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cherienymphe · 10 months

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Basic Training XII (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | divider by @whimsicalrogers

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

“Why do you listen to everything Steve says?”

Peter’s movements paused at the sound of your soft voice. The bath water had cooled some but was still warm and soothing on your skin. Your chin rested on the side of the tub as Peter sat before you on the floor, squeezing the rag and raining water down on your back. At least, he had been until you voiced what had been on your mind for some time.

Outside of the obvious thing they had in common, Peter seemed so different from the blond. He was so much more gentle, understanding, and you couldn’t fathom what the connection was. Why was Peter so content to hear the man out or even give weight to the things he said? Why did he even care about Steve’s opinion? Why did he even care about Steve, at all?

“I don’t listen to everything he says…”

“No...not everything,” you relented, recalling that if that were true, you would’ve been in the basement several times over. “…but what he thinks clearly means something to you.”

Peter was gently brushing your shoulder, now, and when his dark eyes met yours, he gave you a brief crooked smile.

“Steve does mean a lot to me.”

You frowned a bit at that, and Peter noticed, taking his free hand brushing his fingers along your cheek.

“He’s my brother,” he told you.

You blinked at that, and you were sure that your confusion was all over your face. Your gaze rose as Peter stood, and you watched him lean over to let the water out. Taking a bath with Peter, or with him simply there, was not uncommon for you, now. Sometimes he sat behind you in the water, gently scrubbing your skin, and sometimes he was merely next to the tub, talking to you and occasionally washing some part of your body.

Sometimes even your hair.

He wrapped the towel around your shoulder, helping you out by your shoulders. You found yourself leaning into him as he dried you off, leading you into the bedroom as he did. When he sat you down on the bed, he moved towards the dresser, picking out something for you to sleep in.

“They all are,” he continued as he returned to you. “Our parents took it upon themselves to adopt as many children as they could handle.”

Your eyes were wide as you listened to him, lifting your arms when he motioned for you to, and the nightgown slipped down over your head.

“All of us were babies or practically that when they did,” he told you. “I was the last to be adopted, and growing up in a house full of older brothers was something.”

Peter smiled as he said this, like he was thinking back on fond memories, and you found yourself wanting to know what they were. Your mind whirled as you took in this new information, and you felt silly for never considering that before. You’d thought their closeness and camaraderie came from being friends for years as well as coworkers.

Not brothers.

At that, you looked around the room, taking it in through different eyes. This house was where Peter—where all of them—grew up, and your lips parted. You had the hardest time imaging Peter or Steve or Sam running around the yard as children, running through the house as children. You briefly wondered if this was Peter’s room, the one he’d grown up in, and you voiced that thought.

“It is,” he answered, gently rubbing your arms as your eyes met his again. “…and when I decided that I was ready to take a wife too…when I decided that I had to have you…”

He leaned in, gently brushing his lips over yours.

“I made it so nice and pretty for you.”

You looked down at that, unsure of how to feel.

“I never did ask…but I assume you like it since I haven’t heard any complaints,” he softly said.

You nodded.

“It is pretty,” you quietly assured him. “It’s the prettiest room I’ve ever had.”

That wasn’t a lie, and you almost felt bad for saying it, briefly thinking of your mom. Peter took your hands, kneeling before you, and your frown deepened.

“Why…?”

You trailed off, wondering if you should voice your thoughts.

“Why do you do this? Why did you take me? Why did Steve take Margaret? Laura? Sharon? Surely your parents can’t be happy with this…”

You said that, but in truth, you didn’t even know. In fact, there was a large part of you that wondered if they were even alive. While possible that they simply left and left this house to their sons, you doubted that, and you found that your suspicions were correct.

“Well, they both died about six years ago,” he informed you, looking sad about it. “Our dad was a cop too…”

Peter stood, joining you on the bed, and you found yourself enraptured by what he was saying, getting a glimpse into his world and life.

“Died in the line of duty,” he confessed, and without thinking, you wrapped your hand around his wrist. “Mom had been with him for so long, forty something years, and it broke her heart.”

His tone of voice gave you an inkling of what he was going to say before he said it.

“Tony found her about a week later. They said it was a heart attack.”

Against your will, your heart sank, and you found yourself feeling…sad for Peter. You didn’t know why. He’d kidnapped you, after all, and knowing great loss himself, he’d allowed his brothers to make you go through the same. Still, if you changed your mind right now and decided that you wanted to see how your mom was doing, you didn’t doubt that Peter would do it.

He didn’t have that luxury.

“I’m sorry,” you eventually whispered, and he gave you a rueful smile.

“I’m better about it, now,” he assured you. “…and…about everything else…?”

He exhaled, leaning back on his elbows.

“Our dad did the same to our mom when she was only nineteen.”

His words had your eyes widening some more, and you looked at him in shock. Peter had said it so casually that you didn’t quite comprehend what he’d said at first, but when you did, you moved closer, bringing your feet up onto the bed.

“What?”

Peter nodded, looking like it was the most normal thing in the world, and you supposed that for him, it was. If he knew that was how his parents had met, then clearly it wasn’t secret. Or…at least…not a well-kept one.

“By the time I was adopted, he didn’t have to punish her as much, but Steve says that when him, Bucky, and Tony were taken it, it was a regular thing to hear her crying in the basement or see him give her a few lashings.”

The thought made you swallow, and now, you couldn’t imagine Peter growing up in this house for a whole other reason. His mother’s life sounded horrible—familiar—and you recalled that Peter implied she’d died of a broken heart. You didn’t need to be a genius to realize that she’d succumbed to her own captor, and fearfully…that realization also sounded familiar.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the feel of Peter’s hand on your arm, tracing patterns into it with his fingers.

“She grew to be really happy with him,” he tried to assure you, and he didn’t need to address the words that went unsaid.

So would you.

The implication was there, and you let him twist his fingers with yours.

Now, it all made sense. They’d grown up in a house with a rapist and captor for a father and victim for a mother. They grew up witnessing her abuse, internalizing, accepting their version of normal as it was passed down to them. They grew up to repeat history, and you got the sick feeling that their father would be proud.

You looked over as Natasha swayed, worriedly eyeing her as you distractedly stopped what you were doing. This was the second day in a row that she didn’t look much like herself, almost haggard. You both were preparing dinner, Christine having stepped outside to grab some thyme from the garden.

“Are you okay?” you finally asked her.

Truthfully, she didn’t look the best, but you didn’t want to say anything lest that wasn’t intended. The redhead didn’t respond right away, and for a moment, you were worried that she’d ignore you. Natasha had been a little off as of late, quieter around everyone really, not just you, and it worried you. It wasn’t like her.

“I’m…fine,” she breathed. “Just feeling a little lightheaded, that’s all.”

At that, you completely stopped what you were doing and neared her. She shook her head when you asked if she minded, your hand out, and you pressed it to her forehead. She didn’t feel feverish, and you told her so.

“I don’t think I’m coming down with something, so I wouldn’t expect to be,” she sighed.

Her tone and the expression on her face made you think that she had an inkling as to what was wrong. You started to voice that when a familiar voice drew both of your attention.

“That smells great, pretty girl.”

You smiled before you could stop yourself, only allowing it to fall some when you blinked, silently chastising yourself.

“…and Nat,” he teasingly drawled, making his way to you.

“Thank you, Peter,” the redhead evenly said, returning to the food before her.

You eyed her again as Peter’s hands settled on your waist, frowning to yourself as you watched her continue her work like nothing was wrong. You seriously got the feeling that something was going on with her, and it’s not like you felt comfortable to bring that up with Peter in the room.

You only just realized that Peter was saying something.

“Do I get a sample before the rest of the house?”

He already knew the answer to that, and you gave him a look.

“I’m barely even done,” you told him. “…and besides. You know that Steve wants us all to experience it together as a family.”

You made sure to face away from Peter when you rolled your eyes at that. Steve being the equivalent of the first-born son made it click as to why he seemed to be the head of the household for the most part. Learning about their childhood and their relationship with one another also made it clear why Peter only took half of what Steve said to heart.

It’s why you were unsurprised when Peter reached around you to taste the pot of soup anyway.

“Needs more salt,” he said, but his tone was light. “See…”

He gripped your chin, turning your head and making your lips meet his in a small kiss. It took you by surprise, and you made a noise in the back of your throat, more shocked with yourself when you started to kiss him back just as he pulled away. Peter smiled at you when his gaze met yours, and he quickly kissed your cheek before finally pulling away.

“I guess I can just add more at the table. It tastes great.”

He squeezed your sides, saying goodbye to Natasha. You looked after him as he went, oblivious to the fact that you’d stopped staring in order to do so until Natasha called your name. You softly apologized, and you could feel her gaze on you. It was silent between you two again…for a while.

“You seem to be adjusting pretty well.”

You looked at her, thinking on it.

“I guess I am,” you slowly told her, frowning. “I don’t think I ever apologized for my birthday dinner, by the way. I know it was weeks ago, but…”

“Don’t,” the other woman argued. “You had every right.”

You watched her heave a sigh.

“None of us enjoyed our first birthday here. Considering your…circumstances, I would’ve been worried if it was anything other than what it was,” she sadly said.

In truth, Natasha had been off ever since she found out just how you’d been taken and her husband’s part in it. You imagined that it had to affect the way she saw him, and as she grew quiet again, your desire to check on her won.

“Natasha, are you okay?”

She briefly paused at your question.

“You just seem really unlike yourself, lately, and… You look unwell.”

You watched her face harden, lashes fluttering as she blinked, and for a moment, you didn’t think she’d answer. She glanced over her shoulder, and when she spoke, you almost didn’t hear her.

“I think I’m pregnant,” she told you, making you sharply inhale. “…and I don’t want Bucky to know. Not yet.”

You felt flattered that she trusted you wouldn’t tell, and you wouldn’t, not even to Peter, but you did wonder why she didn’t want Bucky to know just yet.

“I kind of hoped I could avoid this, you know…? I’d always been told it would be hard for me to conceive, but not impossible, and it’s not like Bucky hasn’t been trying…but…”

Her shoulders sagged, and she wouldn’t look at you.

“Either Bucky was going to take someone else’s baby, and two more innocent lives would be ruined or…a miracle would happen. Bringing another life into this was inevitable, anyway, but I’d hoped…”

She shook her head.

“I’d made peace with starting a family with someone I’d trusted who grew up to betray me in the worst way possible…I’d made peace with who I thought he was, but… He murdered your friend.”

She looked at you, and your chest tightened.

“…and he might as well had murdered the rest too. I don’t know if I can make peace with that…”

You could see it on her face that she was struggling with all of this all over again with these recent developments, but you didn’t know what she was getting at. You didn’t understand where she was going with this…or if she was just ranting.

“…and you’ve known all along and had to be around them this whole time and try to suck it up and cope as best as you can…and…Peter…”

She breathed his name, a look of disgust and anger on her face. She shook her head, and her eyes met yours again.

“I can see that…you’re taking all of this better than before,” she noted, eyes falling to your ring. “…that you’re trying to find some peace in this, but there’s something you need to know about Peter. I know that you-.”

“So much of the thyme wasn’t even edible, anymore,” Christine said as she came into the kitchen. “I had to pick through so much.”

