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zer0pm · 11 months

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Imagine both Leon and Luis offering you their jackets when you start shivering.

“You cold?”

“A little bit, but nothing I can’t handle.”

You say this with your teeth chattering and it was clear on Leon’s unamused face that he wasn’t buying it. The blonde sighs, hiding a slight smirk before his lips return to his characteristic frown.

“Here,” he says, shrugging out of his thick, fur-lined jacket. In doing so, the strong definition of muscles on his arms and chest came into full display and you couldn’t help but note every sculpted line. Those years of secret government training did wonders for his physique and the tight navy shirt left little to the imagination. Your overactive thoughts nearly run wild when his arms flexed out of his sleeves.

Remembering yourself, you shake your head. “Thanks, but won’t you be freezing?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Leon says with a slight smile, his gentle tone echoing yours when you tried to save face in a surprisingly teasing manner. For as long as you’ve known the blond, he was rarely warm and gentle. His stern, straight-laced demeanor and dry sense of humor often overshadows his kinder, sociable qualities. So to see him so openly considerate was a rare treat. This unexpected side of him stirred feelings inside you that are not at all unwelcome, but you found yourself at a loss for words.

He takes his jacket by the collar and offers it to you with an encouraging look that said that he wasn’t going to take “no” for an answer. You breathe out an air of defeat, reaching towards him. Against your will, your eyes roamed over the thick veins of his strong forearm and bicep appreciatively, and you tried to recover by quickly looking up. That was a mistake. He was no longer wearing a grin, but the heat within his eyes intensifies when they meet yours. You felt your cheeks burning under his knowing gaze.

Your fingertips (unintentionally) brush against his as you grabbed hold of the faux fur and was about to accept the weight of the clothing in your hands until you felt something warm and heavy drop around your shoulders. It took you by surprise and you look over to your side to see Luis standing next to you- sans leather jacket.

The Spaniard had his signature lopsided smile on his handsome face as he adjusted the stitched leather around you, making sure that it would not fall. It gave you an opportunity to look him over as well. You knew he wore a white-buttoned shirt, but now that he wasn’t wearing his jacket, you can see how nicely the fabric fitted on his frame.

For a man who considers himself the brains of your group, he was impressively cut. While Luis wasn’t as strongly built as Leon, he had a lean, well-defined waist that would have otherwise been hidden from sight with his jacket on. The sleeves of the shirt hugs his long arms nicely and his broad frame tautly stretches the thin creases that ran across the fabric, accentuating the exposed portion of his scarred chest. It became apparent to you then that Luis left the few buttons undone for reasons beyond just visual appeal.

The dark-haired man chuckled beneath his breath as he caught you staring. “Take mine, my friend. I’ve kept it warm- just for you.”

“Luis,” you started, trying to keep a straight face, “aren’t you worried about getting sick?” Your consideration came from a genuine place of concern and it showed in your voice, but you couldn’t argue the relief you felt wrapped inside the warmth provided by his jacket. You thought the leather would do little against the chilly weather, but surprisingly, it felt wonderful on you- most certainly because Luis’ heat formerly occupied it and the thought of you surrounded in said heat made your already feverish blush deepen.

“Y no te preocupes por mí.” He assures confidently. “I grew up in these parts. This weather doesn’t affect me one bit, so I insist.”

The man doesn’t give you an opportunity to respond.

“Unless…” Luis pauses for a second, playfulness glinting in his grey eyes. He then steps closer to your front. The movement forces you to reflexively let go of Leon’s jacket, leaving it to hang in the other man’s hand to allow room for the Spaniard to step in between you. Now only Luis stands in your full view, his eyes locking yours, all while maintaining his charming grin. “We come in close. Like this.”

The devilish man wraps a daring arm around your shoulders, nudging you closer to him but not forceful enough where you couldn’t pull away if you wanted to. You subconsciously didn’t want to and allowed him to bring you in, stopping to where your chests are merely a hair’s breath away from pressing against one another.

“This way we can keep each other warm,” he continues with a wink. “A good idea, ¿sí?”

Your ears pick up an annoyed scoff and you look over Luis’ broad shoulder. Leon stood with arms crossed, his bored eyes casted to the side as if finding something interesting in the distance. He already had his jacket back on, much to your disappointment.

Before you, Luis wears an amused smirk, addressing the blond without looking at him with faux intrigue, his focused gaze still resting entirely on you. “Something funny, Sancho?”

Leon ignores the obvious jab, “Just making mental bets on how long you’ll last before you start running your mouth. So far, I’m leaning towards two minutes.”

This made the Spaniard take a step back to turn his body sideways, arm still resting around you. Luis hums thoughtfully.

“Such harsh words for a squire,” he dismisses the counter with a casual shrug, squeezing your shoulder. At the time, you thought it to be a warm gesture, not once detecting the possessive undertones blatantly on display at the action. “Never underestimate a knight’s resilience. Or his endurance.”

If you had paid attention, you would have noticed the two men glaring at one another. You would have caught Leon’s challenging snarl and Luis’ taunting gaze. But no, you were too busy settling into Luis’ jacket, slipping your arms into the sleeves and zipping it closed around your form.

Ashley’s voice calls out to the three of you, announcing that she found something. Without a second thought, you start stepping towards her direction, separating yourself from Luis’ heat. You missed the frown he wore at your absence and by the time you looked back at him, he had on his usual charming smirk.

“Thanks for the jacket, Luis. I’ll give it back, I promise.” You say graciously, causing his grin to widen to a genuine smile. You then stop before Leon, also offering him a grateful look as you patted his chest. It was meant to be an amicable touch but the contact sent jolts of electricity from your palm to your chest. His body exuded an inviting warmth that made you hesitant to withdraw as you spoke trying to keep your voice level. “And I appreciate the thought, Leon. You’re always so reliable.”

You missed the subtle redness in his cheeks then too, willing yourself to give space and continuing to move to Ashley’s location. Both men are left staring after you, longing evident in the pools of silver and blue. After what seemed like an eternity of tense silence, Luis is the first to speak up.

“Dos minutos, mi culo.” He grumbles, a hint of amused irritation in his thick accented voice.

Leon snorts in turn. “That was generous.”

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messylustt · 8 months

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unfair, controlling, hypocritical — miguel o’hara. drabble based on this writing prompt request.

your breath caught the moment you saw his back stop. all your words, you wish you could swallow. the silence was almost strangling before his low voice decided to break it. “you wanna repeat that?”

you manage to simultaneously shake your head and nod. why were you nodding? you didn’t want to repeat what you had said. you had been angry. you are angry. maybe that’s why. miguel has slowly turned, his visible fangs and blood red eyes seeming more prominent as his shoulders flex.

his question still lingers in the air. he hadn’t seen you shake/nod your head. that was probably for the better. “is silence all i’m getting now?” miguel asks, voice still weighed heavy with tension.

you gulp. “do you want me to repeat it?” you quietly manage, because now he was nearing, your feet sliding back. and just as you feel gravity pull you down with a slip to your foot—the edge now scraping your sole — miguel’s hand grips around the middle of your suit. he’s holding you up by some material, his claws probably ruining the stitching.

“do you really think that i want to hear you repeat how i’m some fucking unfair, controlling, hypocritical bastard?” he sneers out the words. his face inches closer to yours as you hold your breath. “i’d love to hear those words come out your mouth again, cariño.”

at one point you thought you could feel the graze of his fang against your lower lip. but to be fair you’re fraction dazed by his proximity. blame it on that. delusions, because miguel would never—

his free hand harshly tilts your head up, your lips now most definitely brushing against his canines. “so you think i’m unfair?” miguel practically speaks to your mouth. his hand that is gripping your suit material is still making you lean slightly over the ledge, your hands now gripping his biceps, as your heart picks a quicker beat.

his hand on your chin slips down your waist. then your body jolts, his fingers having found a placement between your legs. “is this position unfair?” he inquires far too innocently. all your words are choked. “if i let go you’d fall. you’re reliant on me to keep you up…does that make me controlling?”

the pads of his fingers lightly graze back and forth over your covered pussy, making your breathing catch. “is me…touching you like this unfair?”

and through the slight shake of your body you manage a few words. “hypocrite. you forgot hypocrite.” your words are some what of a form of you trying to get your own back. to stand taller, despite the clear lean of your body.

miguel actually manages a chuckle. though it’s dipped in mocking and utter power. “of course. a hypocrite. because despite all of what i’m saying, and what i’m trying to prove…” he pauses, gaze flickering across your features, and then down to your slightly parted lips. “i want to hear you say how much you want me to touch you like this…”

your gaze slightly widens, as you meet his red, now determined eyes. “what?”

“so you were right. i am a fucking unfair, controlling, hypocritical bastard.” miguel’s breath is now fanning over your mouth, as he tugs you closer. “and i’ll show you just how much that title suits me.”

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saksukei · 8 months

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saving simon ghost riley’s life

masterlist | angst, injury mentions, he's being a bitch

they say some instincts are good, some are bad. yours have landed you in hell though.

being part of task force 141 had its own perks which included borderline deadly missions, a whole lot of adrenaline and a shit ton of risk taking. so that's exactly what you did when you saw a gun aimed at your lieutenant, more specifically, simon ghost riley.

you jumped in front of the gun without any hesitation, disobeying his orders to stay put. he was your senior, someone you definitely respected and looked up to. you were absolutely okay with letting yourself get injured for him. something about loyalty, right?

“a word, sergeant,” he interrupted your train of thought, his presence overwhelming the nurses present in the med bay as they stitched your wound.

“yes sir?” you thought he was gonna thank you for saving his life. apparently, he had other plans.

“who gave you the fucking right to disobey my orders?” he growls, his eyes piercing through your very soul. you imagine what it would be like if he didn't have his mask on, the very mask that is acting as a shelter from his rage.

you blink in confusion. “i beg your pardon, sir?”

“i said, who gave you the right to disobey my orders?” he repeated, his tone stern.

“i–sorry lieutenant,” you reply curtly, confused at his rude behavior. but then again, simon isn't known for his niceness.

“sorry isn't going to cut you the slack,” he retorts, voice laced with venom. “you are going to be reprimanded for failing to comply with your superior’s orders to stay put.”

and while you desperately want to argue, give him an explanation or maybe yell at him that you did save his life, you ignore and nod.

“i don’t hear a reply sergeant,” his voice booms.

“affirmative sir.”

with that he walks out.

the next couple of days are hell. rather than being treated like someone of your rank, the lieutenant decides to treat you like a rookie, making you run almost triple the amount of drills, ignoring the fact that you’ve had an injury.

when captain price decides to finally intervene on your behalf, he promptly replies about how insubordination must be set straight and that he's doing this his own way. soap and kyle both also try to intervene, but they can't seem to change the lieutenant’s mind.

you don't seem to fight it either, just silently accepting whatever task he's given. you know that there's really no room for disagreement given your current circumstances.

today he had pushed you too much though. drained, as you went back to your room, collapsing on whatever shit excuse of a bed you had. you couldn't even get up. the three firm and calculated knocks you heard on your door made you groan. who the hell was it at this ungodly hour?

“come in,” you yell out.

and in walks the man you've been dreading to see the most. the lieutenant himself.

you immediately stand up and salute him, ignoring the pain your body is in.

“at ease,” he mutters, as you sit down on your bed. the air is awkward between you to say the least, but boy does it get worse, when the lieutenant kneels and lowers himself right at your feet.

“what the hell–lieutenant?” you question.

“quiet,” he orders, his tone stern. you have no choice but to comply and watch, as he takes out a bandage from his side pocket. “your feet are bruised,” he mutters. why was he acting like he didn't know the reason? that he had been making you run triple the amounts you normally do.

“permission to say something grossly insubordinate sir?” you ask, trying to control your seething anger. what the fuck is his problem?

he nods.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” you yell and it catches him off guard, his warm green eyes meeting yours. “first you punish me for saving your life, make mine a literal hell and then you come in here and act like you care?” your voice raises without you even realizing.

he sighs. he doesn't have a response. you're right. he has been in the wrong but he didn't intend to punish you that far. it just sort of happened. he was so angry, not with your disobedience of course, but because of the fact that he had missed a corner and let you get hurt. he was at war with himself on this one.

so simon does what he does best, ignore your anger filled speech and continues bandaging your feet.

“s–stop it,” you try and push him away. he doesn't budge and you feel yourself reduced to tears. when he does look up and see your eyes coated with them, he stops and says words he hasn't said to anyone in years.

“m’ sorry,” he admits, softly. tears begin to slide down your face, no matter how much you try and hold them back.

and out of instinct, simon reaches out. for the first time, simon riley scoops up someone into his arms, rubbing your back, muttering a thousand apologies for his behavior. god, it would be better if you had let him get shot that day, than seeing you cry like this.

he had made you cry.

“m’ really sorry,” he whispers in your ear. “i was just so upset that you got hurt because of my stupidity, sweetheart,” he tries to explain but his persona is crumbling. he's been so unmerciful to you. “i was wrong, so wrong for doing this,” he repeats again. how could he be so rude to someone he loves so dearly?

he keeps you in his arms. his hand, running through your hair, with his gloves long discard at the side.

you mutter something about how bad it is for you to be crying in the arms of your lieutenant and he tuts, saying that firstly, you should call him simon, and secondly, you can cry as much as you want.

you’re the only one he wants in his arms anyway.

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justaaveragereader · 7 months

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10.01 | Frankensteins Monster

Pairing: Choi Jongho x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Monster Fucking, Stomach Bulge, Electrostimulation, Size Difference, Man Handling, Unprotected Sex (Wrap It Up), Nipple Play, Clothes Ripping, Oral (F Receiving), Soft Boy Monster Jongho, Spanking, If I Missed Anything Let Me Know 👀..

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

NSFW UNDER CUT ~ MDNI🔞!!!

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want too, Jongho.” You whisper out as quietly as possible.

“Yes he does! I need to know if it is properly working. And what better way to find out then you my sweet.” Dr. Frankenstein says through a pout while squishing your cheeks.

You bat his hands away from your face, rubbing Jonghos shoulder, trying to give him as much comfort as possible. It was his first time having sex as well…a monster. Dr. Stein felt it was best to run a test on his own creation to see if it was possible. The test? Seeing if the penis he had attached to Jongho could function normally. Hell, it better had worked well, it’s not like Dr. Stein sent you to a cemetery to dig up endless male bodies to decipher which penis would work best.

Jongho was 7 feet tall, 250 pounds of lean muscle, with the most off white blue skin you had seen. Both eyes were two different shades of brown, border lining black, big metal bolts stuck out each side of his neck, he had stitches covering various parts of his body, as none of those pieces belonged to his original body. Visually a terrifying monster to most people, but to you he was the softest thing that rolled off a metal table. Despite not knowing his own strength you had grown to like Jongho. Wanting his monster to “adapt” to what it’s like to be a real human, he decided why not start with a penis. Why? Dr. Stein didn’t even brief you with an answer on it.

“I just want you to fill out this clipboard when you are finished y/n. Tell me how it goes.” Dr. Stein shoved a clipboard with various pages attached to it, some pages had his own scribbled notes on them.

“Wait! You want us to do it..here?” You whispered loudly to Dr. Stein, while Jongho couldn’t speak, a couple grunts here, a couple grunts there. He wasn’t very verbal. Dr. Stein was still in the process of trying to tweak his vocal chords. While he couldn’t speak he was very smart, whatever he lacked in vocals, he made up for it with knowledge, he was highly intelligent.

“This isn’t romantic sex Y/n. This is for science! I will give you both some privacy.” Dr. Stein wiggled his eyebrows at Jongho giving him a firm grasp on his shoulder. Leaving you down in his work area, with a clipboard in your sweaty palms. Your eyes are shooting everywhere, refusing to look at Jongho.

Letting out a small grunt, your eyes lift over to Jongho. Who is slightly smiling while looking at you, his hands flat against the metal slab, dwarfing the piece of metal. You walk closer to him, your hand gripping the clipboard for dear life. You stand between his giant legs. Fiddling with the pen located at the top of the clipboard. Jongho never intimidated you because while he was a monster, who truly didn’t know his own strength. He was always gentle with you, he made you feel like he couldn’t even harm a fly.

“We really don’t have to do this, Jongho. You get a choice too..” you whisper out quietly. Still avoiding eye contact. He slowly raises his hand, grabbing the clipboard out of your hands. Placing it down next to him. Standing up, his body easily towers over yours. Jongho could make anyone feel small. Letting out a small grunt, he places a cold finger under your chin, tilting your head up so you could look at him. Your body is littered with goosebumps. For a man of few words he definitely knew what he was doing, that part of his brain definitely was intact. Your hands are tight in fists, nerves wracking your whole body. You don’t know if you were excited or full of nervousness. You’d be lying though if you said that the height difference between you both didn’t make your lower stomach tight.

Flashing you his signature gummy smile he grabs one of your hands that is tightly wrapped in a fist, causing your body to immediately relax at his cold touch. He steps closer to you, cocking your head back as far as it could do, the look in his different colored eyes is telling another story. You feel his hard cock crush against your belly. While you dug up the bodies you didn’t help Dr. Stein pick out the body part. Too exhausted from the hard labor you had done but boy oh boy did Dr. Stein pick out a thick one. Why would you expect anything less though? Dr. Stein only strived for the best.

You let out a small gasp at feeling his hardened length against your stomach. His giant hand that dwarfed yours, moves your fist down to his cock, making you feel how hard he actually was. You relaxed your hand, letting your fingers dance along his length, by the first brush of your fingers he jerks his body back slightly. The feeling of your hand on him was enough to make him prematurely cum. Letting out a small breathy grunt, he grabs your hand signaling you to stop touching him. Placing one hand on your waist he turns you around, pushing you down so you’re sitting on the metal slab. Now that you are seated you finally take in the true size difference between the both of you. He was going to break you in half.

You lay back on your arms, parting your legs so Jongho can fit further between them. Taking the invite he stands between your legs, cold fingers running over the swell of your breasts. You shiver slightly at his cold hands. His other hand coming up under your shirt, cold fingertips brushing against your warm skin. Letting out a small groan at the warmth radiating from you. His lips part as his hands travel further and further up your shirt til they meet the bottom of your bra. What he thinks is a small tug on the bra results in him lifting you slightly off the metal slab, your head bumping into his stomach. Huffing and puffing at the contraption that’s holding your chest. Instead of helping him you are too dazed in the way he is manhandling your body.

Like you truly are nothing but a piece of paper to him. Gripping the neck line he rips your shirt right in half, causing you to let out a small chuckle, your hands coming up to run along the chiseled abs underneath his shirt that looks like it’s made out of rags. Your warm hands on his cool skin causes him to buck into you, a loud grunt slipping out his mouth, his hard cock pressed directly into your stomach. Grabbing both sides of your bra he rips it off of your body, your breast falling free. His hand immediately gripping one of your warm breasts causing you to let out a small yelp at the temperature difference. He was addicted to your heat like a moth to a flame.

“Please Jongho…” you whine. Your thighs are trying to rub together but his big body is in the way.

Running his hands through his dark brown locks on his head, his cold hand brushing against the bolt on the side of his neck. Bringing his hand down to brush over your other breast while he still has a grip on the other, his cool hand making your nipple pebble. As his other hand comes down to brush against your other nipple it sends a small shock to your nipple, causing you to let out a loud moan, your bud instantly perking up. Your body jerks slightly against him, making his hard cock dig further into your stomach. You feel it twitch, his cock surely worked.

“Again..” you whimper out pathetically. Jongho was far from dumb, he knew that brushing his hand against his bolt would send a current through him, as he was dead he couldn’t feel it. As to where a warm blooded, pumping heart body would feel the current. Bringing a finger up to his bolted neck he gives it a light tap before pinching your hardened nipple in between his giant fingers, another shock is sent to your nipple causing your back to arch off the cool metal slab once more.

“Jongho!” You yelp out, lifting his other hand off of you he touches the other bolt, bringing it down to your other nipple, sending it a small shock making it pebble up even harder. Your eyes rolling back at the spark. Your hand shoots out to grab his humongous thigh. Nails digging into the material of his pants. Your breathing becomes heavier, eyes growing hooded. With just a couple touches Jongho already has you wrapped around his thick fingers.

Letting out a sound that is very similar to a cocky laugh, he grunts, stepping back so he can pull off the pants you are wearing. You could help him take them off so he doesn’t rip them, but that would take the fun away. Wasting no time he grips the hem of your pants, ripping them clean off your body, his cold hands instantly finding your skin. Running his hands all over your lower body, finding home between the meat of your very warm thighs. Making both of your legs straighten against him, your feet weren’t even close to his head, they landed just under his pecs.

His cold finger runs along your clothed clit, oh he for sure was experienced. That part of his brain was clearly working. His cool finger pushing on the fabric causes it to sandwich between your wet lips, causing you to let out a small whimper. His eyes shooting up at you with the biggest shit eating grin you think you’ve ever seen. His hand brushes against the bolt, bringing his electric charged hand to your cunt. The shock causes your legs to buckle, yet due to his strong grip on your legs, they barely move an inch. Your wet panties cause the shock to be felt all over your wet cunt, the pulsing feeling making your head spin. His thumb brushes his bolt, placing the pad of it directly on your clothes clit, sending the small zap directly to your clit.

