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anonymouslosersworld · 3 months

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continuing the bloodline

Prompt; Mc is the last of Solomon's bloodline wouldn't a half-demon baby be cute especially if it was with a certain king. (Mc's Depravity just wants to see a specific view after all they offered once.)

Summary: Mc just wants to breed and knock up some very pretty demons.

Genre: smut (m)

Fandom: what in hell is bad

Characters; 2 out 4 Kings of hell Satan and Mammon

Warnings : Dom Mc, creampies, overstimulation, voyeurism, sub! character, m-preg just normal mc horny stuff.

Intro: Satan/Sitri/Ppyong, once told Mc that demons can't have kids on their own, for demons to have kids they would have to go to Lilith and ask for her help due to complications. But many demons just go to Earth and fuck humans because it's more compatible/easier. (this is in-game when they talk about Lilith and her role in demon society a little.)

So Mc, the last of her line looks into this topic (for research purposes, obviously) and finds out it's the demon that gets knocked up no matter the gender. Now Mc can't get the image of their favorite demon knocked up. (Not canon info)

Satan (666 words)

He understands he offered it when he got affected by the angel's blood, but he didn't think you would take him up on it. But ever since he presented the idea, you kind of took it with you. You didn't take the suggestion right away, but you had a certain look about you every time you saw Satan. You basically eye-fucked him almost all the time, but your eyes would linger around his stomach.

At first, he thought you were just fantasizing about his dick or basically just salivating over his abs. But then the touching started, and he could only describe it as oddly comforting but a little confused.

Before, during, and after you guys fucked, you would just rub his kiss marked-stomach. He was constantly asked if he had any cravings or would be inspected to see if his nips were swollen. It wasn't until the angel attacks calmed down and things were finally settling down that your actions were doubled. You were just taking him everywhere. You would pull him away from events with nobles just to do him in a separate room, shoving your tongue down his throat when he spoke to Sitri, making him cum from playing with horns and groping his cock whenever you felt like it. You were insatiable, and Satan began to put things together...eventually.

His horns were like a faucet, leaking all over his body. His hands are tied up with a makeshift tie on his headboard using his own shirt. His pink overall was shoved off of him.

His face was hot. His brain was foggy, and his eyes rolled back.

"so pretty~" He finally hears for a long while.

Your tongue takes a good, long lick of the cream that fell on his nipple from his horns. Satan's body shakes as he breathes heavily through his nose. Your body leaned over his as you continued to lick the devil's essence off his chest; after all, you need it to live.

Satan looks at you, dazed, as you sit back on his cock. He watches as you cheekily smile at him when you finally finish swallowing all of his cum.

"I'm going to make you a daddy, Satan~" You leaned back down to whisper into his ear.

"f-fuck!" The warmth wrapped around his cock was beginning to be too much, but your words made his cock burst. His thighs spread a little more. His cock practically throbbed while in you.

"You like that, baby?" You tease him as your hand presses on his stomach.

"You want a baby right here?" Satan lets out a shakey breath. '' You are the only one that I want to give my baby to." Your hands gripped the base of his horns yet again, and Satan's back arched.

Oh~" he could practically hear your smirk. "I didn't think they would get more sensitive."

Satan's head feels like it's going to explode. His mind is going a mile a minute as he keeps thinking of having a baby with you. Him being full and having a baby in him. His cock is deep inside you; he can feel your insides pulse around him. Satan feels your hips rocking, taking his cock back in and making his head dizzy. Was this why you kept fucking him over and over again? Was this why you kept his cock inside you long after you both came?

You were trying to make him pregnant.

"You'd look so beautiful with you full of me."

He whimpered in response. The tip of his cock had swollen up since you had basically promised him a baby.

He thought of his stomach swelling with your love.

a baby

"F~uugh!" Your lips bit into his neck. Your teeth are breaking his skin, and your tongue is soothing and lapping up after.

"I can't hear you, baby." Your lips moved from his neck to his ear. You take the liberty to nip the tip of his ear. "Go on, keep going."

"F-fuck a baby into me."

Mammon

You took one look at his massive tits and ass. He walks around hell in all kingdoms, claiming you are his master and claiming to be yours. Why wouldn't you think to breed the shit out of his fine ass?

He practically encourages you to be as greedy as possible and lets you touch him ALL over whenever. Something about this man makes you absolutely feral.

Maybe it's the off-the-shoulder, free-the-titties look that really did it for you. But for some reason, you loved seeing and feeling his gold-fingered claws dig into your skin or whatever was in his reach whenever the pleasure overwhelmed him.

The man's tits alone make you salivate at the mere sight, but when you mark them up with HICKIES, bites, scratches, and lick marks,.

It became the norm for Mammon to walk around Tartaros with all types of evidence on him. Mammon would walk with a spring in his step and a beam of pride whenever he even caught a reflection of the physical marks you left him in someone's eyeballs. All because you were staking your claim over him.

"I want everything," you repeated his favorite phrase to him. Both of your hands squeezed Mammon's tits as you had him underneath you. His body shivered, and his nips were swollen from you sucking them. You had taken orgasm after orgasm from him. His body was sensitive, and the remnants of chocolate on his abs clung to him. Your expert tongue had basically fucked his tits and stomach.

"It's all yours, master." The nail marks on your back stung, but you smiled at him as you took one of his fingers to your mouth. Your eyes reflected possessiveness, but your whole aura was bathed in lust. You would give Asmoudues a run for his money.

"I want all of you, Mammon." He whimpered as he felt you move against him again while the vibrator worked deeper inside him. Your ass looked amazing as you rode him. He loved the view of your ass as you rode him. You more than welcomed him to grope your ass as you gripped his thighs, leaving marks. He could feel your cum deep inside him from previous rounds.

"I-iingh, all yours; take everything. All that I am is yours."

"Have my treasure, Mammon." Your voice got a little deeper. " Let me fuck it into you. No one will have this treasure but you."

He can mostly see the back of your head but he could see a hint of a blush. He grounded his hips harder into you at the thought of you breeding him. He was already fucked out, but he couldn't help but want more. All the cum you shot him was safely kept inside him with a deep-tissue vibrator you had received as a gift from Beelzebub. The ultimate way of staking your claim over him

"y-yes, fuck yes!" he moaned loudly as he came " m-master, more" His face was red from blushing as he repeated what he said to you.

''let's make your wish a reality."

#what in hell is bad x reader #what in hell is bad #what in hell is bad smut #sub whb satan #sub whb #whb mammon #whb satan #whb #whb mc #dom reader

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somekindofpoet · 1 year

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Skin Deep IV

Summary: Our favorite psychopaths are back with a plan to get the Sheriff off their tails

Word Count: 4K

Warnings: +18 NSFW, GF!Reader, GF!Tara, violence, smut.

A/N: I forgot how fun it is to write unhinged Tara. Enjoy you gremlins! Also, sorry if my proof reading sucks on this one, I have a date to get ready for tonight!

Part I Part II Part III Part V

Tara is in handcuffs. She’s snarling at the officer with his hands on her shoulders, spitting mad, and struggling with the intensity of a 200 pound linebacker. You can’t move. Your feet are too heavy, your tongue is glued to the roof of your mouth, and your arms are locked at your side.

Your heart begins to race. Your robe rustles in the wind, the mask over your face makes it hard to breathe. You squeeze the handle of the knife in your hand. They can’t see you. You’re standing in the middle of the road. You feel the ground beneath you cracking, opening up around you. You lock eyes with Tara. She can see you.

You shoot up in your bed, gasping for air, soaked in sweat. The sheets and your pillow are cold, damp. Your heart pounds in your chest as your shaking hands run over your face. This is the third night in a row you’ve had this dream.

You take a deep, unsteady breath and roll out of bed. You peel off your wet clothes and pull on a fresh tank top, and sweats. Your hands are beginning to slow their trembling as you tie your shoelaces. The clock on your nightstand reads 1:37 AM.