Her presence had Natasha swallowing her words, and your brows were drawn together as you stared at her. You weren’t paying attention to a word Christine was saying, too focused on what Natasha was going to say. You feared that with the other woman’s presence, you wouldn’t even have another chance to know what Natasha was going to say.

As the brunette pulled the other woman into conversation about stuffing the chicken, you forced yourself to let it go for another day. After all, what didn’t you already know about Peter?

You sat on your bed twiddling your thumbs as you waited for Peter to return. He was downstairs with the rest of the men, talking about work, you assumed, and considering that Steve hadn’t had much appreciation for that night you’d dozed off on the stairs, you decided to wait for him here.

As much as it was killing you.

Every time you were away from Peter, you just felt so anxious, and you didn’t like it. Truthfully, you should feel relieved and like a breath of fresh air anytime he was gone. After all, when you were alone, it was like he couldn’t get enough of you. You absentmindedly reached up to touch a tender area of your neck, and when a shudder traveled down your spine at the memories, you weren’t so sure that it was one of fear.

The only time in this house where you could just be was when you were with Peter. More specifically…when you were under him. When you were with him, it was the only time where you weren’t obligated to pretend. He let you be sad, and ask questions, and talk about your friends. Peter allowed you to have a space that was safe…and the irony in that was not lost on you.

When you were under him, your mind was blank, unable to process anything but the feel of him inside of you. It was a feeling you were starting to crave whenever you felt overwhelmed, and you hated it. You shouldn’t want Peter. You shouldn’t enjoy Peter, but your only safe space was Peter.

As if your thoughts summoned him, the room door finally opened.

“Oh, hey!” he said with surprise when you hurried off the bed, wrapping your arms around him. “Not asleep yet?”

Still at war in your mind and unable to voice your thoughts, right now, you shook your head.

“You should be getting more sleep,” he told you, touching the skin beneath your eyes when you pulled away.

“That’s hardly my fault,” you dryly reminded him, and Peter chuckled, a half smirk on his pink lips.

“Sorry, pretty girl,” he said, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips. “I just can’t get enough of you.”

When he started to lead you towards the bed, you stopped him. He looked at you in wonder, and you pulled your lip between your teeth.

“What is it?” he softly asked, concern dancing in his gaze.

“Can we go outside?” you quietly wondered, continuing before he could refuse. “I didn’t get to go outside, today, and… I don’t know, I just feel really down.”

Natasha’s confession and your feelings regarding Peter were weighing you down. You knew that the men liked to know as soon as possible if their wife was pregnant, but Bucky wasn’t your husband, and it wasn’t up to you to tell him something so personal about the redhead. Besides, as long as he didn’t suspect that she or anyone else knew and kept it hidden, it wouldn’t be a problem.

…and Peter…

You tilted your head at him, just wanting to be outside and feel the air on your face with the one person in the house you felt you could be open with. Peter told you that he liked that you wore your heart on your sleeve, and it had made something bloom in your chest, a feeling you’d quickly tried to squash down.

“I know I’m not allowed to be out this late, but…”

You couldn’t tell if Peter was considering agreeing or not until he threw you a soft smile, tightening his hand on yours. You both were quiet as he led you through the wing and down the stairs. You didn’t know where Steve was, but you knew that if he came out like the boogeyman, Peter would protect you.

He always did.

It was so much cooler with the sun down, the half-moon taking it’s place. You really loved the pond, and so you weren’t surprised when Peter started to lead you there the moment you both made it outside. You kept looking up at the stars, recalling how while living in the city, you hadn’t been able to see them. It was something you always envied rural areas for.

“You’re like a little kid, sometimes…”

You looked at him at that, sitting down.

“Always need to come outside and play in the grass and see the water,” there was a smile on his lips as he grinned down at you. “It’s cute.”

You wanted to tell him that being trapped inside for days on end would do that and what else did he expect? However, proving what he said to be true, your thoughts were clearly all over your face.

“I get it,” he exhaled, lowering himself next to you. “Of course, you’d want to be outside all the time.”

Peter reached up, brushing his fingers along your cheek.

“…but you understand why, right?”

He continued before you could say anything.

“To keep you safe. To keep all of you safe,” he told you. “There’s so much that could happen to you out here, and…”

He trailed off, but you finished for him.

“You don’t trust us… Me.”

Again, you didn’t know what Peter or Steve expected from you. If you’d wanted to make a run for it so badly, you would’ve tried already.

“I know you would never,” Peter whispered, taking your face into his hands. “…but just think of what would happen if you did manage to get away and tell anyone.”

He frowned at you.

“It would take a miracle for them to believe you, and on the off chance that they did…”

Peter sighed, a sad sound, and now you frowned.

“Imagine what would happen to Margaret and poor Sarah. Growing up without her dad? Her uncles?”

You looked down at that, having never thought about that before.

“…and Jane would be heartbroken without Thor. It would be so hard for her to move on. I don’t think she ever would to be honest.”

No, you never had any intention of escaping, but these were things that had never crossed your mind. God, you hated Steve. You hated and feared him more than anyone in your entire life, but from what you’d seen, he thought the world of Sarah…and she adored him just the same.

You shook your head, not wanting to think about that.

“I’m not saying you would…just something to think about.”

“I know,” you mumbled.

Peter tilted your head up, his dark eyes searching your own.

“You wouldn’t…right…?”

“Of course, not,” you quickly assured him.

He stared at you for a long while before nodding.

“Good,” he murmured, leaning in. “I would be really hurt to think that you would.”

Peter kissed you then, and you didn’t kiss him back.

At first.

His lips were so soft against yours, they always were, and you hated that it was something you noticed. You noticed a lot of things about Peter lately, most of them when he was touching you. You noticed how toned he was. Not as muscular as Bucky or Thor, but enough to tell you that he could hold his own with the rest of them, could hold his own against you if need be.

You noticed the way he always needed to touch you. Not even sexually, but just to feel you and confirm that you were there. He liked brushing his hand over your back at dinner or resting it on your thigh. He liked walking up behind you in the kitchen and touching your waist or resting his chin on your shoulder.

He especially liked bathing with you, taking it upon himself to clean you and look after you, like it was his responsibility to make sure you were well cared for in the best way possible. Especially after sex. Peter loved cleaning your skin and holding you while you caught your breath and telling you that you were okay. The contrast of how roughly he could thrust into you and hold you from how gently he cared for you when it was over was great.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered into your shoulder.

The night air had you shivering as he undressed you by the pond, and your movements were hesitant, almost refusing. You were outside, and even though you weren’t right in front of the house, it was still within view. The thought of someone seeing you made you shrink in on yourself.

“Peter…”

“It’s okay,” he murmured against your lips. “It’s just you and me, pretty girl.”

You gasped when he pushed himself into you, stretching you out slowly. Your fingers pressed into his arm and back, thighs opening for him as he pulled his hips back. Peter loved having sex with you, and you guessed that if he had it his way, he’d be inside of you all the time.

You hated that you didn’t hate it.

You could feel yourself relaxing beneath him, letting yourself go on the grass. It really did feel like it was just you and Peter whenever he was inside of you, curving his hips into yours and forcing moans from your lips despite how much you wanted to swallow them down. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but you thought to yourself—who cares? It’s not like Peter didn’t know how much you needed him. You’d made that clear the day you’d almost lost your mind at him having to go back to work.

You made it clear when you couldn’t even make a decision without looking at him first. When you couldn’t sleep without him. When his mere presence put your heart at ease. In this nightmare, you needed Peter, and you wrapped your legs around his waist. He groaned at that, leaning in to kiss you again.

“Atta girl…”

When his lips trailed to your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses, you turned your head. The house wasn’t completely dark. It was still kind of early in the night, so, you wouldn’t expect it to be. However, what was unexpected was a figure standing in an upstairs window. It was in a different wing of the house than yours, and you blinked in shock at the sight. A shudder of fear traveled through you, and you turned your head towards the crook of Peter’s neck…

…trying to block out the unmistakable sight of short blond hair.

#dark!peter parker #dark!peter Parker x reader #dark peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction

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cottonlemonade · 27 days

Text

Strawberry Lotion

words: 546 || avg. reading time: 2 mins.

pairing: aged up Osamu x chubby!Reader (feat. the Inferior Twin (affectionate))

genre: humor, April Fools, established relationship, suggestive fluff

warnings: mdni, mild suggestiveness

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You groaned when you slid the curtain to the side to find a brilliantly sunny day.

Your boyfriend Osamu, still sitting in bed, looked up from his phone with a questioning head tilt.

"It's a dress day. Ugh, I don't wanna shave my legs.", you pouted. Throwing your head back dramatically you shuffled to the bathroom.

Before closing the door, Osamu slipped in as well.

"Uhm.", you started tentatively, "This isn't usually a group activity, babe."

"Yeah I know, but I'm curious how girls shave. I've only had sneak peaks in razor ads, ya know?"

You sighed. "God, you hide it well, but you're an idiot."

Sitting on the corner of his bathtub, with your legs under the faucet you began the tedious process of removing the new stubble.

"Huh. That's a surprisin’ amount of acrobatics."

"It's just annoying cause it's not a 2 minute thing. It takes ages to get the whole leg and your skin gets all irritated and stuff. The only good thing is that my lotion smells like strawberries." (That and the feeling of rubbing your silky legs together like a cricket.)

Osamu perked up, knowing the one you‘re talking about. "Ya got it with ya?", he asked excitedly.

You nodded, resuming your task, feeling a little weird how he was staring at you. This wasn’t exactly the flattering image you wanted him to keep in his mind for a rainy day. When he didn‘t say anything else, you look up to find him with a wide smile of delighted anticipation.

"Guys.", an impatient knock and Atsumu‘s voice came through the door. "Sorry to interrupt, but will ya be done soon? There are other people livin’ here, too, Samu!"

"All done. One second, Tsumu!", you called.

Osamu wiggled his eyebrows suggestively when he passed his brother in the doorway heading back to his bedroom.

You rummaged in your bag for the lotion, taking out the small red tub.

"Can I do it?", Osamu offered, his voice filled with eagerness.

Swallowing a sarcastic reply, you just shrugged and sat back at the foot of the bed. Your boyfriend knelt down in front of you and set your foot on his thigh. Taking a generous dollop of lotion he began to massage your leg, setting kisses on the now smooth skin before covering it in the soothing light pink cream.

"Damn, ya smell so good." He winked and genuinely had to chew his lip to stop himself from parting your legs for him to dive between them, grabbing at your soft tummy. He was actually just about to ask if you wouldn‘t mind taking off your sleeping shorts so he “could get the whole leg“ when -

"What’re ya doin’?", Atsumu asked, confused, standing yet again in the open door, toothbrush hanging in his mouth.

"Makin’ a baby." Osamu deadpanned, not even looking at the blonde and resumed his work with great concentration.

"Wow, that smells real good."

"I know right, it even tastes like strawberry." The grey-haired twin held out the lotion tub and Atsumu stepped closer to sniff it quizzically.

“Really?“

“Sam-“

Your boyfriend gave your thigh a quick squeeze and winked as he watched with barely suppressed glee how his brother dipped a finger into the tub with the very non-edible lotion.

____________________________________________

#osamu miya x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #osamu x chubby reader #osamu miya x reader #osamu x reader #miya osamu #haikyuu osamu #hq osamu #osamu miya #miya osamu fluff #haikyuu fluff #chubby reader #haikyuu x reader

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megxplryxb · 2 years

Text

Lockdown Lovers

Living with your best friend during lockdown sounded like such a great idea until you remembered how hot and horny he was.