Your eyes instantly roll back, your mouth hangs open with no noise coming out. The feeling is unlike anything you’ve ever felt. Your skin is buzzing, your body hairs now standing, while your body is littered with goosebumps. Letting your legs go with his other hand, he slowly places them down so your small legs are hanging on each side of him, opening you up more to him, your body in a full spread eagle position. Gripping the crotch area of your panties he rips them off of your body. The cold air causes your goosebumps to stand even more.

Your wet pussy on full display for him, you looked like you walked off a magazine to him. His brain is short circuiting, you can tell from the sparks that are flying off of the bolts that are pierced on each side of his neck. His cock twitches as the fluorescent lights shine off of your slick that’s covering your cunt. Clearly in a daze, you run your foot under his rag like shirt, the warm sole of your foot on his cold chest, wakens him slightly. Spark from the bolts still flying rapidly but his eyes drift up to your face. A warm smile on your pretty face.

“Hey big boy…are you still with me?” You whisper, a warm smile that warms his cold dead body. Letting out a small grunt, he nods his head. Giant hand gripping his cock to relieve some of the pent up frustration he lets out a deep growl. A noise you’ve never heard him make, it sounds border lining primal. You can clearly see the wet patch from his cock, what exactly liquid that is? You aren’t too sure, yet you don’t seem to care. Licking your lips, you nudge Jongho with your foot.

“Come on Jjong…fuck me please.” You plead to him. The sparks now shoot farther from his body. That nickname always made him feel something. You were working him up on purpose. His hand fully grips the bolt on his neck, sticking out his tongue he touches it, sending an electric charge through it. Confused by his sudden movements, you sit up on your arms, watching him as he falls to his knees. Big shoulders cause your legs to spread even further. What was he..?

“Oh my fucking goddddd!” You instantly moan out, his electric charged tongue was pressed directly against your wet cunt. The shock goes instantly to your clit, but the waves of the current spread out to your whole cunt, making you clench around nothing. Your hands gripping the soft brown locks on his head. Touching his bolt again, he makes direct contact with your clit, the shock sending your head spiraling back, choking out a sob. Tears of pleasure fill your eyes, his other hand grips your breast, pinching your nipple. Between him constantly electric charging his tongue, and him flicking your hardened buds your body is feeling so many sensations at once. His cold tongue on your wet clit, with the shocks of electricity. The mini sparks flying off his neck, that are landing on your thighs.

He’s eating you out like he’s a starved man, he’s on a mission. Flat cold tongue against your warm heat, the temperature difference felt like it was tweaking your nerves. Your legs jerking with each flick of his big tongue, charging his tongue again, he places his whole mouth on your pussy, practically swallowing you whole. Sending a current charge to it all, your body jerking up, legs trying to close yet not being able to, while your toes instantly curl. The shocking feeling instantly sends you into a screaming orgasm. Your hands gripping his hair for dear life while tears pour down your face. Drinking down your essence, he lifts his soaking face off of your red, puffy cunt. Charging his finger one last time, he presses against your clit, giving it once more small shock causing your whole body to spasm, your juices leak out of you once more.

Your chest is heaving up and down, eyes shut tightly, trying to regain all the focus back on your mind. It feels like you are the one now short circuiting. You hear rustling, cracking your eyes open, you see Jongho shimmying out of his pants, trying your best to regain consciousness, you lock eyes with his lower half, wanting to see what is underneath the material of his pants. Just as he gets them low enough a pale blue cock springs out, with stitching similar to his skin running along his lengthened member. His cock, hard as a rock, with various colors on it, dripping a clear fluid? Wanting to make sure it wasn’t embalming fluid you sit up, running your fingers over his member, cock bobbing as you were giving it attention. You rub your thumb over the tip, bringing it up to your nose to smell it. It had no scent…did he fill his balls with water..?

Jongho getting impatient with your light touches trying to figure out what was taking you so long. He moves his hips forward, cock brushing against your bottom lip, licking your bottom lip trying to figure out the clear fluid, smacking your lips to get a taste. Bastard, he did fill Jongho with water. Smoothing your hands over his tight balls, you pump his enormous cock two times, before looking up at Jongho with a small pout on your face.

“Did he fill you with water Jjong? He prepared you just for me.” Jongho throws his head back, letting you pump his hard cock, your small hand not even coming close to fully wrapping around him. Grabbing your hand he pulls you off the metal table, holding you in his arms. He lays down, placing you on top of him. Seating you right below where is cock stands up fully erect, fully ready for attention.

“I’ve never had a cock this big before Jongho..” you whisper out, hands still rubbing alongside of him. A grin takes place once again on his face. Clearly proud that he will be your biggest. Gripping your hand he guides you to get on top, your drooling cunt wavering over his thick cock. Easing the tip into your body, you instantly moan at the pressure of just the tip barely brushing your walls. He’s thick, thick, thick. Your head instantly is thrown back, you ease down on Jongho slowly, thanks to him eating you out earlier it loosened you up perfectly. As your ass comes in contact with his cold legs. He charges his hand, touching the bulge in your lower belly, causing you to let out such a pathetic whimper it makes his cock jump inside you. Your hands tightly gripping his muscular thighs. The ridges from the stitching brushes your wet walls causing you to fall forward, your hands bracing themselves on his muscular chest.

“Oh my fucking god Jongho..” you breathe out. Chest heaving with pleasure, your cunt has his thick cock in a vice grip. His swollen head brushing against your spongy spot with each breath you take. He was wall to wall in your cunt, filling you up deliciously. If you had been looking at him you would’ve been he was holding back all restrain to not bounce you on his cock like you were some sort of fuck toy. He didn’t have hardly any feeling in his body due to no nervous system, but the way his cock could feel all of you was having him walk on a tightrope.

Giving your hips a wiggle, trying to get as comfy as possible you bring your hips up before slowly making your way down. Trying to get a small rhythm going before you lost your mind on his thick cock that was just splitting you open. Mouth hung open with each raise of your hips, throaty moans leave your mouth, your nails raking down Jonghos shirt. Jongho charges one of his hands, bringing it down to rub on your clit, the charge sending you into another dimension. Your body stutters on top of him, falling forward so your chest is against his upper stomach. You could feel the bulge in your stomach, causing you to moan even louder. The spacious area left no sound to the imagination.

“J..Jongho pl-please..” you grunt out with barely any breath. That grin reappearing he places both of his feet on the metal slab, hiking your body up. His hips immediately slamming up into you. Causing your body to jerk like you were a doll. One hand on your hip the other wrapping itself around your throat, keeping your body held up. His thrusts going at an inhumane pace, your eyes instantly fill with tears, your choked out screams are filling the room. Your pussy juices are coating your inner thighs, along with your ass, causing a wet slapping noise to fill the room. Echoing the space, you wouldn’t be shocked if even the outsiders who roam close could hear you. Charging his hand he slaps your ass, your back arching further into the air, the prickly feeling on your skin causes you to grip his wrist that is keeping you upright.

“Fuck..Fuck Jongho.” You stutter out with each slam of his thick cock that’s bullying its way into your warm wet walls, has you losing sanity. Charging his hand again, he slaps your ass once more, causing your body to litter once again with goose bumps, your nails digging into his wrist. Charging that same hand again, he slaps your ass even harder once more, causing a loud crackling noise that’s sparking from his bolts to be heard in the room. The feeling has tears pouring down your face, your body feels like it’s riding cloud nine. He has permanently ruined you for any other man or monster that comes after him. Charging his hand once more, he lets out a loud grunt, his hips hiking you up more, the way he’s bouncing you in the air like you weigh nothing has you practically catching air time. Touching his own cock filling it with electric current when your cunt slams down on him it sends a shock through your whole inner core, up to your brain. Your body instantly gets thrown into an orgasm, your back arching letting out a curdling scream of pleasure.

The electric current flowing from him, with your scream causes the lights to flicker, along with one of them busting, and shattering all over the floor. Jongho is still hammering away into your pulsing cunt, he’s jackhammering you up and down like you are a weightless rag doll that only he can use to get off. His grip on your throat tightens, charging his other hand once more he cups your cunt as he pulls out, shooting his clear cum fluid all over his hand that is cupping your oozing cunt. A loud grunt leaves his throat, causing another light bulb to shatter. The jolts of electricity cause you to succumb to the pleasure, ripping another forceful orgasm. Legs shaking, what’s left of the lights flickering, glass shattering orgasm. Your body instantly falls slack against Jongho, releasing your throat so you flop down on him like a wet doll. The buzzing noise of the currents of electricity in the room are all that’s heard besides your heavy breathing. Jonghos cool, clammy hands come up to cup your face to make sure you are okay.

Giving him a dopey smile, you give his cool lips a quick peck. Before laying your head back down on his chest. His cool fingers run up and down your backside. Eyes starting to get heavy, just as you are about to pass out from exhaustion, you hear a knocking coming from the lair door upstairs.

“The way I heard you screaming, I would say there are no complaints.” Dr. Stein says through a loud chuckle from the other side of the door.

Taglist: @sanhwalvr @abby-grace @petsuccube @maximofftrash @tunaasan @whatudowhennooneseesyou @kyeos4ng @seonghwasslytherin @pearltinyy @glintneon123 @bubblegumbird @araknoid @mingtina @oreoqueen @dani-is-tired @8tinytings @sunwoosbaby @mingiturnip @acetruepunk @alliecoady98 @s-unflowxr @rxnexxi @mixling-blog @staytinyinmybpack

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#kinktober 2023 #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #monster!ateez #kinktober masterlist #choi jongho smut #choi jongho x reader #monsterteez #ateez #ateez hard thoughts #ateez kinktober #ateez hard hours

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declareqenius · 2 months

Text

stitched up

warnings: blood, stitches

summary: you were sent on a mission with your father, tony stark, but something went wrong with the new prototype, resulting in you being injured. wanda needs the closeness and the confirmation that you’re right in front of her, but natasha’s emotions nearly get the better of her.

a/n: this is not how i wanted to end this originally, but i’m having some writer’s block and just wanted to post something again. i may do a part two but it depends on if y’all would like to see a part two or not!

“If your arm wasn’t bleeding this much, and if my mind and heart didn’t ache every time I glanced away from you, your father would be hanging from the ceiling by his ankles.”

Of course, leave it to your girlfriend to say something so poetic, yet so vulgar, in a semi-serious situation.

Wanda’s arms are crossed as she worriedly checks over the rest of your body, trying to keep herself from peeking at the gushing blood coming from your shoulder. The only thing that holds her back from storming down the hallway in search of your father is her need to see that you’re going to be okay. Meaning she has to sit there and watch on as Bruce slowly stitches the gash shut.

“We both know you would do so much worse than that, Wands.” You try to mask your slight wince with a cheeky grin, but of course your girlfriend notices.

“You’re right. I think I’ll let Natasha have her fun first.” She makes it sound like a joke, however you both know it’s far from such a thing.

Wanda’s eyebrows are still tightly furrowed together, her eyes constantly checking over you as if the second she looks away some new injury will magically appear. Even though you’re the one covered in blood with the stitching needle in their arm, you can’t help but want to comfort her.

“Hey, love,” you gently place your first finger under her chin and guide her head until her eyes meet yours, “I’m alright. It’s okay.”

She searches deeply within your eyes, and it’s a miracle you maintain eye contact with her. The sheer build up of love, worry, and warmth you find within her soft green irises takes you aback.

“It shouldn’t have happened.”

She says it so firmly. The sentence is so contradictory to the emotions she showed you seconds ago. The feelings she only allows you and Natasha- your other, probably furious, redheaded girlfriend- to read and memorize, to know like the back of your hands.

Her Sokovian accent is thick, which only happens when she’s scared, angry, or safe. And, right now with Bruce in the room, you know it’s a combination of the first two.

“You’re right, as always,” you give her a smile, which she mirrors, and you stow the memory away as a small victory. “But it did happen. And there’s nothing we can do about it now except let Bruce stitch me up, okay? I’ll be good as new afterwards. Right, Bruce?”

Your eyes don’t leave Wanda’s because you know looking at Bruce will somehow make the stitching process hurt more.

The man only gives a nod and soft grunt of approval.

“See? Nothing to worry about, my dear.”

“Nothing to worry about, huh?”

A calloused voice cuts through the room. You’re the first to snap your head up and break the heartfelt moment with Wanda. The quick movement causes Bruce to tug the stitches more than intended, and you close your eyes and take in a slow, deep breath. The soft hand soothingly running along your uninjured arm is the only thing keeping you completely grounded at the moment.

“Cause from where I’m standing, detka, it looks like something we should be worried about.”

Once you open your eyes again, they immediately fall upon Natasha, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed and undoubtedly pissed off.

You’re aware her anger isn’t directed at you. You know _why _she’s pissed. Your emotions would most definitely get the better of you if either one of your girlfriends was injured and you couldn’t do anything to prevent it. It would be worse if you could have prevented it.

The certainty of your words and relaying the facts to her wouldn’t calm her down, but you know there’s no calming her down on your part. Not when you’re sitting on a stool injured and had to be carried to the med bay so you wouldn’t bleed to death.

“HYDRA got the jump on us, Nat. We weren’t expecting it and there was nothing that could have been done to ensure our safety. You know that. We had the Iron Man suit and the counteract prototype with us, and that’s it. Dad decided to use the prototype because it was all we had. It malfunctioned and I didn’t have enough time to move out of the way after the HYDRA agent pushed me towards it.”

You’re clear with all of your words and your voice never wavers, nor does your eye contact. Natasha may be the Black Widow, and only a very select group of people could ever talk to her the matter-of-fact way you just did, but sometimes she needs a reminder that things happen no matter how much one tries to prevent them.

“He could have kept you safe. That should have been his priority. You’re his daughter, Y/N. That’s way more important than barging into an intel mission unprepared! With only a prototype, no less. Especially when it puts your life in danger!”

The two of you hold eye contact with each other for a few seconds until you glance away and focus on watching Bruce finalize his stitch-work. Watching the needle thread through your skin makes the pain undeniably worse, but you can’t seem to force yourself to look at your girlfriends.

You don’t see the guilt-ridden regret that crosses Natasha’s features before she looks at the floor beneath her.

Tony wasn’t unprepared for the mission. Neither were you. Both of you surveyed the perimeter twice. Both of you were careful at every corner you turned. HYDRA just happened to outsmart two of the smartest people in the world.

Minutes later and Bruce finishes stitching your left shoulder up. Natasha stands at the door impatiently and Wanda watches her but still makes sure to have some physical contact with you.

“Alright,” Bruce stands from his chair, “twenty-five stitches. No major physical activity for the next two weeks. That includes missions, working out, and... I don’t have to say it. Let’s give the wound time to heal itself, okay?”

You nod and thank him before he takes his leave, passing by a very guilty, annoyed Natasha.

“Natalia, podoydi syuda, pozhaluysta.”

Wanda is the first to speak once Bruce leaves, and you’re grateful she took the initiative. Neither of them like seeing you hurt since both have lost so much in their short lives, but Natasha eats herself up over your injuries. She always thinks she’d be able to do something to prevent them, especially in the field. Wanda’s reactions are slightly more reasonable, but her worry gets the best of her and she often needs physical contact to remind herself you’re still there.

Natasha begrudgingly takes a seat next to Wanda, who immediately holds out her hand to give the former assassin the option of physical contact. Your shorter girlfriend hesitates before she gently take Wanda’s left hand in her right but makes no move to touch you or glance in your direction.

The chairs they sit in are lower than your stool, and part of you finds it funny that you’re the one that’s been placed in that position.

“Moglo byt’ gorazdo khuzhe,” Natasha mutters, staring at her boots and focusing on the way Wanda’s thumb rubs back and forth along the back of her hand.

It could have been much worse.

“Odnako eto bylo ne tak. Ona vse yeshche zdes', i my nuzhny yey pryamo seychas.”

It wasn’t, though. She’s still here and she needs both of us right now.

Wanda’s voice is soothing as she softly speaks to Natasha.

You let them have their moment and offer the Sokovian a small smile when she sends a gentle wink your way.

Both know you don’t understand the conversation. You’ve picked up some basic Russian, words or phrases they say a lot, but when they get into full conversations and larger sentences, all you can do is either pretend you’re busy or sit and watch their facial expressions to gauge the nature of the conversation.

They speak a minute longer and Natasha starts relaxing. Her furrowed brows even out, her drawn lips ease into a relaxed expression, and her eyes- although still holding an ounce of anger- start to glisten. She finds the need within herself to look at you, check you over for any other injuries- although Wanda has done that several times over- and finally, search your beautiful eyes with her own.

“Nat-”

You move to speak, wanting to voice your concerns and reassure both of them you’re okay even though they can see you sitting here in front of them. However, Natasha stands from her seat and takes a step over to you. She keeps her eye contact with you and gently, with a slight nod of confirmation from you, she slots herself between your legs. Her hand comes up to your cheek and she notices a small bruise forming above your eyebrow. It makes her eyes water a little more.

“I’m sorry, muy lyubov. You’re injured and I’ve been acting like a dick. I won’t apologize for wanting to keep you safe, or wanting to make Tony pay for his lack of common sense, but I will apologize for directing my anger toward you. You didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry, detka.”

“It’s okay, Nat. I forgive you. I understand why you were so angry, I mean, I would be too if you or Wands were in my position. So, I get it, but next time I need you to try and talk to me, okay?”

Natasha nods her confirmation, and you know from the look in her eyes that she’s determined to work on her communication with both you and Wanda.

“Thank you, my love.”

Sometimes you all understand each other in different ways and need each other for different things, but in the end, the three of you fit together like nothing anyone has ever seen. The journey has been long and will continue to be, but none of you would have it any other way.

Natasha’s eyes are still teary, and you can’t help but tilt your head up just enough to catch her lips in a slow, soft kiss. Enough to remind her that she’s forgiven and that you’re not going anywhere. You break apart after a few moments and see Nat’s small smile. It could be better, but you’ll take it for now. However, you notice Wanda getting impatient after having watched you kiss Natasha.

You look over at Wanda with a grin on your face, “Anything you’d like to say, Wands?”

“My turn.”

Wanda gets up from her chair and stands to the left of Natasha. She gently cups your left cheek with her right hand and kisses you much like you did Natasha, except with more fervor- as if she could express gratitude for your life through a kiss. When she pulls away there’s a smile on both of your faces, and her eyes have replaced worry and anger with unconditional love.

It never ceases to amaze you how willingly and openly your girlfriends give themselves to you.

#wandanat x reader #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #they're here #i'm trying to get back into writing please go easy on me

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urrockstar-xe · 5 months

Text

starstruck - p.parker x fem!reader

posted nov 7th, 2023 10:15 pm

my silly little imagine i wrote today just for you silly little guys

summary: after a nasty run in with the Rhino, Spidey goes to his favorite civilian, who happens to be good with bandages, but not great with science.

reader is implied to be bad at science and thinks Midtown High is a nerd school, reader is also implied to know spidey fairly well atp

part two :)

masterlist

wordcount: 1.2k

the sound of "thwips" and wind coming from outside your window mixed with the usual city noise that served as your own personal lo-fi as you studied.

A sudden knock on your window caught your attention, grabbing you away from the task at hand. a bird, you assumed, turning back to your laptop and trying to find the point you left on, right, essay, you begin typing again,

in the early- thump thump Thump

three more rapid knocks on your window. Okay, not a bird.

but a spider.

you groaned, moving your laptop to your nightstand and standing from your warm bed, hissing at the cold hitting your bare legs, and cursing yourself for not doing laundry when the sun was out.

You walked towards the window, opening your curtain to reveal the familiar mask of New York's very own superhero.

“spidey, we talked about this” you spoke in a sing-song voice as you pulled your window open, another hit of the cold wind hitting you as Spiderman stumbled into your dark bedroom. Laughing quietly and breathlessly as he did so. “Need your assistance,” he groaned once more, sitting on your floor and watching you through his mask as you closed the window.

“You're hurt?” you moved to turn on the lights, cringing at the sudden brightness and then wincing at the sight of Spiderman’s side, “what the hell did you do?”

“I fought a giant rhino” his response was too quick to be one of his usual snappy jokes, causing you to give him a confused and mortified look in response as you hurriedly dragged the first aid kit out from under your bed,

“Don't worry about it- hey, wasn't that in your bathroom before?” he asked, before taking another deep breath and turning his gaze to your ceiling. “yeah, moved in here after you fought that lizard guy” you mumbled back, focused on getting out the proper supplies

or at least what you thought was the proper supplies

“hey aren't you cold? why aren't you wearing pants or like a onesie or-“

“Oh, you mean like yours?”

