you.

He hesitates. He contemplates.

"I have to tell you everything... will you promise to believe everything I say even if it sounds insane?"

"Of course. What is it?"

He inhales deeply. And instead of blurting out his whole life story of being a sorcerer in the Jujutsu world, he just leans in and kisses you hard and truthfully. Cups your cheeks. Closes his eyes. Tastes you like a sweet from his childhood that he hasn't had for years. Presses to you. Takes in your scent.

Yeah yeah... he'll tell you everything in a minute.

But for now just let him kiss you until he runs out of breath.

Let him just...

"Hey..." he pulls away, gasping, "Let me marry you."

"Haha, Satoru..." you take it as a joke and laugh, because it sounds as bizarre and unexpected as one. Then you realize there's that serious look on his face. "... Satoru?"

"Can I?"

"... what?"

"Can I please?"

"... huh??"

"Can I marry you, please?"

He looks at you and waits for your answer. His poor heart. It's palpitating. His whole chest cavity inspires with love for you. This man that you haven't seen in years has just asked if you'll let him marry you — with very specific wording.

Can he? Will you let him?

It's funny in a way, because you think to yourself; this is such a Satoru thing to do... show up unannounced years later on your doorstep and ask for your hand in marriage as if no time has passed, as if you know the full story.

"Satoru... what happened to you throughout these years for you to come back to me and ask for my hand in marriage?" you ask, genuinely baffled.

He swallows slowly. "I know I sound like I've lost my mind. But I promise I haven't."

"That's hard to believe. The Satoru I remember was always on the brink of mania. A bit insane but not quite."

You make him laugh. "Yeah..."

"So are you asking to marry me out of insanity?"

"No."

"Well alright then. I guess I'll marry you."

You make him laugh again, with that funny tone. He hasn't laughed genuinely in years... it's always been that plastic laugh. But this is his genuine laugh. Silky and quiet. The opposite of his demeanor.

"I guess I should be explaining everything to you properly... before I ask you something like that."

"You're damn right..."

"... don't scold me too hard when I tell you all the reasons I left. Or, if you do, then at least hold me while you scold me. And run your fingers through my hair like you used to."

"Satoru."

"Yes?"

His heart throbs. He looks at you.

"Stop standing at the doorway and come inside."

"Oh."

You sigh. He smiles. Then he bows his head so it doesn't hit the top of the doorframe. Damn tiny Tokyo apartments. Your archway always had it out for the crown of his head. You laugh when he bumps into it just like he always used to.

So the two of you sit down and just talk. And talk. Maybe cry a bit. Actually, you cry a lot. And he holds you. And he says he's sorry. He says sorry over and over, as if the word is a bandage he's trying to wrap around all your heartbreak wounds that he caused.

"I'm sorry."

Satoru's apologies aren't easy to come by, and when you receive them, they nurse your heart. It's the gentleness with which he says it, and earnest too. Each successive sorry means more than the last.

"My angel..."

When you call him this after he vents to you about his time in the Prison Realm, and his overwhelming duty of being the strongest, he breaks down completely and just weeps in your arms.

He sobs like you've never heard him sob before, like a dog.

Finally. At least for a moment. He could be weak. Let down his guard. Be raw. Be emotional. Not a teacher. Not a sorcerer. Just your boy. Your Satoru.

Your consolation is all he wanted throughout these years. He looks up at you, eyes red and sore, nose sniffling, and stares at you like he can see your soul.

"...Satoru?"

"Marry me."

You chuckle again.

"If that will stop your tears..." you joke.

He sniffles loudly and swallows, composing himself.

"I thought about marrying you so much when we were together... 'n I tried so hard to bite my tongue when your name nearly rolled off it while talking to my students some days. I was always..."

On the verge of saying your name.

He sniffles long and hard and waits for your hand to weave into his hair.

"Will you think about it?"

"I will."

There's a silence. Satoru feels hopeful. He lays on your chest, arms around you like you're his whole world that he won't dare let go of again.

"There." you say with finality. "I thought about it. Let's get married."

"That took you, like, ten seconds."

You laugh with him. "Yeah... I already knew in my heart when you asked me at the doorway... you know... Satoru... it's funny. When you left, it felt like half my soul was gone. And when you knocked on my doorstep, it felt like I was whole again. Does that sound freaky, or does it tie into all this... Juju... Jujutsu stuff?"

He's silent.

"I have no idea."

"Wow. My future husband isn't knowledgeable at all." you joke.

His heart flutters at 'future husband'.

"Sorry." he says, smiling softly, "My mind is blank when your fingers are running through my hair."

The two of you go on and on, until you're laid in bed sleeping at each other's side. Resting. And god, did Gojo Satoru need a good rest.

In your arms, he's no longer an insomniac.

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

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lady-ashfade · 5 months

Text

Matching flames

Percy Jackson x Soulmate!Reader

-£ Ask: Percy x reader who's his soul mate and he only finds out when she almost dies (could be trying to save him or just because life as a demigod is hard) @poemfreak306

-£ words: 2k

-£ Warnings: Reader being injured, soulmate au, blood & cuts, reader almost dying, angsty, comfort at the end, cursing?? (You can also imagine any Percy you want in this)

Could you count all the stars in the sky?

It was almost peaceful looking up at the stars, mind going blank and your body numb. they looked so beautiful and you realize you’ve never quite looked closely at them. burning rocks floating in space that somehow was the cause of so many poems and love stories. if only you had noticed it sooner.

Blood leaked out of your side and the hand you placed over it started to give up trying to put pressure on the wound. The monster who chased you for miles had finally got to you after being so close to camp, to being safe and sound, when it’s claws finally got ahold of you. Its sharp nails dragged into your skin ripping your clothes and stained them with the blood immediately pouring out. thankfully you had one stroke of luck when your dagger pierced its heart and it was quick to fall.

Not much time has passed since then, however it was enough time for you to loss too much blood.

Had the stars always been that pretty? Just a thought as your eyes blur and the only thing left to feel was the thoughts in your head. The sweet smile of your moral parent’s smile, how it felt to laugh with friends and how some part of you still felt on fire. The shore of the camp’s lake appeared in your mind, and sand beneath your feet as you look at someone’s figure. The smile on their face was so familiar…Maybe it was death being nice to you.

you tried to keep your eyes open but they were just too heavy. maybe you could just rest for a few minutes. there was a sense of warmth that took over your body once more as your eyes fade closed.

“He’s coming, not long little one.”

the campfire wasn’t his focus at the moment but he found himself staring into it as his thoughts ran wild. he had just back to camp but this year was so much different. there was so much on his mind that he just couldn’t focus on one thing. about his mother, his father and how he still couldn’t believe he was a Demi god. even after a long time it just wasn’t normal to him.

then a hiss leaves his lips as he clings to his side in pain. it was stinging and felt on fire. he knew how being wounded felt like all to well but nothing happened, he was just sitting. then his finger felt funny like pins and needles stabbed him all at once. from his left annabeth looks at him worried and looking of his confused face.

“What’s wrong?” But the boy just stared at himself as the pain faded away but his hand became numb and weird. He spun it around a few times to look over it, checking for anything causing it but found nothing. not even a bug.

it was your smile that popped in his head. the warm shoulder he always laid on, he could hear the laugh you had ringing in his ears. why? his name was called from your soft lips but it wasn’t like normal, he saw your lips with blood from the corner. reaching out to him like he was your only hope.