Disclaimer: I do not own this gif and take no credit for it. Not my best work but might do a part two out of lockdown at some stage. :)))

Sleeping with your best friend had never really been on your agenda. Sure, you’d thought about the what if’s late at night when you couldn’t sleep and random musings would enter your mind to deter your slumber even more. You’d by lying if you said you hadn’t thought about what it would be like, he was hot and you were only human after all. But the reality was, Colby Brock was your best friend and nothing more.

That was however, until the world pretty much stopped turning and you were living in the middle of a worldwide pandemic. Being on lockdown wasn’t too bad though. It was like being a kid on summer break again, having nothing to do only hang out with your friends and watch the time go by.

You and Kat pretty much lived in Sam and Colby’s house during the pandemic. Only going home when necessary or when Kat and Sam needed some alone time and Colby would beg to go with you because he’d much rather chill with you than listen to his friends getting it on. Colby loved your place because it felt like a home and he knew he could treat it as his own like you did to his house. You’d wrap yourself around Colby on the couch watching movies because with him, it wasn’t weird, it was easy. His fingers running through your hair while you lay on his chest playing with the strings of his many xplr hoodies, eating popcorn, pizza, teaching him how to cook, finding new music, helping him out with new song lyrics and content for his youtube channel. Those were the best of times, times you knew you’d miss when the world eventually got back to “normal”.

Weeks passed however, and the lockdown was no closer to being lifted. Boredom was finally starting to set in, among other things. It felt like an eternity since you had felt the weight of someone on top of you, someone inside of you and you were frustrated as hell. You needed a distraction from the aching feeling between your legs, so when Kat and Sam left to go to Kat’s apartment for the night, Colby suggested getting completely hammered with him and you happily obliged not having anything better to do. Both of you ending up in the pool for a late night swim and having conversations that wouldn’t dare take place in the brightness of the day.

Sitting shoulder to shoulder, skin touching skin, in the hot tub with Colby, sharing a couple of white claws, talk turned to sex or lack thereof. Colby admitting he was “so fucking horny all the time” and jerking off just wasn’t the same. You confessed that masturbation only did so much after a while and that you also longed for more than your own fingers and sex toys. Colby’s eyes widened hearing you talk about pleasuring yourself and he revealed to hearing you touch yourself in your room several nights prior. Your face turned red, mortified by his revelation until he whispered in your ear how hot it was and that he couldn’t help but get himself off along with you. You immediately felt a funny sensation in your stomach noting the change in Colby’s eyes as he looked at you, the friendly sparkle replaced with a fiery wickedness that you hadn’t seen before. He was your friend, he wasn’t supposed to look at you like that, think of you that way. But here you were, heat radiating between your legs, heart racing, sinful images of Colby running through your mind while he mentally undressed you with his piercing blue eyes.

“You have no idea how much strength it took not to come in to your room and offer to finish you off.”

The words lustfully fell from Colby’s mouth before he even realised he had said them. His head lowered feeling he had said the wrong thing. You contemplated removing yourself from the situation knowing that you and your best friend were heading down a slippery slope but in the moment you didn’t care. Everything was telling you to walk away but your body wasn’t moving and that told you enough. You needed this as much as Colby did. Maybe even more.

“Does that offer still stand?”

You questioned biting your lip playing with the thin string on your bikini.

“Fuck yeah it does.” Colby exhaled, pulling you on to his lap, mouth on yours before you had time to settle yourself.

In all of the years that you had known Colby Brock, you had never made out. Not even for a game of truth or dare. You always said it would feel weird, wrong, but in reality it was because you feared what would happen to your friendship if you crossed that line. Luckily for you, you were both too drunk to consider anything other than how quick you could undress each other as Colby dragged you from the hot tub inside to the house and to his bedroom, quickly disposing of your bikini.

Neither of you lasted too long, not that that had surprised you as you were both full of alcohol and extremely worked up. From what you could remember of the night, it was messy, a little clumsy, falling over each other, bodies pushed up against walls and fighting for dominance between the sheets. What you knew for sure? You had just fucked your best friend for the first time. Neither of you spoke straight away after as you panted heavily beside each other, pulling the sheets over your body as realisation began to set in that you were in bed and naked with Colby.

“Wow. So ugh, we never did that before.” Colby joked trying to break the awkward silence that had fallen between you as you both began to sober up.

“Yeah, no, that was…new.” You chuckled going red again as you both sat up in the bed.

“Um, are you ok? I mean, are we?” Colby began to ask as you interrupted quickly. You knew how Colby was, he had more than his fair share of one night stands and you weren’t expecting anything out of what had just happened between you. He didn’t have to give you the talk he gave every other girl once they were done. It was just sex.

“Oh yeah, I’m good, we’re good. This was just… two friends helping each other out, right?” You questioned as Colby grinned nodding in agreement.

“Right.”

“And we were drunk and it won’t happen again so we don’t need to talk about it.” You asserted wrapping Colby’s sheet around you as you stood up, leaving him completely naked on the bed. “I’m going to go back to my room and take a shower, you can take your sheet back when I’m in the bathroom.” You smiled playfully throwing a pillow at your friend to block the view you were receiving because it didn’t look like Colby was in any rush to cover himself.

Once you were back in your room, you closed the door, leaving the bedsheet on the arm chair so Colby could grab it when you were in the shower. The water was a welcomed touch on your skin as the hot soapy beads ran down your body. Closing your eyes, all you could think about was what had just taken place with Colby moments ago in his bedroom. Your heart was still racing from the adrenaline running through your body, hands tracing the parts of you where he had kissed and sucked at, noticing light bite marks on your breasts and inner thighs, evidence that you hadn’t been dreaming . You wondered what Colby was thinking, would he regret it? Would he tell Sam? Would it change your friendship and how he felt about you? That last thought sent your mind in to a panic.

A knock came to the bathroom door, pulling you from your thoughts. “Hey, can I come in?, I need to ask you something.” Colby spoke gently.

“I’m in the shower!” You yelled so he could hear you above the sound of the water.

“So?” He replied, unbothered about your current lack of clothing.

“So, I’m naked!”

“Are you serious? I literally saw you naked five minutes ago.” He yelled back as your face flushed with embarrassment.

“That was different!”

“Why because we were fucking?”

“Colby!”

“Ok I’m coming in…”

“Don’t you dare come in here!” You shrieked watching the door knob turn before Colby stood in front of the shower screen in nothing but a towel around his waist. You shook your head trying to cover your body as the water to hit off of the tiles.

“Okay Brock, what was so important that it couldn’t wait until I was dressed?” You questioned raising your brow towards him, only a screen door between you.

“Why can’t it happen again?”

“What?”

“Back in my room, you said this won’t happen again.”

“It won’t.”

“But what if I want it to happen again?” Colby stood silently waiting for his answer as you shook your head in disbelief. Part of you thought Colby might regret what happened with you but saying he wanted it to happen again was not what you expected to hear at all.

“Colby we.” Is all you could manage to say before he slid the shower door open, leaving nothing but hot air between you.

“Look, I’m not saying this has to be an official thing, you know I don’t do relationships but fuck, that was fun.” He grinned as you rolled your eyes and laughed at his confession.

“What exactly are you getting at?” You questioned folding your arms still standing in the shower.

“I’m suggesting that while we’re on lockdown, you and I make a little arrangement…” Colby paused for a moment to try and read the expression on your face and when he noticed you didn’t automatically have a horrified look on your face he continued. “I mean, we’re both single adults and let’s be honest, we both have needs that the other can fulfil…so I’m suggesting that until the world gets back to normal we…”

“You want to be fuck buddies?” You asked cutting him off as he nodded a yes. You bit your lip trying to consider the pros and cons of what he was proposing, not taking notice of the nervous look on Colby’s face in front of you.

“I’ve completely freaked you out haven’t I? I’m sorry, I never should have suggested it, I’m an idiot.” He cursed himself turning to leave you alone again as he suddenly felt a small tug on the towel around his waist preventing him from moving any further. Colby turned back to face you, watching with excitement as you gently pulled the towel from his waist and to the ground.

“Close the door, it's getting cold in here.” You whispered, a smile creeping on to Colby’s face as he slid the screen door shut, joining you in the shower. It didn’t take long until the space between you was closed once again as your lips met his in a warm embrace and you fucked your best friend for the second time that night.

#colby brock fanfic #colby brock x reader #colby brock smut #sam and colby #colby brock one shot #colby brock #colbybrock

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chrisevansonly · 8 months

Text

𝑩𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒆𝒔 & 𝑩𝒖𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒔

ʚ harry styles x female reader

ʚ nothing will ever compare to bath time with your little one

ʚ no warnings just fluffy dad! harry:)

ʚ thank you to one of my anons for sending in a bunch of requests, this isn’t for harry’s angel just a cute little stand-alone of dadrry because we can never have enough, just a little fic for now, i still feel like my writing is shit🙃

The bathroom smelt like lavender and vanilla, bubbles coating the water softly as your baby girl lay in her bath chair, the warm water just barely covering her tummy. Aria smiled up at her dad, her eyes watching him curiously as he brought a cup of warm water up and let it cascade over her.

“you like the warm water don’t you petal?”

Harry was sure Aria could understand him at this point, even if he knew she couldn’t, nothing would convince him otherwise. Bath time had been a ritual between the father an daughter since she was born, you were more than happy to watch them, sat comfortably along the side of the tub.

“yeah, feels nice doesn’t it? nice and warm, you’re gonna smell so good”

Aria let out a few giggles as Harry scooped up some bubbles in his hands and blew them over her head, the smile never leaving her tiny face for a minute

“she is just the sweetest thing isn’t she?”

Turning to smile at you Harry nodded

“sweet as can be, can’t believe she’s all ours too…”

Humming in agreement you let yourself focus back on the now very squirmy baby in the bathtub, a spitting image of her dad in every way. The curls slowly starting to come out every day that passed by, his nose, his eyes, she was Harry’s twin.

“she might be getting cold H, i’ll grab her towel”

Getting up you walked to warmer on the far wall, her winnie the pooh towel hanging gently, nice and warm when you picked it up. Aria could help but flail her arms and let out a squeal of sorts seeing you come back, the noticeable yellow towel catching her eye

“alright darling, you go see mummy who will get you all nice and warm”

“come here my girl!”

Cooing softly at the wrinkly little girl you quickly placed her on your shoulder, wrapping the warm towel around her. Your hand rubbing her back as you began to bounce lightly, Aria was a great sleeper, and you knew after bath time it would have her out like a light.

“okay, let’s let daddy clean up and we’ll go pick some jammies..”

Harry pressed a kiss to your temple before you and your little one made it to her nursery, she’d just started sleeping on her own, which had been an adjustment but she was taking it like a champ, and honestly slept better without being in the same room as you and H.

“here we go angel, let’s put you in something nice and fuzzy”

Aria was comfortable on your shoulder, little noises escaping her every so often, your hands picked out a blue and lavender onesie with little clouds on on it, knowing it would keep her nice and warm throughout the night. It was a routine now, setting her down on the change table, gently rubbing cream into her delicate skin and getting her all bundled up for bedtime. Harry would find the two of you usually just as you were finishing up the snaps on her pyjama’s, his arms reaching for her so he could give her a bottle and read her a story.