The house is so quiet it makes your ears ring, making tiptoeing through the hall and down the stairs monumentally difficult. When you slip out the front door, the night air is cool, damp from a rainstorm in the early hours. Your car rumbles to a start, and you freeze, eyeing the second-floor window where your parents are sleeping. The light doesn’t come on, so you put it in drive and let it roll down the driveway, waiting to hit the gas until you’ve slowly rolled down the street.

Tara’s bedroom light is on when you park on the street in front of her house. You sit in the car for a minute, wondering if she’s awake or if she fell asleep with the light on. Her driveway is empty, so you know she’s home alone. You climb out of the car and crane your neck up to look in her window again, and you can see her shadow cross behind the curtains. What she’s doing up is a mystery to you, but you’re glad she is. You want to seek comfort in her. She’s always so sure about everything, so confident in her decisions. It’s just the kind of influence you need after three straight nights of nightmares.

Her front door is unlocked. You let yourself in and turn the lock behind you. She may not worry about someone stumbling in, but you are constantly vigilant. You step out of your shoes and creep up the stairs, avoiding the one you know creaks. The carpet makes it easier than your house to sneak down the hall and peek into her cracked door.

Quiet music is playing from a record player in the corner. Tara is cross-legged on the bed, bobbing her head, a sketchbook in her lap, and a pile of colored pencils splayed out around her. Seeing her like this makes you feel better already. Right now, she’s not a serial killer, a psychopath, or a monster. She’s just Tara Carpenter.

You take stock of how the thought makes you feel. It’s like champagne in your veins, warm and cool at the same time, fizzing in your belly. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you might actually be in love with her.

The idea makes the champagne feeling explode, and you’re not sure you like it.

You push the door open and step into the room, waiting for her to jump or bare her teeth in surprise. Instead, she smiles down at her book, not looking up at you, and continues her drawing.

“Hello, y/n.”

You falter, frowning in defeat, “You heard me coming?”

She shrugs and finally looks up at you, pieces of her hair falling into her face.

“Bad dreams?”

“How did you-“

“I’ve been having them too. Well, I assume they’re similar dreams,” she pauses to scratch the tip of her nose with the back of the colored pencil, “come sit and tell me your woes.”

You trudge over and flop on your back next to her, sending the pencils bouncing around the blankets. She swats your leg with the one in her hand, the wood cracking across your thigh with a sting that makes you hiss.

“What’s that for?!” You whine, sitting up to rub your leg.

“If you lose one of my pencils, I will stab you with one,” she tells you, pointing the red pencil between your eyes.

You open your mouth to argue, but she narrows her eyes, and you think better of it, snapping your jaw shut. She smiles, nods once, and turns back to her book. You sigh, gather the pencils around you, and delicately set them between your knees before laying back on her pillow.

“I keep dreaming about you getting arrested.”

She tilts her head, turning one ear toward you. It’s her way of telling you she’s listening without actually facing you.

“I’m always standing in the street, watching it happen, and I can’t do anything about it. It’s like I’m a ghost that only you can see.”

She places her pencil in the spine of her notebook and closes it, setting it aside to turn toward you. Her hand rests over the exact spot she’d hit you, the warmth radiating from her seeping through your sweats.

“Hm. Do you feel relieved? In your dream?” She asks, her eyes soft.

You shake your head no, “I feel angry. Helpless.”

Her lips quirk up at the sides, she seems pleased with your answer. Her hand runs up your leg a few inches.

“I keep seeing us walk out my front door. There are spotlights on us and news crews. Everyone is screaming and wants our autographs. It’s disgusting.” Her face contorts, emphasizing the distaste she has for the idea.

You snort, the image so clear in your head it’s comical. It makes her smile down at you. She scoots up the bed and lays her head on your shoulder, her hand resting on your stomach.

“I would rather die than be in handcuffs, y/n. In fact, if we ever do get caught, I will make sure they kill me.”

“What about me?”

“They’ll kill you too. Or I will.”

You hum in thought, your fingers trailing down her arm. It’s not a terrible idea. A cyanide pill between the teeth of your lover. You find it all very romantic.

“You couldn’t kill me,” you murmur into her hair.

She stiffens, then rolls on top of you with another pencil in her hand. She sits up on your hips, leaving the sharpened edge pressing into the hollow of your throat. You grin like the Cheshire Cat, and she frowns down at you.

“Why are you smiling like that? You look like an idiot.”

“Well, I’ve got you where I want you don’t I?” You say, glancing down at her hips, your hands over her thighs.

Her glare pulls into an unwilling smile. She tries to fight it, but you can see every detail on her face; you have her memorized by now. She makes a show of grinding into you, gasping lightly, and dropping down to leave a soft kiss on your lips.

You’re sure you’re getting lucky until she rolls off of you and begins collecting her pencils. You jut your bottom lip out in a pout and sit up on your elbows, watching her gather her art supplies and leave them on her desk. She glances over and waves you off, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

“Don’t pout, I’m on my period.”

“So?”

She purses her lips and levels you with an impatient glare, “So, I’m tired and don’t feel like cleaning up a mess. Take your pants off, though, I hate it when you sleep in sweats.”

You huff but do as you’re told, stripping down to your boxers and pulling back her sheets. You’re already over it by the time she crawls into bed next to you, tucking herself into your chest. She falls asleep almost instantly, and before you realize it, your breathing evens out, and for a few blessed hours, your sleep is dreamless.

——

You wake to an empty bed. The pale pink pillow beside you is cold, the sheets pulled back. You roll onto your back, listening for signs of life.

A quiet, distant shuffling catches your attention and the smell of coffee. You close your eyes and stretch with a smile. She’s making you breakfast.

You forgo your sweats and pad down the hall in your underwear, eager to gulp down a mug of coffee and convince Tara to shower with you after. You freeze in your tracks at the top of the stairs when the doorbell rings. Curious, you wait, ears pricked as Tara answers the door.

When it opens, you hear the chatter of a radio, and you can feel the tension in Tara’s voice when she says, “Good morning, Sheriff. What brings you by?”

You can hear the smile plastered to her lips, can practically see her bubbly persona washing over the Sheriff. You decide to linger out of sight until you know why she’s there.

“Tara,” Sheriff Hicks replies, her voice is thick with grief. It has been since Wes was murdered. Since you killed him. “Are you home alone?”

“My girlfriend is upstairs,” Tara chirps, loud enough for you to hear clearly.

“Ah, that’s actually who I want to talk to you about. Do you have a moment?”

“Oh, actually Sheriff, I-“

You choose this moment to noisily make your way downstairs, stretching and yawning, interrupting their conversation. You scratch your head as you reach the landing and shoot the Sheriff a lopsided smile.

“Morning Sheriff,” you wrap your arms around Tara’s waist and rest your chin on the top of her head, “you want some coffee?”

She watches you wrap yourself around Tara with visible disdain. Though you’d never actually been in trouble with the law, there was an unspoken agreement you would be eventually. She and the previous Sheriff had always made it clear they were wary of you. It had never been a problem before, but now, with your guilt and your nightmares, seeing her at Tara’s doorstep fills you with dread.

She shakes her head and steps back out the door, pulling her notepad from her hip pocket.

“No coffee, thank you. But if you don’t mind, where were you the night Mikayla was killed?”

You frown, release Tara and step in front of her, “Ma’am, I already spoke to your deputies about this.”

She squints, nods, “I just want to double-check.”

You can feel Tara’s fingers on your wrist, lightly brushing your skin. She wants you to stay cool, not lose your temper. It works, to your shock.

“I was at a party. My friends can confirm that. Then I went home, where my parents saw me.”

Sheriff Hicks clicks her pen and nods slowly, eyeing her notes, “It’s difficult to corroborate your alibi, seeing as one of your friends was also killed.”

You clench your jaw, your irritation rising, “Don’t bother with tact, Sheriff. I just lost a close friend. No big deal.”

Tara slips herself under your arm, wraps her arm around your waist. Reminding you to breathe.