“Alright, touche”

You can’t help but laugh at the stupid word exchange the two of you had as you watched Spiderman peel off the top half of his suit, careful to leave his mask untouched and you respected this as he was vulnerably showing you a different side to the hero already, allowing you to see what most couldn't which was most definitely the rocky side of being New York’s Spiderman and definitely not his abbs (though you appreciated those too)

“By the way, not that I took what you said seriously or anything or that it hurt my feelings but, this is a suit, not a onesie,” Spidey said through small gasps of pain, leaning his head back into the edge of your bed as you cleaned the gaping stab wound in his side.

“I’m sorry” You're not sure if you meant the onesie or the pain he was in but either way worked at this moment as just his shaky breaths alone made you feel guilty

Spidey stayed unusually quiet as you cleaned him up, so far having avoided stitches pretty well as you topped it off with as much bandaging supplies as you had.

He groaned once more, before picking his head back up and looking back at you as you stood up and made your way to your desk, carefully picking up the roll of paper towels that you were previously upset at yourself for leaving in your room after cleaning this morning, although now that feeling was replaced with gratitude as you used a few sheets as a barrier to not get blood on your doorknob-

“Hey, where you goin'?” you turned your attention back to the masked vigilante who was just bleeding out on your bedroom floor. “Just to the bathroom, to clean my hands, why? Is there more?” You asked, panicked you’d have to go rummage through every cabinet in your house for more bandages.

“Just be fast okay? Don’ wanna be alone' ' His voice sounded weak and barely audible which honestly made you panic more as you nodded in response, leaving your room to not only wash your hands but also grab a water bottle and the package of bread from your counter.

Quickly you examined the bread, searching for any sign of mold as you walked back into your room and sat across from Spiderman, setting your new items down and opening the water bottle.

“Let’s make a deal, Spidey, you drink this and you eat some of this bread at least one piece and I’ll turn around so I won’t even see a little of your face” You began negotiating, Spidey responded by lifting the bottom half of his mask to just barely above his nose, taking the water bottle with shaky hands.

You stilled, watching him take a drink and then quickly looking down and fumbling with the packaging of the bread when you realized you were just staring at Spiderman’s lips.

Thankfully though, he ignored it, instead deciding he had the energy to tease you about something else, “bread? Just plain bread?”

You scoffed, taking out a slice and handing it to him, watching him to a bite.

“you get what you get and you don’t throw fits” you scolded the way you did the little boy you babysit occasionally, earning a choke in response before another quiet chuckle,

okay so he’s not all lost, good.

You sighed, putting your hand on your cheek for a second and realizing just how warm you had gotten, “listen, you wanted me back fast and this was the only thing I really had in my kitchen right now so-” He cut you off before you could finish your explanation, “thank you, I don’t know what I’d do without you”

I don’t know what I’d do without you, These words that Spiderman just said to you rang in your ears for a few seconds until you sighed once more, nodding. “Although some pizza-” You groaned as he began talking, earning another more lively chuckle in return, a lingering smile on his face, this time you allowed yourself to stare, having never seen even the smallest bit of his face let alone his smile. It's nice.

“What is?” he frowned in confusion, you felt your face heat up once more. “Your smile it’s nice,” you explained, earning a nod of thanks in response as he bit into the slice of bread. He hummed as if it was the best thing he had ever tasted before once more leaning his head back into your bed.

You tried to ignore the way he looked like this, he’s injured, take a cold shower. “So, what now huh?” you asked quietly, suddenly anxiously aware that other people lived in your apartment.

“Oh, my bad, I’m so inconsiderate- I-I’ll get out of your hair, your family is asleep and it’s school night I- my bad, I’m sorry” You watched as he stood up incredibly unstable as he did so, “hey, you don’t have-” “thank you, for you know, lettin me stain your nice carpet” he joked meekly, letting out a weak laugh as he gasped once more, struggling to put on the remains of his mangled suit,

“Okay, Jesus, c’mon Spidey, let me help you with that” You mumbled, standing up and doing your best to help him into the top half of his suit and then watching him shove on his left glove while the other hung in his mouth.

He tried to talk, words muffled by his glove but quickly released as you took it from his teeth, causing his attention to fall completely back on you as he stopped his actions. “See you around?” He said, in an attempt to sound normal and not in immense pain. “Be safe, Spidey, don't really know what I’d do without you” You threw his words back into his face in a soft tone, gently pulling his mask down over his nose and mouth.

“Of course,” he responded in a similar tone, almost starstruck as he put on his right glove, thanking you quietly once more before limping back out onto the fire escape outside your window, not sparing a second look as he swung into the noisy city and out of your quiet and now rather lonely room.

After cleaning up the mess you had made, you quit studying for the night, no longer able to focus with the image of Spiderman’s smile stuck in your head, you settled for bed.

But you didn’t get to sleep for another few hours.

After spending a few unfortunate hours in school the next day you had finally been free to go home and take a nap but of course, not before meeting the tutor your counselor had found for you, a student from the fancy school not too far from yours, Midtown High but of course you and your friends just considered it the school of nerds-

“Hey, You Y/n Y/l/n?” The voice that You had thought sounded awfully familiar took you away from your thoughts as you turned around to see who you assumed was Peter Parker, your tutor. “Peter?” You ask with a friendly smile, holding onto the straps on your backpack.

He looked almost starstruck before he shook his head and gave you a similar polite smile, “Nice to meet you”

#tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagines #the amazing spider man #the amazing spiderman x reader #andrew!peter x reader #Spotify

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myfictionaldreams · 1 year

Text

Overwhelming // Mafia!Stucky x fem!Reader

Summary: It had been your birthday a few days ago and both Steve and Bucky had made it their mission to give you the most lavish party followed by intense, long nighttime activities. However as you lay in bed on Monday morning, something just didn't feel quite right.

Prompt: How would the boys help Reader through a subdrop?

Requested by: @southern-goth (thank you so much for the request! And for the amazing header that I’ve included in your previous request, I love it!)

Tags: sfw, polyamory, subdrop, dom/sub relationship, mentions of rough sex, fluff, hurt/comfort, aftercare (lots!!), soft steve & bucky, crying/anxiety, size difference, pet names, praising, kissing

Words: 2.8k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

The night was filled with restless tossing and turning from the edge of the bed. There was nothing in particular that you could definitely pinpoint as the reason for the unease but you saw every hour of the night.

Even as Bucky’s warm, solid body found yours across the bed, his mind still deep within the sleep world, he still enveloped himself around you. Normally, the strong beat of his heart against your ear, even his natural musk would be enough to make you feel safe and relaxed in your own peaceful sleep.

However as the clock ticked to 04:30 am, all hope was lost for the land of rest and as you found yourself needing to turn in Bucky’s arms once more, the decision was made. Carefully, as to not wake the sleeping gang member, you inched out from underneath his metal arm, gently laying it back down on the bed.

Stretching out your body, you had to refrain from sighing, for no reason in particular. There was a heavy feeling settled through the centre of your chest, making your body feel heavy and weighted, almost making it an effort to even find the energy to stand.

But you pushed yourself to stand, needing to move and shake off whatever feeling had been disturbing your sleep. Deciding to go and make a coffee, you gave one last glance at the two men still sleeping, usually feeling a happy calm at being able to witness them both look so peaceful. However, your gut twisted, a lump forming in your throat that took a moment to pass.

Exiting the bedroom, your steps were slow and dragging along the carpet. Confused as to why you were feeling upset, almost like there was a rain cloud hovering over your head.

Waiting for the coffee to heat, your mind began to wonder, trying to deduce what might be wrong but in reality, you were already aware, it had just never been this impactful before.

It had been your birthday a few days ago, Steve and Bucky had made it their mission to give you the most lavish party however, it was the nighttime activities that might have been the cause for your emotions. Not only were you the centre of attention during the fucking but it had been long, intense, mind-blowing sex that left you begging for more, of which your boyfriends were happy to oblige.

The mental headspace that a session like that gave you felt almost euphoric, nothing could be negative, even falling into a little bit of subspace following it, giving the sensation of floating, like being drunk. Then a couple of hours later with the unbalance of hormones (something Bucky had to explain), it would feel like depression with how low your mood would go as you experienced a subdrop. Luckily you were never far from the boys who regularly checked in on you anyway to give the support you desperately needed.

Concluding that this was the cause for how you were feeling, you should have contemplated waking either one of your boyfriends but the shame seemed to overpower any rational thought. You were your own worst enemy during these subdrops and the added exhaustion that was influencing your body, it was a toxic pair.

Steve and Bucky had made the weekend so incredibly special for you, every moment had a smile permanently stitched to your face so for it all to come crashing down and be this needy, depressed person, you were embarrassed and ashamed. The feeling would pass, and it always did so making the decision to just suck it up and keep it to yourself, they’d already done so much for you.

As you poured the now steaming hot coffee into the cup, you heard the recognisable sound of heavy footsteps approaching from behind and rather than being excited and giddy which was usually your reaction to your boyfriends, the heavy sensation only increased in your chest.

Unbeknownst to Steve, he padded into the kitchen, smiling upon seeing you with fresh coffee. Walking up behind your much shorter body, his hands cupped your hips, gently pulling you back into his muscular build, his handsome face dropping to give a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Good morning baby”, his voice was thick with sleep, croaking slightly. Trying to play along with it, leaning into his warmth, even though you wanted to run away and cry so he couldn’t see.

“Morning”.

As Steve spoke, he manoeuvred around you, finding his own cup to pour coffee into. “You’re up early, how are you feeling this morning?” his question was innocent but it caused your heart to pound.

“I’m fine”, you were thinking coherent thoughts to be able to think of an excuse for being up so early, usually being the last to rise. “How are you? Are you off to the gym?” referring to his attire and it wasn’t like he was travelling far with the homemade gym in the basement.

A subtle frown momentarily crossed over his expression at the monotone way you were answering his questions but he shrugged it away, you would tell him if something was wrong, putting it down to tiredness. “Yeah, need to work off some of the cake from this weekend”, he joked, a twinkle forming in his eye. “After that, I’m all yours”.

“I had you all weekend”, you were quick to take a drink of your coffee, even as it was too hot and slightly scorched your tongue. Steve squinted at you in curiosity, noting your flat tone once more.

“You can have me every second of every day if that makes you happy” he admitted softly, brushing his lips against your forehead. It did make you happy but with the mood you were in, you felt selfish and guilty for this. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

“I’m just tired, I might go back to bed”, this was a lie but he seemed to accept it, kissing your cheek once more for comfort and then heading off towards the gym. Finally being on your own, and getting what you wanted it would be an assumption to presume this would make you feel any better but it only made you feel worse. Not realising just how much you were depending on his warmth and the coolness returning to your skin as you sulked into the living room, turning on the TV to a random channel, not paying attention at all.

No, instead you stared into space, holding one of the decorative cushions to your body to try and fill the void that was aching your chest but this of course did nothing. The longer you were awake, the worst you were continuing to feel, emotionally and physically.

It was almost like being hungover, the anxiety that follows a heavy drinking session and the fatigue from the effects of alcohol, except there was no alcohol involved and you were feeling all of these effects just from a hormone imbalance.

As you continued to sit in your pity, Bucky had begun to descend the stairs in joggers and a white shirt, following the noise of the TV to find you sitting on the couch. He didn’t say a single word or notice the off-mood and simply reached your head over the back of the couch, tipping it back to peck your lips.

His touch had caused you to jump slightly having been lost in your thoughts and not heard him approaching but he was already walking into the kitchen, probably to pour his own morning drink, like he did every morning.

As if right on queue, the hulking form of the brunette returned to your eye line, smiling before taking a sip of his black coffee as he sat next to you. “What are you watching, mama?”

The lump had returned to your throat so instead of answering him, you shrugged your shoulders, not even looking at the TV, knuckles adding to the discomfort with how aggressively you held onto the pillow as if it was your lifeline.

Bucky wasn’t stupid, he knew were off the moment he saw you on the sofa, alone. Even without the glazed-over look in your eyes or the tension in your shoulders, he had known you for long enough to know what was going on. Carefully placing his cup onto the small table between the TV and the couch, Bucky sighed in frustration. Not that you were in this situation, but because you hadn’t come to him or Steve, wishing your anxiety would understand that they wanted to help and wouldn’t be annoyed or aggravated by you just simply needing them more than other days.

It was half expected anyway following the weekend, that's why Steve and Bucky had made sure that they were home today rather than in the office, making sure only to be contacted in case of emergency.

Not that this had even crossed your mind at all this morning, in fact, if asked, you couldn’t name what day it was in the week because all that consumed your mind was the hope for Bucky to get up and leave. Hope that he would find something he actually enjoyed doing instead of wasting another hour with you.

Of course, this was ridiculous thinking and if Bucky truly knew what was going through your self-sabotaged thoughts, he would probably sit you down for three hours and rant about how absurd and untrue this was.

“How are you feeling after the birthday weekend, it was slightly intense wasn’t it?” he asked casually, not taking his eyes off you for even a second.

“A bit”, was your only answer.

He continued to try and ask questions, hoping to draw some kind of a reaction of out you to engage just how severe this subdrop was and so far, it wasn’t looking that positive. “Does it hurt anywhere?”

Again, he referred to the activities from the weekend. Your response was half a shake of the head to say no but that was mostly for his benefit, desperate to not have him feeling bad because, in reality, your body was aching. Especially between your legs and upper arms from where they held you in a firm grip. It wasn’t like they hadn’t prepped but they were so much bigger than you, it always felt a little uncomfortable the day after and yesterday, you’d been begging for them to keep going, thriving in the pain mixed with pleasure. However now as the arousal was swept from your body, and feeling as fatigued as you did, it only emphasised the areas that were especially sensitive.

Judging by your demeanour, he contemplated continuing talking to you, to better understand the stand-offish behaviour but with the slight tremble rocking your body, this wasn’t what you needed.

Bucky instead opted to reach for the pillow, attempting to pull it away but you held on tightly, muttering that it was comfortable. The brunette didn’t relent, however, putting a little more strength until the pillow was firmly in his grip and being placed on the table.

Without missing a beat, Bucky was gently pulling on your arms, coaxing you into his lap. Before you could even straddle his hips, you began to sob, the emotions finally overwhelming you.

Grasping his shirt tightly, you cried heavily into Bucky’s t-shirt and he just held you, running his warm hand up and down your spine in slow circles whilst his metal hand rested on the back of your head.

You cried and cried until completely exhausted and only hiccups remained, eyes now sore and Bucky’s t-shirt soaked. Your boyfriend hadn’t asked you any further questions, he didn’t need to, having been right about his theory, Bucky knew you just needed to be close and present with him and Steve once he returned from the gym.

“You’re safe mama, I’ve got you, I’m not going anywhere, I love you”. Bucky repeated these four statements repeatedly, over and over until his mouth was dry and even then continued until his fists loosed the grip of his t-shirt.

“I know you’re going to be feeling some negative emotions right now Doll but I need you to listen to me and believe what I’m saying. We love you, this feeling is going to pass and we’ll be right next to you the entire time.”

Bucky’s words did help to break down that mental barrier but now you were completely exhausted.

“What we are going to do first is go upstairs, I’m going to run you a hot bath then we’ll have some food, maybe have a midday nap, we can watch a movie or play a game. We are going to take today slowly but we’re not leaving your side, not until you’re feeling better, ok?”

With your eyes closed, you were only able to nod against his chest in response. His list of activities sounded perfect, the desire to run away having completely disappeared now which you were thankful for but it was only replaced with the sensation to be cradled to his body.

Luckily for you, Bucky knew this and was more than happy to mostly carry you up the stairs and into the master bathroom, settling you into the bathtub, and helping to discard your clothes before filling it up with water hot enough to relax your tense muscles. Bucky himself didn’t climb into the bath, instead sat on the floor, stroking his fingers across your head exactly how you liked it, smiling as your furrowed brows relaxed.

You could have fallen asleep right there and then, until Steve’s voice was drifting into your ears as he stood at the bathroom door, sweat dripping from his brow. “Everything ok?”

For the first time that day, you properly looked at Bucky, feeling slightly anxious at the thought of him having to tell Steve about the subdrop. But your boyfriend was quick to swipe away the negativity as he said in a low voice, “Remember what I said downstairs? About the list of activities, we’re doing today? Well Stevie here is going to take my place here and I’ll go and cook us some brunch, how does that sound?”

Surprisingly, the corner of your lips lifted into a subtle smile. Bucky beamed at this, the corner of his eyes creasing with the joy he was displaying before he reached across the kiss the tip of your nose and speak to Steve.

You couldn’t hear what was said but Steve was soon joining you in the bathroom and you sat and watched silently as he took off his gym attire. “Enjoying the view baby?” he asked teasingly before helping you to sit forward, giving him room to sit behind you in the water, eagerly pulling your body back to rest against his. “I love you” he whispered as he held you tightly.

If you weren’t so exhausted, you probably would have cried at even that smallest statement because it was all you wanted to hear.

Turning slightly in his embrace, once again you didn’t feel like talking, even though you wanted to repeat your love to him just as much as you had wanted to with Bucky, the words seemed to fail you. So instead you lay your head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat thumping against your ear. Steve understood your intentions, knew these little signs that showed your vulnerability and made sure to tighten his grip slightly, making you feel enclosed more.

Unsure of how much time had passed, Steve eventually had to move the two of you to make sure you were both washed before the water cooled too much. Then once out of the water, he didn’t waste any time helping to dry your body in a large cream towel, dressing you in oversized pyjamas before even starting to care for himself. As the two of you returned downstairs, Bucky announced that brunch was nearly finished and from the smell, it was going to be delicious.

Throughout the entire time, you were attached to either Steve or Bucky, whether that was holding a hand or sitting on either of their laps and they made sure you didn’t do any chores such as washing up. It was important that you rested when feeling this low so straight after finishing the food, they situated into the living room, finding the TV still on from earlier.

You weren’t particularly bothered with whatever movie was selected. No, you were more distracted by the hulky sandwich they’d somehow squashed you into. Your legs were thrown over Steve’s lap, head laying on his shoulder and Bucky was spooning you from behind, it felt like there wasn’t one part of your body that wasn’t touching both of them and you loved it, not even needing a blanket to feel secure in.

Sleep came peacefully now, the ache in your chest having eased after all the comfort you’d been given. Your last thoughts before succumbing fully to sleep were how thankful you were to Steve and Bucky, looking forward to waking up with more energy so you could show them just how much you really loved them.

#mafia au #mafia steve rogers #mafia bucky barnes #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #bucky barnes one shot #bucky banes fanfic #mine*#bucky #marvel one shot #steve rogers smut #bucky barnes smut

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leighsartworks216 · 7 months

Note

Hellooooo i have a request for Astarion that like

I’m dying to see:

Gn! Druid Tav that had small petty fight with Astarion, Astarion being his stubborn self didn’t apologize ~properly~ or acknowledge he was wrong, tries to pretend the fight didnt happen and chat with Tav, Tav shapeshifts into a cat to avoid talking to him and fights sass with sass and Astarion melts at Tav being adorable😭?

I finished writing this and then was like,, I forgot it's not normal for partners to like scold each other by pinching them and stuff?? My ex used to do shit like that so I just forgot that wasn't normal. So I'm just going to clarify that in this story it's not malicious or anything like that. If it makes you uncomfortable tho I am 100% willing to rewrite it so that's not there at all

Warnings: swearing, scratching

Word Count: 759

Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Astarion sits beside you as though it’s just any other day. He’s got that damn suave smirk on his face - you can just feel it radiating off of him without even needing to see. You try not to visibly bristle and turn your head further away from him. It was best to just wait it out and maybe he’d finally suck up his damn pride long enough to apologize. Maybe.

“So, darling,” he makes sure to really emphasize the word, drawing it out sweetly, “in the interest of keeping myself in peak fighting form, I’m inclined to ask if you would be ever so kind as to let me dine with - or rather - on you tonight.”

You huff a dry laugh. Sharp, short, but lacking genuine amusement. You don’t say anything. Instead, you focus on patching up one of your shirts.

He leans close to you, hovering just over your shoulder. His chest just barely grazes your arm and his breath ghosts across your ear and neck. Was this bastard really trying to seduce you? At a time like this? “Please, dear heart? I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

You glance over your shoulder, to make sure he can see the dead-pan look on your face. “No.” You pull the thread taught. Admittedly, you tug a little more than necessary, bunching up the fabric. Astarion definitely notices. He always does.

“Don’t tell me you’re still upset about earlier?” he chides.

You turn to face your back fully to him, forcing him to move back. You smooth out the bunches of fabric and roughly, messily, continue the next few stitches. He sighs dramatically.

“Come on, love, that was hours ago! All I said was your stitches aren’t even!”

You scoffed and angrily wrinkled your shirt in your lap as you whirled around to face him. “You said my stitches weren’t even and that they were ugly! I have been fixing my clothes my whole life - this is the most efficient stitch to ensure it doesn’t unravel!”

“That doesn’t mean you have to leave a mile between stitches!”

Fuck this. If he doesn’t want to apologize, the least you can do is give him a taste of his own catty fighting style.