“say thank you for getting me all ready for bed mummy, I feel so warm and smell so good”

A soft laugh escaped your lips as Harry wiggled her little arm gently, your lips kissing her forehead softly before giving Harry a much needed kiss

“you’re welcome my babies, i love you so much my aria girl, sleep well and mummy will see you in the morning.”

Standing up you took one last look at your husband and daughter before running a thumb across Harry’s cheek

“thank you for bath time tonight and for being the worlds best dad, we are so lucky to have you baby”

“i’d do anything for the two of you, always”

Tossing the pair one last smile you walked to turn off the big light in the room, switching on her night light and sound machine, leaving the room quietly. There was no one else in the world you’d ever want to experience this life with, and seeing Harry become a father, was one of the greatest moments in life.

He was a natural and he’d do anything for his girls.

#rueswrites #ruesanswers #ruesanons<3 #ruesasks #harry styles x reader #harry styles x wife reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x girlfriend reader #harry styles x female reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #dadrry #dad!harry #dad! harry styles

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delirious-donna · 3 months

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For You [Hanma Shuji]

an: Pure self-indulgence as I've been sick the past few days and I'll use any excuse to continue my soft Shuji agenda...

pairing: Hanma Shuji x female reader

warnings: fluff, self-ship coded, reader has longish hair with a similar texture to Shuji’s, fluff, bit of a sick fic I guess, domesticity, soft shuji, suggestive if you squint, did I mention the fluff?

He didn’t know what to do. That much was evident from the white noise tumbling inside his head and the empty stare that roamed your apartment. Everything was as it should be, and at the same time, nothing was right.

Shuji hadn’t heard a peep from you in almost two days, and that was unheard of before now. He appreciated that you were not overtly clingy. You didn’t need to know his exact whereabouts at any given moment of the day, but you checked in now and then, and for the first time in his life, he looked forward to those moments. So when you went radio silent except for one cursory message in reply to his attempt at humour that you were ghosting him, worry settled heavily.

The smell was apparent the second he let himself in with the spare key you had gifted him months ago. Until now, he hadn’t had reason to use it, but there was no way he would allow another day to pass without knowing what was going on. Sickness–sweet and sour–lingered in the nose, an unmistakable smell.

What he found huddled in a nest of twisted blankets tugged at a heart he had not long grown to realise existed. A mass of tangled hair obscured most of your sleeping face, though he doesn’t miss the scrunched expression etched across your features. Your skin that peeks from beneath your adorable kitty pyjamas was covered in a sheen of sweat, and he could feel the heat radiating from your body when he closed the distance in two quick strides.

You’re sick.

The rasp of your breathing indicated something was sitting on your chest, likely a bad cold or some infection, and he doesn’t know what to do with this newfound information. Turning, he raised his glasses atop his head to pass a weary palm down his face.

Cuts, scrapes and bruises are things he can deal with. He is well accustomed to peroxide on rags to clean wounds and disinfect any dirt that might linger inside split knuckles. A raw steak slapped over a swollen eye might be considered a bit of a health hazard these days, but he still swore that nothing reduced the swelling faster. Hell, Shuji was even a dab hand with a needle and thread. He had lost count with how many of his exclusively short list of friends he had patched up to avoid the inevitable hospital questions over the years. He had even sewn himself up from time to time.

Hell, he needed to act. Standing here doing nothing was beginning to sizzle his blood.

You woke from being jostled, the haze of your fever dream preventing the usual fight or flight instinct from kicking in. Craning your neck, you blinked and scrubbed at your eyes. There was no way you were looking up at your boyfriend. No way that he had you cradled in his arms in the most delicate hold you had ever experienced.

“Shuji?”

“Yeah, princess, it’s me. Need you to sit here f’me, alright?” He rasped, voice affected by some emotion you couldn’t quite place.

Cool porcelain met your backside, your body guided upright until you could manage your equilibrium. Hanma Shuji was here, in your apartment, in your bathroom. Rummaging through your medicine cabinet and looking for god knows what.

A bath. He could at least run you a warm bath and rid you of the smell of sweat and sickness from your pretty skin. Methodically, he worked to fill the tub and added a few splashes of some scented shit that smelled familiar from your cabinet. Shuji dutifully peeled the pyjamas and underwear from your body and threw them in the hamper with a mind to run a load for you if he remembered.

Maybe you were dreaming. Maybe your twisted fever-induced dreams had shifted away from the nauseatingly vibrant images you had experienced only a few hours ago to this muted peaceful scene. It was a nice thought, but no, this was reality and not one you ever thought you’d experience.

A hand from behind your head came into view, a hand you knew immediately, not just by the stark black kanji inked against golden skin but the length of his slender fingers and the slight yellowish stain from the cigarettes he smoked. He handed you a soapy washcloth, which you gratefully accepted, wiping it across your body and sluffing off the grim that had caked you over the course of the last few days.

It was heaven, pure and simple, and when you thought it couldn’t get any better, Shuji surprised you once more. He gently tilted your head back, your eyes met his, and you smiled in adoration at the concentration evident on his face seconds before he began wetting your hair with the jug you kept on the edge of the bath.

“You don’t have to… Shu, I can take care of my hair once I’m better.”

Shuji clicked his tongue against his teeth in admonishment, but he held back from scolding you further for not trusting him with this small task. He washed his own damn hair, so washing yours wasn’t going to be some impossible task. His fingers worked in the suds of your shampoo into a thick lather, digging deep against your scalp and massaging firmly enough to elicit moans of bliss.

Normally such noises would make him hard, but right now it only raised a genuine smile. This was possibly one of the most intimate things he had ever done for you. Never mind all those times he had rearranged your insides or made slow, passionate love to you. No, this was on a whole other level, and he liked it–more than he ever believed he would.

You must have dozed off whilst he shampooed and conditioned your hair because the next thing you were aware of was being lifted from the bath and wrapped in a thick fluffy towel that draped past your toes. Shuji returned you to your bedroom but paused in where to deposit you, his nose wrinkled in distaste at the mess of sheets that most definitely needed to be washed and changed. Eventually, he planted your feet on the plush rug by the bottom of your bed, one which his knees were intimately familiar with and helped towel dry your body from head to foot.

“Put these on, baby. Imma strip your bed, do you have another set?” He asked with a kiss to your temple, handing you a clean set of yellow pyjamas with little ducks covering them from your dresser drawer.

Nodding sleepily, you pointed to the wicker storage box in the far corner before stepping into the pj pants and clumsily covering yourself with the top that bagged just enough that you could truthfully forgo the pants if you wanted.

You watched in amusement as the man known far and wide as both a talented photographer and sometimes enforcer for certain well-connected friends changed your bedding. His tall frame made it easy for him to manipulate the fitted sheet into place and wrangle a clean duvet cover on your kingsize duvet. This shitty task would have taken you nearly half an hour by yourself, but he managed in only ten.

“Need to dry my hair,” you yawned, leaning your face on his bicep and gratefully folding into his body when his arm snaked around your waist. He looked lost again, and you took pity on him. This kind of care was not his forte, but he didn’t know that all of this meant more to you than you could verbalise in your current state.

“I’ll wait for you in the living room. Take your time, alright?” With a final kiss to your forehead, he rounded the door of your bedroom and was gone from sight.

Shuji tried to sit still whilst the sound of your hairdryer filled his ears, but he was never one to sit idly by. He thought back on the times he had been sick as a kid with no one to really care for him and the things he would have wished for. In truth, a hot bath, clean clothes and a full stomach were all he ever wanted.

He was no cook, but he got by. A can of chicken soup caught his attention as he scanned your cupboards and set about warming it up on the stovetop. Your bread was still fresh, and he found butter in the fridge. He could do this. He could be the caring boyfriend when he wanted and though he had never felt inclined before, you were different.

You didn’t blow up his phone looking for sympathy or attention–no–you had tried to tough it out much like he had growing up, and it further sparked the flicker of kindred spirit that he felt about you. He wanted to protect you. There was no sense of obligation, and that made the difference. You were the first person he had loved outside of himself, and you reciprocated unconditionally.

You took the man he was, the boy he had been and loved every part of him, flaws and all. Shuji could do the same for you, and he vowed that the next time one of you fell sick, you’d be living together and there would be no need to guess that something was wrong.

So engrossed in sentimental thoughts that were still rather foreign to him, Shuji didn’t notice the hairdryer cut off nor the sound of your bare feet padding in search of him. It wasn’t until two small arms wound around his waist that he noticed or acknowledged your presence at all.

“What did I do to deserve you, Hanma Shuji?” You sobbed wetly into the shirt covering his back. Your emotions were overwhelming you, head still stuffy from whatever sickness had beat your ass the past few days, coupled with the domesticity of watching him cook for you. Tears streaked towards your cheeks, and you smushed your face deeper into him in an attempt to halt the flow.

He chuckled whilst continuing to stir the soup. “I know a lot of people that would say you must have been real bad in a past life to have ended up with me as a boyfriend.”

You sniffled and mustered every ounce of strength–barely anything–to smack him for that comment. “Shut up, you ass. Don’t spoil it.”

Shuji turned slowly. The amused expression softening in the face of your soppy, pathetic face that he couldn’t possibly adore any more, and he raised a hand to thumb away your tears. Enfolding you fully into his arms, he cooed softly against your freshly dried hair and smiled at the scent that was uniquely you had returned to your skin.

“I want you to know that I would do anything for you. Not only would I rip apart this entire fucking world if someone dared hurt you.” He enthused before his tone softened with a quiet exhale as if he were about to whisper some unspoken secret. “But I’ll also bathe you when you need the help, and I’ll feed you when you’re hungry. For you, there is nothing too much.”

#delirious writes #hanma x reader #shuji x reader #hanma shuji x reader #hanma fluff #shuji fluff #soft shuji

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imaginingaustin · 7 months

Text

mother's day

summary: celebrating your first mother's day with austin and your baby.

requested by anonymous. s/n: "son's name"

becoming a mom changed the course of your life in more ways than you could have never imagined. your baby boy was the most beautiful baby in the world, and every time you looked at him, you saw the love of your life in his face. austin’s genes were much stronger than yours, and your baby was his spitting image. he had the same blue eyes, and the same curly blonde hair, but you loved it. you were beyond grateful to have them in your life. you and austin quickly fell into routine after your baby was born, and everything was perfect.

your first mother’s day was coming up, and you told austin that all you wanted was lazy day at home with your boys. of course austin, being the loving husband he was, was more than happy to oblige. you woke up late that morning, at almost 11AM. you reached out for austin, but found the bed empty next to you. you got out of bed and heard the television sounding from the living room. you walked out to the living room and found austin asleep on he couch, and your baby sleeping on his chest. you heard swelled at the sight, and you quietly moved over to the couch.

“austin.” you whispered, gently sitting on the couch next to him.

“hey. good morning baby.” he said, sleep heavy in his voice.

“what are you doing out here?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair.

“i wanted to let you sleep in and have the bed to yourself. it’s your day, and i just wanted you to be comfortable.” he said, sitting up slowly as to not wake the baby.

“have you been out here long?” you asked him.

“probably just a couple of hours. s/n woke up around nine, i changed him, fed him breakfast, and we’ve been out here since. he’s only been asleep about thirty minutes.”