The way the Sheriff is staring at you feels like a Western standoff. She wants to pin you for this; it’s apparent. She gulps, blinks away tears that spring up in her eyes.

“I lost my son. So you’ll have to forgive me if I’m a little overzealous in finding the person responsible.”

Tara reaches her hand out to rest lightly on the Sheriff’s forearm, her eyes brimming with tears, “He was my friend, Judy. I want justice for him too.”

Sheriff Hicks swallows hard and softens. She sighs, drops her notepad back into her pocket with the pen. She squeezes the bridge of her nose and nods again.

“Thank you for your time. Please don’t hesitate to contact me with any information, okay?”

You both nod solemnly and watch her walk back to her patrol car. The simmering in your veins makes it hard to stay still, even with Tara under your arm.

She closes the door and pulls you into the kitchen, where you slump onto a stool at the island. A cup of coffee is slid under your nose, and a kiss is pressed to your cheek, and you feel lighter.

“We have to kill her,” you growl over your coffee mug, but it comes out like more of a whine.

Tara leans on the island and smirks, “We will, baby, just not yet.”

“Who’s next?”

“I believe it’s your turn to choose.”

“Chad.”

“No.”

You scoff, lean back on the stool, “You said it’s my turn!”

The smile she gives you feels like one reserved for a child, “First, no. Because he would break your neck. And two, I actually enjoy his company.”

You grit your teeth, “That’s why I want to kill him.”

She chuckles and leaves the island to finish cooking breakfast. Your eyes track her every move, the sway of her hips, how she stands on her tiptoes at the stove, the delicate flick of her wrist when she flips a pancake.

“If you killed everyone who flirted with me, you’d have an impossibly long list.” She says over her shoulder.

You shrug, pouting into your coffee mug, and mumble, “Sounds like a win in my book.”

“No, we need someone unrelated. Lead the Sheriff off our trail,” she turns and points at you with the spatula, “Actually, we should find someone to pin this all on. Send the police sniffing after them instead.”

You raise an eyebrow at her, your bad mood dissipating as quickly as it formed, “You’re diabolical, Tara Carpenter.”

She grins, “I have an idea, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

——

Tara is right; you hate her plan. For some reason, giving credit for your hard work to some stranger irritates you to no end. Obviously, you don’t want to rot in prison or see Tara die to avoid it. But finding some loser on Reddit to pass the blame (credit) over to feels like letting the lazy football star cheat off your test while you fail.

“This dude is a fucking dweeb Tara. He’s all talk.”

You’re standing behind her at the computer, looking at a photo of Tara’s sister and her boyfriend. She pulls up his Reddit profile and scrolls through his posts on the Stab thread.

“He doesn’t need to be a killer baby. He just needs to sound like one. And this guy is unhinged.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“He’s perfect.”

——

Holding the Bowie knife without the Ghostface robe and mask feels foreign. It feels heavier, more consequential. Knowing you’re going to sink the blade into your girlfriend makes it feel like a double-edged sword in your hands.

Tara’s bedroom feels too small, the air too thick. You drop the knife on her bed and shake your head.

“What if we just say they broke in and we got away? I don’t get why we have to do this,” you groan and sit on the edge of the bed.

Tara’s nostrils flare in irritation, the glint in her eye telling you she’s losing patience with you.

“I told you already, no one would believe we didn’t even get a scratch if Ghostface attacked us.”

She pushes your knees apart and rests her hands on your shoulders, her eyes steely and cold. Seeing her in this state, the cool calculated certainty on her face makes your stomach flip. It always reminds you of the night at Mikayla’s, dangerous and erotic.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you grumble, not meeting her eyes.

She wraps her fingers around your throat and squeezes, dipping her head down, “I can make you want to hurt me.”

You look up at her in defiance, your jaw clenched. She’s right, in a way. But stabbing her is not the kind of hurt you want to inflict on her. Her grip around your throat tightens, making your breath whistle through your nose. She smirks, and you decide stabbing her can wait.

You stand and scoop her up, her legs wrapping around your waist and her hands leaving your throat to loop around the back of your neck. You’re playing into her hand, you’re aware of it, but you don’t care. Plus, you have a surprise for her today.

You drop her on her bed and are satisfied at her surprise. She frowns up at you as you leave her, heading for the backpack you left in the kitchen. She follows you wordlessly, curious about your intent. You glance back and note the knife hanging loosely in her fingers. She leaves it on the counter when you unzip your bag and stands on her toes, trying to see what you’re doing.

You don’t miss the excitement that flashes through her when you pull the harness out, the dildo already strapped to it. You let it hang off your finger, dangle it in front of her.

Her eyebrow raises, a dangerous smirk on her lips, “And just what do you think you’re going to do with that?”

You tilt your head, “Don’t you want to find out?”

Her eyes grow dark, and she steps toward you. She takes the strap from you and sets it next to the knife, pulls you into her roughly. You smile down at her, appreciating the way her lips part as her tongue wets them. She pulls you down and kisses you, frantic and excited, her teeth nipping at your lip, her tongue quickly chasing them. From an outside perspective, it probably looks more like a fight than what it actually is.

Your clothes are gone in a hurry, dishes left on the counter clattering to the floor in your haste. When she shoves you shirtless into the living room, you knock over a lamp, and she drags you down onto the rug, the strap-on tossed at your side. Your pants and underwear are ripped from your legs, hers following after. Furniture and decor have become casualties in the midst of the power struggle, which suits your case. By the time you’re done here, it really will appear as if someone broke in. Especially if Tara keeps it up.

She thinks she’s in control when the harness is around your waist. You cinch it tight and allow her to take the lead.

“I want you right now. Hurry up,” she growls, her eyes wild.

You slow your fingers, hold her gaze. Her chest rises and falls quickly, her breathing erratic. When she tries to pull you in, you shake your head no, and hold out an arm to stop her. She seethes, her impatience rolling off her like heat waves.

“On your knees,” you tell her, your voice level and calm.

An internal struggle begins, her eyes searching your face for an answer to a question she’s unsure of. Does she trust you enough?

You wait, unmoving, until she complies. When she does, the pure satisfaction that envelops you is inebriating. You pull her back into your hips, and she gasps as the dildo presses into her leg.

“How are you going to explain rug burn, y/n,” she says, watching you over her shoulder, “Did I grovel and beg Ghostface not to kill me?”

You can’t help the fury that washes over you at the thought of her on her knees for someone else. You push the tip inside her, reveling in her barely contained groan. Slowly, you sink all the way into her, reach for her throat, and pull her up into your chest. You bite her shoulder, squeezing her throat.

“I’ll tell the Sheriff I fucked you on your knees, and that you begged me not to stop.”

With that, you release her throat and push her down to her elbows, your hands sliding down her back until they reach her hips and grip hard enough to leave bruises. You pull back and push into her, the uninhibited moans that leave her throat sending a chill down your spine. Every thrust of your hips sends her rocking forward, her elbows and knees reddening as the carpet rubs her skin raw.

She pushes up onto her hands after a few minutes, and you lean over to kiss the skin between her shoulder blades. You only half feel bad for the rug burn; the other half of you eats it up. The wet sound of skin on skin fills the room, mingling with her voice as she cries out your name. It’s gratifying, having her like this. Out of control and whining, pushing back into you, her hands shifting across the carpet. You don’t stop until she’s trembling, her arms shaking under her weight. You slow your hips, gently coax her down and pull out of her.

She shivers and tucks her leg to roll onto her back, pulling you down to meet her. Her hand slides between your bodies and lines the dildo back up, slipping it in as you drop your weight down on her. You kiss her slowly, building your rhythm back up slowly.

Her hands pull you down by your hips, and you smile into her mouth. She turns her head, encouraging you to dive into her neck, and you oblige her.

“You know how I feel about teasing,” she sighs, her lips brushing your ear.

The idea to string her along is there, but you know deep down hearing her cum is better than teasing her.