One moment, you’re a perfectly humanoid being. The next, you’ve shrunken to less than a foot off the ground. Your back arches, your tail fluffs and sticks straight up, and you bare pointed canines at him as a scratchy hissing comes from your throat. Astarion can hardly feel threatened by a feline.

“Now you’re just being childish,” he scoffs. You jump forward to dig your claws into his leg. “Ow! Hey, that’s not fair!”

He grabs you by your middle and lifts you up. Your claws are removed from his skin, but they continue to pull on his pants.

“You’re going to rip my pants!”

You squirm from his hold, releasing his pants in the process, and land back on the ground. You sit next to your abandoned, half-fixed shirt, back turned to the vampire once more. Your tail flicks side to side in irritation.

Astarion rubs his leg and checks that there’s no lasting damage. There isn’t, of course. Even your claws were mere pinpricks compared to what damage you could do with them, and you’d never willingly destroy his belongings, no matter how pissed at him you were. And even though you are pissed at him, he still can’t help but admire you.

You’re upset, but you’re not physically assaulting him until he apologizes. You pinch him, give him a little scratch - sure. But that pain fades, at most leaving a small mark that fades in a day. You’re so utterly, bafflingly kind to him. Even when he’s being a dick.

He reaches out and scratches just behind your ear. Your ear twitches, but otherwise you show no reaction to his touch. He sighs. “I’m sorry for insulting your handiwork, my dear. You know your work better than anyone, and I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Your tail continues flicking back and forth a moment longer. But then you relent. You turn around and press your cheek into his hand, which he gladly glides along your soft fur. He’d asked once what it felt like to be pet like this. You’d said it was like a massage; like someone was scratching an itch you just couldn’t reach.

You step into his lap and plop right down, rubbing yourself into his abdomen with loud purrs. He chuckles. “Oh you sweet thing,” he coos. “What have I done to deserve you?”

---

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tropes-and-tales · 1 year

Text

Five Times Vigilante Definitely Does Not Have Feelings (and the One Time He Does)

Characters: Adrian Chase/Vigilante x f!reader

CW: Crude language; yearning.

Word Count: 3982

Adrian Chase will tell anyone: he doesn’t have emotions like people do. He doesn’t feel sad or angry or embarrassed. When Peacemaker gave him the nickname “Thimble,” he certainly didn’t cry. When Peacemaker was sent to prison, he certainly didn’t feel lonely.

Not having emotions is what makes him a more evolved human.

And yet, when ARGUS springs Peacemaker and sets up a black ops outfit in Evergreen, Adrian finds himself toeing the line of feelings. He doesn’t have emotions like people do, but he comes awfully close a handful of times…until he crosses the line entirely.

The Time Vigilante Definitely Does Not Feel Vulnerable

As the Vigilante, Adrian gets hurt all the time. He’s become proficient at stitching up his own wounds. His body is littered with the scars of his own handiwork.

But when Goff tortures him for information, and when the ARGUS team comes to his and Peacemaker’s rescue, he finds himself missing half of a pinkie toe. It’s the most important toe on the human body, and he’ll probably never walk again…and no one seems to care.

Except for you. In the van as they return to headquarters, you sit across from him, watching him as he studies his mangled foot. You murmur something that sounds sympathetic, but he barely hears it over Peacemaker laughing at him.

At headquarters, you look at him and jerk your head in the direction of the back office.

“I can stitch you up, if you want,” you offer.

He starts to shake his head, but the mean blonde woman—Harcourt, her name is—makes an offhand comment about your superior patch-up abilities, so he accepts your help. He limps painfully behind you, follows you into a room that has been converted into a rough sort of exam room and budget clinic.

“Hop up on the table,” you tell him, and even though he doesn’t trust you—or any of your team—he does as you say. It’s clumsy. He hurts in a hundred different places: his half-amputated toe, his electrocuted crotch, all the scrapes and bruises from the fight with Cobra Kai.

“I won’t take off my mask,” he warns you. “I take my secret identity very seriously. If you saw my face, I’d have to kill you.”

“Duly noted,” you reply dryly. “But I only need to see your foot.”

He pulls off his boot and regards his mangled half-pinkie toe sadly. You pull on a pair of latex gloves and turn on a bright lamp, angling it at his bare foot.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” you say as you prod the wound gently. “In fact, you really didn’t lose anything but a couple layers of skin.”

“The blade was as dull as fuck,” he replies.

You wheel your stool over to a cabinet, then pull out some supplies: needle and thread, disinfectant, gauze and tape. Then you wheel back over to him and set to work.

The mean blonde woman was right—you’re quick, efficient. He looks down at your bent head as you stitch him up, and he sees that your needlework is better than his own. He doubts he’ll even have much of a scar once it heals.

But it’s the strange feeling that creeps over him: makes his vision waver, makes him feel a little light-headed. Your hands are deft but also gentle. Adrian can’t remember ever being touched so gently. Maybe when he was really small. Maybe his mom was gentle like that when he was so small that he can’t remember it now. It makes him break out in goosebumps. He shudders at the touch of your warm hand bracing his foot, and you misunderstand the involuntary gesture.

“Almost done,” you murmur, and a moment later you tie off the last stitch and snip the thread. You wrap his toe in gauze, pat his knee softly in a reassuring way. Then you straighten up and ask if there’s any other injuries he needs patched up.

“Goff electrocuted me,” he blurts out. “With a car battery.”

You look at him, level, but the corner of your mouth quirks in a near-smile. “You want me to look at that for you?”

“Oh, no. No. No, I just wanted to mention it. I’m not asking you to look at it.” He’s grateful for the mask; he can feel his face heating up at the idea of taking off his suit in front of you, and the sudden flush confuses him. Irritates him. Something about the thought of being exposed makes his stomach churn in a way he doesn’t understand.

You hum thoughtfully, then turn back to the cabinet of supplies. You rummage around, then pull out a small white tube that you hand him.

“Antibiotic gel for cuts and burns,” you say. “You can put a cool cloth on…well, any burns you may have. If there’s blistering, don’t pop them.”

“Okay.”

“And, you know…if you have any lingering side effects of being electrocuted, you should see a specialist.”

Vigilante reaches down and pulls his boot back on, but already his toe feels better. “What sort of side effects?” he asks.

He looks up at you in time to see that same half-smile. You peel off your gloves, toss them in the trash.

“I can imagine where you were electrocuted,” you reply. “So if those parts don’t typically work the way you’re used to, see a real doctor.”

Adrian Chase is not good at nuance or subtlety. “Huh?”

You blink at him before you say, “if you can’t get or maintain an erection, see a urologist.”

“Oh.” He blinks too, behind his visor. “Okay.”

You turn to leave the room but then glance over your shoulder before you do. “Thanks for your help tonight,” you say. “The mission was a success because of you.”

Neither Vigilante nor Adrian Chase ever get any thanks. He flushes even hotter under his mask, and he grumbles in reply, uncomfortable to be seen, to be recognized for the first time.

To be vulnerable.

The Time Vigilante Definitely Does Not Feel Embarrassed

The next afternoon, he’s at Peacemaker’s trailer, helping him clean up from when the police tossed the place. They are blasting Guns and Roses, drinking beer…it’s like the old days, almost.

A knock at the door then, and Adrian has only a second to pull on his mask before you stroll in.

“Hey, Chris. Vigilante.” You nod in greeting, then reach into your bag to pull out a thick manila folder. You hand it to Peacemaker.

“Murn wanted me to bring this by. It’s the latest intel we got from Goff’s place.”

You stand there as Chris takes the folder and sinks down onto his couch, already paging through the information. Vigilante stands there too, awkward, so he crosses his arms to keep from fidgeting. There’s a long stretch of silence once the Guns and Roses record ends, and Vigilante struggles with silence.

“I got hard last night,” he tells you. “And this morning too.”

“Dude, what the fuck?” Peacemaker sputters. “She doesn’t want to hear that!”

“She mentioned it last night!”

Peacemaker scoffs, twists his face into an expression of disbelief. “Yeah, I’m sure she mentioned your dick last night. Sure. Okay. Fantasize much?”

“She did!”

“You seriously need to get laid, dude. Stop making shit up.”

“He’s not lying,” you tell Peacemaker with a sheepish shrug. “Though I mentioned it in the context of his injuries and not…some other context.”

“See?” Vigilante says, and Peacemaker rolls his eyes, makes a jacking-off motion with his hand.

You don’t linger. You beat a hasty retreat, waving over your shoulder as you leave the trailer, and Peacemaker gives him more hell—calls him weird, calls him annoying.

“No wonder you’ve never had a real girlfriend, dude,” he says as he turns back to his folder of intel. “You say the creepiest shit the minute a cute girl is around.”

Vigilante doesn’t think about it much more until later. That night, in bed, he lies awake for far longer than he usually does. He replays that moment, tries to understand why he just blurted that out.

He wonders if you would have stayed at the trailer longer if he hadn’t been creepy. His face burns in the darkness of his bedroom, and his stomach twists painfully as he replays the moment over and over. He replays his stupid blurting out about his dick, and he has no idea what it means. He never obsesses over his stupid mouth like this.

If he had feelings like other people, he’d recognize the emotion as embarrassment.

The Time Vigilante Definitely Does Not Feel Despondent (and Comforted)

Adrian gets himself arrested on purpose. It’s the best way he can help Chris: get arrested, get booked into the same prison as Chris’ racist supervillain father, then kill said racist supervillain father.

Easy enough. It’d set Chris free and make his life so much better. Allow him to move forward and not be bogged down, like Adebayo said.

Adrian fails. He only manages to make things worse—clues Auggie into his plan accidentally, possibly points law enforcement in Chris’ direction. So Adrian doesn’t just fail—he fails miserably.

He’s released that night. He’s surprised at first, but as he changes back into his clothes and collects his personal effects from the guards, he realizes that ARGUS has its sticky fingers in all sorts of things and probably sprung him with just a few keystrokes.

When he leaves the prison, you’re sitting out front in your car. You lower the passenger window and call out to him.

“C’mon,” you say. “Harcourt sent me to take you home.”

He’s too upset to even feel bad about his cover being blown. He climbs into the car.

“I think I made things worse,” he says, and he tries not to cry. He only wanted to help his best friend (even if he’s not Peacemaker’s best friend). Somehow he messed up, and it could ruin everything.

“Okay,” you reply softly. “It’s okay.”

You drive him home. He doesn’t give you his address, but you know it—another screw-up, he thinks, getting tangled up with people who easily cracked his secret identity. You know his name, his face, where he lives. Some instrument of vengeance he is. You probably even recognize him from his job at Fennel Fields.

Outside of his apartment, you park, then turn to face him. In the half-light from the streetlamps, he can just make out your soft smile.

“This entire ops is nothing but mistakes,” you tell him. “And yet, we’re doing okay. We’ll figure out how to handle Auggie Smith. Don’t worry about it.”

He nods, and something about the barest bit of comfort—paired with your smile—makes him turn to face you too.

“I’m Adrian,” he says, even though you know his name.

Your smile broadens and you say your name, even though he knows it. You hold out your hand and after a beat he takes it.

“Good to finally meet you, Adrian,” you reply as you shake hands.

For whatever reason, as low as he feels, he falls asleep that night with a weird lightness in his chest—because he doesn’t dwell on his failure at the prison.

Instead, he falls asleep with the memory of your smile, your kind words. Your warm hand in his.

The Time Vigilante Definitely Does Not Feel Protective

The attack on Goff’s house yielded some leads, and the team travels three hours away to take out a nest of Butterflies. Everyone is exhausted, filthy, and bruised up.

It’s in the van—you sitting beside Adrian—when you start to nod off. He catches it the first few times, the way your head dips forward, the way you jerk back awake. It’s cute, the way you fight sleep, and then it happens.

You fall asleep and you don’t wake up. Your head drifts towards him, then settles against his shoulder.

Adrian freezes.

He and Peacemaker—they used to go out together, looking for crimes or bitches or both. He’s no virgin. He fucks. He’s no stranger to touch, and he’s certainly no stranger to women. And yet…this feels different. It feels new.

Peacemaker notices. “You got a new girlfriend, dude,” he points out with a laugh.

Harcourt rolls her eyes at the teasing. “Leave her alone. She puts in way more hours than you, asshole.”

“I put in plenty of hours,” he replies, defensive. “It takes a lot of time to maintain this impressive physique. Do you know how long I work on my small muscle groups alone?”

Harcourt rolls her eyes again, then returns her attention to her phone. Peacemaker turns back to where Adrian sits, rigid, as you sleep against him.

“If you get hard, just don’t tell her about it,” he advises the younger man. “You’ll creep her out again.”

It’s strange, the feeling of your head against him. It’s not sexy at all, obviously—in fact, it’s a little uncomfortable. He doesn’t want to move you, doesn’t want to jostle you and wake you up. Harcourt said you’re tired, and you took a hell of a beating as you fought the Butterflies.

Adrian has always approached his work as Vigilante from a perspective of vengeance, not protection, so the feeling is strange: how he wants to let you sleep, how he wants to protect your sleep. How he wants to make you comfortable.

A quiet falls over the team; the swaying of the van lulls everyone into comfortable silence. Adrian breathes in carefully through his nose, then shifts his body. Slowly, carefully. He leans away from you, allows you to lie against him more. He changes the angle enough that he can get his arm out from where it’s trapped between your body and his. He shifts again, gets his arm around you. Gently moves you—changes it from your head awkwardly pressed against his hard molded shoulder pad to your head tucked against his chest.

You wake, a little, as he moves you. You blink up at him sleepily, say his name—Adrian, not Vigilante or Vig or V—and your voice is husky with exhaustion. There’s a questioning lilt to how you say his name, so he shakes his head softly.

“Go ahead and rest,” he says, quiet. “Everything’s fine.”

You nod, then settle back against him. It takes only a moment until he feels your breathing slow down, deepen. He feels your body go heavy and lax against him. Tucked against his chest, his arm holding you against him, he can smell you, feel how warm you are. If he moves his head just a little, he can press his cheek against the top of your head.

Go ahead and rest, he thinks. Everything’s fine. I’ll keep you safe.

Vigilante has always been an instrument of vengeance, but this is the first time he’s felt protective of anyone.

The Time Vigilante Definitely Does Not Feel Fear

The 11th Street Kids have one chance to eradicate the Butterflies forever: if they can kill their only food source, the so-called cow, they will eventually all die off. When they make their final assault on the farm, the team splits up: Adebayo and Economos stay back, while the warriors—Peacemaker, Vigilante, Harcourt, and you—charge into action.

Whether the cow is killed or not, Adrian doesn’t find out until after the battle is over. He fights off the onslaught of Butterflies, but for the first time, his attention isn’t entirely on his own fight.

His attention is on you, now, too.

He manages to keep you in his sightline for the beginning of the fight. He sees you, admires the sight of you when you’re in your berserker mode: furious and deadly, well-fitted black suit, guns flashing as you empty clip after clip into the skulls of the Butterflies.

Then he loses sight of you.

His chest clenches in an unfamiliar tension, and when he finally catches sight of you again, that tight-chest feeling cedes to something else, something worse: an ice-cold shard of fear that lances through him, settles in his gut where it sits like a stone.

When he finally catches sight of you, it’s the exact moment you are shot by a Butterfly.

One shot hits your shoulder, spins you around.

Another shot hits you square in the chest, makes you stagger backwards as the force is absorbed by your vest.

The final shot hits you low in the belly, and Adrian (who has studied your gear closely) knows you have little protection there. The icy fear blooms in him, fills up every bit of him until it feels like it’s in his veins.

He screams your name. He barely even feels the bullet that hits him (“oh, shoot” he mutters, and tosses a knife behind him to kill his own attacker), but then he stumbles and falls, and he loses consciousness.

He wakes a moment later. He has no idea how much time has passed, but he manages to get to his hands and knees, then to his feet. He makes his way to where you fell and he finds you.

It’s bad. It’s so bad that the icy fear turns acidic in his veins, makes him burn with fear. With terror. You gaze up at him but you don’t seem to see him, and each breath makes a fresh pulse of blood trickle from your mouth.

Adrian has never been very good at social situations. He never knows the right thing to say and if he does, he doesn’t know the right time to say it. He wishes these things came more easily to him; if it were Chris here right now instead of him, Chris would know the right thing to say. He’d know how to keep you awake, how to give you comfort.

All Adrian can offer is what you told him the night he got out of prison, when you drove him home. Now, as you lie under the night sky, dying in front of him, as he presses one hand against the worst wound to try and staunch the bleeding, he repeats your words back to him.

“It’s okay,” he says, and he says it over and over and hopes you believe it. “It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

The Time Vigilante Definitely Feels Love

You have no memory of the fight at the farm. The last thing you remember is the drive there, but everything after is a blank. Adebayo stops by when you finally wake up and fills you in on the salient details.

She tells you how Vigilante—who was also shot, who had been blown up earlier in the day—carried you to safety. How he kept you from bleeding out, how he held your very life in his hands and kept you from dying. How hospital security had to separate him from you, once you were laid out on the gurney and being wheeled into surgery.

How he still tried to fight to stay by your side, and how he only failed because of his own injuries and blood loss.

“That man is stupid crazy about you,” Adebayo chuckles with a shake of her head. “I don’t even think he’s really a psychopath.”

You chuckle with her, wince when the action pulls at the thousand stitches and staples that are keeping you held together. “He’s not bad, right?”

“We’re literally the Island of Misfit toys,” she replies. “But yeah, he’s alright.”

-----

Adrian is hospitalized too, and once he’s healed up to a point, he starts sneaking into your room to visit. It’s not really sneaking—every time he undoes his IV and heart monitor, it sends the nurses into a panic—but after Adebayo’s press conference revealing the existence of Task Force X, the hospital staff is pretty tolerant of his harmless shenanigans.

He helped ward off an alien invasion, after all. You both did.

You have to agree with Adebayo. You’ve never quite believed that Adrian is a psychopath or a sociopath or whatever. You certainly never believed him when he said he didn’t have feelings or emotions. The guy is nothing but a walking ball of emotions: obvious love for his friends, a yearning to belong, a sweet desire to be liked and included. Sure, he kills without compunction, but he seems to love in equal measure, even if he doesn’t believe he does.

When he visits you, he doesn’t talk about feelings. He chatters endlessly about his and Peacemaker’s exploits—criminals they’ve busted, ways they’ve destroyed old appliances in the woods behind Peacemaker’s trailer. He talks about how it was when Peacemaker was in prison, how he kept calling and leaving voicemails to make it seem like everything was normal. He talks about his job at Fennel Fields, all the terrible customer service stories he has.

He discharges himself against the advice of the doctors (he’s healed enough, he tells you), and you think he’ll stop visiting, but he doesn’t. He visits every day still, and when you start physical therapy to build up the muscle tone and endurance you’ve lost, he sits in a nearby chair, watching you. Cheering you on.

Adebayo wasn’t wrong. You know Adrian has feelings for you. You’re more socially adept than him, and you’ve had relationships before. You’ve had crushes and been the object of them. You guessed his infatuation early on, and you can guess that it’s only grown for him since then.

It probably confuses him, you guess. You know what love feels like. What a crush feels like. All that feeling, in so many places: the fluttery stomach, the pounding heart, the thoughts that just circle ‘round and ‘round about a single person.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have similar feelings for him. He’s easy on the eyes, sure—but he’s earnest and sweet, a brutal killer with a heart of gold.

You can also guess that Adrian might never make a move. This has to be unfamiliar territory for him. You know he’s no virgin (he’s chattered endlessly about his and Peacemaker’s exhaustive threesomes too), but he seems to have no relationship experience.

But your entire short working relationship with him has been give and take. You stitched him up, comforted him when he was feeling low after his failed attempt to kill Auggie Smith. He let you rest against him, held you gently as you slept after a mission. He saved your life, kept you from bleeding out.

Give and take. The best kind of relationship, in your opinion.

“Hey, Adrian,” you say one afternoon after PT. You’re exhausted and sore, but you’re quickly approaching your own discharge. You are healing up nicely. You have things to look forward to.

“What’s up?” he asks, and he bounces over to your bedside like a Golden Retriever puppy, eager.

“Doctor says I’m good to go in a few days.”

“That’s great!” His face breaks open in a wide grin that transforms him from nerdy-handsome to downright gorgeous. “That’s good news!”

You swallow, push down the nerves that flare up. “I thought maybe we could celebrate.”

“Yeah!” He grins at you. “I can call Chris—”

“I thought maybe just me and you,” you cut in, clarifying. “Just this time. Maybe we include Chris some other time.”

“Oh.” The smile falls from his face, and he looks at you. His brows are knit in confusion.

No sense in backtracking now. “Like a date. Would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Oh.” A beat. “With me? Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

What you’re asking him finally sinks in—a beat longer than it might with someone else, but that’s just part of Adrian’s charm. The smile returns to his face, brighter and wider than before.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Hell yeah, dude. I’d love that.”