“what about you? have you eaten breakfast?” you asked him, and he shook his head. “alright, well i’ll get something together for us.”

“nope!” austin said, suddenly fully awake. “you take him, and i’ll take care of breakfast. today is your day, and i will be taking care of you.” he said, gently passing you the baby and moving towards the kitchen.

the rest of the day, austin was at your beck and call, getting you anything you could have possibly needed or wanted. truthfully, it felt like he was doing too much for you, but he made sure you knew that he didn’t mind.

you and austin sat on the couch eating breakfast together, watching whatever sitcom he had playing on the tv. you weren’t paying much attention to it, the both of you slowly starting to fall back asleep. the three of you napped on and off on the couch all day. every time your son would wake up or squawk, austin would immediately jump into action, taking care of him so you could stay asleep.

later that night, as the night was ending and you were getting ready for bed. austin put the baby down for bed, and you were taking a bath. austin had bought you a number of different additives as a push present, an idea to help you pamper yourself after your long pregnancy journey. you were using the last of your bath bombs, and had candles lit around the rim of the tub. you were starting to fall asleep, when you heard austin walk into the bathroom.

“i love that he’s so easy to put to sleep.” austin chuckled as he sat down at the side of the tub.

“he gets that from me,” you laughed. “i literally fall asleep anywhere.”

“so, i know you said you didn’t want anything, but i got you a gift anyway. but i’ll let you finish your bath before i give it to you.” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead before walking back out into the bedroom.

once you finished your bath, you dressed in your pajamas, and met austin back in the bedroom. he was laying in bed, and a small jewelry box was sitting on your pillow. you climbed into bed, and austin turned his attention to you.

“i had an idea for this while we were in the hospital after s/n was born. i remember sitting there and watching you hold him and thinking about how we were fully a family. i wanted to get you something that symbolized that, and have been working with a personal jeweler to get it perfect.

“a personal jeweler?” you asked raising a brow at him.

“one of the best ones i could find. i hope you like it.” he said, flipping the box open. inside sat a silver necklace of an infinity symbol, three gem stones in a line down the middle where it crossed - austin’s, yours, and your son’s birthstone.

“oh my god! this is beautiful!” you said through tears. you leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to austin’s lips before marveling at the necklace in your hands again. he pulled you into his arms and hugged you tight.

“i know the stones are kinda small, but i did that for a reason. i know it’s very early for us to be thinking about this, but if and when we have more kids, there’s enough room for more stones to be added.” he said, squeezing your shoulder.

“i love that.” you said, smiling at him. he pressed another kiss to your lips before taking the necklace from you and clasping it around your neck.

“i’m glad you like it.” austin said as you turned to face him.

“i love it.” you emphasized. “thank you honey.” you said, kissing him again.

the two of you finally laid down for bed, falling asleep in each other’s arms. your first mother’s day was perfect, and exactly what you wanted; a wonderful lazy day with your boys.

#austin butler #austin butler imagine #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fanfic #austin butler imagines #austin butler x reader

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deputyrook · 6 months

Text

Impressions- 3/? Mark Hoffman x Psychic!Reader

PART 1. PART 2.

You're a reluctant psychic. He's a detective. And a serial killer.

(Weren't you supposed to be afraid?)

Word count: 4581

WARNINGS: Child abuse, attempted infanticide, corruption, stockholm syndrome, drug use (painkillers), blackmail, power imbalance, abusive dynamics, overt threatening, general Saw-levels of horror & violence.

You dream about the bathroom again.

Your mother is there, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and her hair tied back. It's your childhood home, the bathroom on the second floor just beyond the top of the stairway, painted a garish teal that was popular in the late 70s.

You think you are four years old. Your mother is chattering to you as she fills the tub. She's telling you that she's sorry, but it has to be done- that you're sensitive just like her, she can tell, and that this life will ruin you.

She has to save you from it. You deserve better than this, she says to you, smoothing down your hair with wet hands. Life is too bad, too hard. Too filled with pain and bad people. You're not like them.

The water is cold, and dark. The bathtub seems to expand as you're held underwater- you open your eyes, and they burn. Blurry shapes pass across your vision. The darkness seems to go on forever.

(You were dead for three minutes, the doctors said, before they were able to resuscitate you.)

Somewhere in the haze of the dream, you zoom out to a bird's eye view, and the bathroom starts to decay. You see the top of the toilet crack, the mirror shatter and fall. A chain is attached to the radiator, snaking around your ankle. The light flickers. There is a puddle of blood in the centre of the room.

When you wake up, you are drenched in sweat.

You don't text Mark Hoffman about that dream, instead groggily taking a handful of painkillers to ensure a dreamless sleep for the rest of the night.

It had only been after your near death experience that you'd started getting flashes, the images and emotions that your childhood friends didn't. At the time, the doctors chalked up to trauma. Later, you learned to keep it quiet.

Maybe, somewhere in the world- wherever she was now- your mother had woken up after the same dream. You are just about the same age now as she was then, and when you look in the mirror, you see the same tired eyes.

She was right about one thing, you think, your recent visions coming back to you. Life is full of pain.

As you lay back down, your cat Prawn crawls up beside you and starts purring relentlessly. He shoves his face against yours, like he can tell you're feeling down. He smooshes against you, and despite yourself you chuckle, petting him softly.

The last thing you wonder before you fall asleep is what your mother would think of what you're doing now. She may have been right about life, but she was wrong about you.

You are like them. Maybe worse.

---

"What do you mean, you haven't had any visions since yesterday morning?" Mark asks as he drives, gloved hands gripping the wheel so tightly that you're surprised he doesn't leave a permanent indent on it.

"I took some painkillers yesterday. They block out the noise, at least for a bit," you answer, sparing a look over at him, "I wanted to be a normal human being for a while."

He shakes his head in what appears to be annoyance, distaste or disappointment- you can't tell which.

"Quit complaining," He says, without even a hint of sympathy. You wonder if sympathy is an emotion he knows how to feel, "Pills aren't going to make you feel normal."

With your senses dulled, you feel cut-off from the world around you, and by extension, Mark Hoffman. Without the bleed of other people's emotions, thoughts, and memories into your mind, you feel more independent, more a person. It comes at the cost of your intuition, but at least you can tell a bit more clearly where Jigsaw ends and you begin.

Still, somewhere along the way, you stopped flinching every time Mark Hoffman looked at you. It's incredible, what the human mind can normalize. How it can change fear to thrill to anticipation.

"It'll come back, it always does. Pretty soon, if my timing is right," You shoot Mark a look, "Wouldn't want to be useless to you."

He sneaks a glance back at you. "I'm sure I could find a use for you."

For a second, it feels like the energy in the car changes. With that insinuation, there's a tension between you that becomes obvious. The air in the car feels tight.

It feels dangerous. Your cheeks flush, and you don't exactly know how to respond to that, so you drum your fingers on your thigh and look out the window.

"It's been affecting me," you admit, finally, changing the subject. "I've been connected to this web of the worst of humanity. I needed a break."

Mark scoffs. "You're telling me that shutting your eyes and pretending it's not happening is going to make you feel better?"

"A little," you lie, before you sigh and stretch. "Maybe when my intuition comes back, I should just go to a dog park, close my eyes, and pet all the dogs."

"You get any hits on the dogs being mistreated, you can send the owners my way," Mark replies, deadpan.

You actually laugh out loud at that, mostly out of surprise. Mark still looks serious- he really doesn't smile all that often. Was that a joke? Probably not entirely, but either way, you can't help but smile as you shake your head at his audacity.

Your suspicion that Mark is at least somewhat serious is confirmed when he continues.

"We could do a lot of good work like that," Mark adds quietly after a moment, "You pick them. I test them. You sense the threats, I deal with them from the inside. A pretty fucking effective team, if you ask me."

"Is that what you want? Us to murder people together?" You ask, voice heavy with sarcasm.

"Yeah," Mark replies simply, seriously. A shiver runs across your skin, and at that single word, your stomach drops. It seems too real a possibility, suddenly. That you could actually do it. That you would actually do it. That you could do it, together, and not get caught.

"Did you forget that I'm here under duress?" You reply uncomfortably. The words sound like a lie even to you as they leave your mouth.

"Really? I don't see a gun to your head." He points out. You shuffle in your seat, and pick at a seam on your jeans. He's right, and the guilt of it hits you square in the chest.

What are you doing here, if it's not because you've been forced to be? The answer just makes you feel more guilty, rising like bile in your throat.

You've enjoyed being needed. He's dangerous, and he's taking you seriously, bringing you along. He needs you, he wants you here.

You've been having fun.

He'd kill you in a second if you threatened him, without an ounce of regret. You still like him. Are you insane? Suicidal?

Fuck. It hurts your head. It takes every image you've ever had of yourself and crumples it into a little paper ball. And sets it on fire. You don't even know who you are anymore.

"How would Jigsaw number one feel about that?" You ask instead, trying to hide the sudden waves of turmoil that crash through you, making you feel sea-sick and confused.

"Pretty soon, it won't matter," Mark's voice is dark, and he looks straight ahead at the road as he drives. Once again, you have no idea where he's taking you, but you've been driven well outside of the city centre. The area is dilapidated, and you pass lawn after lawn filled with detritus and garbage.

It didn't even occur to you to try to remember the route to get here.

"I wasn't sure about it at first either," Mark murmurs after a while, with a cruel twist of the corner of his mouth, "Then I realized. They have a real chance to get out alive. Maybe they learn their lesson. Maybe they don't. Well, then, we can just put them back into the games until they figure it out, or they die. It's housekeeping."

"That's fucked up. These are people you're talking about. With their own lives and hopes and dreams," Is it him you're trying to convince, or yourself? Maybe you're pushing your luck, arguing with him as much as you are. It's weightless, regardless. Here you are, tagging along, no gun in sight.

"Nah. You said it yourself- the worst of humanity. Fuck 'em." Mark pulls into a long driveway of an old abandoned school building, driving his car around the back and parking in the grass, out of sight from the road. You can see broken windows, glass scattered around the entrances, and brick walls splashed with colourful graffiti.

He turns off the engine of his car, and then turns fully to you.

"Come on. You wanna find out what you really think?"

Mark has a key to the back door, and the rusted lock opens with an imposing click. Even with the key, it feels like you shouldn't be here. A sense of foreboding edges your awareness, and you can tell the medication is starting to wear off by how deeply you're unsettled in this atmosphere. You seem to be entering through an administration sector of small back offices.

The building smells of mildew and grease, of rust and water damage. As he enters the hallway, Hoffman flips a series of switches just to the left of the entry, which light the narrow back hallways in an uncanny florescence. If not for the light, you would have thought this place was abandoned.

Something bad has happened here, or is happening here.

"Follow me," he murmurs, and with confident strides, he leads you through the administration section and out into the main hallway of the school. You trail behind him quietly, wondering if you would be able to navigate your way out of this building again if you were left here.

He takes you up an old metal stairway, and then into a large room which you can tell used to be a library. Compared to the other parts of the building you've seen, this room is much better kept, clear of rubble and debris. Someone's taken the time to clear it out, at least mostly. Old bookshelves stand empty, and a series of round tables in the room now hold various pieces of equipment.

It's been turned into a workshop, you realize.