“You’re a brat,” you whisper in her ear and push yourself onto your hands to give yourself room to pick up your pace.

She grins at you, even has the gall to wink, “Fuck it out of me then.”

And you do. You fully realize it defeats the purpose of you give her what she wants, but who wouldn’t? You can’t deny her, and she knows it. So you fuck her until her body tremors, her eyes roll back, and her nails rake down your back. You kiss her chin when you pull out of her and admire the shiver that starts in her shoulders and ends in her toes. Sitting back between her legs, you unbuckle the harness and slide it off, tossing it to the side.

She sits up and crawls into your lap, straddling your thighs.

“Are you ready for the fun part?”

“Don’t pull a Billy and actually kill me,” you say, tucking her hair behind her ear.

She shakes her head, her eyes softening, “You were right. I couldn’t kill you.”

——

The police show up twenty minutes after Tara calls them, screaming and crying. Her sweater is coated in blood, most of it her own, some of it yours. Getting stabbed fucking sucked. Bleeding out wasn’t as bad.

You slip in and out of consciousness when the paramedics arrive, fussing over the wounds on your side. Tara refuses to leave you, leaning over you as they try to patch both of you up. You hear snippets of the frantic conversation with the Sheriff, who had done this, how big were they, what did they smell like. Tara asks her to call Sam and tell her to return to Woodsboro. The plan the two of you have orchestrated working out perfectly.

When you’re loaded into the back of the ambulance, Tara is at your side.

“Your parents are going to meet us at the hospital. You’re okay, we’re okay.”

Once again, you marvel at how amazing of an actress she is. You think maybe it’s her calling. You try to tell her, but your eyes are rolling shut, and the drugs they’re pumping into your veins are dragging you under. The last thing you see is her wicked smile and a wink as her lips press into your forehead.

#skin deep #tara carpenter x fem!reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x reader

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theemptyartdeco · 8 months

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Twin Tides (Nate Jacobs)

Chapter 1: Carnival | Nate Pov

Warning; toxic fucked up Nate (his pov is fucked up)

"Yo are you at this Ferris wheel or that Ferris wheel?"

"I know I'm on my way. How the fuck am I supposed to know there are two Ferris wheels?"

Nate paced through the crowd, Maddy's complaints combined with the overwhelming carnival music raged the familiar storm of anger in his chest, threatening to explode at any moment. Finally, the sight of Maddy in that outfit drove him off the edge.

"Why are you dressed like a hooker?"

He demanded furiously.

"What?"

What my ass.

"Jesus Christ, Maddy, I'm here with my parents."

His ire grew with every word, a storm brewing beneath the surface.

"So? It's a carnival."

"No, it's the chilli cook-off, it's very important. I can't have you hanging around the booth dressed like that." Nate walked past her impatiently, attempting to keep his temper in check, not because he felt the need to, but because the thought of Maddy's endless complaints and provocations once she was triggered made him want to do things.

Risky things.

The ones that would feel good yet which his rational judgement dissuaded him from constantly.

Nate Jacobs was many things.

Driven, manipulative, angry, narcissistic, even dangerous maybe, but impulsiveness was not one of them, let alone stupidity. Every time the boy makes a move, he already anticipates the next three.

The cycle was not that complicated.

Anger, evaluation, calculation, action and scheme.

Each of those steps was essential, and he had gotten away every single time, but it didn't mean the process was not exhausting.

So there he was.

He succeeded in controlling his body, team, grades, and people around him. And now comes the most challenging task: controlling his rage.

"Maybe it will sell better."

His fists clenched Maddy's flirtatious and coquette comment. A part of him desired to rip off her revealing pieces, mock her and take her right there and then, "If you want to dress like a whore, I shall treat you like one." The other part burnt with frustration and rage.

"This isn't a fucking joke, ok?"

Does she ever have fucking common sense?

"Why are you being like this?"

No, she does not.

"Listen, my parents already don't like you."

Truth.

"What?"

"Go home, get changed, and come back looking like a person."

Nate hissed and left her standing in the middle of the crowd, toning down the aggression in his voice as much as possible with effort.

"Another breakup?" he queried, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"No," Nate replied tersely, every muscle in his body tensed.

Keep your damn nose out of my business.

"She's nothing but a distraction," Cal observed nonchalantly.

A muffled scoff escaped Nate's lips. Maybe Cal had a point.

Yet what had it ever not been a distraction for him? Some things slip away more quickly, some less so.

First, it was conquering his body, followed by conquering the field, next conquering his mind in the classroom, then Maddy, who was often undoubtedly a pain in his ass, like the night at Mckay's party. Still, it was exactly her unpredictability and her boldness, which some would call shamelessness, that made his quest of conquest interminable, more addicting.

In Cal's head, Maddy was the distraction from his goals.

He didn't like to think about it, but he knew the truth. It seemed that none of it, whether it was football, victories on the field or Maddy, could contain the flame of anger blazing in his chest forever, and it scared him.

"Yo—"

Aaron yawned. Nate frowned, sensing the revolting scent of alcohol in his brother's throat even if he wasn't facing him.

"Now that-" Aaron grinned foolishly at Cal, pointing drunkenly, "Is what you don't call a distraction. That's a girl you fuck for life."

Nate chuckled blatantly with disdain. The mere idea that a girl finding her cunt buried with Aaron's weak drunken cock was one the few things that could echo sympathy in Nate Jacobs' blackened heart.

Nate raised his head, the amusement and disdain written only in the depth of his pupils, which were met unexpectedly with another pair of dark eyes, which, as ridiculous and improbable as it sounds, were so beautifully similar to his.

She was standing in front of the booth, her mouth slightly opened, clearly shocked, disturbed, offended yet holding back her irritation at Aaron's comment for the sake of politeness.

Nate was momentarily taken by her presence, a reaction he would've usually blamed himself for, but this time, he couldn't.

The stranger girl appeared out of place in ways he couldn't even count. Among the teenagers like him, whose hormones for sex and high misted everywhere, her perfectly toned figure balanced between slenderness and fullness, molded into simple yet stylish black dress just above her knees that revealed just the right amount of her flesh straddled the fine between seduction and elegance. It was also the way she held her head high, showcasing her collarbones and snow-like slender neck, despite the ostensible discomfort and startle. It was an inborn pride.

"Excuse my brother," Nate apologized tactfully, putting on the mask of the charming gentleman, "He's a loser."

"Apologize, Aaron."

"Are you fucking serious right now?" The older brother's widened in annoyance.

Before Aaron could retort by unveiling Nate's label-whoring routine.

"Apologize."

Nate repeated, his voice unyielding, it was a command.

"Fuck this," Aaron threw the beer can in the garbage, "Sorry."

Nate watched the irritated and conflicting tension among her features dissipating naturally, replaced by a sweet smile on her doll-like face, "I appreciate it."

He chuckled when pouring the hot chilli into the cup, "I don't recognize you from here," he raised his eyes calculatedly, observing her face, "Are you new in town?"

She nodded with that harmless and innocent smile, "Just arrived last weekend. My mother and I are still adjusting."

Her cheeks seemed so soft, delicate, untouched. And her voice.

If only a girl in East Highland had that voice chord...

"Going to East Highland High soon?" He hands her the chili cup, his fingers brushed against hers, "It's on the house, as an apology on my brother's behalf. It's Nate, by the way."

"I'm Kaitlyn. Kaitlyn Arundel," her lips curled naturally, "Yeah, I'll be attending East Highland High."

He raised his brows, "Junior?"

"Senior," she swallowed.

Nate noticed that faint hesitance, shame, and something else... anger behind radiating through her carefully crafted innocence.

"It's nice to meet you, Kaitlyn," he simply nodded in acknowledgment without further pursuing questions, knowing that he would crack them, one by one, eventually.

"You may want to be careful around here. My brother just has a loud mouth, but he bears no ill intentions."

Kaitlyn tilted her head, her dark doe eyes seemingly confused and surprised.