#adrian chase #adrian chase imagine #adrian chase x reader #vigilante #vigilante imagine #vigilante x reader #peacemaker #tropes-and-tales

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thought--bubble · 3 months

Text

Mine To Claim

Dark Aemond X (Commoner Reader)

Warnings after the cut

Canon Aemond Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners by @arcielee

Based on THIS request

Warnings:: Pregnancy, Infidelity, Dub-con,

A/N: Hit 200 followers today!🥳🥳 Thank you to all of you who read and interact with my stories! You make this so fun and make me want to keep writing more and more! 🥰

The bell over the door in your little store chimes at you, and you look up to see the face of your long-time friend. It is an unlikely friendship and a friendship most people know nothing about, but it is a relationship that is dear to your heart.

He holds two small dresses over his arm. There is a seamstress in the keep. An incredibly talented one, but still, he takes dresses to you to be tailored or repaired.

"Hello, my prince," you smile as he brings the dresses up to you.

"These are small. Must be for the little princess?" You take the dresses from him and lay them out on the table before you.

"Running around with her brother, she damaged them. Here and here, " his face is stoic as he points to a few minor tears on the garments.

"Oh, I'll have these fixed up quickly." You hum to yourself as you lift the dress, trying to match the color to your available thread.

"No need to be quick. I have nowhere to be. " he sits down in the chair on the other side of your sewing table.

This was a regular occurrence, ever since the night you found him curled up cold and shaking outside the brothel your father frequented.

He had been dragged there by his brother to "become a man" and was so uncomfortable during the whole ordeal that he ran out into the dark streets alone to escape. It was raining and cold, and he had never been down in here on his own.

Lost, scared, and traumatized, he stumbled down the alleyways behind the brothel, passing by your little hovel where you sat on the stoop just watching the rain. As he moved just past your hovel, he drops to his knees and buries his face in his hands. Once you hear the sobbing, your heart breaks. From his size alone, you can see he is a child like you, so you ran to him, bringing him into your home, and miraculously, he went with you.

When he had pulled his hood down and you saw that silver hair, you froze in terror. It would be your luck that you accidentally dragged a Targaryen prince into your house.

You had apologized profusely, but he wasn't upset with you, and that was how it started, from there, he would come back to town with his brother regularly but instead of following him into the brothel he would come to see you.

You were a secret for him, a safe place where he could unload, you never judged, only supported, and because of that, the two of you grew to be very close.

You couldn't deny that he was handsome and charming. As he grew from a boy to a man, you could not help but be impressed by his commanding presence and his dedication to his swordsmanship and studies.

Today as he sat in the chair across from you, you couldn't help but smile.

"So...." you start and look at him knowingly.

He raises an eyebrow at you and you chuckle.

"How did it go? Your nephews being back?"

He instantly goes rigid and the calm look on his face hardens into a look of fury.

"Well, very well" he chuckles to himself as he crosses his legs.

"Is that so?" You know there is no way it went 'well' by an average person's definition of the word, you were however talking to Aemond so it's possible in his mind it did.

"Yes, I gave a wonderful speech, well received" he leans back in the chair a smug smirk crawling up the corners of his mouth.

You knew better than to continue to pry so you changed the subject. "I also have some good news" you continue stitching the dress in your hand as you wait for his reply.

"hmmm" he taps his fingertips on his knee "and what is that?" He keeps his eye trained on you, with a look of skepticism splayed across his sharp features.

"I am to be married!" You smile brightly and your cheeks heat up.

You have been seeing a fisherman, a young man by the name of Oscar. He has brown curly hair to his shoulders and warm brown eyes. A charming smile with a broad chest and shoulders.

You should have waited until marriage to let him bed you. You knew that. Yet, his charm and charisma had you leave your convictions by the wayside, and you found yourself missing a moon blood shortly thereafter, and when you bombarded Oscar with your fear and panic upon his most recent return, his response was that of elation and he quickly asked your father for permission to wed you.

Aemond's silence is deafening. You stare at him your smile beginning to faulter at his lack of reply.

"Are you not going to congratulate me?" You ask beginning to get a bit more frustrated and impatient.

"For what exactly?" His voice is cold and cruel, his fingertips tapping against his kneecap.

"For... for my happiness?" you are so confused at his behavior. He had always supported you, when you opened your own shop, when you finally put your foot down with your father and got him off the drink.

He grips the arms of the chair he is sitting in, his knuckles turning white. "Happiness?" he grits his teeth and stands up looking toward the door.

"When?" He still hasn't turned around and his voice is tense.

"In a few days..... Aemond.... this won't effect our friendship if that is what you are concerned about" You try to combat his anger and tense air with gentleness and understanding.

"Why is this so hurried?" He completely ignores your prior statement.

"What?"

"Why are you getting married so quickly? What. is. the. hurry?" He is now looking at you with his jaw clenched and his shoulders tense.

"Oh.... I'm ...... " You take a deep breath in. You know that he is a loyal follower of the seven. As are you. This confession is going to make things so much worse.

"I am with child." You close your eyes and squeeze them tight and wait for the inevitable chastising and disappointment.

"So you wish to marry him?"

You slowly open your eyes and look at Aemond with confusion. "Yes"

"And when the child is born, with silver hair and purple eyes, will people not question their true parentage?" He takes in sharp short breaths, and his lone eye is wide open, pupil blown.

"Why would my child look like a Targaryen?" You rub your temples to try and ease the pressure building there. 'What in the seven hells is he getting at?'

He quickly rounds the table and grabs your chin, pulling you up to your feet, your neck strained with your face up to look directly at him.

"Because of me." His face is still as stone. A look of conviction that has you even more confused than before.

"Aemond..... we have never....ummm. " You clear your throat, hoping that he would come to his senses.

He doesn't. He lowers his mouth to yours, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. At first, you can't help yourself, and you kiss him back. His lips are just as soft as you had imagined them.

He brings his hand up to the side of your face and slides it into your hair. When his kisses start to trail from your mouth down your neck, you start to remember that this isn't right.

"Stop." You push him away and back up. "We can not do this." You run your fingers through your hair.

"Why?" The anger pulsating off of his body is stifling.

"Because! I am to be married! I am with child! Another mans child! Aemond, you are a prince! This is madness!" You turn from him believing this would surely be the end of the situation.

"You are mine to claim!" He yells out.

The booming sound has you swing back around in shock.

He stalks toward you, a dragons fury burning in his sole eye.

"I must claim what is mine. It is not freely given to me. I will take it by force if I must, but the result remains the same. What I covet shall be mine"

"Aemond.... " You slowly back away from him, putting your hands up in front of you in a defensive gesture.

"You are mine." He steps closer to you. "You belong to me ever since the day I found you." He continues moving closer to you as you do your best to back away.

"Your body, your mind, your soul, it's all mine," the pupil of his eye has taken over entirely as he corners you in the back of your little shop.

You again attempt to reason with him. "Aemond... this baby..." He puts his hand up.

"Is mine"

"it can not be, it isn't possible." You press yourself up against the wall tightly. "You know this to be true!"

"It is mine.... because I will it so. " he wraps his hand around your throat, moving his face close to yours, whispering directly into your ear. "I waited too long, I see that now."

He ruffles up your skirts. "You are still mine." He moves his fingers over your heat and releases a husky breath.

"You can feel it, I know you can." He rubs his hand over your clothed center.

You mewl quietly as he moves his hand in a circular motion, applying more and more pressure.

"Your body..... it tells me what you will not. " he pulls your underclothes down to your knees before bringing his hand back to your center.

"You are soaking for me, and still you wish to deny us?" He slides a finger into you while tightening the grip around your throat.

He starts to pump his finger. "Your body has already given into me. The mind will follow. " He lightly nibbles at your cheek, and he crooks his finger, looking for the spot inside of you that would make you even weaker to his touch.

You start moaning loudly. "That's right Dōna Riña " He uses the palm of his hand to apply pressure to your pearl as he starts to slide a second finger into you. "submit"

"I .... I ..." Your body is responding to him in ways it has never responded to Oscar. Your senses are so heightened that you can't even form a coherent thought.

"Tell me you are mine." He tugs at the shell of your ear with his teeth as he brings you closer and closer to climax, holding the weight of your body up with his other hand.

"Yours." You practically whisper as you close your eyes, ready to ride out your pleasure. As soon as the words leave your lips, he stops.

"Not on my fingers." He picks you up by the waist carrying you back over to the sewing table. He slides his hand across, knocking all items to the ground.

You are like putty in his hands. Just desperate for him to touch you again. He lays you down back flat on the table, legs hanging off the end.

He pushes your dress up, exposing you to him. He slides his finger up and down through your folds, causing you to buck your hips toward him. "Say it again," he growls while he pulls the strings of his breeches loose.

Your hazy lust riddled mind is confused, and all you can muster is a gentle "huh?"

He pulls out his hard cock and slides it over your clit spreading your wetness. "I said to say it again, say what you are"

"Yours?" As soon as you say this he starts to push into you.

"Again," he grunts

"Yours!" You whimper

He wraps a hand around your throat as he bottoms out, moving gently against you. He sighs.

"That's right mine" He tightens the grip on your throat as he starts to fuck into you harshly "mine"

"This cunt is mine" He jams two of his fingers into your mouth making you gag "This mouth is mine"

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, dragging the wet digits down the front of your face.

He brings his hand to your chest and palms your breasts through your dress. "These tits are mine"

He brings his hand back down to your pearl, rubbing it in circular motions with his thumb. "It's all mine"

With this, you feel your climax surge through your body, your whole body clenches around him. He lets go of your throat, bringing both hands to your hips, pulling your body to him while he slams into you harder and harder, chasing his own release.

"This womb...." He grunts as he hits his own peak, making sure to fill you completely,"is mine"

You lay back on the table, having been fucked dumb.

"I'll come back for the dresses." He fixes his breeches before pulling your dress back down.

"And when i do, I better not see a husband here"

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lost-in-tokyo · 8 months

Text

Need help? Call Toji!

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x fem!reader

Summary: When a mission drains you mentally and physically, you see yourself seeking for security and help from none other than Toji Fushiguro, your friend’s dad.

Word count: 2,4k

Warnings: Toji actually raised Megumi in this one. Reader is in her early 20s and is a sorcerer. Cheating (reader has a boyfriend), oral (female receiving), bathroom sex, doggy style, manting press, multiple orgarsms, unprotected sex, creampie, hair pulling, scratching, ass slapping, daddy kink, age gap, fingering, mentions of blood (reader gets hurt in a mission). Did I forget something?

Being friends with Megumi certainly had many advantages, he was a great listener and always gave honest advice and opinions, he had excellent taste in music and generally didn't complain about listening to you talk nonstop. But surely the best of all was getting to see his dad wearing those tight t-shirts that left nothing to the imagination when you visited their house.

You could still remember the first time you came to the boy's house. It was on a Saturday afternoon, Yuji and Nobara were determined to have a video game championship, and to change the atmosphere a little, Megumi suggested that they did it at his house .

It was a hot summer afternoon and he was outside mowing the lawn, covered in a fine sheen of sweat and wearing only a pair of worn jeans. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with his forearm before slowly looking you up and down.

“Excuse me, does Megumi live here?” You tried to be as polite as possible while holding the hem of your skirt, which between us, wasn't the longest you had.

A light chuckle ripped from his throat before he answered. “Yeah, they’re inside.”

That was a few years ago, and every time you came over to Megumi's, you couldn't deny that you made as much effort as possible not to get nervous and end up stumbling over your own words when the older Fushiguro spoke to you.

It's not that you were in love, far from it, but his incredible height and his heavy layer of muscle intimidated you in an exciting way. Every time that smirk crossed his face as he looked at you, and every time those callused hands touched you in the most unpretentious way possible, you couldn't stop the thoughts that flooded your mind, thinking about what it would be like to hear him moan your name, or how many times he could make you come.

This was wrong.

So wrong!

Especially because you had a boyfriend.

It had been a few months, you had known him through work and he was always a great boyfriend. He did all your wishes, treated you like a princess and was there for everything you needed, but still, you called him when you needed help.

It was late on a Friday night, you had a bleeding leg and your whole body ached after a traumatic mission that went completely off-plan. You had managed to exorcize the curse, but you had paid a high price for it.

Moisture hung in the air, creating a thin layer of haze that lit up as the Toyota pickup that now had several shades of orange, thanks to rust, pulled up. One of its headlights had given out and the car could definitely use a good wash, but you didn't care, as seeing that truck was all you needed to instantly calm down.

“Need a ride, kid?” There was a certain mocking tone to his voice, and even in the dark, you were sure he had a smirk plastered on his face.

You opened the door of the pickup, climbing into the passenger seat, whose leather had dried out and split in places several years ago.

"Hurting?" He referred to your bloodied leg, bound by a belt, which had once been around your waist, to stop the bleeding.

"It still burns, I think I'll need stitches."

"Let's go to my place, I'll help ya with that when we get there."

You nodded slightly, leaning your head back against the seat as you listened to the sound of Black Sabbath coming out of the car's sound system.

The house was all dark, and as you went through the rooms you began to look for the presence of a certain someone.

"He's at Yuji's, helping with something." Toji replied, almost reading your mind.

You followed him upstairs, past his room and into his bathroom.

It was the first time you had entered this part of the house. His room had light walls and dark wood furniture, there was an orangey rug on the floor, but everything looked somehow organized.

His bathroom had gray tiles and a large mirror over the white vanity. The scent of his perfume was much stronger here than the rest of the house, and you could stare at his toiletries for a second before he spoke again.

“Ya can sit on the sink, I’ll take a look at yer wound.”

You did as he said as he crouched down, pulling out a vial of rubbing alcohol and gauze for a bandage. After rummaging through a drawer he found a box with some needles and a small spool of black thread.

He positioned himself in front of you, and then his icy fingers touched your thighs half covered by the fabric of your uniform skirt, making a shiver hit you.

“Don't worry, I won't look.” He assured as he spread your legs slightly apart, before lifting the foot of your injured leg and resting it on the surface of the vanity, making your back rest against the mirror.

For the first time you felt embarrassed. You were fully aware that Toji was seeing your pink panties, despite him acting like he wasn't.

He removed the belt as gently as he could, before taking a good look at your cut.

“That curse got ya good, huh? It didn't cut any arteries though”. Toji looked up, fixing his dark gaze in your eyes, that looked like those of a deer who had just seen the headlights of a car coming towards it. Your pupils were dilated and your eyes looked a shade darker than normal.

He backed away a little, pulling a black lighter from his front pants pocket and running the needle through its flame a few times. After managing to fit the thread and tie the knot he looked at you, almost with resentment for the pain you were about to feel.

“This is goin’ to hurt a little.”

His hands, now a little warmer, touched the inner part of your thigh, making a shiver run through your body. He squeezed your flesh making you gasp slightly before he inserted the needle for the first time.

A groan of pain left your throat and your hands balled into fists, pushing its nails as deep as possible in an attempt to distract your mind from the pain you felt below.

Toji continued the procedure, making eye contact with you at each stitch that was completed, he knew it wasn't time, but he couldn't stop his member from hardening and throbbing with each moan that came out of your lips, that seemed to be oh so soft.

Despite the pain, Toji's hot breath hitting your core, and the touch of his fingers so close to your most intimate area, was making the situation more and more difficult, not because of the pain, but because the pain just made the heat between your legs get worse.

"All done!" Toji was many things, but naive wasn’t one of them. He saw the small pool that formed in your little pink panties, and he saw the way you futilely tried to find a position that would help ease the heat you were feeling.

“Ya want me to take care of this too?” One of his thick fingers ran up and down your cunt, making you catch your breath to repress a moan.

"What do ya say? Want daddy to take care of this pretty lil’ pussy?”

You felt yourself clenching against nothing as you nodded, feeling your cheeks heat up as you maintained eye contact.

"Use your words, sweetheart.”

"Yes please." You said after a moment.

"Please, what?"

“Please, Daddy.”

A smirk spread across Toji's features as he crouched down, resting your freshly treated leg over his shoulder and bringing his face close to your warmth.

He roamed your territory, rubbing his nose against the fabric of your panties, taking a long sniff to absorb the scent of it before giving it a full lick.

Toji pulled your panties to the side, touching your clit masterfully with the tip of his tongue while one of his long fingers penetrated you with ease, thanks to your juices. It didn't take long for him to find your sweet spot, stimulating it while continuing the ministrations with his tongue.

He smiled as your fingers found his hair, tugging lightly at the strands in an attempt to bring him closer. Your soft moans were like the sweetest music to his ears and your taste was like a first meal for a man who had never eaten. He was hungry.

Hungry for you.

Toji had lost track of how many times he had found himself jerking off late at night thinking about you and your little skirts, the way you smiled and the way you said "Mr Fushiguro". It was too much for him. For years he had imagined this moment and now that it had finally happened, he was in no hurry.

Soon Toji's movements had you in a state of frenzy, you felt a knot forming in your belly and it tensed more and more until it burst out with a loud and clear moan, which made his member get even harder, if that was possible.

“I need to fuck ya now.” He grunted, picking you up in his arms before tossing you almost carelessly onto the bed.

You admired while Toji undressed, removing all his clothes, leaving lastly a pair of black boxers that deliciously marked the shape of his member, whose head spilled out of the garment.

He walked over to the bed, pulling you close by your ankle and helping you out of your clothes as quickly as possible, throwing them in all directions across the room before pushing you again.

“It will hurt a little, princess.” He said smirking, before spreading your legs and entering you all at once, not giving you time to adjust.

Toji was right, you weren't used to his size and at first you felt a delicious burning that soon disappeared and was replaced by pure pleasure. You could feel every inch of him, every pulsing vein passing through your tight walls making him groan.

Fushiguro thrust into you with power and mastery, hitting all the right spots. He would grab whatever piece of flesh of yours that was available, your breasts, your ass and pull you close by your shoulders while keeping a pace too fast for you to be quiet.

“Pussy so tight… so good” He leaned down, his mouth taking a hold of one of your nipples as his right hand played with the other.

Your moans echoed through the room as your nails scratched the skin on his back. “Mo-more.” You managed to say, getting hit with a particularly hard thrust before Toji sped his movements even more.

“Look at you, begging for more from someone who isn't your boyfriend. What a bad girl you are!” He tormented you, speaking with his voice, now husky with desire, close to your ear as his hands pushed your thighs until your knees almost touched your shoulders, causing his cock to reach even deeper inside you.

Your mind collapsed and your eyes rolled into the back of your head as the second orgasm of the night hit you, making your legs tremble against his muscular arms.

“Tell me y/n, does he make you cum like this?”

Nothing but a few incomprehensible moans came out of your mouth, still very bewildered with the pleasure that had consumed you. Toji's movements slowed down, coming to almost a stop, causing you to regain consciousness to the point of absorbing his question.

"No!” You almost screamed. “He doesn’t." Your voice much lower now, but still desperate for him to resume his movements, your voice a little hoarse from moaning too loud.

Toji smirked before a dry chuckle ripped from his throat, as if he'd known the answer all along. He pulled out of you ignoring your whimpering and turning you around, placing you on all fours on the mattress of his bed.

Before you could register what was happening, Toji thrusted into you all at once, keeping your back arched as he pulled your hair into a ponytail. His free hand hit your ass precisely a few times, adding to the wave of pleasure that consumed you.

“Toji!” You moaned loudly, your eyes closing, unable to think of anything else but the thick cock fucking you and the man it belonged to.

“You don't know how long I've waited to hear this.” He chuckled lightly, his hand letting go of your hair and bringing you close by the neck. His lips touched your ear, allowing you to hear his every grunt and moan as clearly as possible.

It wasn't long after that familiar feeling started to creep up again, you gripped his arm with both hands, unsure if you could hold yourself in that position much longer.

"Not yet." he gasped. "Together!"

You nodded in agreement, groaning almost tiredly.

Toji sped up his movements, hitting you as deep as possible, making you see stars and moan his name like a mantra, like it was the only word you knew. Outside the room, your moans mixed with the wet sound of your pussy and Toji’s balls hitting you repeatedly could be heard more than clearly.

“Now, doll! Come for me!” Toji pulled you closer, leaning down to kiss your lips, his tongue invading your mouth and quickly gaining dominance, while your nails found the skin of his arms and the strongest orgasm of your entire life took over your body.

Toji's calloused fingers delved into the strands of your hair, pulling you impossibly closer as he filled you to the brim with his thick cum and you shivered uncontrollably against the muscles of his abdomen.

When you finally pulled away, your eyes shed a few tears, your body was exhausted and if it wasn't for Toji holding your waist you would have collapsed on the bed.

Toji admired your state for a few seconds. Hair all messed up, mascara all smudged and irregular breathing, your lips were swollen and he could see his cum running down your legs.

He pinched your cheeks with his thumb and forefinger, keeping your gaze locked with his. “Fuck… are you sure you still want to date that asshole?”