Blueprints are spread across the tables, along with a number of cassette tapes and what appears to be recording equipment. A large black television is set up on a TV cart near the front of the room, with wires connecting to a receiver of some kind.

Resting on one of the tables, contrasting so severely with the rest of the equipment on it, there's an old, faded teddy bear.

"See that?" Mark says, pointing to the toy. "I wanna know what kind of a read you get on it."

"Why do I feel like this isn't going to be fun?" You murmur anxiously, but you do as he instructs, approaching the table and picking up the bear. Turning it over in your hands, you close your eyes, and allow the feelings to creep up onto you.

You were right. Something bad happened here.

There was a little boy, no older than six, you think, who had held onto the bear so tightly. You feel his confusion, more than anything else at first. What had he done wrong? Why was his teacher so angry?

Why did it hurt so much?

Pain flashes through you, bright and sharp, from your elbow to your shoulder. You cringe, still holding the bear, trying to piece together what had happened to the boy. You can feel his fear, pure and unrestrained, making you shake.

"Got it?" Mark asks, and you realize he's come up to stand right behind you. He leans over you, his chest nearly touching your back, and speaks low, directly into your ear. It makes you shiver for a different reason. "Now, open your eyes. Watch."

Holding up a remote beside you, you open your eyes to watch as he clicks on the television with it. It crackles to life, and it takes you a second before you register what you're looking at, through the static of what appears to be a live feed.

A man that you would guess is in his mid-60's is restrained to a chair in an abandoned classroom, each of his arms fastened into metal contraptions. Something large is attached to the back of the chair, almost looking like an industrial turtle shell.

"Holy shit," you breathe, your eyes going wide. You drop the teddy bear in shock at what you're seeing, as the man begins to yell for help and writhe in the chair, trying to free his arms

"No, hold onto it," Mark says into your ear, reaching around you. Placing his hands on top of yours, he guides your touch back to the bear, his chest now fully flush against your back.

As you touch the toy again, the impressions come back, stronger this time. Not just the boy, but others as well. Left alone, trapped somewhere, difficult to breathe- suffocating in darkness. Where is my mom, I want my mom-

Anger begins to churn inside of you, so thick and strong it sickens you. You grit your teeth as you stare at the screen.

"Hello, Martin," A distorted voice says. Jigsaw. You can't see the TV from the camera's vantage point, but you can see the person in the chair whip his head toward the sound. "I want to play a game."

The man on the screen whimpers. "No, no, no," he moans.

"You worked at this school for almost three decades before they finally fired you. There were never any charges laid. But there were rumours for years about how you took out your rage on those who couldn't fight back."

You can feel the tears starting to well in your eyes as you stare up at the screen, transfixed in horror. The kids weep and scream in your mind like ghosts, begging to tell you how they suffered.

"You called it your isolation room. A closet hideaway, barely larger than a cardboard box. How many children did you force to stay there, curled up and injured for hours, for the sake of discipline?"

"It was a mistake!" The man yells out, voice breaking, "Please, I'm sorry, I was doing my best-"

"You have two minutes to press down on the peddles under your feet. Doing so will tear away the top layer of skin from your hands, degloving them. Keep your feet pressed down until the process is finished. Once your hands have been degloved, you will be able to pull them from the machine and press the buttons releasing you from the chair."

The man wails in misery. Mark Hoffman rests his chin on your shoulder, and you can feel his eyes watching the footage with you, so intently. The heat of his body pressed against yours, his large, rough hands over yours. The terror and anguish of the children, the shrieking of the man in the trap. It makes you dizzy.

"If you fail to do so before the time runs out, spikes will emerge from the contraption on your back, impaling you. Now we will see how disciplined you are."

The man gasps, and then, as the timer begins to tick down, begins to scream in earnest. You watch as he presses his foot down on the pedal, feeling the reverberation of his panic bounce back onto you.

"I can't do this," you say, squeezing your eyes shut, your nails digging into the fabric of the toy. Your head pounds with the echoes of the children crying, with their shame and embarrassment and panic, and with the howling screams of the man on the screen. It all layers, in a cacophonous symphony of violence and horror that drowns out all other thought.

"It's too much, it's so loud. I can't think, I- I need to shut it out." With one hand letting go of the toy, you dig into your jacket pocket, fishing for your prescription bottle.

"No, no," Mark snaps. He grabs your wrist, tight, and snatches the bottle of painkillers. "No more fucking pills. Watch."

"It's too much," you whisper, wincing. Your mind screams, unable to make sense of all of the information it's taking in. You need to think about this, but all you can do is feel, overstimulated and shaking-

"Detective. I don't think you've introduced me to your friend."

The dry voice cuts through everything else. You realize the screaming has stopped. When you open your eyes again, you see someone has paused the feed on the television.

It isn't live.

Mark freezes, his body immediately going stiff behind you. Although you've never heard this voice before, you recognize it all the same. You drop the teddy bear, as Mark removes his hand from your wrist and steps back away from you. The removal of the warmth of his body leaves yours feeling colder than before.

"Uh oh. You're in trouble," A second voice chimes in, sing-song and clearly elated that you've been caught here, together.

You're hoping Mark will say something on your behalf, but he doesn't. Your head pounds, and your skin feels almost too-sensitive, but if your intuition has ever told you anything, it's that this is not the time to fall apart.

So you turn, looking at the source voices, and muster up all of the courage you can. You are proud that your voice wavers only a little.

"Um. Hello. Jigsaw, and... Amanda Young, I assume." You cast a furtive glance at Mark, who finally seems to have recovered and composed himself, standing up straighter.

John Kramer sits in a wheelchair, wearing a long black and red robe that trails on the ground. Amanda stands behind him with her hands on the handles of the wheelchair, leaning her weight on it

Nothing about John Kramer suggests that he is weak or feeble to you, despite his thin frame and poor health. Instead, you sense a chessmaster, and a conqueror sits before you, a King in a throne. You get the image of a strategist who has been leading his troops through a war, claiming victory after victory through careful battlefield positioning.

"I can explain," Mark says slowly, keeping his voice even and calm.

"Oh, I'm listening," Kramer replies, tilting his head slightly and watching you carefully. His tone is curious and measured, and you sense that he's already re-arranging his plans in his mind, re-evaluating them and trying to determine how you're going to affect things. If he's angry with Hoffman, you can't tell.

"I wanted to test them myself, before I told you, in case it ended up being a waste of time," Hoffman says, shooting a glance at you, "I've never met someone so good at reading people. Except maybe you."

"You've got to be kidding," Amanda says, nearly laughing, "So you took them here, and showed them the footage from our last game? I knew you were an idiot, but this is really next level."

"We already abandoned this place as a workshop," Mark gestures to the TV, sounding irritated, "I sure as hell wasn't going to leave any evidence lying around after I took them home. Place would have been cleared out by tomorrow morning."

"And if they, oh, you know- reported you? Told someone?" Amanda asks. Mark looks like he's about to argue back at her, but John holds up a hand.

"I know you're smart enough not to take unnecessary risks, especially with your identity. But you should have brought this to my attention immediately," John says to Mark. Hoffman actually grimaces, like a kid being scolded.

John turns his attention to you, in cold and calculating interest, "What do you have to say?"

Cherish your life, the wind whispers in your ear. Right now, your life felt pretty fucking cherished, in the it-is-literally-on-the-line sense.

"I guessed that Detective Hoffman was one of your accomplices a few weeks ago," You answer, hoping that you're not going to talk yourself into a corner, "Not that I had any proof, but...he's been keeping a close eye on me, since then."

"And why haven't you gone to the police?" John asks, critical. The big question. Something urges you to just lay all of your cards out on the table.

"I don't... know, to be honest. Sometimes, things just come to me. Pieces of information, like drops of rain before a storm," John looks at you in interest, waiting silently, so you continue. "I feel like... the first one was personal, right? Like tiger stripes across the face, rough, rudimentary, righteous. He took something from you. Like the sun going out," You look at Mark. "The two of you are similar, like that."

Amanda and John stare at you, and you're worried you've said too much. Maybe you shouldn't have called his engineering rudimentary. You clear your throat, and shuffle your weight from one foot to the other.

"Interesting," Jigsaw remains expressionless, tone dispassionate. He looks at Mark's hand, still clenched around your prescription bottle, "...And the pills?"

You swallow. "Dampeners," you answer simply. He nods, like he understands, somehow. Amanda snaps her attention from you, to Mark, to John, like she can't believe what's happening. She makes a noise of clear protest.

"Come here, for a moment," Jigsaw says. You very much do not want to do that, but with Amanda glowering at you, you don't feel like you have much of a choice.

You walk over until you stand in front of him, heart hammering in your chest. With a hand, he beckons you to lean down, closer. Amanda looks just about ready to leap over his chair and strangle you.

As you lean in closer, you feel a prick on your neck. You look down to see John holding a needle, sticking it into your skin. He pushes an unknown liquid into your body.

"Oh," you say simply. Should have seen that coming.

The room goes dark.

---

When you wake up, you have gone from being in a bad situation to a much, much worse situation.

Somehow, you can sense that you were unconscious for a very long time. Now, though, you are wide awake, with adrenaline beginning to flood your body. Good- you're going to need it.

The first thing you register is that your eyes are very dry. The reason for this is immediately clear: your eyelids are being held open by a metal optician's speculum. You glance around your dark surroundings frantically in silent terror, unable to move your head. Some kind of a warehouse? No- a gymnasium. The school.

You can't move your body, either. You seem to be suspended in the air- how high up, you can't say- with your arms and legs locked into some kind of device. The height makes you nervous enough that you don't try to squirm.

Fuck. Stay calm. This is a Jigsaw game, which means there's a way out of it.

As you look back up above you, you can just make out through the darkness large jug of something positioned directly over your head. You catch the scent of something pungent and acidic.

It is becoming significantly harder to stay calm.

Below you, off to the side of the room, a television crackles to life.

"Hello," Jigsaw's voice says, addressing you by name, "I want to play a game." You can't see him, but you can imagine the puppet. Is the voice John's, Mark's or Amanda's through that modulation? You can't tell.

"You have been given a gift. A unique way of seeing the world. But you turn reject this strength. You silence it with painkillers, living in a wilful ignorance when you could know so much more."

So if it's John, someone has told him more about you. You wiggle your fingers. In each of your hands, there is some kind of device with a switch. Never a good sign.

"In your hands are two switches. By flipping each the switches, a single drop of acid will drop into your eyes, blinding you permanently. If you do not do so within two minutes, the restraints on your arms and legs will release, and you will be dropped in a tub of acid. I assure you, you will not survive."

Whimpering softly, the panic bubbles up in your chest, making it hard for you to catch your breath. It's much more difficult to turn inward and rely on your intuition with your eyes pried open- and maybe that was by design. If you could only shut them for a moment, then maybe your intuition could help you find a different way out of this.

"Will you embrace your gifts permanently by blinding yourself? Or will you die in ignorance? This is your test. Make your choice."

As the timer begins to tick, time seems to slow. You think of your mother's hands, holding you under the water, and the last words she said to you before she attempted to drown you.

Life is full of pain and bad people. She was right about that. You think of the kids from the school, forced to wait alone, curled up in the dark by their teacher. You think of Mark Hoffman, who delighted in the teacher's suffering.

You think of your cat Prawn, curled up by your head, and of the last time you grabbed lunch with Allison.

But she was wrong. Life is worth living, regardless.