“Y/n.” He stood up immediately at the image in his head. looking around for you in the crowd of campers he didn’t find you with your siblings or around your friends. annebeth looked at him worried and stood up with him, “what is it?”

he knew those trees. he’s seen then a million times. percy knew the grass, but this was different from actually knowing where you were. something was tugging his body and he didn’t need ask where you were. he knew.

his feet moved on their own and he practically ran where they took him and only thought of you. Annebeth stayed behind and told Mr.d that something might be wrong. Percy felt off and not the normal kind he always did. his body felt weaker like it was losing its life. his chest felt off and his heart filled with sorrow.

so when he found you laying in a pool of your own blood he was quick to fall next to you. “y/n” he called out. he checked for a pulse but couldn’t do it right so he leaned next to your nose and listened for your breathing and thankfully he felt some. his heart was pounding when he saw the cuts on your body making his mind wonder to what could have done it. the camp was just a few feet away and you could have been safe.

“Don’t die,” he begged and places his arm under your head, “this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.” his words didn’t make sense to him when he spoke. how was it supposed to be? what was he talking about.

the new light in the sky made him look up to a shooting star shoot cross the sky. it was truly beautiful. something around his finger pulled again and he felt the small feeling of string so when he looked down it was red and tied around him. following the line he found it connected to you. The string of fate.

his string was tied to yours. you were his soulmate.

“no, no” he wrapped another arm under your legs and left you up slightly. he was staring at your face with tears pooling themselves in his eyes. for the first time he was finally seeing you as what you were. his. but how could the gods be so cruel to take you way from him. Percy wouldn’t let that happen. he’d fight hades himself for you back.

“just stay with me.” there he was carrying you passed the camp line to get you to the infirmary. even in the near death you looked stunning as you away did. he was just to stupid to see it before.

when they took you away from him he was quiet and stood outside the door and refused to leave. percy even refused to leave the room at first but was yelled at and pushed out, so he had no choice but to leave your side. how could he just stay outside when he could lose the one person that was supposedly to stay with him, to love him, and who was supposed to be with him always? how could he just sit still when he was going to lose it all?

his friends came to sit with him and offered him some kind words and reassurance but not much helped. he just sat down on a chair with his legs bouncing and hands fiddling with themselves as all he could think is about you. about the cuts on your skin and all the blood.

luckily they had gotten you somewhat healed, making you stable and fine. just had to wait for your body to heal.

“Percy,” annabeth poked his shoulder as he stared at the floor. they had left and he could go in now but he didn’t notice. “you can go in now.” Percy turn quickly to her and then at the door wide open now. so he sprinted up and inside to find you laying on the bed peacefully sleeping. annabeth didn’t follow him in because he needed a moment alone. she’d let him have his moment

Percy sat beside your bed the whole time you slept. he’d fed you. he’d brushed your hair out of your face and watched you closely as if someone was out to get you. his hand was always ready to pull out riptide in case but nothing dangerous ever came. his hand stayed in yours while he whispered for you to wake up and how much he was sorry.

“Should have realized it before,” he whispered as he leaned near you. “gosh, I’m such a idiot.” he sighed to himself and ran his eyes over you.

His hands rubbed your own, “Just wake up and I’ll make up for it. For all the time we lost, just let me love you.” His lips pressed to your head as you continued to sleep unknowing to his words but your body healing by having him close.

two days of not getting much sleep himself you’d waken up. his head resting next to your leg as he sat in a chair with his hand on yours, his hair messy. you didn’t remember coming to the infirmary or how you got here. and not percy holding your hand. but you couldn’t let go off it because it was to comfortable like it was made to fit in yours.

when you moved your body since it felt so stiff from probably not moving in days you’d accidentally woke him up. you felt bad as he shot up quickly and looked around panicked with his hand going to his side, probably reaching for riptide. once his eyes found yours it made your heart sink into your lower stomach. under his eyes were black circles and his eyes looked so painful that it broke you, like he’d been crying. he was paler then normal.

A sad smile broke onto his face, he was relieved to see you awake. He let out a small chuckle as his eyes almost filled with tears when he jumped forward you take your head into his chest as a small hug. “Welcome back,” you froze at his hug but let him have his moment. of course you smiled and wrapped your arms around him too. It was nice.

“Percy, how long was I out…How did I get here?” Pulling himself back with a red tint in his chest he sat back down.

“I found you outside the barrier. Y/n, I thought you were dead, you were barely breathing.” his voice broke. “but I got you here and now you’re awake. not dead,” there was that damn smiling again that pained you, like he was convincing his demons something.

humming and nodding your head along you look at your side to see it healed, lifting up your shirt just a little and saw a scar on your skin. it made you frown knowing how big it would be. “If it means anything, I think you’d look badass.” you put your shirt back down and look at him.

he was trying to make you feel better. “Percy when I was- When I closed my eyes I heard something and my body, well it felt different. Do you know anything about that?” his heart skipped a beat and his eyes slightly going wide.

was it obvious how fluster he was? was his skin as red as a tomato, did he look like a fool? “I have to tell you something.” Percy played with his own hands again and looked away for a second. you swing your legs to the side of the bed to stretch.

“Go ahead.”

You watched him closely and you could see he was working himself up to speak. how his body bounced and twitched, he was turning redder by the second. he was cute. and you yourself found your own cheeks turning hot when you looked at him.

“I saw you at the campfire in my mind. I could feel the pain you felt, or somewhat, like I was dying. my body was pulling me to you and I knew exactly where to find you without having to look.” As he explained you listened carefully and tilted your head to the side.

“then I saw it. The red string of fate tied to my finger. I saw a shooting star, then I saw your string tied to my. And for the first time I saw you for the first time, as my soulmate.”

“Oh.” Damnit. That was bad.

Percy nodded and now started to shut down as he watched you, your brain moving to figure out what to say. he just ruined everything. you wished to not be his soulmate, that was it. he didn’t blame you. Percy brought danger whereever he went.

But that wasn’t it. you had been thinking something else. everything made sense to you now. why you looked at him when no one else was looking. why he made you feel high in the clouds when he was near. and how he just fit so well in your life without trying. “Percy,” you call out to him again and move closer and scoot to the end of the bed with your feet hitting the floor.

you should have known from his eyes. as they look at you now it just hit you like bricks, how they were so powerful. as you take his cheek in your hands his breath hitches and holds in his chest. “i’m glad you’re my soulmate.”

he pulled you close to him and held you so tight in how arms as you giggled at how happy he seemed. his laugh made your stomach fill with butterflies. “I’ll make you happy.” And that you had no doubt about. you pulled back from his grasp and looked at his lips. you needed to kiss him. and Percy knew what you were thinking and wanted the same.

his face moved forward as his kiss captured yours in a soft but passive kiss, his hands moving to wrap themselves around your body as yours wrapped around his neck. it was nice but didn’t end short. after all you both waited for a long time to feel the love of a soulmate and you didn’t know that you craved it this badly.

The stars never lied when it comes to love. And now you knew that he was the burning fire within you.

#percy jackson x you #percy jackson x male reader #Percy Jackson x reader #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #angst to fluff #soulmate au

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indulgentdaydream · 5 months

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Can you write something where the reader is badly injured in some way and jason rushes her to the manor for help and everybody is confused on who she is bc they didnt even know he was in a relationship (despite them being together for awhile) but they see how soft and cute he is with her. (I’ve never made a request so sorry if it got kinda rambley)

anon you’ve got me TEEMING with ideas I LOVE the trope of nobody knowing jason has a girlfriend and they find out but it is NOT by Jason’s choice nor reader’s.

Also omg? Your first ask is to lil ol me?? That means this is a special occassion. And you’re doing great I’ve def sent worse asks.

Out of the Bag

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader || Hurt and Comfort.

Word Count: 1,862

Warnings: Injuries, swearing, near death experience, blood, knife mention, stabbing, canon-typical violence, use of pet names (princess, baby), drug (pain med) use

You were sat in an alleyway, vision going in and out.