"A beautiful girl like you," Nate approached her quietly, his large figure hovering over hers, "A lot of men would try to get their hands on a beautiful girl like you. You don't want to get yourself in that kind of situation."

"I'm not trying to," she whispers softly.

"Good girl," He brushes his finger tips on her cheek.

If only Maddy saw this.

It amused him how she would have reacted.

Call him a cunt? Slap her on the face?

He could get used to imagine how he would shield this innocent, sweet, beautiful, decent girl, her face red from the slap, sobbing in shock in his chest, from Maddy.

"It was nice meeting you," Kaitlyn retreated slowly but firmly from their proximity, yet her voice still gentle, her smile defenceless, "Nate Jacobs."

With that, she disappeared into the crowd, the last glint in her eyes screamed an innocence and purity that made his cock twitch, yet something behind those dark eyes had left him unsettled.

Until next time, little girl.

Taglist; @tember1

#euphoria #nate jacobs #nate jacobs x reader #fanfic #maddy perez #rue bennett #jules vaughn #cassie howard #nate jacobs fanfic

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moonflvver · 10 months

Note

Gojo Satoru! Btw can you make another gojo fluff? I enjoy your work a lot tho!! Have a great day!! <3

characters: Gojo x reader

warnings: very fluffy stuff, gojo doubts himself for like two seconds but it gets resolved.

synopsis: Gojo likes waking up beside you in the morning.

a/n: I'm so glad that you like my work! Sorry for the late response but in honor of the new season of jjk here's some gojo fluff <3

w/c: 711

Early mornings with Gojo are truly a gift. Sunlight is pouring in through the white curtains in his room as you nuzzle your face into his chest. There’s a light breeze coming in through the windows and it feels as though the two of you are suspended in time for just a moment. Gojo always wakes up before you do and for those few minutes before you start to stir he gazes at your face, hoping to memorize every feature. His eyes run over every curve and dip across the plane of your body, drinking it all in. Right now he’s silently thanking whatever force of fate or mystical being it was that brought the two of you together. He knows that he can be a lot and maybe in the back of his mind he also knows that you deserve better than him. You deserve someone who isn’t constantly away from home, going on yet another mission. Leaving in the middle of the night in order to fulfill the requests of the higher ups.

An inadvertent sigh leaves his lips as his mind continues to rotate the idea that maybe you would be better off without him. And then your eyes start to blink open, and now you’re looking up at him with a smile, and just the sight of you makes his anxiety disappear. He grins at you and says “What are you smiling about?” You sit up next to him and rest your head on his shoulder before you say, “I just like seeing you first thing in the morning, it's nice.” You pause for a moment and then continue quietly, “I think that if I got to wake up with you like this for the rest of my life, I- I’d be okay with that.” You’re not quite sure what it was that made you say that and he’s silent beside you after you speak, and now you’re regretting saying anything at all. Your hands start to nervously play with the sheets, scrunching them up beside you as you look down.

And you know that he’s not one for commitment but you’d hoped that things were different because it was you. And while you’re trying to think of a way to take back what you’ve just said Gojo feels like his heart is going to explode at the thought of being able to wake up next to you for the rest of his life. He laces his fingers in yours, pulling your hand away from the sheets and then he starts drawing circles on your palm with his thumb and he gazes over at you with the most lovesick expression that you’ve ever seen on his face. His eyes are full of desperation, you’re not sure what it’s for exactly but you have a feeling that it has something to do with you.

Any regret you might’ve had dissipates instantly. He just looks at you for a brief moment and then he brings his other hand up to your cheek and of course you lean into his touch. “I want to stay like this…by your side.” He says, and he feels fear blooming in his chest because Gojo doesn’t rely on others, he doesn’t need them. At least that’s what he tells himself. But with you it’s different. He wants to rely on you, and despite the fact that this is new to him he knows that he’ll do whatever it takes to keep things like this for as long as possible.

He takes a second before speaking again and then he continues, “I’ll stay by your side, I’ll wake up next to you for as long as you’ll have me.” You smile up at him again, giving him that same expression that kills him every time. And honestly, he thinks that not even an eternity of waking up next to you would allow him to memorize every single one of your features but he thinks that he’d like to try. So he grips your hand a little tighter and the two of you bask in the moment of time that you’ve somehow managed to capture, free of the outside world. Just you and him waking up next to each other for what you hope is forever.

#꒰ ✶ ꒱ nora writes #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo fluff #gojo headcanons #gojo fanfic #gojo satoru #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #I kind of like how this came out #I was going to spend more time editing it but I just wanted to post it #jujutsu kaisen

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michwritesstuff · 1 year

Text

Dating Bradley Bradshaw (Top Gun: Maverick)

a/n: omg does this song not scream being loved by bradley bradshaw! haha i am not doing well but this headcanon is saving me, so hope you all enjoy!

summary: female reader (she/her) x bradley bradshaw ughh I just want to date this man so badly! I know he would take such good care of his girlfriend! enjoy my ideas of what I think it would be like to date Bradley Bradshaw :)

notes/warnings: sexual activity mentioned at the end (18+)

word count: 1.3k+

You had first met Bradley during his first time around at Top Gun.

As attractive as you found him, growing up near North Island you knew that military men were off limits! They never stuck around long enough for anything serious, and you weren’t the type to mess around.

But Bradley was different. From the beginning he was genuine and caring, with the ability of holding an intellectual conversation, a trait that you appreciated.

You quickly became close friends and kept contact after he graduated from Top Gun and was shipped overseas.

He would send handwritten letters and a picture to keep you updated.

When Bradley got called back to Top Gun you reunited, but not without him making a surprise out of it. He had Penny call you into the Hard Deck to pick up something for your parents, running up and grabbing you from behind as you face the bar.

You reacted like any rational person would react, instantly dropping your weight and elbowing your attacker until their grip loosened.

“Ow, shit!”

You turned around immediately, recognizing his voice.

“Bradshaw, what the fuck?” the initial shock quickly replaced with excitement as you threw yourself into his embrace.

“What are you doing here?”

“Had to surprise my best girl!”

Your heart fluttered at his admission “his girl”

Since his return, every time they weren’t busy with training and worrying about the mission the Dagger Squad would come over to your house to hang out. It was your way of reminding them that they were regular people and deserved to have fun!

The night before they shipped out, Bradley had showed up at your doorstep at 10:30pm

“Rooster, what are you doing here, you should be sleeping?”

“I couldn’t. I started thinking too much and I just I—” he trailed off.

You invited him in, making tea for the both of you as he sat on your couch.

As you sat down next to him, turning so that you were facing each other you freezed as he grabbed your hand.

“What’s going on Rooster?”

“Y/N, I just—I can’t leave tomorrow without getting this off my chest.”

“Bradley—”

“Y/N, I love you. You are the kindest and most considerate human being that I have ever met. You are always there for me whenever I need you to be and you are incredibly genuine and selfless. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you.”

You didn’t respond, shocked and in awe of his confession.

“Say something darling, I’m drowning here” he laughed, attempting to lighten the mood.

One hand cupped his cheek as the other snaked around to is neck, pulling him in so that his lips hovered over yours.

“I love you too Bradley”

You were met with the warmest and most electrifying kiss of your life. Like the ones in the movies where time freezes and fireworks explode.

“You better come back to me,” you whispered as you both pulled away.

“Always,” Bradley responded, leaning his forward head against yours before giving your lips a quick peck.

And come back to you he did.

After the Uranium mission you and Bradley had made your relationship official. You didn’t make it a big deal, but you had really felt it when he reintroduced you to the team as his girlfriend.

If Bradley thought he loved you before, then he was a complete stranger to this new feeling of being in a relationship with you.

You had become so close with the team, which was something Bradley was extremely thankful for. You were constantly hanging out with Phoenix and inviting the team over for dinner, in addition to the late nights at the Hard Deck.

You would spend forever picking out the perfect outfit and making sure your makeup looked right before walking into your and Bradley’s shared bedroom.