Roblogs, comments and likes are very much appreciated <3

Masterlist

#toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro fanfic #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #fushiguro toji #toji smut #jujustu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

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fiveraccoonsinatrenchcoat · 1 year

Text

Quiet My Fears (With The Touch Of Your Hand)

Steve Harrington x f!reader

Description: It was Steve's fault you got hurt last time, and it's Steve's fault again this time, too.

Warnings: pregnant!reader, mentions of being sick, blood, mentions of s3 events, lots and lots of crying

Word Count: 4409

Notes: Hello everyone I kinda poured my heart and soul into this pls enjoy

My Masterlist! - Series Masterlist!

Next Chapter!

July 5th, 1985 - 4:05 am

Steve had already decided what he was going to tell his parents about the state of his face. He was at a party, he’d say, and got into a fight with some drunk asshole who was hitting on you a little too hard. He tried to tell him to fuck off, but the guy got mad and threw the first punch. Steve won, of course.

A semi-believable story that involved zero Soviet torture doctors.

You’d made it out of the night without any black eyes or broken noses, but there was a sizable gash peeking out from under your hairline. The blood that had dripped from your temple down to your neck had been wiped away by one of the EMT’s, so the cut was really only visible if you already knew it was there. It wasn’t bad enough to warrant stitches, thankfully, but that did very little to quell Steve’s incessant worry. He didn’t like the way your whole body was trembling. Or the way your tights were ripped.

It took hours for the two of you to be able to go home, made longer by the mountains of contracts and NDA’s you were forced to sign. Steve had already gotten the super secret security rundown twice before. “You’ll probably end up with a good chunk of hush money, at least,” he had joked with you. “All of us did.”

You trailed behind Steve like a lost puppy as he unlocked his front door. He was just happy that you were alive at all.

You, for whatever reason, hadn’t made it into the same interrogation room as Robin and Steve. You weren’t there when Dustin and Erica arrived to get them, and you were nowhere to be seen during the big fight. Steve hadn’t even realized that you weren’t with them until whatever he’d been injected with was out of his system, but he was plunged into an ice cold panic the moment that he did. He begged Hopper to let him go back and look for you, though the idea got shot down immediately (‘Because clearly, you did so great down there the first time!’). Funnily enough, it was actually Murray, of all people, who found you first. He said you were about two seconds away from breaking his nose, if not for the fact that you were chained to the steel bench built into the wall.

The house was empty. Steve’s parents were spending the holiday weekend with his aunt and uncle two states away; thankfully, Steve hadn’t been dragged along this time. He always thought his dad’s brother was a creep anyway. Your parents were across the street, most likely sleeping soundly at the thought that their daughter was just out at a house party like a regular 18 year old. Of course, nothing about any of this was regular.

Steve’s usual post-saving-of-world routine was to down two doses of ibuprofen, take the hottest shower known to man, and sleep for a day, and there was definitely a part of him that wanted to do just that, but you were still hovering behind him like a ghost. Steve clicked on the lamp on the table next to the sofa as the two of you entered the living room.

“Sit, okay?” he told you. “I’ll find you some pajamas or something.”

You nodded to him, sullen and shaky, and lowered yourself into the pristine couch. It was cream colored and satiny, like it was designed to be easy to stain, and Steve had never actually been allowed to sit on it when he was little.

His whole body ached, but he trudged up the stairs anyway. He ducked into his own room to quickly strip off his decidedly disgusting uniform and put on a too-big sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants before picking out something for you. Steve came back down to find you wincing as you slowly pulled off your shoes.

“Jesus,” Steve remarked at the state of the white socks that slouched around your ankles over your tights. The backs were drenched in angry red, spread all the way around the heel and down the sides, and the nylon of your tights had big holes worn through that exposed just how ripped up the skin of your heels had become.

“I decided to put on new shoes this morning,” you sighed. “Hadn’t broken them in yet.”

While humiliating, he and Robin’s Scoops uniforms were actually pretty comfortable. The sneakers Steve had worn to work that day had held up wonderfully to all the walking (and running for his life) that he’d had to do all night, but you worked at one of the fancy department stores. You couldn’t wear sneakers or comfortable shorts, you had to wear smart, grown up clothes. You’d been running around all night in a pair of brand new, shiny black mary-janes and a skirt. It made Steve feel just a little bit sick to his stomach to think about.

“Fuck,” Steve huffed out. “Alright, hold on. There’s a first aid kit in the bathroom.”

Steve bandaged up your ankles, carefully cleaning the wounds with the softest cloth he could find and cursing himself when you made a noise at the pain.

God, this was all his fault.

“You can take the room next to mine, if you want,” Steve said after you’d changed. “My parents won’t be home until Monday, so we won’t have to worry about them at all.”

“Okay,” you said, voice mouseish. You’d been to Steve’s house a million times before; you grew up across the street, the only other person his age in a neighborhood full of elderly couples and houses for sale. Even before Steve de-assholed, you’d still sneak out of the house to come drink stolen beers on the roof of his garage on the nights when he couldn’t stand to sleep.

That being said, ‘welcoming’ was not really a word you’d use to describe the Harrington household. The guest room next to Steve’s was, similar to the living room, untouched and pristine. Perfectly made bed, easily palettable decor, somehow devoid of dust despite the fact that it was clear no one had used the room in a very long time. The bed had a pink comforter, a dusty-rose kind of color.

The two of you had only been apart for an hour, maybe less, before Steve heard a knock on his bedroom door. He opened it to find your teary eyes on the other side.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Steve asked. He couldn’t either.

“I can’t-” you stuttered out. “I don’t think I can be alone right now.”

Steve knew the feeling.

He stepped out of the doorway to make room for you to come in. The pair of you stood too close to one another in the middle of his room in heavy, suffocating silence.

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered.

“Don’t be,” you replied. You stepped forward and pressed your forehead against his shoulder.

“I am, though. I got you wrapped up in this fucking mess,” Steve said as he wrapped you up in a hug. “And now you’re hurt, and it’s my fault.”

“I’m the one who wanted to help you guys. I could’a just gone home, but I chose to stay. You didn’t do that, I did.”

“I still think you deserve to be mad at me.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, with Steve above your head wishing he could go back in time and fix all of this before it had the chance to get back to you.

“They told me you were dead,” you admitted through the quiet.

“What?”

“After they pulled me away,” you explained. “You and Robin, they told me you were both dead.”

“Oh, my god,” Steve huffed out. “Oh, my god, I’m so sorry.”

You muttered his name into his collar bone, and Steve pulled away just enough to be able to look at you. You were crying now, but so was he, and fuck, he wanted to kiss you. Kiss all of the tears away, and pull all of the horrible, fucked up things that had happened to you out of your memory, and as you stood looking at him, Steve realized that you had gotten the memo.

You leaned up and kissed him, so incredibly soft, making sure to be careful of his split lip. Steve’s eyes fluttered shut as his hands came to meet the junction of your jawline and neck.

You pulled away from him first, tears still silently spilling from your eyes, and he touched his forehead to yours.

“I’m really happy you’re not dead.”

February, 1989

Steve was entirely zoned out behind the counter at Family Video when the shrill ring of the phone broke through his trance

“Thank you for calling your local Family Video. My name is Steve, how can I help you today?” Steve regurgitated the same spiel as he does every time he picks up the phone.

“What time do you get off work tonight?” you asked him. Steve knew your voice in an instant, and even through the crackle of the phone, he could hear that something was wrong.

“Eight. Why?” Steve inquired.

“I need you to come over,” you said. “It’s an emergency.”

Steve’s heart dropped into his stomach.

“Should I be calling Hopper?” he asked you. If something. . . upside down-ish was happening again, he was gonna lose his shit.

“No, nothing like that,” you clarified, and Steve let out a silent breath of relief. “It’s an entirely non-supernatural emergency.”

“Do you want me to come over now? I’m the boss-man. I can leave whenever I want,” Steve joked. He was trying his damnedest to hear your laugh come from the other end of the line.

“You’re a shift lead, Steve.”

“Yeah. Boss-man.”

There was only silence on the line for a moment.

“I don’t want you to get in trouble, is all,” you explained, and it made Steve's heart ache just a touch.

“It’s fine, I won't,” Steve said to placate your worry. “Twenty minutes, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” you said, though you didn’t sound thrilled. It made Steve worry even more as he hung up the phone.

Steve knew the two of you were wildly codependent on each other. Believe him, Robin had been reminding him constantly over the past year since she’d caught the two of you in a house party bathroom.

The fact that the pair of you hadn’t actually made it official yet, despite the fact that you’d been sleeping with each other with relative consistency for three and half years, definitely didn’t help matters at all.

‘You are in love with her,’ Robin loved to point out. ‘And pretending to not be in love with her while also sleeping together is going to destroy your brain!’

She was right, of course. It absolutely was destroying his brain, but if he had to pick between having a destroyed brain but also having you, or not having a destroyed brain but also not having you, he’d pick a destroyed brain anyday. Even if he thought (knew) you didn’t necessarily feel the same way he did.

Steve parked his car in the empty space next to yours in your apartment building’s lot. He knew the code to the building’s door by heart now, and he’d had a spare key to your apartment for the last six months.

He let himself in, making sure to lock the door behind him once he was inside, and saw you shaking like a leaf on the couch.

Steve paused for a moment before he dropped his car keys onto the little table by the door. He was instantly plunged into crisis-management mode.

In recent years, Steve had become quite familiar with crisis management mode; put all the feelings to the side, and deal with the situation at hand. Was it healthy to stub out all of the mushy shit like that? No, probably not, but emotional healing was a lot easier to do when he didn’t have the threat of interdimensional horror hanging over his head.

Though, over the phone, you had promised him there was no interdimensional horror at the moment.

He toed off his shoes and rounded the coffee table to crouch in front of you. Your eyes followed his every movement, wide and glassy and enough to make Steve’s rib cage feel like it was about to cave in. He took your hands in his.

“What happened?” he asked you.

You shut your eyes, forcing more tears down the slope of your cheek. A small, quiet sob escaped your lips as you dipped your forehead onto Steve’s shoulder. He brought a hand up to graze over the back of your head, holding you close to him.

You were tougher than you looked, always had been. That wasn’t to say that Steve ever thought you were weak, but you were timid and quiet. Shy since birth, you never really stood out to Steve as a fighter until he saw you crack a Russian soldier over the back of the head with his own gun. You’d had a fire in your eyes that could’ve rivaled Nancy’s that night, before you had all been separated from one another. That fire was decidedly missing right now, though. Your tears seemed to have extinguished it.

“Hey, hey. Tell me what’s going on, yeah?” Steve asked.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered into his neck. You sounded small and, more pressingly, fucking terrified. Steve did his best to place a hand on either side of your face and pull back to get a good look at you, though you clearly didn’t want to be pulled away from your spot tucked into the collar of his crew-neck.

“Sorry for what, baby?” Pet names had previously been reserved for dirty-talk purposes only, but you’d started calling him ‘handsome’ a few months back as a joke (which quickly became much less of a joke), and now that rule had been thrown out the window. One more blurry boundary line in your relationship. “I wanna help, but I can’t do that if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“Steve,” you murmured.

“You’re scaring me,” Steve told you, and it was true. “Is it something with your mom? Did she call?”

“No. She won’t. You know she won’t.”

“Then what’s happening? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this upset, and I will do everything I can to help, but-”

“I’m pregnant.”

You whispered it and Steve swore he felt his heart stop.

“What?” he whispered back. Surely you didn’t mean it. Surely he had to have misheard you.

“I’m pregnant.”

Definitely hadn’t misheard you, then.

“You-” It felt a bit like his brain had been replaced by cotton balls. “How sure are you?”

“Uhm, I took a test here, and it came back positive, but the box said that you can get false results sometimes, so I waited a couple days and took another one, but then that said the same thing,” you rambled. “So then, I went to that clinic on Poplar and got a blood test, and they called me earlier today and said that that one was positive, too.”

“Very sure,” Steve said in response to your onslaught.

You only nodded in agreement.

Steve could hear the drip drip drip of your leaky kitchen sink, the sound of your cat batting around his favorite toy mouse, your neighbors downstairs fighting like they did most nights. He could hear your ragged breathing, and the beginnings of your quiet sobs, and his own heartbeat in his ears. He didn’t know what to say to you, how to get you to calm down, and he didn’t think he had the mental capacity to figure it out right now, so he didn’t say anything at all. You stayed quiet too, tucked away in your own little world of the smell of Steve’s cologne and the soft of his hair.

Steve was about two seconds away from completely shutting down when your pitiful voice sliced through the silence.

“Steve, I don’t know what to do.”

That kicked his brain back into gear.

“That’s okay,” he said from his spot on the floor. His emotions get tucked underneath the floorboards so he can deal with yours first. “It’s okay. You don’t have to know right now.”

And you two stayed there, you on your couch and him with his back pressed against the hard edge of your coffee table, for a good long while. Your sniffles had graduated to full on bawling and you were clinging to him like he was a liferaft. You were petrified. His head was swimming and he felt a little bit like his heart might explode, but he wasn’t about to let you know that.

Logically, the next step would be to talk about. . . all of it. What you wanted to do, and what that would look like, and all of it, but you weren’t able to get a word in. Even though Steve knew it was what needed to happen next, the thought of actually having to face the music made him feel sick.

“We’ll figure it out, alright?” Steve said into your hair. “We’ll figure it out. It’ll be okay. I promise.”

You just sort of fell limp against him once you had run out of tears. Steve’s back was starting to cramp up from being squished against the table, and when he moved to plant himself onto the sofa next to you, you stayed adhered to his side.

“Steve, I don’t-”

“I know. It’s okay.” I don’t know what to do had become your mantra of the evening. Steve was in the exact same boat, though, and the best idea he’d had all night was distraction, so distraction it would be. He paused for a moment before asking you, “are you hungry?”

You tilted your gaze to him, looking confused.

“How ‘bout I go and get us something to eat from that diner you like, and we can watch a movie or something. Then we can talk about it in the morning, yeah?” Steve suggested. You didn’t seem all that on board with the idea, though. “Is that okay?”

“I can’t keep anything down,” you explained after a moment.

Oh, yeah. People get sick when they're pregnant. Steve hadn’t really thought about that part yet.

“Right. Well, have you tried at all today?” he inquired. You shook your head.

“Not since last night.”

Great. You’re already terrified and now you can’t even eat.

“Look, I’ll get you a grilled cheese, and an extra large Sprite for your stomach in case the sandwich doesn’t work out, and I’ll stay here with you all night,” Steve said.

“Okay,” you said with a nod and a sad smile. You seemed to understand what he was doing, though you showed no signs of protest. “Do you want me to go with you?”

“No, it’s okay,” Steve said as he got up and slipped his feet back into his shoes. He scooped up his keys and shot you a smile before opening the door. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

You nodded, giving him the green light to leave. He half-jogged down the stairwell and out into the parking lot, and he barely made it into the driver’s seat before he started crying.

Guilt settled in his chest in an instant at the thought, but the first thing that popped into his head when he was finally alone was that his dad was going to fucking kill him. And not just in a figurative, ‘oh no I scratched the car, dad’s gonna kill me’ kind of way; his father was going to pick up a weapon and actually kill him. Then, Hopper was gonna kill him after his dad did. You two weren’t even actually dating; how was he going to explain any of this? ‘Hey, dad! I accidentally knocked up my not-quite-girlfriend/best friend with benefits!’ That’ll go over splendidly. That’s two people added to the list of people who wanted to kill him.

What was going to happen next, then? He was having difficulty figuring out the answer.

Whatever you wanted to do, obviously, but you didn’t know what that was, and yeah, he was scared shitless, but you were beyond terrified. Scared in a way Steve had never seen you before. That made him feel about a million times worse.

‘Cause he was still just a shitty kid, who still lived with his shitty parents and worked a shitty job, and even with his shitty promotion, he still made a shitty wage. A shitty wage that definitely wouldn’t be enough to raise a kid, and-

He was spiraling, he could feel it, and he’d never been more grateful to see the glowing neon of an OPEN sign in his life.

He parked the car. He got out of the car. He opened the door to the restaurant. He walked up to the counter and a girl he used to know from high school took his to-go order. If he remembered correctly, she was a tattoo apprentice.

“You alright?” possible-tattoo-apprentice ask Steve after ringing in the food. “You seem a little, I don’t know, freaked out.”

“Yeah,” Steve replied with a tight lipped smile and curt nod. “Yeah, no. I’m good.”

She looked right through his lie, but moved on to a couple of older men sitting at the counter with coffee refills anyway.

Steve, in the ten minutes it took for the food to come out, stood leaning against the wall in utter silence. In that silence, he allowed himself to live in what was probably an irresponsible thought; the one where the two of you actually did have a kid, and a house, and maybe a dog if he’s lucky. Something that maybe was a lot less far off in the future than he thought. Steve used to want kids, when he was younger. Maybe it was just the fact that he’d had every single stereotype of the American dream shoved down his throat his whole life, but he really had wanted it at one point. That was before everything, though. Before the monsters, and the chaos, and all the awful shit he’d roped you into. Before it all came back, and then came back again, again, again. Any dream of a family had been stubbed out by the fear that it could all one day be ripped apart.

Despite that, despite the fact that he knew every single reason that it could never happen like the back of his goddamn hand, he did nothing to try and save himself from drowning in the fantasy. The image of you holding his baby made his chest go tight and he wanted it more than anything in the world, but fuck, what happens if everything goes to shit again? He had done a pretty awful job at keeping you away from it the first few times, you had the nightmares to prove it, so how could he possibly protect his kid from it, too?

The food came out and he was rocked back into reality.

He left the restaurant, stopping on the way back to your apartment at a 7/11 for the Sprite he had promised. He grabbed some anti-nausea medicine too, but it wasn’t until he got into the car that he realized there was a big warning on the back of the box: ‘Do not take if you are pregnant or breastfeeding.’

Awesome.

He did his best to scrub any evidence of tears out of his eyes in the rearview mirror, and got out of the car.

You were waiting for him on the couch, just as you had been when he had left. You smiled at him when he walked through the door, still the sad self pitying kind, but a smile nonetheless.

“I come bearing grilled cheese,” he said as he placed the bag on the coffee table. The joke didn’t land.

“You were crying?” you asked once you were able to get a good look at him, the shake in your voice back once again. Clearly he hadn’t done a good enough job in the rear view.

“N-no, no. I wasn’t, I-”

“You were,” you interrupted him, and Steve knew better than to try and deny it. You looked like you were about to start crying again, too, and Steve could feel the twist of the knife in his side. He rounded the table to sit next to you, and you drew yourself into him in an instant. Tucked into his arms, you did start crying again (how you had any tears left, Steve didn’t know) and just barely whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey. No sorries, okay?” he said. You wouldn’t look up at him, just shook your head. “Look, if we’re gonna blame anybody, it should probably be me, right?”

Thankfully, that line was enough to finally bubble a laugh out of your chest.

“I’m serious!” Steve took the joke and ran with it in a desperate attempt to lift your spirits even in the slightest. “I mean, it was my, y’know. . . fluids.”

“Oh, gross, dude!” you exclaimed, playfully slapping his shoulder as you sat up straight. “Don’t say it like that!”

“That’s just biology, babe.”

“I know that, I just don’t want to have to think about your fluids when I’m trying to eat,” you quipped at him as you pulled the styrofoam boxes out of the bag on the table, opening the first of the two and passing it his way. It seemed like you were feeling better, and even if you were faking it, Steve would take it.

“Hey,” Steve called to you through the quiet chatter of the TV after a moment. You turned your face to meet his and the moment his eyes locked on to yours, it seemed like every word he had wanted to say to you had slipped out of his mind. Your voice reeled them all back in, though.

“Yeah?”

“Whatever you wanna do, okay?” he stuttered out. He was pretty sure he might start crying again.

“Right. Yeah.” Your smile faded in an instant at the reminder of the situation.

“And whatever that, y’know, looks like,” Steve continues. “I’ll be right next to you, holding your hand the whole time.”

You give him a pitiful, heart crushing smile, and the pair of you didn’t bring it up again all night.

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x you #joe keery #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x you #stranger things imagines #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x f!reader

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back2bluesidex · 3 months

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Where Do Broken Hearts Go - Chapter 4 (18+)

Pairing: Model, ex-boyfriend!Jungkook X Child psychologist, Fem!Reader X Lawyer, Single Dad!Hoseok.

Summary: Jungkook stripped your emotions naked, left you bare in the chilly wind of despair and self-doubt with an unending heartache. You tried your hardest to move on from him, to live for yourself but failed miserably. Each night you had to come back to your empty home where memories and broken dreams were scattered all around the floor, until one day a little angel and her unbelievably beautiful father came into your life. Finally, when you find yourself healing, maybe falling too, Jungkook had to show up! Again!

Theme: Angst, pining, heartbreak, break-up, implied smut

Warnings: Mentions of school bullying, multiple pov changes, the budding tension is everything.

Word count: 3.2k

Taglist requests are closed.

Minors and karens are not allowed in this blog

A/N: sorry for being so late and still coming up with a shorter chapter. but we progressed a lot in this!!