“Tell me something, princess. Anything.” Jason’s voice rang out in your ear.

That’s right. In your right hand, you held your phone, to your ear. Your other hand was pressing the fabric of your coat to the side of your stomach. The blood had soaked through, becoming sticking on your palm and fingers.

You should’ve listened to Jason. You shouldn’t have walked home alone, at night. Luckily your phone had been in your pocket and not your purse, which had been stolen from you by the same guy who decided to stab you.

“Princess,” he sounded panicked.

Right. “Wish I had kicked him harder.”

You heard a sigh of relief leave him, “That’s my girl.”

The phone slipped from your grip a little as your head swam. The sight of blood coming from your own abdomen made no help in quelling your nausea.

You fixed the phone. You had called Jason the second the guy ran off, leaving you to bleed out. He was driving, you think. Tracking your phone to try and get to you. “How far?”

He said something you didn’t hear. Your vision was swimming, your side was aching, and you couldn’t help but keep this funny understanding out of your mind that you were dying.

That this is something Jason had come back to your apartment with a few times, claiming it was nothing. It was something.

You heard him call your name, “What’s around you?”

“I’m tired,” you mumbled.

It seemed to happen in a blink of an eye. Jason was trying to tell you to stay awake, to look at the alley around you. To look out towards the street and tell him what you saw. Then he was there, standing in front of you, his helmet hiding his face.

“I’m here. I’m here, baby.” He cupped your face, tapping your cheek to get you to open up your eyes. He crouched down, pulling your hand from your side to assess the damage.

You smiled lazily and leaned forward, resting your forehead against his shoulder.

Jason muttered a slew of swears as he pressed something soft yet hard against your agonizing wound. You let out a yelp before Jason was picking you up, placing you on his bike.

He’s talking fast, “Fuck. Okay, listen to me. We’re going to go somewhere new, okay? There’s nowhere around here except there for me to get you safe.”

You passed out nearly as soon as he started the bike.

Jason’s freaking. He had tried to keep you safe from anything like this. From everything less than this. And here you were, bleeding out in his arms as he carried you through the batcave. He beelined for the cots and the medical supplies off to the side. He knows his motorcycle couldn’t have been the smoothest of rides for someone in your condition, but it’s all he had in such a short time span.

He’ll apologize when you wake up.

When. He repeats. When she wakes up and when we can get the hell out of this place again and when I can remind her I love her.

No one was back from patrol yet. He set you down on the cot before tearing off his helmet. He tossed it aside, pulling out a med bag and ripping it open. He pushed up your shirt, examining your side and where he had placed the military-grade gauze pad. He curses at the amount of blood.

His hands are shaking. Jason’s hands don’t shake, but you’ve proven to him a lot of things you could make him do that he hadn’t known he was capable of in the last year and (almost) a half of your relationship.

Jason nearly drops the suture thread before another hand is reaching out from just behind him. It catches the thread and Jason looks back over his shoulder. Alfred’s there, moving up to you.

“Allow me. You keep checking her vitals.”

Jason hadn’t even heard him come up. He’s nodding, stepping back to let Alfred take over the stitching. He moves to the other side of the bed.

That’s when he catches sight of the dark figure moving closer from behind Alfred. Jason immediately fixes him with a deadly glare, pointing at Bruce, “Do not come closer!”

Bruce stills. He’s in his bat suit, his cowl hanging behind his head, exposing his face. He looks down to your body, “Who is she?”

Jason doesn’t want him here. Rather, he doesn’t want to be here. You should’ve been home by now. Getting ready for bed and sending him a goodnight text. He turns his gaze back to you.

There’s some hair across your face that he hadn’t noticed. He moves it out of your way without a second thought, “My girlfriend.”

“Finally feel some remorse for sending someone to their grave, Todd?” Damian’s voice spoke up, walking up and stopping beside Bruce, “He’s probably trying to just reverse what he did.”

Jason ignores him. He wants to yell, scream, and maybe shoot the little bastard, but he was right. In a way, this was his fault. He didn’t look after you. He should’ve offered you a ride. Called you a taxi. An uber. Anything.

Jason grips your hand into his. It’s a way to count your heartbeat, and another way to ground himself. To reassure that you’ll be okay. His other hand stays on your cheek. His thumb gently moves back and forth, stroking your skin.

He barely registers Bruce telling Damian to go wash up. When the brat is gone, Bruce speaks up again, “What happened?”

Jason doesn’t take his eyes off of you, “She was walking home from her friend’s. A mugger got her purse, she fought back. He stabbed her.” Jason takes a deep breath, “She still had her phone. She called me. I brought her here because it was closest.”

A beat of silence. Still stitching you up, Alfred speaks, “How come we’ve never been introduced?”

Jason shakes his head, “I didn’t want her near any of this. She’s bad off enough sticking with me.”

Once you stabilize, Jason brings you up to his room in the manor. He walks past Dick, Tim, Duke, Cass, and Steph without looking at them. They sit around the batcomputer, watching Jason gently carry you out ot the cave.

He changes you out of your dirty clothes once he makes a run back to your apartment to grab you some of your own spare clothes.

Asides from that, he doesn’t leave your side.

He lets you have the bed to yourself. He pulls up a chair beside it, waiting for you to wake up. He didn’t want you to be alone when you did, in a strange place after a traumatic event. It was a recipe for disaster.

The sun’s been up for a long while and Jason hasn’t budged. He sits there, your hand gripped in both of his, held up and pressed against his mouth. His lips brush over your knuckles whenever he speaks up. Uttering a “I’m sorry.” every now and then.

There’s a light knock at the door before it’s cracking open. Jason turns his head to find Dick poking his head in. Jason glares at him.

Dick steps further in, presenting the tray he was holding. There were two glasses of water, some solid foods, and lighter ones, probably for you. Jason looked back down at you, letting his older brother enter.

“Just… figured since you’ve been cooped up in here all day,” Dick begins, setting the tray down on the beside table beside Jason.

Dick moves back around. He stands at the end of the bed, leaning against the tall bed post that was meant to hold up a canopy. “I heard…” he trails off, before nodding and your body in the bed, still unconscious, “Who is she?”

Jason looks up at his brother, not letting go of your hand, “So you haven’t heard.”

Dick rolls his eyes, “You know what I mean.”

Jason raises his brows a little. He looks back down at you. His hand reaches out to brush along your forehead, moving away imaginary stray hairs, “My girl.”

Dick nods in understanding, “How long you two been together.”

Jason pauses in thought, “Over a year. Our anniversary was in December.”

A small, choked sound comes from outside the door, in the hallway. “A year?”

Jason looks up at Dick, who makes a face that shows he’s knows he’s been caught.

“Are they seriously listening right now?”

Steph poked her head in first, an apologetic smile on her face, “We wanted to know!”

Duke pokes his head in next, just above Steph’s, “And we wanted to meet her.”

Tim’s head in next, above Duke’s, “You can’t carry a random bleeding woman into the cave and expect the family of detectives to not be curious.”

Cass’ head appears below Steph’s. She nods in agreement.

Jason let’s one hand go of yours to wave his hand through the air, “What the fuck? She’s not even awake!”

“Well that’s why we sent Dick as bait.”

“For the record,” Dick held up a finger, “They built off of my original, innocent idea of bringing you snacks.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jason stands up, taking a few steps forward. He points them all back towards the door as they start to filter into the room, “Get—“

“What’s going on…?”

Jason’s whole body whipped back around at the sound of your groggy, rough voice. The others watch as he’s back at your side in a millisecond, his whole demeanour changed. “Hey, you’re okay. Everything’s okay. Remember how I said we were going somewhere new? You thirsty, baby? Here, I got you some water.”