You aren't going to fucking die here, alone. Not because of Jigsaw.

You flick the switches in your hands.

True to his word, the last thing you see are two drops of liquid, dripping down from above you into your eyes.

You scream as the acid burns you. You scream and you scream, until your voice breaks and your throat aches. You can smell the horrible scent of the acid burning your eyes, and hear something moving beneath you. A machine powers down, and you're slowly and gently lowered to the ground, no pool of acid waiting to swallow you whole.

When the restraints release your hands and feet, you rip the speculum out of your eyes, moaning in pain as you shut them and clutch at them. You curl into yourself, into a ball on the cold ground, and try not to cry.

And then, as you lie there in the dirt, panting and moaning, your awareness explodes. Your sixth sense replaces your fifth and crystallizes, smoothing out and filling in the gaps.

When you hear feet running to you, you already know whose they are. Detective Mark Hoffman, followed by Allyson Kerry. Detective Rigg isn't far behind.

You don't need to see to know.

"Kerry! Get over here, now!" Mark's voice barks out. You feel him lean in close to you, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders and holding you to his chest.

"You did it," he murmurs into your ear, only for you to hear, "You fucking did it. I knew you'd win."

You reach out, clinging to him. It still feels comforting. It still feels protective.

Lies upon lies.

---

yes. I accidentally nuked my blog. 🥲 but thank you for the support on this fic series! I would love to hear what you think- comments help me figure out what people are enjoying about the fics and what people want to see more of 💕

TAG LIST: @icarusinstatic @honimello @haven-is-happy @karmaswitch @the-jester-calamity @teamhawkeye @thebrideofcaliban

NEXT CHAPTER

#mark hoffman #slasher fic #saw franchise #slasher x reader #saw movies #sawposting #costas mandylor #detective hoffman #mark hoffman x reader #mark hoffman x oc #my writing

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ewitsren · 2 years

Note

Hi sweetie! How are you doing? Hopefully great! So I wanted to request ,when their s/o comes home assulted' but with Haitani brothers (separated) and sanzu? Feel free to ignore my request, have a nice day:)

hey love! i haven't been writing for a while but i hope you'll enjoy this <3

their s/o comes home assaulted ft sanzu, haitani brothers

pairings: haruchiyo sanzu x reader, haitani ran x reader, haitani rindou x reader

tw/cws ⚠️: physical assault, mention of murder, beating up, mention of sexual assault

barrista's note ☕: i love sanzu

#SANZU

he'd been waiting for you to come home for hours, he'd called you countless times and you wouldn't answer. well, sanzu was wandering around on the border of a serious breakdown which could've had negative effects for a lot of people

so when you walked into the room with your clothes ripped off and a suprising amount of blood dripping down from different parts of body, sanzu had to take a moment to process

he looked at you

and he looked at you again because he couldn't believe the sight of you covered in bruises, crying silently in front of him

he even thought this state of you was just a hallucination popped out from one of his worst nightmares and he believed it for a second until he realized he hadn't taken any pills throughout the day

this was real

he approached slowly, scared to hurt you even more unintentionally

"w-who did this? why didn't you call me for help? where the fuck have you even been?"

at first he started off stammering and a second later he was yelling, you could feel the pure anger in his cracking voice

"I DON'T KNOW SANZU! they broke my phone, i couldn't call you!"

the thought of someone hitting your small, fragile body when he was so delicate and careful with it, the image of you laying on the ground in an alley waiting for him to save you had driven sanzu so crazy that he didn't realize you started crying louder when he yelled at you

"i'm sorry angel, i'm sorry. let's clean you up and we'll take care of this later, okay?"

he sits you down and clean your wounds, extremely careful not to hurt you more.

"i know it burns, look at my babygirl not shedding a single tear. you're so strong."

later he runs you a warm bath and listens to you talk about what happened while washing your hair and body, clenching his jaw at every purple bruise he sees on your skin as he thinks about how he is going to enjoy killing the fuckers who'd hurt you

sanzu dresses you up in his clothes hoping it'll make you feel safer

cuddles you to sleep while caressing your hair and doesn't leave your side the whole night

"i'm so sorry i couldn't protect you, y/n. this 's never going to happen again."

#HAITANI RAN

ran was about to call his men to get them looking for you when you stepped into the room wet from the rain, bleeding and bruised

he was worried about you, you should've been home hours ago like you always did and ran had a bad feeling in his gut

unlucky for the both of you, his gut was right

he was about to start yelling and asking who, why, when, where did this to you but he forced himself to calm down for your sake. "let's get you patched up sweetheart."

ran filled the tub with hot water, gets you out of your soaking clothes and started tending to your wounds

"who did this to you?"

his voice came out calm but you knew he was burning up inside with anger

"i d-don't know ran, one of them t-tried to s-strip me..."

ran pats your head as you try to tell him what happened between loud sobbings. he felt his cold anger spreading all around his head, how dare did those fuckers try to undress and touch you? how dare did they hurt your pretty face and delicate body?

"sssh, it's okay darling. this is never going to happen again, okay? i'll protect you."

ran puts you to bed after he makes sure you were all patched and cleaned up

he turns the lights off and holds you in his arms until you fall asleep

"they 'r dead now, they'll never hurt ya again."

#HAITANI RINDOU

just like his big brother, he was about to send his men to look for you

but he drops his phone when you entered the room, covered in blood and bruises.

"y/n what the fuck, are you hurt?"

he rushes to your side, he needs time to process

"where have you been? who the fuck did this to you?"

he sits you down and listens to you while he carefully tends your wounds

his first priority was to make you feel safe, he'd decided to destroy whoever did this to you in the morning

rindou dresses you up in comfortable clothes when he's done patching you up

puts your comfort sitcom on and makes your comfort food

cuddles you to sleep while you watch tv in silence

"no one's gonna hurt you again, darling."

@ewitsren 's work, do not copy or translate in any other platform

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chrollohearttags · 1 year

Note

i can’t get this eren brainrot out of my head so i’m putting it here 🫶🏾 like just imagine rapper eren noticing y/n being upset about something, maybe it was a mess up at her shoot or a couple hate comments about her under an insta post and eren is just not having it. he’s gonna buy that girl enough roses to fill up the living room, probably make a couple secret fan accounts for her and spam her comments with some love and then fuck her nice and slow at the end of the day <333

godddddd I love this! tsym!!! Like when I tell you, y’all are gonna have to pry this pairing from my hands..😭

cw: !black fem reader, hate comments, hand holding, missionary, pussy eating, crying (not dacryphilia though), (heavy) praise kink, affirmation, tub/shower sex

there were so many things that came with being a public figure..having to maintain your image at all times, looking nothing less than extraordinary. Making sure to say the right things to avoid falling under public scrutiny and always presenting the best version of yourself. Even so, with all that criteria being met…sometimes it still wasn’t enough! (Y/N) (L/N) understood that shit all too well. As someone who made their living off of social media, it was all but inevitable to be immersed in the virtual world but some days, you just wanted to deactivate everyone of those accounts and disappear..today was one of those damn days!

Starting off like any other, you decided to take a quick scroll through your feed, queue a couple posts and check your mentions. It was then that you’d be bombarded by hate comments…nasty trolls calling you all types of hurtful names. Saying everything from your body being fake, to you being a slut because of your provocative pictures to even saying your husband should leave you. Which really set you over the edge. Normally, you’d be able to block that ignorance out, both literally and figuratively but they were laying it on thick and your patience wore thin in return. So much so, you had a very short temper today. It wasn’t intentional but you really didn’t want to deal with anyone today..including your loving husband, Eren. Who had merely asked what was wrong, even cracking a couple jokes before you inevitably snapped at him, which he knew was completely out of character. “I’m fine, Eren..please, just go away and let me sleep..” Anyone else would’ve been met with equal energy and an attitude but he had never seen you so down and depressed. Which he just couldn’t bare the sight of. Naturally, he wanted to know what or who rather had caused his baby to be upset but it wasn’t until he decided to log in to Instagram and as clear as day, there they were..the hateful things being said about his beloved wife. He wasn’t much for going back and forth on the internet because he wanted to beat the hell out of them but that wasn’t plausible so he’d go for the next best option….and that was spoiling you rotten!..

six hours later and the entire living room was filled from doorway to foyer in dozens of red roses. Petals scattered across the floor and a teal gift bag with ‘Tiffany and Co.’ inscribed on the front. The first thing to greet you once you came back home. While driving around in hopes to clear your head, your husband was hard at work..not in the studio but ensuring that even though you had a bad day, the night didn’t follow suit. Being met with a text that read simply: ‘meet me upstairs’..it was then that you found him in the granite garden tub, setting in the center of the spacious master bathroom. Bubbles surrounding his nude body and an opened bottle of aged Merlot sitting on the side of it with two glasses..you couldn’t help but to smile for the first time in twenty four hours. “You’re not gonna keep me waiting, are you?” that sweet charm turned on tenfold tonight. You couldn’t believe he had gone all out and done this for you! But not one expense was spared when it came to his princess..he’d pull out all the stops to see that pretty smile again. Stripping from your clothes, (y/n) eventually steeped into the foamy pile of bubbles and immediately falling into his grasp. “You did all this for me, baby?” to which he’d merely chuckle, knowing damn well he’d hand you the world on a platter it were possible. “You know I couldn’t stand to see my angel upset. I had to fix that real quick..” Arms flung around the back of his neck and your tongue slipping into his mouth shortly thereafter. The two of you engaging in a heated makeout session, becoming immersed in one another; saying to hell with the comments and anyone else who thought that you shouldn’t be together. You were the only woman he wanted..would ever need and he’d spend every waking second until the early morning proving it! Tomorrow morning, you’d probably wake up to a plethora of positive messages, doting on you via a couple burner accounts he had his assistant make, where they spammed you with heartfelt praise. But for now, he had a display of love that were only possible for him..

like when he brought you to the bedroom, lying you across the mattress as he marked your smooth mocha complexion up with sensual kisses..warm breath making contact with your cold, dampened skin. They were divine but you hadn’t felt anything yet!..it was only when those gentle pecks trailed south to your mound, that he’d peel your thighs apart and place his palms into the flesh to keep you still. The last thing he needed was you trying to run when he began slurping on that cute clit. The swollen pearl glaring back at him with a thin line of slick between your plump lips. Dragging the tip of his tongue through it just to watch you shudder..knowing that he would have your legs full on shaking in a minute. Doing as he done best and eating your pussy until you trembled underneath him; bringing that to fruition in less that ten minutes. Locking your fingers together so that you held hands whilst he licked all between those pretty thighs and slit. “You taste so good, baby…so sweet.” Devouring you in every essence of the word..spitting, lapping, sucking and flicking to make you come in his mouth. Even when you grabbed his head and pushed him away, there was no stopping. He wanted to melt that stress away..fuck you so good that your mind was completely void of any negativity or hate. Which is exactly what happened when he leaned up and proceeded to tap his tip against that sensitive sex.. “..stay just like that..I got you.” Reassuring with a smile on his face before swiping a thumb across yours. He’d keep that hand cupped around your cheek and your heads pressed close as he slid in..you were so tight; a sign of how tensed up you had been but he had all the time in the world. He’d go as slow and gentle as you needed him to. This was all about (y/n)..starting out with soft, fluid strokes.. “..you’re so beautiful, (y/n)..I love you so much.” “..doing so good, taking this dick for me. Does it feel good, baby?”

both statement and question making you unclench those tight bundle of nerves and open up for him. Shaking your head and crying in response..not because it was painful but because you realized how mean you had been to him this morning. Getting angry over people who didn’t matter but he understood and your feelings were valid. He loved you all the same and would never get mad. To take your pain away, not cause it was his only goal. Watching you sniffle with tears coming down your cheek; mixing with those sweet moans and apologies, Eren pulled you into a melting kiss, sloppy and slow just as you liked them. His chain and strands of hair dangling in your face as he burrowed over you body and whispered: “Shhh…it’s alright. It’s okay..you just let it all go.” instructing with his dick throbbing inside of you. Telling you how beautiful you looked with him inside of you..how pretty you were when you came and all the other sweet nothings you nerfed to hear. He wouldn’t stop until you climaxed as many times as you pleased; releasing all that stress and tension until you fell apart in his arms and each time, he’d always be there to catch you..