“Wow, I truly am the luckiest man alive,” Bradley stated from where he sat on the edge of the bed.

Walking to where he sat you would stand in between his legs, lifting his chin with your fingers before leaning down to plant a kiss on his lips.

“And don’t you forget it.”

Bradley would get a little jealous sometimes, wishing that you would just slow down and spend time alone with him. And you did.

As much as you loved going out and drunkenly dancing with everyone you couldn’t wait for the weekends where you and Bradley would cuddle up on the couch and catch up on the episodes of whatever new show you were binging.

Exhausted from the week, Bradley would kiss your temple before picking you and carrying you to the bedroom.

Bradley was your biggest supporter and vice versa, you were so incredibly proud of him and everything that he had accomplished in his career.

Although his relationship had improved greatly with Maverick, Bradley was still lacking in the family department. Luckily, you had a large and loving family nearby.

Bradley’s favorite thing was when you both got to babysit your baby nieces and nephews. He couldn’t wait until they would officially be his niece’s and nephews as well.

In fact, he couldn’t wait until the two of you had your own kids running around.

──── ⋆⋅Bradley and Yours Sex Life⋅⋆ ────

The first time you and Bradley has slept together was when he had come back from the Uranium mission. It was neither of yours’s first time but there was something special to him of almost dying and choosing to share this moment with you.

It was pure love making; soft, gentle, and deep. He wanted to show you just how much he loved and cared about you, taking care of you fully.

It wasn’t that often that you and Bradley took things slow, it wasn’t rare. But, you both had a high sex drive and loved to have fun with it.

Constantly changing up positions and locations to mix it up.

The amount of handjobs and blowjobs you had given him in the Hard Deck bathroom was unreal, but all it took was a little bit of tequila for one of you to get needy and the other instantly giving in.

His favorite—oh god, his absolute favorite was when you rode him in the driver seat of his Bronco.

That wouldn’t have even been the purpose of the drive, you would drive down the coast and he would pull into a small overlook and park, sitting and talking before things got heated.

“Such a good girl, fucking yourself on my cock.”

You would just whine and pull on his hair. He was vocal, and you loved it, and he expected the same from you.

“Isn’t that right princess?”

“Yes”

“Yes what?”

“Ye—fuck I…yes Rooster”

He slapped your ass, the hand that was guiding your hips raising til he placed a firm pressure on your throat.

“Not quite,” he stated, looking at you expectantly.

“Yes, Daddy! It feels so good when I fuck myself on your cock.”

“There we go,” he gritted, smiling as he thrusted up into you to meet the rhythm of your hips.

“Fuck, so deep Roo—filling me up,” you panted.

“God, you’re perfect. Just so pretty and tight, wrapped around me.”

There was something Rooster loved about being called Daddy, the thought of getting you pregnant with his child sent him over the edge.

He was already halfway there, being on birth control the two of you had given up condoms a while ago.

You loved when he fucked you raw, feeling every ridge of his cock rub against you.

Bradley was a generous lover, he loved going down on you and edging you with his mouth and fingers for hours.

But, like every man. He would get jealous and fuck you senseless, basically just using your body to remind you who you belonged too.

Holding your hair in a makeshift ponytail as you were on your knees bracing your hands on his thighs.

His hips thrusting erratically as he fucked himself with your mouth, moaning when his tip hit the back of your throat. You would swallow around him and your eyes would begin to well up.

“What was that darling?” he teased.

“Kind of hard to speak with my cock in your mouth huh? Maybe next time we wont be so friendly with Hangman and Coyote…”

check out the rest of my work ⤑ here!

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thetriumphantpanda · 10 months

Note

congratulations on your amazing milestone my love 💜

this was nearly impossible to choose buuuut what if it was mirror sex and breath play with Dieter? what if that please?

WHAT IF I WROTE IT HAN?! WHAT THEN?! Heh. My first ever bit of Dieter writing so please be gentle with me, but I hope you enjoy regardless!

Thank you so much Han, I really appreciate the love! I think it was your reblog of my first Javi P mirror sex 👀 that made my followers explode a little, so thank you for always supporting me. 🧡

Pairing | Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Word Count | 1.4k

Warnings | Explicit, 18+ Minors DNI. Mentions of smoking weed, MIRROR SEX, breath play and unprotected PiV sex.

Part of my 1k Smut Sensation Celebration - if you want in, check here for details - I’m accepting requests through July 15th.

He’s bored. You both are. Dieter’s break from work seemed like a really good idea at the time. A chance for him to recoup after back-to-back projects and a chance for what was a new relationship between the two of you to have time to actually blossom. Neither of you had really thought about Dieter’s need to be constantly entertained, his fingers itching to do something. Anything. All the time.

He'd woken up from his second weed-induced nap of the day about twenty minutes ago and was already up and pacing the room, taking books from your shelf to flick through hoping something would catch his eye, or channel surfing the TV to try and find something to capture his attention. On the forty-fifth click of the television remote, because you were keeping count, you lost it.

Pushing yourself up from the couch, you grab hold of his wrist, “I can’t fucking take it anymore.” You mumble, pulling him up and dragging him down the hallway of your apartment.

You didn’t really have a plan on what to do once you got here, but you push him by his shoulders into your room, pushing him back until the backs of his knees hit the bed and he tumbles backwards. He grabs hold of you at the last second, causing you to tumble down with him, ending up straddled above his hips.

You bend forward and start trailing soft kisses across his jaw, feeling his hands come to your ass where they squeeze, enough to have you whining for more. You push back slightly and feel Dieter’s already half-hard cock through his plaid pyjama pants. You loved this, the way he was always so receptive to you. You shimmy down his body a little, letting your own clothed core grind down into him.

“Fuck, baby,” He spits out, hands flying to your hips to help guide your movements, dragging you slowly to grind against his growing erection, “Can’t believe I get to fuck you as much as I want now.”

“I think you’ll find this was my idea,” You grin, moving to rip your tank top over your head, nipples pebbling almost immediately in the cool air of your room, “And I’ve got an idea.”

Dieter sits himself up, wrapping his arms around your back to bring his mouth to your tits. He’s running the flat of his tongue over a nipple, using his teeth to make tiny bruises on the delicate skin around them, before he switches to the other side. It drives you wild, how this man has absolutely zero patience in any other part of his life apart from this, where he will happily spread you out and tease you for hours before giving you want you really want. One of your hands is running through the messy curls on the top of his head, the other draped across his shoulders as you continue to grind yourself down on him. You can already feel your pussy soaking through the material of your pyjamas.

“Well, go on then,” He insists, finally pulling away from your chest, “What’s your big idea, baby?”

You extract yourself from your place on his lap, standing at the foot of the bed, shedding the last item of clothing you were wearing, “First of all, stand up and take your clothes of.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He shoots at you, before scrambling from the bed, t-shirt dragging over his head to join your pile of clothes on the floor.

You know Dieter enjoys it when you boss him around like this. He likes being told what to do, how to please you best, what you like so he can do more of it and what you don’t like so he knows what to stop. He likes it when you ride him, using him to get yourself off being finally telling him he can come too.

Watching closely as he pulls the plaid down his legs, a smirk on your lips when he grips his cock in his fist and starts pumping himself, the idea forming in your head is becoming more enticing by the second. You wordlessly walk over to the full-length mirror in the corner of your room, placing flat palms on the glass. You look over at Dieter, who is watching with glazed eyes and an open mouth as you push your ass out and spread your legs, “Well, come on, big boy,” You coax, “Come fuck me where I can watch.”

He's behind you in minutes, spitting into the palm of his hand to coat his cock before he’s lining up with your entrance, slick from the work of his mouth on your tits, and pushing into you, slowly letting you take each and every inch of his cock until he’s buried inside you to the hilt.

You’re making direct eye contact with yourself in the mirror, the sight of your mouth dropping open turning you on even more than you already were. Dieter lifts his head once he’s found his rhythm of slow, languid thrusts, smirking at the way you’re watching yourself.