“Oh, you certainly did not get the water,” Dick piped up.

Jason glared back over his shoulder as he held the glass of water for you, keeping the straw Dick had added placed in your mouth.

You stopped drinking, your eyes now on the other people in the room. You turned your head, propped up against pillows Jason had put there for you. You weakly raised your left hand to wave, “Hi… oh?” your gaze turned down to your hand. A heart monitor clip sitting on your finger grabbed your attention. You gave a confused pout at it, “I feel funny.”

Jason set the water aside again. His glare was gone. He leaned in, kissing your forehead, “You’re hopped up on pain meds. That’s why, princess.”

“Damn,” Steph spoke up, “I wish I got the literal princess treatment.”

Jason turned back around, pointing out the door, “Get. Out. Leave my girlfriend alone until she’s better.”

You looked at the strangers, pointing at Jason with your left hand, “I’m his girlfriend.” Your head tilted back against the pillows as you stared up at Jason, pursing your lips, "I’m tired.”

“I know,” Jason said softly. The others began to filter out of the room as he leaned down and gave you a soft kiss, this time on the lips.

From the exit, a collective, “Awwww,” sounded out.

“Out!”

Your drugged up voice came after his, once they were all back in the hall, “Nice to meet you!”

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cottontoru · 6 months

Text

Rough Ride

✧˖° summary﹕your boyfriend is quite the sore loser, and of course, you always have to deal with it.

content(s)﹕porn w no plot, praise and degradation, streetracer!toji, angry sex, creampie, semi-public sex (you fuck in his car), dacryphilia if you squint, spanking (one ass slap, clit smacks), squirting, cnc kinda (you beg him to stop but you want it), wc; 0.7k

pairing﹕toji fushiguro x fem!reader

a/n﹕my first time writing someone other than gojo... had this idea for months and finally wrote it, enjoy!!

Toji hated losing. He was supposed to be undefeated, an unbeatable champion when it came to street racing, so he could he have lost a race this big?

You could tell from halfway throughout the race that he'd lost his temper simply from how his driving style grew aggressive. Toji was known for being aggressive in matches but being beaten put him in a full blown rage. A rage that couldn't be contained, and what better a way to release his pent up anger than fucking his girlfriend rough in the backseat of his black and white 1993 Mazda RX-7?

Folded practically in half, you're whining and squirming from how rough he's being with you. He's pounding into you with unimaginable force, his tip nudging that gummy spot inside that makes your brain feel like mush.

"Hngh...! Tojii- it's too much..!" you're basically crying, tears rolling down your cheeks as he slams into you. Right about now you two would be out at some fancy restaurant, celebrating his victory, except that isn't what happened today.

Instead you're being spoiled in a completely different way, one that makes you feel weak in your limbs as you hold your thighs and push them into your chest.

Rather than reassuring words, he simply smacks your clit, grunting. "Shut up and fuckin' hold your legs." he smirks smugly, slapping at your face between your legs.

"Tellin' me it's too much but yer taking me so fuckin' good," he continues, rubbing comforting circles at your sensitive clit, contradicting his rough demeanor. "Dirty fuckin' slut..."

You can feel the car rock with every thrust he makes into you, the windows fogged from the combination of your hot breath with his. There's no doubt anyone who passes can tell exactly what's going on inside, especially with how loud your cries and moans are.

His thrusts pick up both in speed and in force, practically stabbing at your sweet spot.

"Hurttss.. T-Toji! Please!" you sob, hot tears welling up in your eyes when he continues his rough, nonhuman pace. With each thrust into your pussy, the edges of your vision blur from the overwhelming pressure of it all.

"G'na cum princess, shit..." he groans, pushing your legs into your chest, trying to get deeper into you.

You cry and whine his name, pleading for him to stop despite every part of you wanting more. He continues hammering into your sweet spot, grunting.

"Just be quiet, almost done pretty girl..." he says hoarsely, pace unwavering as he continues to pound you with endless stamina. Your body is sticking to his leather seats from your sweat, causing pain with each thrust that drags your skin across his seats. Though you're far too focused on him as he presses his tip right into use sweet spot, spilling his cum into your cunt.

He stills his pace, keeping himself buried in your hole as he finishes coming inside you. "That's a good fuckin' girl," he coos in your ear. All you can do at this point is pant, mouth hanging open from the pleasure and exhaustion filling your body as you drench his cock in your own fluids.

With all his anger completely spent, he pulls out of you slowly, his cock soaked in your mixed fluids.

"Such a good girl f'me hm?" he hums, slapping your ass. "Lettin' me take my anger out on her pretty cunt."

Both your fluids drip out your cunt, his hand cupping over it to stop the leaking.

"Gonna keep it all inside, right pretty?" he smiles wide at your nod when you turn your head back to face him.

"That's my girl."

Pulling your panties up effortlessly, he dresses you back up before setting you back in the front passenger. Luckily, his backseat wasn't as messy as your sex was, the only thing drenching the seats being both of your sweat and some of your own climax moving in with it.

He slides in the drivers seat, starting up his car. You know for a fact his manager and any people still lingering from after the race had heard your... ordeal.

"Fancy dinner for t'night, princess?" his scar curls with his lips into a smile as he pats your upper thigh.

All it takes is a nod from your and he's off, driving you to whichever fancy revenue you request. What a gentleman he is.

#ᐢ..ᐢ drabble #ᐢ..ᐢ nou writes #toji fushiguro #jjk #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji x reader #toji x you #jjk x reader #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji smut #jjk toji

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yawnderu · 6 months

Note

simon with a tongue\dick (or both. double threat) piercing. okay thats it have a good day-

GOD YES. YES YES YES RAAHHHH HAVE A GOOD DAY TOO fun fact I pierced my nipples like 2 weeks ago n it was fun

Having a piercer as a girlfriend came with certain advantages despite Simon never considering a piercing before— for example, he could get his entire Jacob's ladder done in one go. You advised him against it, and he was too stubborn to not accept the challenge.

''Fuck!'' He winced, a small hiss escaping his lips as he took a deep breath and tried to stay still, the needle piercing his shaft. It was the last one of the three he decided to get, though it was by far the one that hurt the most.

''Breathe for me, okay? We're almost done.'' You give him time to breathe, waiting until he nods his head to start replacing the needle with the piercing. You look at the end result, a small smile on your face at the work you did on him.

''You okay?'' The behemoth of a man has gotten shot, stabbed, hung by the ribs, tortured, yet this damn piercing on his cock had him almost praying to God or whatever it's out there. It stings, but the initial pain he felt when the needle pierced his skin is almost gone.

''I'm good.'' He reassures, wiping the tears dotting his long eyelashes and taking a deep breath, looking down at his now pierced cock. He's lucky to be on leave for a while, using most of his free days to let it heal.

It takes a while for the piercing to heal until he's able to have sex with you, but once he gets the green light from you? This man is desperate.

''Like that?'' He whispers into your ear, hips slamming against yours as his cock rams into you as deep as he can go, the added sensitivity the piercings give him and how good your wet cunt feels around him makes his eyes roll to the back of his head, grip tightening around your waist as he thrusts faster.

''Fuck, baby—'' Your head tilts back on the pillow as you feel the beads all over your sensitive walls, the added stimulation driving you closer and closer to the edge. His face is buried on the crook of your neck, low growls and deep moans coming out of his lips as his hips slam faster against yours.

''This fuckin' pussy was made for me.'' He whispers softly, eyes closed as he focused on how good it felt to have you in his arms, how perfect you fit with him, how your cunt is a perfect fit for his pierced cock. His hand comes between both of your bodies, thumb rubbing your clit and whiny moans silenced by his lips as he cums with you, tongue managing to slip messily into your mouth while he shoots ropes inside you.