Main Masterlist

Chapters:-

Prologue/Masterpost || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 - Finale

A wave of nausea hits your gut as soon as you step into the elevator.

Your eyes are full to the brim but you are determined not to let a single tear slip, not for the man who invalidated you and your feelings by falling for someone else. So you laugh instead.

A sarcastic, loud laugh escapes your throat as you realize you have spent the better part of your day trying not to run into him but you failed. Just like you failed the relationship and just like Jungkook failed your love.

Shutting your eyes tight, you take in deep breaths.. One, two, three.

You have a session, Y/N.You can’t let your personal issues unsettle you now. You tell yourself again and again until the elevator touches the ground.

And then your eyes fall on him as soon as you exit the building.

Hoseok looks beautiful today. He is sporting a purple floral shirt, which might have looked bizarre on anyone else, with baggy jeans and a cute bucket hat. He regards you with his signature heart shaped smile and a wave upon seeing you.

Right then and there, you feel your heart being repaired. You feel as if your fresh wounds have been cleaned and stitched.

Your heart thumps in your chest as you realize, all your distress just vanished with just one smile from Hoseok. One look at him and you completely overcame the negative feelings that you had been suffering from since coming across Jungkook.

You also realize that Jung Hoseok is most definitely different from the other guardians of your counselees. He is more, much more than you are proud of admitting.

“Hey” Hoseok chimes in. His eyes fall on yours and they gradually dip down to your collarbones and then to your cleavage.

Heat settles on your face. You hope you are not appearing to be too flushed.

“Hi.” you reply when you find his eyes locking into yours again. But he doesn’t smile this time, rather there is a tinge of darkness inside his brown orbs. The tension is palpable. So much so that you had to divert your eyes and look at the car.

“Let’s go.” Hoseok murmurs, you nod.

And then he places his hand on the small of your back, guiding you towards his car. Goosebumps travel all around your body. God! Were you always this sensitive? Or is it because you have been touched deprived for so long now?

Or is it because of the man himself?

You try not to show any difference in your posture. Walking steadily you reach the car and settle on the passenger seat.

Sua breaks into a big smile seeing you and greets you with her usual cheery voice. When you greet her back and take her in you realize that this father-daughter duo is twinning.

“Oh my- You guys look adorable!” you giggle reaching out to pat Sua’s head through the small-sized bucket hat she is wearing.

“You are twinning too! Your dress has flowers just like ours!” Sua exclaims and her voice is a pure serotonin boost, you can’t help laughing out loud.

“Well” you take a look at your dress, “I guess you are not wrong.”

Feeling a pair of eyes on your figure again, you look up and you find Hoseok staring down at you again. Even though he diverts his eyes, you still feel the weight of his gaze on your chest.

“The audition though.. Is in the US” Jungkook sighs. His face finds the hollow space created by his palms. His shoulders drop and he feels as if his career is approaching an end.

“And?” You place your question carefully.

He sighs again, “You know, Y/N. I can’t afford flying all the way to the states!”

“But we can.” there is a small smile lingering on your lips.

“What do you-”

“What I mean is, Jungkook, you pay as much as you can, I can take care of the rest.” leaning towards him, you place a sweet kiss on his cheek.

“But, Y/N, I- I don’t wanna be a burden on you.” the words choke on his throat but his mind eases as he looks into your eyes.

“Kook” you hold both of his hands with both of yours, “It’s okay to ask for help, especially from the people you love and who love you back. I am a part of your life now, we have a long way to go together, so you can pay me back anytime you want. Okay?”

Jungkook’s heart soars and soars and soars in his chest. His emotions spill through his eyes and you wipe those ever so gently.

When he locks his lips with yours, you taste like forever.

He is such a traitor. He left the person who was with him through thick and thin.

When you got three different offers from three different clinics, he only got rejected in auditions. When you started sending money to your parents every month, his agency got bankrupt. When you reached new heights everyday, jungkook only fell lower and lower.

But you never once looked down on him, never once treated him like the inferior one he was. Rather you are the reason why he is at his current position. But he couldn’t pay you back.

He failed.

He fell.. For someone else.

And it’s only justified for you to hate him but still the thought only stings him, it angers him, unsettles him.

But more than everything… It hurts him. And he doesn’t know if he is brave enough to find out the reasons.

“Jungkook! Jeon Jungkook! Are you even listening to me?” Jimin’s scream brings Jungkook back to reality.

“Yes? Yes. Yes I am listening.” He tries to overview the situation, trying to find out what the elder has been talking about.

“No you are not. This is the third time I have asked you if you want me to pack some kimchi or not.” Jimin fusses standing on the opposite side of the kitchen counter. His eyes suggest the fact that he has a very clear idea about what’s going on inside Jungkook’s head. “You are thinking of her, aren’t you?”

“You should definitely pack some kimchi for me.” Jungkook ignores Jimin’s question, completely changes the topic.

The elder only nods, deciding not to pry anymore.

Never in a million years you would have known that a bakery can be this fancy.

But then… you met the Jung duo.

The sweet aroma of buttery goodness envelops your senses as you step inside.

The vanilla scent perfectly matches with the white interior of the bakery and you are forced to think if you're underdressed for a bakery session or not.

Sua tugs at your hand when she sees you scanning the place with utmost attention.

"Is it your first time here?" She asks sweetly.

"Yes. Never thought bakeries could look this fancy." You giggle a little.

When your eyes fall ahead, you find a young waitress guiding Hoseok towards your table.

Maybe he had reserved a table earlier.

The table is situated at a nice cozy corner of the bakery, which is good since you're here to counsel Sua and it's better to keep things within an invisible barrier.

Hoseok has been trying.

He has been trying his hardest to keep his eyes away from you, to keep it on only your face when it’s needed but oh boy!

It’s not his fault that you are looking so gorgeous today or the fact that your dress has a low neck or that it is fitting you like a glove emphasizing your body curves more than he can take in innocently.

It’s not his fault that he caught your eyes shining when those fell onto his, or the way you smiled at him a little intimately today. He doesn’t know how his thoughts or observations make sense but here he is feeling like a giddy teenager getting to share a desk with his crush for the very first time.

“Mr. Jung and baby Sua, how are you doing today?” It's the waitress who usually attends them during their visit.

Hoseok smiles at her and she smiles back wider than needed.

“We are doing fine, Ms. Shin, what about you?” he returns the courtesy.

“Same here. You have got a friend today, I see.” she now regards you, taking a good look at you from head to toe.

You smile at her kindly but refrain from saying anything.

“Yeah we do. About the order please go as usual for me and Sua and” he looks at you and finds you captivating yet again, “what about you, Y/N?”

“Just a cup of hot chocolate please with a side of marshmallows.”

“Sure” the waitress notes down your order with another weird glance and you notice it this time.

Sua starts giggling as soon as she leaves, when you two look at her she stifles her laugh with one of her tiny hands and says, “she thinks you are daddy’s girlfriend. She is offended. She thought she could flirt with him forever.”

If Hoseok is seeing things right then you are blushing. Your cheeks and the tip of your ears turn red as Sua mentions you as Hoseok’s girlfriend.

Honestly, he ain’t doing any better. Hoseok feels as if someone has uncaged ten million butterflies in his stomach. He can’t help staring at you yet again.

“So shall we play a game till the food arrives?” You break the tension by finally starting with your session.

“Game? Here? Right now?” Sua enquiries innocently.

“Yeah. Let's play a word game. I will name a word and you will have to tell me the first thing or person that comes to mind. okay?”

“Wow, that sounds fun!” Sua replies expectantly.

“So, let’s start. I will go first and ask you five words, then you can do the same.” hoseok sees you preparing for a bit and then finally uttering the first word, “favorite”

“Blueberry!” Sua answers immediately.

You chuckle, “Oh! So blueberry is Sua’s favorite fruit, I see.” pausing for a bit you say, “happy”

“Drawing” sua’s reply comes within an instant again.

“Great. Love?”

“Daddy” Hoseok’s heart fills at his daughter’s answer. He smiles on his own as his eyes become a little moist.

“That’s so sweet” you coo at her. “Umm.. next is scared”

Sua’s face dulls at this as she says “Jaemin” softly.

“Are you scared of him because he pulls tricks on you?” you place the question carefully. Sua nods.

“What does he do to you, Sua? Tell me so that I and Hoseok can help you.” You place a hand on top of Sua’s.

Her head hangs even lower but she says, “he- he told the entire class that I am an illigimate child, that daddy is not my real dad and that is why I don’t have a mom. No one talks to me anymore. Not even my best friend Yoo Ri. They don’t play with me, call me an outskirt and laugh at me. Jaemin locked me in the room for a whole period and told me if I complained to the teachers he would tell them what I am and get me expelled from the school. I didn’t tell anyone. Not even daddy. I was afraid that whatever he said was true and dad is not my dad. He even threw my lunch out of the window and made me starve.”

Hoseok sees red.

His eyes are full of tears and he is ready to set the world on fire today. The way Sua could not even pronounce illegitimate properly yet she knew what it meant, is absolutely heartbreaking.

He slaps the table out of anger and both of you and Sua jump out of surprise.

You look at him, placing a hand on top of his, you whisper softly, “Calm down. I have got this. Don’t worry.”

And he actually calms down.

Is this what it feels like having a partner beside you through your high and low?

Is this what it feels like having you as his partner? If yes then he would kill to have you, even if it’s unethical for him to even think of that.

“Sua, do you trust me?” you ask the little one.

She nods.

“Then do you believe me if I say that you are not an illegitimate child and Hoseok is your real dad?”

“Is that right, daddy?” Sua asks softly.

Hoseok stands up from his table, kneels down in front of his girl, holds his little hands with his bigger ones and says “Yes baby. I am your dad. I swear you are my real daughter, I made you with my blood and flesh.”

Sua breaks into a loud sob, as she hugs her dad tightly.

“Y/N, we still have a word left?” Sua speaks with a mouth full of blueberry cheesecake.

“Oh right.” You sit straight again, taking a sip from your hot chocolate. Your red lips attach to the edge of the cup, looking perfectly pouty and kissable.

Hoseok finds it tough to breathe all of a sudden.

“So the next word is.. Hate.”

“Mina aunty.”

Fuck! Sua had to mention her out of everyone.

“Who is Mina aunty?” you ask the kid.

“She is actu-” hoseok tries to handle the situation but his daughter is faster than him apparently.

“She is daddy’s friend. She often comes to our home whenever I am asleep. And she sleeps there! Does she not have a home or something? Oh I hate her.”

“Oh I see.” you divert your eyes towards hoseok with a knowing look. His face reddens and he has to avoid looking into your eyes.

“Now it’s your turn.” Sua chimes in and Hoseok feels relieved when you stop staring at him.

“Yeah, let’s start.” you take another sip.

“Color?”

“White.”

“Drink?”

“Coke.”

“Love?”

“Jungko-” you pause. You seem to surprise yourself with the name you were about to take.

“Oh? Why did you pause? Is that your boyfriend’s name?” Sua giggles.

The tightness that Hoseok feels inside his chest is unjustified.

You definitely have a boyfriend. Why did he even think he had a chance with someone as appealing as you. Why did he even start thinking there’s something cooking between you two?

On the other hand, you seem to be quite uncomfortable with Sua’s question.

“No. He is someone I used to know, someone I should not be taking the name of, anymore” you reply finally.

Your expression turns somber and you start biting your lower lip.

Maybe you are as broken as Hoseok is.

And maybe.. Just maybe.. Hoseok has a chance to fix you.

The air inside the car is heavy with tension again.

You wanted to avoid Hoseok. You wanted to avoid this fuzzy feeling you feel inside your chest whenever you come closer to him.

He has a girlfriend after all (or maybe a friend with benefits, not that you are keen to know) and you are not totally over your ex-boyfriend.

But hoseok and Sua insisted on dropping you, which brings you here to the passenger seat yet again.

Sua is asleep, which makes things between you and Hoseok even more tense. So, you keep your eyes on the window the entire time and sigh out of relief when your apartment comes into view.

Taking in a deep breath while unbuckling the seat belt you say, “We’ve overcome the toughest part today. Sua will be fine soon.”

“Yeah- yeah. Thanks for today.” Hoseok fumbles with his words.

“It’s my job. Anyway, good night. Drive safe.” and you are already climbing out of the seat and shutting the door.

Another second in the car and you may just ask him who the fuck Mina is.

Just when you are about to take steps towards the entrance, Hoseok calls you from behind.

You stop in your tracks as Hoseok comes to stand right before you.

“Y/N, I- I actually wanted to clear up that Mina is just my colleague and we, you know, take care of each other at times.” He reasons.

That’s what you thought too but you don’t know why he is even explaining this to you.

“That's fine, Hoseok. There is no need to explain your personal matters to me. I am Sua’s therapist only.” yes that’s what you are, just a therapist of his daughter, a temporary addition to his life. You can’t want more. You should never want more.

“I know but I felt the need to explain this to you. I don’t know why.” Hoseok takes a step towards you and you take a step back. Your back hits the car.

The look in his eyes is absolutely dangerous. Your heart can’t decipher it. You mind can’t read what the man wants from you or what you want from him. But it’s addictive. You want more of his eyes, more of him.. Fuck.. all of him. Even if it’s a little too early.

You are free falling… again.

“Are you okay? You seemed to be uncomfortable with Sua’s question earlier.” Hoseok speaks again. And this time his breath hits your face.

“I am fine. I should be fine.” you reply avoiding his eyes.

“Correct me if I am crossing any lines but is that your ex-boyfriend?”

You nod.

You usually don’t like messing up personal and professional boundaries but with Hoseok things are different. With Hoseok you feel different.

“He broke up with me recently after three years of relationship. He-” your voice chokes at the thought of that day when Jungkook confessed things you never even dreamt of, “he fell in love with someone else.”

Hoseok lets out a low chuckle. When you look up at him, his eyes pierce through yours.

“How can anyone even fall out of love with you?” His voice reaches a few octaves lower than usual.

“What- what do you mean?” you murmur.

“I mean that it’s hardly possible to leave you. Anyone would kill to have you as theirs.” Hoseok’s eyes drop on your lips. Your eyes are fixed on the mole right above his lip.

“Anyone? Really? You too?” your voice comes out confident, mouth runs before mind can comprehend.

“Fuck.” hoseok comes even closer, “Yes.. Yes I would too.”

Hoseok leans down and your heart beats out of your chest in the prospect of what’s gonna happen next.

But before your fantasies can take shape, the car window slides down and Sua peeks out and says, “Daddy, are we home yet?” while rubbing her eyes.

You push Hoseok away lightly, he stumbles back replying to his daughter that they are at your apartment right now.

Everything feels fuzzy and light but..

You are completely unaware of the pair of eyes that are watching your every movement through a sheer layer of cigarette smoke.

Taglist:-

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @xjoonchildx @justmewondering-recs @cuteipat @miakey98 @purpleanchorcrown @chimmisbae @ane102 @junniesoleilkth @terjeonbebas @kookssecret @appleh4ad @kayleeshinee @whoa-jo @definetlythinkimanalien @lovelgirl22 @agrika

#bts angst #bts smut #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #hoseok angst #hoseok smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #hoseok x reader #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #hoseok scenarios #jhope angst #jhope smut

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stories-and-chaos · 2 months

Text

Shrike: New Neighbor

[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” Ace x ace relationship, both parties are moderately sex favorable.]

[Word count 1210 Cw: blood, foul language]

————————

Even while recovering, Alastor had to be dramatic. So when he dropped you both into the group in front of the rebuilt hotel, his joining the song and grand gestures did not surprise you. What did was Charlie suddenly hugging him and Alastor allowing her.

The princess was stronger than she knew. Alastor was more stubborn than anyone but you realized. So even though his theatrics and her squeeze tore some stitches, he refused to show it. The benefit of entirely red clothing was that a bit of blood wasn’t noticeable.

As soon as you could manage, you insisted the pair of you look over your new suite. Walking to the top floor would have been a struggle and you weren’t up to flying again yet. Fortunately the new building had elevators installed.

Alastor had recreated his broadcast studio on a corner penthouse level and naturally had claimed the closest rooms for you both. He hadn’t recreated the bayou yet, but there were more pressing concerns. Namely redoing his stitches.

Once in the room you ordered, “Sit down Alastor.” You didn’t let him argue as you removed his jacket and shirt. The bandages wrapped around his torso had absorbed most of the blood but now they definitely needed replacing. “Zut alors, you just had to overdo it out there.”

You brought out both a last aid kit and your sewing kit. As you gathered up towels, warm water and disinfectant, you continued to vent. “I know you like to cultivate an air of invulnerability, cher, but that was too much.” Returning to his side you started unwinding the bandages. “Granted you didn’t expect Charlie to hug you like that, but all that flailing about did not help.”

His hand shot out and grabbed your wrist. “That’s enough,” he growled hoarsely. His antlers were starting to grow in anger but he didn’t put any pressure on your wrist.

“No Alastor, it’s not,” you replied firmly. You didn’t pull your hand away but you did turn his head to face you. You locked eyes with your husband, staring straight into the radio dials. “If you get hurt, I’m the one that patches you up. If you get hurt doing something stupid, I’m still the one patching you up, but I’m allowed to be angry about it.”

He huffed and released your wrist. You continued unwrapping and cleaning that gash across his chest. “I don’t want to be stitching you back up constantly because you’re pretending to be invincible.” You might have said more but a voice at the door interrupted.

“Lover’s quarrel? You really should close the door if you’re going to do that.”

“Fuck!” you screeched, reflexively launching a stiletto at the voice.

“Whoa!” The figure blinked away in a burst of sparks, popping back into existence next to you. The blade thudded into the hallway.

“Careful there!” Lucifer admonished. “We just built these floors.”

You hissed at the fallen angel. “I wouldn’t have to be careful if someone wasn’t eavesdropping.”

He just smiled as you returned to focusing on Alastor. “Someone wouldn’t be eavesdropping if someone else had closed their door properly.” He leaned down to look at the wound you were starting to stitch together again. “Oof, that from when Adam swung at you? You took quite a hit there buddy.”

Alastor glared at him furiously. “GET. OUT,” he snarled, his ever present smile straining in his anger.

As much as you agreed with him, what Lucifer said made you start. “How did you know Adam hit him? The only ones that saw the fight were the exorcists and me.” Some of your flock might have seen it, but they were rather occupied.

“I was watching the whole time,” he replied blithely. With a snap, he produced an ornate set of opera glasses on an elegant handle. “Had to keep an eye on my little girl in case she needed help.”

“You were just watching?!” You and Alastor yelled together. If he had shown up before the angels arrived, he could have handled everything.

“Yup! Charlie didn’t ask me to join the fight, so I wanted to give her the chance to take care of it.” He paused. “I do feel bad about the snake guy, though. Oh, and that you two got banged up by that douchebag.”

You hissed again, feeling your feathers turn metallic. Still, you turned back to the curved needle in your hand. Alastor’s claws dug into the chair; you couldn’t be sure of it was from anger or the feeling of needle and thread sliding through his skin. Probably both.

“GET OUT,” he repeated, now looking like he’d enjoy tearing Lucifer’s throat out if he wasn’t stuck in place.

“And leave my new neighbors in their time of need?” He shook his head mockingly. “Charlie would never let me hear the end of it.”

You did your best to focus and finish quickly. “Got it back together, cher.” His grip on the chair didn’t ease up. He really is a terrible patient, you thought as you placed a gauze pad on the gash. You reached for a roll of bandages, only to find Lucifer holding it out to you.

Annoyed, you grabbed it with a quiet “merci.” Winding the bandage around Alastor to keep the pad in place, you could feel Lucifer’s gaze on your back. Your husband was getting more and more irritated as the king of Hell kept watching you.

Then, as you finished securing the bandage: “You’re gonna need a splint on that wing.” You blinked in confusion. Alastor was similarly surprised at Lucifer’s statement.

“Never had a wing injury before?” he prodded. You shook your head. “You’re one lucky gal.” He clapped his hands and a small pile of supplies appeared. “It’s got to be stabilized. And no attempts to fly until it’s fully healed if you want it back to normal.” He gestured for Alastor to get up, not caring at all that he was ordering the Radio Demon around. Of course he didn’t, he ruled over all of Hell. He outranked every Sinner, Overlord or not.

With permission, he examined your wing. “Alright deerboy, I’ll show you what to do so you can take care of your missus.” That did seem to calm Alastor down a bit and he begrudgingly let Lucifer demonstrate. Shortly, your wing was braced by thin rods and bandages. “Remember, no flying at all.”

You grumbled, only for Alastor to lean down (slowly, taking his wound into account) and say with exaggerated sweetness, “I’ll be patching you up, cher. And if I have to resplint your wing because you did something stupid, then I’m allowed to be angry, yes?”

Dammit, you thought to yourself. Aloud you said, “Fair enough,” with equal sarcastic sweetness.

Satisfied, Lucifer grabbed his apple topped cane with a twirl. “I’m making pancakes if you two want any.” He sauntered out, humming contentedly.