“Don’t I always tell you you’re the most beautiful when you’re getting fucked?” He groans into your ear, one of his hands coming to grip your chin to hold your stare steady in the reflection, “Believe me now, baby?”

He’s picking up the pace now, you can hear the slap of skin as his hips meet the skin of your ass, and when he finally hits that sweet spot inside you, you practically sing for him, letting your eyes trail down the mirror to watch as your tits bounce with every thrust. It’s delectable, really, but it’s still not enough.

You move one of your hands from the mirror to drag his from holding your chin, to holding your throat. You’re looking at his eyes in the mirror as the widen, his hips are getting sloppy but still manage to drive you insane.

“Go on,” You encourage, “You can squeeze a little.”

His wide palm is covering most of your neck, a thrill travels all the way down your spine as he does squeeze. It’s light and gentle, barely enough that you can feel it, but it’s enough to have your pussy clenching around him.

“Harder,” You beg, and he pulls his cock almost all the way out before slamming back into, “No, Dieter, my neck, squeeze it harder.”

He does another tentative squeeze, tightening the way his fingers are gripping the skin to the side of your neck, which moves the pressure of his palm. You can still breathe, but it’s enough for you now, a devilish giggle falling from your lip, “You like that?” He asks, having not let up with the bruising pace of his hips, “Like when I choke you?”

He lets up the pressure so you can talk, “Love it,” You moan, and then he’s squeezing with a similar pressure again, “I fucking love it.”

“Look at yourself,” He’s back at your ear, “Stuffed full of my cock and begging me to choke you,” He nips at your earlobe, “Put your fingers on your pussy and come for me, baby.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You lock eyes with him in the mirror, sticking two of your fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue over them, much like you’d done on his cock the night before, before they’re between your legs and rubbing hard and fast circles over your clit.

Dieter applies pressure to your throat again, his grip a little tighter than the last time, and you’re done. The pressure at your neck means you can do nothing by let a whine drop from your lips as pleasure bursts through your body to settle on every nerve ending you’ve got. Your legs feel like jelly, if it wasn’t for Dieter finally pulling his palm from your neck to hold your hips as he brought himself to the edge, you’d have fallen.

He’s pulling himself out of you, fisting his cock a few times before you can feel the warm ropes of cum spilling over your lower back and your ass. You feel him run one of his fingers through the mess he’s made, before he’s bringing his fingers to your face and watching in the mirror as you suck the finger into your mouth, tasting him.

“So fucking hot, baby,” He’s smirking, reaching down for the t-shirt he was wearing yesterday, thrown to the floor without a second thought, before he’s using it to wipe the rest of his cum from your skin, “You wanna get high and order noodles?”

You turn around, letting your back hit the cool glass of the mirror as he kisses you, “Hell yeah, I wanna get high and order noodles,” You grin against his lips, “You’re rolling though.”

#Dieter Bravo #dieter bravo fic #Dieter Bravo fanfic #dieter bravo fanfiction #Dieter Bravo smut #Pedro Pascal #the bubble #Dieter Bravo x you #Dieter Bravo x reader #Dieter Bravo x female reader #Dieter Bravo x f!reader #the bubble fic #PSSC

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thelittleliars · 10 months

Text

Would it kill you to smile? At least once in a while?

Natasha Romanoff x Reader (Platonic) Wanda Maximoff x Reader (Former lovers; now platonic) Wanda Maximoff x Reader x Natasha Romanoff (platonic)

Warnings: Depression, suicidal thoughts, angst -> fluff?

Words: 1.5K

Summary: Your girlfriend demanded the most difficult task from you. Natasha came to your rescue.

AN: Another one shot since I have not come any further with P.S. I Want You. It hurts me that I do not know what do to with Chapter 3. I just can't seem to get it going :( Anyways I hope you enjoy this little idea that I came up with a couple days ago. (The title are lyrics from the song 'under the weather' by CORPSE)

"Would it kill you to smile?" Your current girlfriend Jade snapped, the frustration and anger in her voice was clear. "I mean at least once in a while?! And especially in pictures!" Her words cute you deep, they broke you in a way that you didn't know existed. You felt angry, sad and betrayed by her. Depression was no joke and she knew what she was getting into from the start since you were nothing but an open book about your long battle with the chronic mental illness. All those nights she was there for you in the best possible way, in the darkest of your days she was the light - you anchor, so you honestly couldn't understand why she exploded like this.

"Yes." You stated. "Yes it would kill me." Your voice cracked, the pain she caused was obvious but she didn't care for some reason. But even if she did care in that situation, it wouldn't have made a difference. Her words were an unforgiving betrayal that you never thought would happen. "You of all people should know how awful my depression is. How could you even ask that of me?!"

"Because my friends thinks that you're miserable because of me!" She shouted again. Tears started to flow down your face.

"You could have just straight up told them about my depression! Fuck Jade, the entire world knows about my depression ever since I dated Wanda. It's not even a fucking secret that I had multiple suicide attempts while dating her and she never minded what people said about her because of that. She even encourage me to go with her to interviews and to openly talks about it. The awareness we brought on this topic is insane. It's not a tabu topic."

Before Jade could open her mouth to shout more cruel words at you, Natasha came out of the shadows and interrupted your conversation. "It's time for you to go Jade." The red head looked at you with deep concern in her eyes, knowing first hand that all of this is extremely triggering for you and she did not want you to spiral badly again. "Fuck off Romanoff, we're not done here!" That was a huge mistake - you thought. Nobody can ever fuck with Natasha Romanoff, not unless you're Yelena Belova or one of her 'girls'; meaning her extremely close friends that contains Wanda, Maria and you. "Out. Now." Natasha was calm but her voice was ice cold. Though her words wasn't meant for you, a cold shiver ran down you spine. You can only imagine how scary it was to be on the other side of her words.

"Fuck." Fear replaced the jealousy that ran through Jade's veins. Only when Natasha indicated of making a move on her, she ran away fast without ever looking back. Natasha turned to you with open arms, hugging you dearly to her chest. The feeling of her arms around you gave you the safeness to break down completely. Her hands gently rubbed up and down your back, it was her way to comfort you, no words needed to be said. After a while you finally stopped crying but the black widow still didn't remove herself from you. "Maybe the world really is better without me." It hurt her to hear those words, though you constantly had your up and downs, she believed you were in a good place before Jade blew up. Was she so wrong? Or was it all because of this triggering situation? "Dorogoy, I can tell you with certainty that my world definitely would not be better without you. It would be miserable but if you honestly feel like you can't live like this anymore, I don't have the right to tell you to stay. That would be cruel of me." Your hands that were around her tightened. "I just wanted you to know you're not alone and that the world is definitely not better without you. If you're still not sure then ask Wanda. She of all people knows how it feels like and appreciates you the most."

"Thank you for always being there for me Nat." She whispered a small 'always' before giving you a kiss on your forehead. The two of you stayed in each others arms for another 5 minutes. You then decided it was time for some space. She gave you the room but didn't leave you alone yet, afraid of your thoughts running wild. "Tell you what. We're gonna go to the movies to watch a film and then we'll to your boss about a leave since you need a break. I'll then show you a shield facility that could help get better, if you're up for it."

You shook your head. All you wanted to do was laying in bed and sleep. "I can't Natty. I'm just so exhausted." The other woman nodded. "I understand." She said with a sad smile. She was still determined to not leave you alone with your thoughts so she came with another idea. "What if we watch a movie in my room? Getting snacks and Wanda to join us? You even can fall asleep while we give you some cuddles."

Relief and appreciation was written all over your face. While you went to the kitchen for snacks, Natasha pulled out her phone and called Wanda, commanding the witches ass to her room. All three of you met in Natasha's room with Wanda being the last one to arrive. "I couldn't find my best fluffy blanket at first but here it is!" She proudly lifted up the white-blue striped fluffy blanket before throwing it into your face. "Thanks Wands. I brought you guys Sour Patch Kids, chips, mini pretzels, popcorn and your favorite sodas."