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n0tamused · 12 days

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hi.iii.... Booth,ill request!?!?

Boothill gets a component jammed, and in this particular fix-up with his mechanic, he's twice as curious and won't stop nabbing things (Tugging on the mechanics hair, grabbing tools from readers apron, whistling and asking too many questions about the practicality of certain tool ect.)

A/N: TEA REQUESTING BOOTHILL, SOUND THE ALARMS AND GET TO WORKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GET OFF YOUR ASSS! I HOPE YOU LIKE IT POOKIE <3 <3

Content: Boothill x Reader, no pronouns used, Boothill calls you darling bc ofc, playful Boothill

“What’s this for again?”

“It’s for the little screws that connect your plating together”

“Hm, looks like you can stab someone with it” Boothill commented, eyeing the thinner tool peeking from your work apron which lost its original white color, having changed to a washed out green with blotches of oil and metallic spray paint. It’s been only half a system hour since Boothill first stepped into the mechanic station you worked at, and already he has made a score for how many questions can be asked within those 30 or so minutes. It’s been a terrible morning with terrible weather and terrible news and terrible first customer, and this talking-your-ear off wasn't something you needed - it wasn’t exactly soothing, but you had no heart to tell him to quiet down.

You love to hear him talk while you work, you got used to it and have adjusted to it long ago, but today just had to be special. It had started to grow distracting and such distractions can’t be afforded if you are to properly fix the jammed plating and components within his arm. The plating pressed onto the wires within, making his entire arm remain in a constant position that would be painful were he still made whole of flesh and bone. The uncomfortable bend of it made you cringe when you saw it, reminding you of that one time your leg cramped badly from, and so you quickly got to work.

“Anything can be used as a weapon if you find ya’self in a bad situation, ain’t that right, darling?” Boothill mused, his cramped arm extended towards you as you worked your way to separate all the plating, the jammed and bent screws making it harder to pull apart. “Perhaps I should get m’self one of those too, y’know- for some close-range encounters. But then again, there’s not many situations that my bullets can’t help to resolve” he kept going, looking at your eyes that focused on the opening you made.

“Y-yeah..” you absentmindedly responded, not being able to pay too much attention to his words, but you caught a few words of ‘weapon’ and ‘gun’ and made a surface connection based on that. ‘Just nod along..’ You were distracted from the start of this day, despite your denial of that.

What came unexpectedly was two of his metal hands coming up to pinch a loose and hanging lock to tug on it, just enough to break your focus and move your head back. “Ow- heyy!” you protested as you turned to sharply glare at him. “I’m trying to fix you up here, you know? Do you want your arm stuck like this for the rest of time?” Your words are a challenge to him, and he greets it with a toothy grin. a hearty chuckle and slanted, hiding warmth behind them under a guise of mischief.

“Oh, come on! You’ve been fixing me up for a long time, and we are on friendly terms are we not, partner? What got you so gloomy today, I haven’t don’ anything wrong, have I?” His fingers give another small tug to your lock of hair before you pull your head back and your hair out of his hold, shaking your head. He was acting so stubborn now! What in the world has gotten into him?

“No! But come on- Hey!” you try to grab the screwdriver before Boothill fishes it out of the pocket of your apron with his good hand, twirling it between his fingers and staring at it as if he struck gold with his catch. Your hands all but abandoned your work on his arm, standing up to retrieve the screwdriver from his hold but he persists, stretching like a big, long cat to move the screwdriver out your way, and despite his disadvantage of sitting down in a chair, he did a wonderful work of avoiding your grabby hands.

You huffed in frustration, biting your lip in hopes to choke back the laugh you felt bubbling in your throat. Your face was flushed from holding your breath and chasing him around and around, yet moving nowhere.

“Boothill, give it back! I need that for your arm, you fool” you argue, making another dash for his hand, only to grab onto air as he swiftly moves his hand down.

“Nah, I think I may try doing this m’self, can’t have you working on me in that sour of a mood. I don’t know what I’ve done- hold on, has someone else soured your mood?”

“Give- it - back” in some last ditch attempt to pry the screwdriver from his hands before he can do more damage than good, you threw yourself over his shoulder from behind, reaching for his wrist with one hand and grabbing the screwdriver with the other. “Whoa there!” you hear him cheer, more laughter coming from him, and this time you can’t help but choke out a chuckle, now at the grips with him. Toe-to-toe and at a tug of war.

“No one has soured my mood, now, please, give it back” you plead but he stays stubborn, shaking his head and you feel his head turn and tilt, his nose touching your shoulder. “Wh-” you gasp as you feel his teeth nipping at your shoulder through your clothes, a playful snap of his jaw before he is pulling away just as quickly as he leaned in.

As you turn and twist to look at him in pure and utter disbelief, his eyes catch yours, and he sees just how flushed you look and before long he is losing his grip on the screwdriver from laughing.

“Oh shut up, you ranger! That was so unnecessary!” You won the screwdriver back, but at what cost? Yet.. seeing him laughing so earnestly was contagious.

Boothill himself often came in for check up and fix ups with a sour and snappy mood, but never at you, and he always made it a point not to burden you with gloom and boredom of his situation, he never lacked to tell you stories of the world and where his travels took him when you weren’t around. And god- it’d be a lie to say you didn’t try to cheer him up more than once before. It finally dawned on you that perhaps you were too gloomy and he was trying to cheer you up, in whatever way he could, given his own circumstances.

“Ahh, you should go and take a look at yourself, darling, you look red like a sweet berry, pah!”

How could you not be distracted when you had such genuine company? No gloom can pierce this cowboy.

#-dragon.treasure #Boothill #Boothill x reader #Boothill x you #Boothill x y/n #gn reader #boothill imagine #boothill fluff #Honkai star rail #Honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail imagine #penacony #hsr boothill #hsr boothill x reader #hsr #hsr imagine #hsr x reader #boothill x gn reader

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hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch · 14 days

Text

Venom intertwined

Summary: Wanda just wanted you and Venom to stop fighting that’s all she wanted, why did it escalate so much?

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, no spicy stuff, fluff, a crushed Pb and jelly sandwich (poor Nat)

A/n: I rewrote this since tumblr decided to delete it, hopefully it’s good, there will be a part two but when? Whenever I write it 😂

“Y/n why are you limping?” Nat barley moved from her place on the couch as you tried, but failed, to walk through the house without anyone noticing your injury

“I’m not limping you’re just incompetent” you laughed but Nat just rolled her eyes “I’m a well trained assassin Y/n I can spot a bee 5 miles away and blindfolded, you’re limping”

You flopped down next to her on the couch unable to hide the pain any longer “okay fine! Yes I’m limping are you happy now?”

Nat ignored your snarky comment instead pinching your arm getting a shout in response “enough with the snarky comments, why hasn’t Venom healed you yet?”

Venom’s head snaked out and you rolled your eyes knowing the rant was coming

“Y/n said that I was useless and she did not need me to live her life, so when someone who was paid to kill us managed to stab us in the leg I refused to heal her since she can obviously take care of herself”

Their head turned to you and glared and you glared back “you are a very childish bastard you know tha-

Venom slammed your body against the floor snapping the coffee table in half

“Ahh my sandwich” Nat said sadly picking up her now squashed sandwich “I was looking forward to that”

You scuffled with Venom on the floor which looked funny to anyone not knowing about Venom since it looked like you were just fighting yourself

“Take it back!” Venom growled

“No!” You shouted back

Suddenly Wanda burst the door hearing the commotion “woah what’s going on?!”