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lazyneonrabbitt · 5 months

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Daryl hated full moons these days.

He was stuck in his basement to not rise suspicion by leaving each moon, but that wasn't the worst of it by far.

The worst was to never say yes yo your invites to watch duty these nights, or to stare at the beauty of the full moon whenever you weren't on duty.

You, the beauty living across from his home whom he could never have. His human half knew this but still his wolf dreamed of you in all kinds of ways and during the moon these images were the clearest and it hurt him.

Tonight was no different. The images of you, asleep against his thick fur and skinning a deer to feed him the raw meat raced theough his mind as he shifted in the secure room of his basement. His clawed hand wrapped around the red rag he kept on his to tie off the base of his tail. He hated the feel of the long fur brushing the back of his thighs as he moved around.

Sleep would not take him tonight. Your scent lingered on the clothes he wore today when he had spent time working on renovating a home with you. The whole day he has been imagining the two of you living there with your children running around. His animalistic wants being too vivid to ignore as the beast rose and snuck out.

On all fours he stepped out of the back of his home, staying close to the plants surrounding it as he waited for a moment to rush over the street unseen.

He knew your doors were never locked and used this to get into your home through the back entrance that lead directly into your kitchen where those delicious cookies sat under a cover. The ones you baked without chocolate in them so he could eat some as well.

Sniffing around he was overwhelmed with your scent, his tail wagging out of control as he trudged along the room, into the hallway and made his way up your stairs as quietly as possible.

Sniffing at the doors he had first found your spare bedroom which was mostly storage now. The second one was thr bathroom where a pile of your dirty clothes laid on the floor next to the tub. The urge to roll around in them almost impossible to resist.

Shaking it all off he stepped away from the room and tried the third door. This one was closed, much to his disappointment, as your scent was the strongest here.

A large paw went to reach for the doorknob and twisted it, pushing the door open to reveal your sleeping form.

Daryl quietly padded into the room, his ears flat against his head as he stayed low to the ground but his tail still wagging against his will and thwacking against the door as he entered.

Your body stirred and he stilled, dropping to the floor and laying flat against it. Bright blue eyes staring at your face, opening your eyes to stare at the open door in confusion.

He watched you blink the sleep fron your eyes and lift yourself up on your elbows, the blanket on you slipping down to your stomach and revealing your bare chest whixh had Daryl's tail thumping against the cabinet next to the door.

You jumped at the noise, staring down at the giant dog on your floor and crawling away from it as it whined sadly.

The thing wasn't moving, only raised its head enough to peek at you over the edge of your matress. Your heart raced as you stared at the beast like you stared at that spider earlier today, afraid to look away in case it'd move if you did.

Daryl recognised the stare and ever so slowly lifted his head far enoigh to place his chin on the bed, his tail still softly swaying.

You stared at its eyes.

And the scar over one of them.

And the greying spots in its fur, especially the one on its chin.

Moving a bit to see more of it the red rag around its tail appeared and you quickly pulled the blanket back to cover yourself up.

"Daryl?!" You whisper-yelled at the beast and it perked up at the name. "What the hell?"

It sat up fully and hopped onto the bed, easily towering over you now and dropping down onto your blankets, pulling the end you held out of your grasp again before curling up onto the pile.

"Alright, fine." You sighed in defeat and draped yourself over his large frame, only to be pulled into a tight embrace with a large paw resting on your chest.

Maybe his wolf was right about you sharing your life together.

#sometimes i write #daryl dixon x reader #werewolf #human x werewolf #werewolf x human

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nethhiri · 2 months

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Marooned: Chapter 15

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: None

Hangovers and Hang-ups

Killer leaned against the wall of Kid's workshop while Kid took a closer look at your log pose. "What's your plan with her?" Killer had taken care of you until you passed out. He had thrown you over his shoulder and taken you to Kid's huge bathtub. He had thought about tucking you into his bed so you would be more comfortable; he knew you would have a raging hangover in the morning and Killer could always sleep in Kid's bed so you could have his room to yourself. As nice as he could be, and even after you treated him, he didn't want you to puke in his sheets, so he settled for a pillow and comforter thrown into the tub with you. It would be easier to clean if you threw up there. He felt bad about leaving you in clothes covered in now-stale beer, but he felt worse when he thought about taking them off, unable to shake the image of your mouth around his fingers while your eyes burned into his through the holes in his mask. It brought heat rushing up his neck thinking about it now.

Kid shrugged. "Wire said we have another week until we get ta the next island. Our deal was that she gets off there." He continued to tinker with the log pose. "If I still want to fuck her by then, I'll make her change her mind. We need a doctor anyway."

"I think we need to figure out who she is before you think about keeping her on this ship, if she even wants to stay. You don't think it's odd that she won't tell anyone her name? That she can put up a fight?" Killer picked up your weapon that had been sitting on the corner of Kid's bench. It was a unique design, though he was certain he had seen something like it before. "Do you remember when we first started out, the time we got intercepted by marines?"

"Nah. Why?"

"No reason." It was fuzzy, yet the tool in his hands made Killer keep thinking back to that time. Something was there. He wanted to be sure before he brought it to Kid's attention. "If she doesn't want anyone to know her name, she must think we'll recognize it, which brings a few possibilities: she's from a rival crew, she's a marine, or she has a bounty. Maybe a combination of those. And then there's the separate matter of what she told me last night about not being able to swim. She might have a Devil Fruit."

Kid cackled. "If Trafalgar or Strawhat had a bonnie lass like that on their crew, I would have kidnapped her in Sabaody. Those two losers haven't seen a tit in their lives. Wouldn't even know what ta do with pussy." Kid seemed pleased with himself, whether it was from his own jab or his tinkering was unclear. The log pose split into two halves in front of him. "What a shit log pose... If a marine has a name that big, they would be an admiral and she isn't one." Kid paused to think, "Don't we have some old bounty posters somewhere? Go through them with Heat and see if she's there." Kid looked at the dials more closely. "Killer, look at this." His took one off and flipped it upside down.

Killer moved to the bench, setting your gun down. He picked up the pose's needle that Kid removed. "There's... a small piece of paper."

Kid took the other two needles off. "These too." The three needles on the table shifted, ever so slightly, in three separate directions.

"Those are vivre cards!" Killer was impressed with the ingenuity. It wasn't a real log pose at all, it was a tracker of sorts, and it seemed to be aimed at three people. Family? Friends? Or... enemies.

"What a clever little bitch." Kid reassembled it so that you wouldn't know it had been tampered with. "No wonder she wanted it back so badly." Kid had been confused initially. He showed it to Wire, who compared it to their own log pose, and concluded that it was broken since the needles didn't point the same as theirs.

"You mean no wonder she would tolerate fucking you for this long otherwise." Killer dodged a wrench launched in his direction.

Kid shoved the log pose in his pocket. He did say he would give it back. "DON'T BE JEALOUS!"

"I'm not," Killer said in a teasing tone, getting ready to slip out the door.

Kid narrowed his eyes in his best friend's direction. "Did she fuck you?" He thought back to what you had said before emptying your stomach over the railing. "KILLER?!"

The masked man left Kid's workshop with his captain's shouting trailing after him and a sly grin on his face. Killer thought it was fun to ruffle Kid's feathers and get him worked up. Killer knew Kid wouldn't be mad if he had fucked you; Kid simply liked keeping track of his playthings. And Killer also knew that Kid would have wanted to compare notes to make sure you weren't holding out on him.

Grumbling, Kid examined your weapon. He had made some improvements to it so that it met his standards. Kid was going to present it to you at the party as a gift, but he decided at the last minute that would be lame. It didn't have anything to do with the scenarios in his head where you didn't like it that left his hands clammy. He wasn't even going to do much to it, but he ran out of things to do when Killer told him his helmet was fixed and that he didn't need a new one. That concerned Kid for two reasons: anyone but him would have to weld it back together and there were no weld marks.

It fucking sucked waking up. You were sore from being in the hard tub all night, you were nauseated, and you had the worst headache of your life. For a while, you had turned on the hot water, still in clothes, and let it rain down on you after moving the pillow and sheets that Killer had left you out of the tub. There wasn't a lot that you remembered from last night other than winning a pair of pants, that you would be sure to collect on, and Killer holding your hair back when you got sick. How embarrassing... like a damn teenager. You pulled yourself up with a groan, plopped the soaked dress on the floor, and washed all of last night off.

When you were drying off, you heard a soft knock from Killer's end of the bathroom. You hadn't noticed the first time, but the captain's room and the first mate's were joined by this bathroom, a door on each end. Throwing the sheets around your shoulders to cover yourself, you opened the door to Killer's towering frame.

"You look like shit."

You blinked at him, simultaneously offended and amused. "I feel like shit."

He moved to let you walk past him. "You should drink some water."

You looked around. His room was more simple and less dark than Kid's. "Thank you, Dr. Massacre Soldier. I'll take that into consideration." It felt like an intrusion to sit directly on his bed. There weren't any chairs and he wasn't kicking you out though, so you sat on the floor next to the wall, bringing the sheet over your head to block the light. There was a creak as Killer's weight sank on his bed across from you.

"Wire says it'll be about a week before we reach the next island. What will you do then?"

The pounding in your head nearly drowned out his question. "Eager to get rid of me, huh?"

"No one's making you leave."

"Not yet."

"You know, you don't have to be a smart-ass all the time. There's no need to be so defensive" Killer couldn't gauge your reaction under the sheet. "You think you're so special that we'll even give a shit who you are?"

That made you laugh. "Well now you're just making me sound like an asshole." You uncovered your face to look Killer in the eyes, well, mask holes. "It's not about who I am. It's about who I used to be."

"We've all done things we aren't proud of... except Kid. I don't think he has regrets." Killer offered.

You sat up, pulling your knees in and burying your face in them. "The thing is... I was proud of it. Until I learned my career was a sham. Wasted part of my life doing..." You sighed. "Killer, I know you're trying to be sympathetic or whatever and I appreciate what you did for me, but I'm only trying to make it to land alive, so I can do what I have to do." You stood up and mumbled on your way out, "I've already been ripped apart and left for dead by a crew once. Don't need to relive it." It was impossible to be betrayed again if you had no one close enough to do so.

#kid x reader x killer #massacre soldier killer #eustass kid #one piece #eustass kid x reader #killer x reader #marooned #x reader

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