You sighed gustily. “Let’s get you a new shirt, darling.” As you helped Alastor button up the bright red shirt, he realized something.

“He said ‘new neighbors,’” he stated, the static disappearing from his voice. You both stopped dead, processing what that meant. Meeting each other’s eyes, there was only one thing to say, in unison again.

“Ffffuck!”

———————

Taglist: @whitewolfsoldat @edgyboi10000 @ch3sire-blu3 @clearly-awkward @badatpunz @bengewatch @chewbrry

#hazbin hotel #hazbin fanfic #hazbin alastor #hazbin lucifer #asexual alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #asexual reader #asexual #cw blood #cw injury #cw stitches #acespec #ace representation

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daisies-daydreams · 11 months

Note

omg okay so I just found out about your blog and I've been bingereading your fics, and I really want to make a request hehe 🤭. I was thinking of a ghost x fem!reader where the reader likes ghost and tells him but because of him being avoidant when it comes to romance and his fear of getting close to people, he rejects her. But when he eventually realises that he loves her, he notices that someone else is already making a move on her and gets jealous. I just really want to see a jealous ghost😭 and I like the whole idea of ghost having an avoidant attachment style, it seems realistic and fitting for him. But I would like to see him overcome his insecurities and fears when it comes to getting close to people. The poor guy deserves love🥺 Thank you so much!!💖💖

The First Step (Ghost x F!Reader)

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader Category: Fluff & Angst, Hurt/Comfort Warnings: Mentions of Blood, Jealous!Ghost, Descriptions of Physical/Emotional Abuse, Descriptions of PTSD/Trauma, Rejection, Cheating, Swearing Word Count: 3.9k+

Song Recs For This Fic: What You Know and On Melancholy Hill

A/N: Hello! Thank you very much for your request and for reading my work! I agree, Ghost does seem like the person who would have an avoidant attachment style. He definitely deserves to have someone to hold and cherish him. 🥺 I hope you enjoy!

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

The First Step (Ch. 2)

Ghost’s breathing stuttered as he clutched on the edge of the sink. A sharp sting radiated from his shoulder, stitches lining the curve of his muscular arm. A more dull ache rang through his chest as he swallowed thickly, avoiding his own gaze in the foggy mirror.

(1 Week Earlier)

Your brows were knitted together as you tilted your head. Your hands worked deftly to curve the last stitches through the lieutenant’s skin. His flesh still burning with pain from the knife wound he received during his most recent mission.

“How many stitches have I given you now?” you asked as you finished your work.

“Too fucking many,” Ghost grunted. The corners of your eyes crinkled as you released a soft chuckle. Ghost felt something faint stir in his chest at the sound of your laugh. You stepped back, eyeing him up and down.

“Alright, Lt. You’re good to go!” you chirped. Ghost gave a nod as he gazed over his wound. Impeccably stitched together, as always. He huffed as he slid off of the medical table. His eyes studied you carefully as you busied yourself with cleaning up. For some reason, he just felt stuck, as if his body refused to move forward. You finished washing your hands before you turned to him. You pulled down your mask, revealing a cheeky smile.

“Need something, Ghost?” you jested. Ghost blinked, snapping out of his daze.

“No. Thanks…doc,” he said as he clasped his hand over your shoulder. Your cheeks instantly flushed red at his contact. Ghost raised a brow as he slid his hand off of you. “Well, I’ll be seein’ you around,” the lieutenant nodded as he made his way towards the door. He froze when he felt you grab his hand. He shifted slightly, his dark eyes locking with yours. Your whole face was a deep shade of red.

“Doc?” he asked. You gasped and slipped your hand away.

“I-I’m sorry! I just-” you bit your bottom lip and shuffled in place. His chest grew tight as you stepped closer. “I…” you released a shaky breath as you fiddled with your hands. Ghost felt like his whole body was turning to lead.

“C’mon, (Y/N). You can tell me,” he said. You hesitantly met his gaze.

“I wanted to ask you…if you want to go out for drinks sometime this weekend?” you squeaked out. Ghost’s eyes widened slightly as time seemed to slow to a snail’s pace. A clash of hope and dread instantly filled his chest as his mind went completely blank. You swallowed a lump in your throat. “Y-You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just-”

“No,” he quickly spat out. Your lips drew into a tight, pale line.

“What?” you breathed, shoulders falling. Ghost’s hands shook as he balled them up into fists, his heart mercilessly pounding against his sternum.

“I said ‘no’. Trust me, you don’t want to make that mistake,” Ghost muttered. All of the color left your face as you stumbled back.

“But it’s not a mistake!” you suddenly shouted. Ghost tried to avoid your gaze as you trembled before him. “Sorry," you quickly apologized. "I just-I like you, Ghost, and I want to get to know you more outside of just sewing you up or making sure you're not bleeding to death," you explained while nodding towards the medical table. Ghost gritted his teeth as he felt his heart sink into the churning pit of his stomach. He flinched when you brought yourself mere inches from him.

“Please, just give me a chance...Simon,” your voice cracked.

His throat hitched at the sound of his name spilling from your lips. Ghost tried to hide how his chest was heaving as he quickly spun himself around.

“My answer is final,” said as he quickly strode towards the door. He heard you choke back a whimper as he approached the threshold. Ghost’s hand trembled ever so slightly as he pushed against the surface of the door. He was tempted to glance behind his shoulder, yet compelled himself to look forward.

The door soon swung closed with a deafening thud.

(Present)

Ghost’s knuckles were turning white as he clenched his jaw. He slowly drew his attention up to the mirror. All he could see was a man torn in two staring right back at him.

“Fuckin’ git-she was right there pourin’ her heart out to you and you just fuckin’ brushed her off,” he thought to himself. Ghost gritted his teeth as he pushed himself off the sink. He ran his hands through his dirty blonde hair before grabbing his mask. He stared down at the empty eyeholes.

“It’s fine. She’s a big girl-she can handle it,” he rationalized. His nostrils flared as he tugged the balaclava over his head. "She doesn't need me," Ghost told himself.

“You didn’t really mean those words you said, did you?” his internal voice rang. Ghost gritted his teeth. He shook his head as he walked over to his locker, throwing on a fresh pair of clothes.

“You actually feel-”

“Stop it,” he scolded himself as he harshly pulled his shirt over his damp upper body. He ignored the weary glances of other soldiers as he stomped out of the locker room, making his way towards his quarters. All he wanted to do was sleep off the nonsense that was stewing inside of him.

Whatever feelings he thought he had for you, it was nothing more than a fantasy. Something to help him feel at ease whenever he was overcome with boredom. That’s all you were to him: a distraction.

A distraction when he heard your warm laugh when he would tell his corny jokes. A distraction when he imagined holding you in his scarred, hefty arms in his bed. A distraction…wondering what your soft lips would taste like when he returned from a long, grueling mission.

His footsteps slowed before he eventually came to a halt. That warm, strange feeling writhed in his chest again. Ghost felt it spread and course through every inch of his being as thoughts of you flashed through his mind like a film in full-color. His breathing stuttered.

“You actually feel the same way about her,” the voice inside him echoed.

He collapsed his hand over the place where his mouth would be. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Ghost felt his eyes sting as tears glazed over them.

He loved you...he loved you.

Ghost let his hand fall from his face. He balled it into a tight fist as a renewed sense of boldness bloomed inside of him. He couldn’t just stand here dumbstruck with this realization. Ghost felt his heartbeat quicken as he rushed towards your office. This wasn’t the end of the line-he’d be sure to set things right.

A small smile graced his face as he rounded the corner. A slit of light shone through the crack of your door, and that’s when he heard it: another man’s voice reverberating from the room. Ghost’s blood ran cold as his movements slowed to a crawling pace. A flicker of your laughter spilled out of the room not long after the man’s. Ghost narrowed his eyes as he inched forward, his footsteps barely making a trace of noise. He peeked through the crack in the door.

He recognized the man-a newer recruit, Sergeant Johnson. He’s seen him before, and despite his usual friendly demeanor, something just felt off about him. Ghost’s jaw clicked as he watched the Sergeant hover near you.

“You’ve got a cute laugh,” Johnson drawled. Ghost felt a sudden feeling rip through his heart. It wasn’t anger…no-it ran deep like an open, festering wound. You tucked a strand of frizzy hair behind your ear, avoiding Johnson's gaze.

“T-Thank you,” you said sheepishly. The man wore a wide grin as he leaned his hand onto the wall, boxing you in. Your eyes widened.

“Are you free tonight?” the man lilted. Your blush rushed up to your ears as you held your hands together in front of you.

"P-Probably not. I'll most likely be busy with work," you stated. Ghost felt relief wash over him, only to feel the jealously flare up again as the Sergeant leaned in closer.

"Tell you what- why don't I get some dinner from the mess hall and bring it back here? That way you won't have to worry about leaving your office," he suggested with a smile. Ghost waited with bated breath for your answer.

"Okay," you finally replied. Ghost heard the sound of his heart cracking as Johnson leaned away from you.

"Great. I'll be back so don't go anywhere!" he said. You nodded and gave a small wave.

"Okay. See you soon," you grinned, though Ghost didn't miss the misty look in your eyes. Fuck...you were still hurting. Johnson strode towards the door, blinking when he met eyes with the lieutenant.

“Oh! You must be Ghost. Heard a lot of stories about you-good ones, don't worry," Johnson chuckled as he held his hand out. The lieutenant raised a brow before clutching the man's hand. Johnson winced slightly. "Oof, got quite a grip there," he laughed nervously.

"So I've heard," Ghost rumbled. Johnson awkwardly looked around the hallway before giving a firm nod.

"Sorry for keeping you from the Doc. I'll get out of your hair," Johnson stated as he brushed past him. Ghost grunted as he followed the man with his eyes until he disappeared around the corner. He turned back to see you standing stiff as a board against the wall. Ghost cautiously stepped towards you as if approaching an untamed animal. He paused a few feet away from you.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," you replied. Both of you avoided each other's gazes. The silence only seemed to emphasize the tension growing between the two of you. Ghost cleared his throat.

"Listen, Doc-(Y/N)," he quickly corrected himself. You rubbed your arms as you poked at the inside of your cheek with your tongue. Ghost sighed as he nervously cracked his fingers. "I just...I'm sorry for being such an arse last week," he grunted. You remained quiet, the only sound being the humming from the fan in the corner of the room. "It wasn't fair to you, and-"

"It's fine," you curtly replied. Ghost closed his mouth, his skin crawling with goosebumps. He's never heard that kind of tone come from you, the kind that cuts deep into someone like a knife.

"But-you see, I-"

"No, I see perfectly well, Ghost," your voice cracked with bitterness. Your eyes were glossy as your mouth was curved into a deep, sullen frown. Ghost felt his heart turn to stone as you stepped forward.

"(Y/N), please listen to me. I came in here because-" he suddenly choked on his own words. You released a shaky sigh as you gave him a dejected look.

"Because of what, Ghost?" you asked. He screamed at himself as tears began to pour down your red cheeks. Ghost suddenly felt a wave of dizziness crash over him, a cacophony of his own internal monologue mixing with the fragmented voices from his past piercing through his mind. The walls around him felt like they were growing closer with the intent to crush him. Everything felt like it was going too fast for his own mind to catch up.

"I..." his gruff voice trailed off. You sighed as you clutched your hair, your eyes puffy and red.

"Please, don't do this to me again," you murmured beneath your breath. Ghost's throat tightened even more.

"Just tell her! She's right there!" the internal voice screamed at him. He unclenched his fists.

"I just came to tell you that you...shouldn't go out with Johnson," he spat out. Your face shifted from a look of anguish to confusion.

"You should be with me instead," he said internally. But the words remained lodged in his throat.

"I've seen him around the base. He doesn't seem-" The sound of thudding footsteps cut him off. Johnson stood in the doorway, a bag of takeout in his hands. He frowned when he saw you wipe tears from your cheeks.

"Everything okay?" he asked as he rushed to your side. You nodded, tearing your eyes away from Ghost.

"Fine," you huffed. Johnson stared between the two of you.

"I just got some pizza-I hope that's okay," he beamed. Ghost felt like he was already being shoved out of the room. You glanced over at him one more time before looking back to the Sergeant.

"Pizza's great," you smiled as you accepted the food. Ghost slowly stepped out of the room, the tendrils of jealously encroaching into his heart. His body felt cold as he walked down the hall, a bitter taste coating his tongue.

"It's just one little dinner," Ghost told himself. But no matter how hard he tried to rationalize the situation, he couldn't stop the poison from leaking from his heart and through his entire being.

+++

A whole month has passed, and you were still dating Sergeant Johnson. Ghost told himself that it didn't bother him at first, that the whole "love realization" was just wishful thinking. But the more he saw the two of you and Johnson together, the worse the jealously inside of him festered. It corroded his heart each time he heard you laugh at his jokes, saw you holding his hand.

He was talking with Soap and Gaz in the mess hall one evening. His dark eyes followed you as you walked into the room and leaned down to Johnson's ear. He couldn't see your face, but he could tell you were whispering something to the Sergeant. He watched with clenched fists as both of you left the mess hall in a hurrty. Something inside Ghost snapped into a thousand pieces, his veins bulging in his temples.

Ghost immediately rose from his seat, ignoring Soap's barrage of questions as he trailed not too far behind you. Other soldiers looked at him like he was a bat out of hell as he stormed towards your office. His nostrils flared as he grabbed the doorknob, only to hear a harsh wail crack through the air. Ghost hesitantly shuffled at the door before cracking it open ever so slightly. Johnson stood in front of you with his arms held up as if in surrender.

"Babe, please! I can explain," Johnson said. You scoffed.

"I saw your tongue down her throat, Logan!" you shrieked. Your voice dripped with anger as you growled. Johnson huffed as he straightened his posture.

"It's not my fault you've refused to sleep with me this whole time," he spat. Ghost heard you gasp quietly as he opened the door slowly. He held his finger up to his lips and you swallowed, shifting your gaze back to the man before you. "You're a prude little bitch, you know that? Maybe if you had done what I asked of you, I wouldn't be running off to see other girls," Johnson hissed as he raised his hand. Ghost instantly launched himself forward, grabbing the Sergeant's meaty wrist.

"What the fuck-" Johnson was cut off when Ghost quickly grabbed the man by his shirt and threw him against the wall.

You yelled as you slid behind your chair, your hands clutching onto it as if it were your shield. Ghost felt satisfied with the way the Sergeant's head snapped against the hard surface of the wall, nearly putting a dent in it.

"Don't you ever treat to her that way, you fuckin' git," Ghost snarled as he shook him by his collar. Johnson's eyes popped out as he shivered in his tight grasp. You muttered a few incomprehensible words as you peeked around. Ghost's heart was pumping as the veins in his hands threatened to pop. He lowered Johnson enough so he'd remain face to face with him.

"Here's what's going to happen: because I witnessed you abusing (Y/N) and threatened to strike her, I'm going to write a very, very detailed report," he explained with a cold tone. Johnson swallowed a lump in his throat, his legs still dangling above the ground. "You’ll most likely to go to jail, Sergeant. When you do, I can guarantee that whatever happens to you there will be downright merciful compared to what I have in mind," he rumbled lowly as he curled his fist. The Sergeant's lips quivered as he shook his head vigorously.

"I-It won't happen again, I promise," Johnson wheezed. Ghost scoffed as he dropped him onto the cold, linoleum floor. The man scrambled up to his feet, his legs knocking together as Ghost pinned him against the wall, pressing his tattooed forearm against the Sergeant's throat and his legs against his.

"You should be glad I'm just a Lieutenant. Price is the one who makes the final calls around here," Ghost said as he subtly grabbed at his phone in his back pocket. He shook at it gently, hoping you'd get the message. You paused for a moment before slipping beneath your desk. He narrowed his eyes as he loosened his grip on Johnson.

“Y-yes sir! I understand completely. I-I'm sorry, really, I didn’t-”

"I'm not the one you need to apologize to, you fuckin' twat," Ghost scoffed. He looked over towards you. You whispered a few more things into your phone before pressing a button. You glanced up and nodded at him, your face still pale and wet with tears. "Apologize to her," Ghost said gruffly. Johnson's mouth snapped open in protest. "That's an order, Sergeant!" Ghost snapped. Johnson huffed before slowly turning towards you. Large streaks of tears fell down your face as he straightened himself.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)," he said with a lowered head. Ghost strode up and placed a hand onto Johnson's shoulder.

"Go on," Ghost commanded with a tight squeeze. Johnson licked his dry lips.

"I'm sorry...that you don't know how to attend to a man's needs," he snarled maliciously. Your eyes widened as you gasped. Ghost sneered as he grabbed the man by his short hair, readying to slam it against your desk.

"Simon don't!" you cried with outstretched arms. Ghost froze, his eyes falling on your weary face. Johnson laughed bitterly.

"Simon? What, were you cheating, too?" the man derided. Ghost's fists shook as he threw the man across your desk with a loud thud. You gasped and shuffled back before Ghost tossed the man onto the floor, his body crumpling like a ragdoll's. Johnson groaned as he rubbed a sore spot on his chin. He scowled as he wound up a fist to strike.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Price's voice boomed. All of you froze as he stood in the doorway, his arms crossed and eyes lit with pure rage. He shifted back as a few military police officers filed into the room. Ghost made his way towards you as they surrounded the Sergeant. You were still hidden beneath your desk, your body curled into itself.

"(Y/N)," he called softly. You peeked up at him, your eyes red and puffy. He knelt down on one knee and slowly held his hand out. "It's alright. You're safe now," Ghost whispered. You cautiously took his hand as he guided you to your feet. The cuffs clicked across Johnson's wrists as one of the officer's kept their hand on his neck.

"You can't do this to me! Do you know how hard I've worked to get here?!" he shouted as he was being roughly escorted out of the room.

Price had no words to offer, only a cold gaze that could make any person shiver. Johnson's face turned red as he protested wildly before one of the officers told him to shut it. A sense of relief washed over the room as he was finally dragged out. The Captain shook his head before setting his attention on the two of you. Price's brows furrowed when he saw a red mark on your wrist. Ghost felt the anger inside him reach a boiling point when he saw it, too.

"I'm going to fuckin' kill him," he snarled.

"Easy, Ghost," Price said. Ghost grunted as he swallowed down his rage. The Captain turned to you, reaching his hands out. "I know a lot has just happened, but we need to get as much as we can while the memories are still new. I promise you, (Y/N), that fucker's going to pay for what he did," Price stated with a nod. You sniffed before releasing a heart-wrenching wail.

You sobbed as you wrapped your arms around your shivering body. Ghost and Price exchanged weary glances as you shrank into yourself.

"Stupid git," Ghost heard his father's acerbic voice echo inside his head. His own wrist stung slightly as he remembered every terrible instance involving that wretched man. That quote about time healing all wounds never resonated with Ghost-the wounds still cut deep and ran with blood. Ghost blinked as your aching sobs drew him back to the present.

"I-I was so stupid," you shook. Ghost tilted his head as you rested your head on his chest and winced. "I should've known. I just-I shouldn't have-" you broke down, your forehead falling onto Ghost's broad chest as you and clutched his black t-shirt. He looked over to Price. The Captain gave a small nod.

"Just make sure to come to my office when you feel ready," the Captain said as he made his way towards the door. Ghost nodded as Price left the room.

You continued to stain his shirt with hot tears, your chest heaving as you trembled. Ghost felt unsure of what to do in this moment, his hands twitching at your sides as you wept. Suddenly, a faint memory popped up. Ghost leaned his face forward, his covered lips nearly brushing against your ear.

"Can I...Can I hold you, love?" he asked. Your head snapped up as your mouth flew open. You wore a look of shock on your face, your chin trembling. Ghost studied you carefully as he released an uneasy sigh. "Well, y’see, my mum-she would, she would hold me...when…” his voice trailed off as a hard lump formed in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut as if to shield himself-both from the memories that pierced his mind and the act of confessing such a vulnerable thing.

His eyes snapped open when he felt you softly wrap your arms around him. You released a shaky breath as you squeezed him tightly, pressing your body against his. Ghost's hands slowly came up, his bulky arms curling around your smaller form. You were so warm-your skin soft and glowing like sunlight on a spring day. Ghost gently rested his chin on your shoulder, inhaling the scent of your shampoo.

His breath hitched when you splayed your hand across his rugged upper arms. Ghost let his own hands fall across your lower back, his chest purring ever so slightly. He felt you relax in his grasp as the two of you continued to hold each other.

Eventually, you started to withdraw yourself from his embrace. He slowly blinked his eyes open, his vision blurred with tears. You gave him a warm, tired smile as you wiped your eyes and sniffed.

"Thank you, Ghost," you sighed. Ghost took in a deep breath as hot tears rolled down his face from beneath his balaclava. He looked down and slid his hand close to yours. You gazed up at him with parted lips before taking it into your gentle grasp. He smiled down at you as he pressed his thumb to the back of your palm.

“Please...call me Simon”.

____

Thank you for reading! ❤️

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