“Your girlfriend and her parasite ruined my Pb and jelly sandwich” Wanda glared at Nat and made a mental note to tell Maria to make more sandwiches to keep the grumpy assassin happy

“Okay you two stop!” Wanda’s plea went unanswered as you continued to fight with the symbiote so she used her magic to still you “hey!” You shouted still trying your best to fight

“I will separate you two if you don’t behave!”

Wanda barely registered Nat’s shout of “no!” Too focused on the fighting going on right now

You didn’t respond to her threat so Wanda, without thinking of the consequences, pulled Venom out of you and dropped you both to the ground, you fell to the ground feeling hallow for the first time in years, nothing felt right, your skin didn’t feel like your own and you couldn’t breathe, everytime you tried your heart sounded louder in your ears, wait your heart? That hadn’t made a sound in years.

Your eyes landed on the mess of symbiote on the ground, seemingly looking for you, when you reached your arm out you hoped they found you when your vision started to fade, after what felt like hours your body warmed back up and you felt the symbiote flow through your body and Venom’s voice piercing your ears “I am back Y/n you can relax now, we will be safe again soon I will heal you” you remained on the ground shaking slightly trying to keep relaxed like Venom said

Wanda and Nat watched you, watched you reach out for Venom and watched the colour returned to your face and your breathing return to normal, Wanda came close to you

“Baby I’m so sorry” Wanda tried helping you up but you scrambled away from her into the corner scared and afraid “no! No stay there Wanda!”

Wanda backed off unsure on what to do but Nat was there to try and help, “Wanda, you know her and Venom are entwined, DNA and all it’s dangerous to pull them apart you could’ve killed her”

Wanda gasped “I know I know! But I just wanted them to stop fighting I didn’t know what to do. And why didn’t you stop me?!”

Nat shrugged “I didn’t think you’d do it I also shouted stop but you still did it so it’s not my fault”

Wanda sighed knowing Nat was right and turned to you again jumping back seeing only Venom glaring back at the two women “Y/n?”

Venom stood tall and all trace of you had seemingly disappeared “you tried to kill us Wanda, someone who loves us would never do that”

Wanda’s eyes watered “no no baby please I didn’t mean to hurt you I just wanted you to stop fighting with Venom” she tried to hug the symbiote to give comfort but Natasha pulled her away

“Wanda they’ll tear you to shreds in seconds!”

The assassin kept tight hold of the witch as they both watched Venom turn to the window and turn back to them both, one side of your face revealed which gave Wanda hope but it was quickly dashed “Y/n? My love are you still there?”

“Don’t follow us” Venom overtook your body once again and leapt out of the window leaving the women alone without knowing where you were going or if you were coming back

“No Y/n! Come back!” You’d never been away from Wanda for more than a couple of days but she had no idea where you were going

***************************************

It was a while before either woman moved, Nat was still clinging onto Wanda as the redhead sobbed for you to come back hoping everytime she glanced at the broken window she’d see your form but it never came

Eventually Maria found them both, she sent Nat off to tell Tony and Bruce what happened and if they could help

“Wanda? Wanda can you hear me?” Maria sat in front of Wanda holding her head in her hands “she’s gone” Wanda whisper sobbed and Maria nodded “I know, they were spotted in Times Square running all over the billboards, they’re heading for New Jersey it seems”

Wanda brightened up and stood “New Jersey?”

Maria nodded “yeah why?”

“Y/n was going to buy a house there, she was going to ask Tony to borrow some money and work it off doing missions and let Tony and Bruce do some experiments on Venom”

Wanda turned to leave but Maria was quick to grab her arm “woah! Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“To New Jersey, she needs me I need to fix this”

Maria shook her head holding tight onto the witch “Wanda I mean this with all the love in the world but you caused this, you knew damn well what would happen and I’m pretty sure if you just turned up you’d start fighting with Venom and lose”

Wanda admitted defeat sighing and sitting down on the couch wiping more tears from her face

“Okay here’s what’s going to happen, you’ll have a shower and get yourself sorted then meet myself and the others to discuss what’s going to happen okay? We’ll get her back I promise”

Wanda didn’t speak but Maria took her silence as an agreement and left the room. But Wanda didn’t have a shower or meet everyone she instead got into her car and was currently on her way to you to fix this, she was going to fix this.

******************************************************

Meanwhile in New Jersey you were sat in that very house you were buying, Venom still being at the forefront keeping your body safe while it healed

“Are you feeling okay Y/n? Your body was so cold”

“Yeah I’m okay, just really confused, I can’t believe Wanda would do that”

Venom agreed “she tried to kill us”

You went to say something more but the front door opened revealing a witch standing there

“Why hello stranger, looking a little mouldy there”

The symbiote split their face revealing your own shocked one

“Agatha? You’re back?”

“Awaiting my favourite little alien’s return”

#marvel #wanda maximoff #mcu #wanda maximov #wanda maximoff x reader #marvel incorrect quotes #natasha romanoff #marvel au #marvel imagine #venom reader #wanda maximoff x venom reader #wanda maximoff x you

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eat-limes-bitches · 4 months

Text

Coming Home

PAIRING: Female Avenger! Reader x Bucky Barnes

SUMMARY: “Falling for you was like nothing I imagined.” Her voice started to give out as the door to the safe house burst open, “It was coming home.”

WARNINGS: ANGST, ANGST, ANGST! but it has a happy ending, mentions of death, dying, blood, stab wounds, violence, Sad! Bucky, nausea

Word Count: 1913

A/N: Hi! Here is another installment of my febuwhump series! Like I said, completely out of order but I couldn't wait it share this one with you guys!

Enjoy! <3

Divider by Rookthorne

Y/n knew when they left for this mission that something wasn’t right. It was too clean, the information was too good. Despite the many reassurances from Bucky when they landed, she still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Now, as she ran, she made a mental note to shout, ‘I told you so’ at her partner as soon as they reached the safe house, that was, if she could get out of the collapsing building. Skidding around a turn she pushed herself harder, desperate to reach the exit. She was almost there when there was an excruciating pain thrumming up her left leg. Whipping her head around, she saw a knife embedded in her calf and a trapped HYDRA soldier holding onto the handle.

“If I’m going down, you’re coming with me, sweetheart.” the soldier grimaced as he twisted the knife. Y/n glanced at the fast-approaching collapse of the ceiling before looking at the trapped man.

“You fucking wish,” she growled before shooting the man. His hand, now lifeless, released the handle so she continued her rapid sprint to the exit, somehow stumbling out the doorway and collapsing in the grass just as the rest of the building fell into a pile of rubble.

“Y/N! Are you alright?!” Bucky's worried voice shouted in her ear, causing her to wince.

“Just fucking peachy.” She grumbled, closing her eyes as a headache started to form in the back of her head. She re-opened them, however, as she heard rapid footsteps approaching, looking over just in time to see Bucky’s approaching form. He slid to a stop and took in her battered form on the ground.

“Are you hurt darlin’?” Has questioned, as he leaned down to help Y/n back to her feet. S he winced as her left leg started supporting weight again.

“Yeah some bugger got me in the calf on the way out, but it's not bleeding too badly, we can take care of it at the safe house I think.” She groaned, putting more weight on Bucky's shoulder. He glanced over her shoulder to observe the wound in question and nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, I think so too but let's get you to that safe house faster.” Bucky led her to the bike that was hidden in the tree line and gracefully set her down on the back seat before hopping on the bike himself and speeding off down the dirt road.

The longer the pair drove, the worse Y/n felt. Her head started spinning and her stomach churned. By the time they reached the safe house, she all but flung herself off the bike and hurled what was left of her breakfast that morning into the bushes.

“Shit, you ok doll?” Bucky asked, crouching down next to her, running a hand up and down her back. Y/n let out a groan.

“Been better I’m not gonna lie.” As Bucky wrapped an arm around her frame and pulled her up to move her into the house, she couldn’t decide if the butterflies in her stomach were from being this close to him or the nausea. Once inside the small safe house, Bucky placed Y/n on the kitchen table and dashed off to grab the first aid kit from the bathroom.

She tried to get an idea of what was around her in the room but the more she tried to focus on one thing, the more it spun around in her vision. Unable to prop herself up any longer, she lay flat on the table trying to stop the world from moving around her. Bucky returned moments later and placed a wet rag on her forehead, causing her eyes to flutter open.

“I’m gonna get this knife out now, ok doll?” Bucky said as he rounded the table. All Y/n could do was make a soft ‘mhm’ and groan as he pulled the knife out.

The first sign that something was wrong was the orange tinge to the blood that came pouring out of the wound. The next hint was the remnants of a yellow powder on the blade. The more strange orange liquid oozed out of the wound, the faster Bucky’s heart sped up.

“Y/n? You feeling ok darlin’?” He called out, looking up from the wound when he heard no response. Y/n’s head was limply lying to one side. He cursed under his breath as he tightened the tunicate and dashed around the table to place a hand on her face.

“Y/n? Open your eyes for me darlin’.” Bucky called out desperately, his thumb brushing over her cheek, taking notice of how cold it was to the touch. Her eyes fluttered open and her blown-out pupils focused on Bucky’s face. A wistful smile decorated her features.

‘Hey Buck, when did you get here?” Bucky’s heart sank, he knew the signs all too well from his time in the war. The faraway look, the disorientation, she was dying, but she couldn’t be, not yet.

“I’ve been here the whole time doll. Can you keep your eyes open for me?” He pleaded as he started to back away to try and return to her wound to keep patching it up. He was stopped by her hand coming up holding his hand to her face, keeping him in place.

“You know I always knew that this was going to happen.” She mumbled, locking her gaze on his face. Bucky riffled through his pocket looking for his emergency transponder.

“W-what are you talking about, baby? You’re gonna be fine!” He stated, fumbling over his words as he pulled out the little remote and pressed the button. Y/n shook her head.

“No, I’m not and you know that just as much as I do.” Her voice was becoming airy the more she tried to talk. Bucky felt the hard knot in his throat starting to form as he shook his head, willing the tears to go back into his eyes.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about doll. I’m gonna get you patched up a-and we are going to go home and you are gonna take me to that noodle shop you promised me right?” Y/n shook her head softly, not having a lot of energy to move at this point.

“You know I won’t. But please know, none of this is your fault”. Her voice was light and airy as she spoke. Bucky shook his head wildly.

“No, not like this, Y/n, please not like this!” He cried, bringing his other hand up to cup her face, trying to keep her gaze locked on him. She soothed him, bringing her other hand up to place it on top of his head, burying her finger into the dirty chestnut locks.

“It’s gonna be ok, Buck.” She whispered, a smile still decorating her face. Bucky decided that even as she lay there dying on the table, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

“Don’t be sad, the stars are going to shine tonight.” Bucky took a shaky breath, letting his eyes slip close to savor the feeling of her fingers in his hair one last time.

“A-and when you see them, know I am watching over you.” Y/n gasped as her body began shutting down causing Bucky’s eyes to flash open in alarm. Y/n shook her head a bit, a breathy laugh dancing off her lips.

“There is so much to say, so many wonderful things I have to tell you, but with so little time left.” Her voice was only a whisper now, but even as quiet as her words were, she couldn’t hear the jet engine roaring in the background.

“Like what darlin’?” Bucky whimpered as he watched her eyes grow dull the closer the footsteps got to the door.

“Falling for you was like nothing I imagined.” Her voice started to give out as the door to the safe house burst open, revealing a disheveled Steve and Bruce barreling in, with the rest not far behind. With a final breath, she looked Bucky right in the eye.

“It was coming home.”

~~~~~~happy ending after the cut but if you want to be sad stop here~~~~~~~~

The cry that left Bucky as her hands went limp and her eyes slid closed was going to haunt the team for the rest of their lives. Bruce, who had been tending to the wound the first chance he got, looked to the rest of the team.

“She still has a pulse, all be it faint. I know what's wrong with her, we can save her.”

To Bucky, everything after that was a blur. Steve pulled Bucky away from Y/n and Tony scooped her up, rushing her back to the jet as the rest rushed after him. Back at the compound, Y/n was placed in the med wing as Bruce began treatment. Bucky didn’t understand much other than “Radiation sickness. Uranium on the knife. Nothing he could have done.”

Nothing he could have done? He watched the love of his life basically die in his arms, in his care and there was nothing he could have done? After being forcibly made to shower and change clothes to rid himself of the Uranium on his clothes was he then allowed into her room. He resumed the position he held at the safe house, clutching her hand and waiting for any signs of life, other than the beeping from the monitor.

Bucky moved his gaze from her face to the window. The light danced off the windows of the other building unfiltered by the cloudless sky. It was beautiful, but he couldn’t appreciate it, it looked dull in comparison to the woman on the bed.

“I thought I told you to not be sad.” Her voice was so soft that Bucky thought he imagined it but when he snapped his gaze to her face, he saw her bright eyes staring right back at him. Bucky choked on a sob and rested his head on the bed. The relief flooding through his system was too much for him to handle. Her nimble fingers took their rightful place on top of his head, brushing through the now silky hair strands.

After a moment, Bucky lifted his head and captured Y/n’s hand as it fell from his head, pressing a kiss into her palm before holding it in his hands.

“It’s hard not to be sad when the one person who brought life into the darkest parts of my life was dying in my arms.” He returned his gaze to lock onto Y/ns. For a moment the pair sat in silence before Bucky spoke again.

“I thought I lost you.” Y/n just smiled softly, not saying a word. Bucky just stared at her, trying to bask in the warmth of her gaze as long as he could. The more he basked, the more the nightmarish pain of losing her was becoming just that, a nightmare.

“But I’m still here.” Bucky’s grip increased slightly, fearful that he may hurt her, but needing to feel her to keep himself grounded, keep himself from falling off the edge of reality in the abyss of ‘what ifs’. Bucky had so many things he wanted to tell her, so many different things he could and should say but the only thing that managed to slip out was, “Yeah. Yeah you are.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky angst #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader angst

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loveliestdagger · 25 days

Text

ask (bucky barnes x f!reader)

part one of THE MISSION REPORTS

read it on ao3

go back to the masterlist | read part two

summary: when, after a mission, the reader needs Bucky's help tending to her wounds.

word count: 1227

warnings: blood and injury, stab wound

a/n: feedback is always appreciated, especially since i'm thinking about writing another chapter. anyways...enjoy!!!

I hold onto the doorframe, putting as little weight on my leg as possible. the open wound stings, deepening into consistent pain jolting up the thigh and reverbing in my brain. I feel the blood dripping down my freshly washed body.

The nightgown is purposefully too short, showing the extent and severity of the cut. It starts mid thigh trailing down almost to the knee. It's deep too. Bucky sits on the edge of the bed, boots undone. His hair clings to his forehead with the same sweat that makes his bare chest glisten just as hard as his metal arm. If I didn't feel like dying I'd drool.

He takes note of my presence as soon as I open the bathroom door, straightening up. I can feel his eyes on me, burning in the raw flesh of my thigh. I register a millisecond of surprise and then his eyes raise to meet mine.

I don’t move. I should. I swallow in dry, returning his stare. My vision blurs and the hand that isn’t supporting me tremors uncontrollably – the only visible sign of my distress. He gets up, walking close enough that I can distinguish his eyes through the haziness.

Sam had once joked every time I got injured I acted like a wounded animal. Unwilling to accept help, let alone ask for it. Running away to lick my wounds and coming back when everything is fine.

Bucky stands in front of me, his lips pressed into a line. He analises me, knowing me too well already. "You need me to stitch it up."

It’s not a question or a statement. It's the iteration of what I need to say but can’t. All I can muster is to not avoid his gaze, as my face burns and my knees falter.

Still, my eyes avoid his when I speak.

"I wouldn't ask if I-"

"You haven't."

I let out a heavy breath, frustration intensifying the hot flashes surging through me as I retreat back into the bathroom. I'm going to bleed to death because I can’t bring myself to ask for help. Real mature. But his hand grasps mine, our fingers bruising almost intertwining before he settles his grip firmly on my wrist. When I decide to look back at him his gaze has softened.

"Ask." It’s a quiet, breathy sound. I’m tired and hurt and he's leaning into me, his warmth far more comforting than — could me. And I find myself holding onto his heart, the steady beating underneath my fingers. He draws circles on the inside of my wrist. The other hand rises to cup my cheek and I lean into it, shuddering breaths as his skin makes contact with mine. "Talk to me."

I crumble like a statue made to wait too long.

"It hurts." I croak through the lump in my throat. It’s not what he wants me to say but it’s the truth. It’s the most sincere I’ve been in a while.

"I know baby." He says softly in my ear while his fingers brush the ends of my hair.

"I need help." I mutter.

"Then let’s get you some help." He guides me back inside the bathroom, his hand resting on the small of my back. The tactical gear is in a pile on the corner, along with blood soaked undergarments. Even the tiles underneath have a reddish hue to them, messily wiped in a pained haze.

He motions for me to sit on the edge of the bathtub, leaving the room only when he’s sure I won't fall over. The lights are too bright and I'm suddenly very cold. When he comes back, with a medical kit that had to have taken up half of his bag, I’m gripping the edges of the tub.

He kneels in front of me, laying out his supplies. I watch him work, slowly, methodically and when he gazes back at me he looks unsure. His thumb trails the extent of the wound, gliding in the blood that keeps on pouring out and he watches me. His eyes roam my face in search of something. Then he looks at my thigh again, eyebrows knitted together as I hold my breath. He's looking for pain. And I'm sure I look pained. The edges of the wound are jagged and I can feel where the knife nicked the bone. It’s a dull ache, deep inside the leg. Incomparable with the searing pain of the cut itself which I feel burning at the edges like it's trying to knit itself back together.

"Just do it." I exhale. It’s when I notice I'm panting, my body so heavy I have to make a conscious effort to sit upright.

"I'll make it quick, I promise." His eyes crease with a sympathetic smile. His hand sliding to massage my calf. I manage a nod, my eyes threatening to close.

I can’t resist the urge to lean over him, a content sigh escaping my lips as my forehead meets his bare shoulder and rests there. I register the sharp sting of disinfectant. Then I feel the pressure of his fingers on the edges of the cut, clenching my teeth as he pinches the skin together and whimpering when he draws the needle through it. And he does it again. And again.

"Are you still with me?" he calls out after a while. I somewhat nod, not feeling the strength to lift my head. "We’re almost done. Just a little bit longer, okay?"

"I feel awful." I confess, just as he drags a wet towel softly across the stitches.

"You lost a lot of blood. I’m actually surprised you’re holding out so well."

"What can I say? I’m a natural."

"I'd prefer it if you weren’t a natural at getting stabbed." I feel scolded, as he finishes wrapping my leg, the pressure bringing immediate relief.

He grabs my shoulders, straightening me up. He brushes damp hair out of my face, like it’s a curtain separating him from gazing at the view, looking so intently into my eyes I think he might actually get a glimpse into my soul.

"You did good." And there’s his eyes, and his mouth. And I'm sure I will say something but I can't hear myself. I can’t think. And his eyes. His eyes, shiny and caring, full of such honesty and tenderness I don’t know if my knees are weak for him or because of blood loss. And I don’t care because he carries me and lays me on the bed. He covers me and his fingers stroke my cheek as he asks if I’m okay.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning in my direction I feverishly think he might kiss me. I wonder if he wants to. I’m sure I would like it, he seems like a good kisser. With his pretty pink lips and his soft skin.

"I have to check in with Nat." He says hesitantly, his hand still on my face. "I'll check on you when I get back."

" I should go too" I squirm, trying to free myself from the bedsheets. Having a drink at some dirty bar with Natasha sounds nice for once. And I have a lot to debrief

He pushes me back down. "You’ve done enough for today."

I try again and I’m met with the same fate.

"Sleep."

read bonus chapter | read part two

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acid-ixx · 2 months

Text

moaning headcanons a.k.a how loud they moan (part 1)

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: this is supposed to be crack until it became serious and I can't back out. update: i forgot this draft existed so i hope u like me posting old writing (with me expanding on it). ask for part two with specific characters (next part will contain neuvillette) if you will, i dont mind!

tags:top!gn!reader. implied yandere. implied murder. jealousy. masterbation, jerking off to thoughts of you. (no i will not shut up about how nana's (@koinotame) portrayal of childe changed my entire viewpoint of him, he's my murder baby and he knows it.

— childe : loud. genuinely noisy especially when he strokes himself when envisioning you punishing him. ah, if you're rough enough, he whines and he sputters and chokes. sometimes, he'll increase the volume of his moans just to spur you on. he's a tease and although it's nice to be a good boy— he loves being a brat so you could manhadle him harshly. but when he's lonely and horny, he's always, always not afraid to release his desire. even gagging him with your underwear still wouldn't be enough to muffle his whines and gurgled moans of pleasure. if you hurt him for just the right amount, he'd be cumming even with his dick untouched and that's when he moans the loudest. sometimes, when he feels you don't give him enough attention, he'd be approaching you (and whatever you'd be doing wouldn't matter), latching onto your waist and whining into your ears about how you just haven't been noticing him lately. it's up to you to decide whether you want him kneeling on the hard floor giving you oral or kneading his hard-on through his jeans. just wish whoever your neighbor is a good luck because he won't certainly shut up when he pleasures himself on you. there's times when he's good, when all he does is whine and gasp, but that's only when he stabs his enemies and the crimson seeps into his clothes hard enough for him to feel it damp and stimulate him lightly, thinking of you and your complaints about him staining the carpets again— he hopes you'd use a ball gag this time, with a tight collar while you're at it, just so he could really feel the pain.

— kaveh : his moans are, well, similar to the moans of exasperations he releases whenever his wallet is empty or whenever his roommate irks him. but when it comes to you, it seemingly amplifies to a more modified, girly shriek and teary eyes. he releases high-pitched whines when overstimulated, when he's on the brink of cumming whenever you jerk him off, or when your tongue ventures through his pecs, circling his areola and ignoring the swell of his nipple; and he's begging you with drool running down his shiny lips to just suck his, his "breasts" (your words, not his!) already! he gasps needily whenever you thrust inside him, releasing airy and rhythmic "ah, ah, ah!"'s with every thrust. every time you hit his prostate, he'll be sucking in a breath and gripping on your back for dear life and begging you to slow down while he pants. his dignified voice loses composure though, whenever he rides you. it starts off with bated breaths until it continues with sharp gasping and girlish moaning. he wouldn't even be aware of his own loudness in the room with how his pleasure drowns out any sort of dignity he tried so hard to maintain. it's not his fault that it's rare for you to keep all your attention to him! and he wants it all to himself. so if that means embarrassing himself for a few days just so you could forget about the man who flirted with you days ago— then so be it! he'll look at you with droopy eyes and quivering lips, begging you for more with a slightly scratchy throat and swollen lips. despite being overstimulated, he could go on for more rounds just for you.

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