Natasha let out a mix of a groan and moan. "Way to make a girls knees weak.." The widow said as she made her way onto the bed. You snorted a bit too loud to your liking but also tried to ignore your little embarrassment. "That's not the only way to make girls knees weak." You had a suggestive look on your face which made Natasha blush. Wanda took that opportunity to tease you. "Oh my, who knew you still had it in you?"

You turned your head towards her as she was just getting onto the bed next to you. "I believe you're just too old to keeping up with me." At that, Natasha laughed out loud. It was a nice to hear it since you liked the sound of her laugh, it brought you a sense of home.

Wanda took slight offense in your words. "I'm only a year older than you!" She exclaimed with a gasp. You shrugged your shoulder. "My point still stands." Wanda rolled her eyes. "Rude.." Shaking your head was the only thing you could come up with as retort. You got under the blanket, which was very soft and fluffy, and held it up for the other two women to join you underneath it. Natasha teased the other red head all while getting closer to you. "Face it Wands, you're getting old."

"I'm getting old? Should I mention your age Miss Romanoff?" Wanda got sassy in a way you hadn't seen in years. It was endearing to hear the banter between girls that meant a lot to you. The older red head felt attacked by the younger woman, though both knew they said it out of fun. "Don't you dare!"

You interrupted them since you loved putting your input in this banter. They just amused you very much. "Ohh but I dare you too."

"Y/N no! Not you too." She looked at you with puppy eyes. "I thought you liked me."

"I do. I love your guys' drama more than a movie so go ahead and continue." It nearly brought out a smile of you but the small urge to do so vanished quickly as your mind reminded you that you don't deserve to be happy. They both sensed the mood shift in you afterwards so they changed the topic by deciding which movie to put on. They both choose Encanto, a movie you had yet to see but only heard great things about. You started to cuddle and hug Wanda's side like a koala bear. Suddenly you felt drained again so you closed your eyes. But something was still missing for you to feel at peace. "Nat?" - "Mhm?" - "Could you spoon me from behind?" She came up behind you and spooned you exactly as you requested. "Like this?" Natasha made sure that you were comfortable and didn't cross your boundaries. You quickly grabbed her hand and put around your waist. "Like this yes. Thank you." You felt safe with both of them laying there like that. They both gave you a kiss on your heard, telling you that they loved you. You only hum in acknowledgement since the sound of their steady breaths and the movie noises in the background made you sleepy. You soon fell asleep in their embrace as your heart and mind didn't feel as heavy as before.

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #black widow x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #black widow x female reader

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seabysiren · 1 year

Note

I have an idea for "streamer au". How about the chat shipping the ghost with the reader? How do they always leave cute and funny comments whenever there is interaction between them? Or how the ghost is made silly in some situations by the reader? I would love to read this situation :) this is probably very badly written, and full of mistakes, sorry, my english sucks :/

your english is good! no mistakes or bad wording. <3

at first its subtle.

chat honestly thought ghost and you were very good friends. that was until he started to transition into quiting his day job to be a full time streamer. he asked several other streamers on how they keep a schedule, realistic goals, and how to keep the viewers entertained.

this meant branching out from just gaming.

ghost made his first appearance since he started the channel. you helped him black out the areas around his eyes and he donned the skull balaclava.

even though streaming would catch a lot of attention, ghost thought it would be better to keep a bit of privacy for himself. thus the mask.

you wore a plain black medical mask deciding it would be better to hide at least a part of your face for privacy.

the first thing chat picked up on was the difference in size.

they honestly thought ghost was bluffing when he told them he was 6'4.

he wasn't lying. the height difference shows when you hit him for leaning against you, arm on top of your head as the two of you chilled.

or when he wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you against him. out of the way of chaotic soap as he runs around the set like a child on crack.

it was interesting to see the way that the two of you interacted, especially because for so long you only had a voice/edits made.

chat constantly says they can see ghost blushing when you tease him on his size. you think its hilarious that ghost's jacked af yet doing an overglorified office job. he lowkey flexes everytime he sees you eying his muscles.

it gets even more hectic when soap joined. you and soap constantly clown on each other and chase each other around the house. chat either eggs it on or feels bad that ghost has two leash children he has to constanly look after.

two gremlins and a tired parent trio.

but when soap's talking to you, ghost will just silently stare. straight at you. practically without blinking.

he zones out a lot when he looks at you. thinking what you would look like or how you would react if he did the things soap does to get your attention.

someone pointed it out later with a small short. putting heart emojis and stars around ghost as the camera pans from him to you laughing at something soap said.

the channel has officially adopted your 'streamer' name despite being the editor. they call you hound. because you can be so playful and easygoing, yet in games and when editing you're absolutely ruthless in your worth ethics.

ghost calls you pup.

the first time he called you that chat flipped out. it was midday when you came in with food for ghost. because he hadn't eaten breakfast in order to stream.

you had briefly popped into the face cam as you said

'here's some food.'

'thanks pup.' ghost was too focused on defeating hollow knight that he let it slip. and chat went wild.

chat calls it out everytime ghost lets it slip. soap always ends up exploding with laughter as he mockingly calls you pup.

and ghost? he just crosses his arms around his chest and sulks. most likely pouting underneath the mask.

chat argues about the ship name.

ghosthound.

houndghost.

ghound.

houst.

ghost got a donation alert that asked him about his preference one day while he was streaming valorant. the audience could hear the way his chair creaked as he leaned back and thought for a moment.

"ghosthound."

he accepted no further answers or questions about it. but that day twitter made ghosthound trend. lots of pictures and posts claiming the ship is official as people absolutely fawn over this moody giant and his happy little editor.

feeding further into the shipping, ghost had mindlessly liked a really nice fanart of the two of you hugging.

and suddenly he's getting tagged in tiktok edits and fanart.

he secretly looks through all of them in his freetime. he would never admit it.

though you have seen him scroll through those tags a few times. you pretended not to notice.

overall chat loves ghosthound and wouldn't give up anything for it.

...

except maybe another otp.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #cod #cod x reader #streamer au

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polarisbibliotheque · 6 months

Text

Devil May Halloween - The Samhain Ritual

Devil May Halloween 2023 - The Samhain Ritual, Prologue (Reader and the crew on Halloween's eve)

Pairing: During the Prologue, none. You can pair the reader with anyone you want ;)

Summary: It's finally Halloween and, even if the demons are a lot more active this time of the year, that doesn't stop you from going on hunts - the partying can be done later. Or... At least that was what you thought. Maybe Nero had pretty good reasons to worry about that job after all.

Author's Notes: YEEEEES 'TIS TIME!!!! Ok, a little bit earlier, but I just finished writing the Prologue - if everything goes as planned, I'll write and post Dante's and Vergil's parts on Halloween day/night.

And yes, I know the summary is a little foggy on the theme this year but... I'm really counting on the plot twist at the end, so bear with me please HAHAHAHA

It's based on an ask sent by the amazing @furyeclipse with an awesome idea that I was thinking about for a while and figured it would be a good Halloween theme. I'll answer the ask as soon as I post the two parts on the 31st as not to spoil the fun :3 but thanks so much dear! It sparkled my writing again and I'll be always grateful for that ^^

Happy Halloween, demons, devil hunters and lil' critters!!

Prologue

Contrary to what everyone at the Devil May Cry would believe, it took a lot to get on the Sparda twins’ nerves.

One would never say Dante and Vergil were particularly patient – but, after living with them for a while, they did seem to have an above the average tolerance regarding many matters. Maybe it was because of all the things they had lived, or maybe just because actually sitting and listening to what demons had to say in order to have a smart clap back required an insurmountable amount of patience: no one would ever be able to pinpoint why, but the Sparda twins were able to put up with a lot.

When the last strands of that patience grew thin and finally torn apart, though, it was usually followed by all hells breaking lose. In that department, Dante and Vergil had very different ways to react: while the red devil burnt in an explosion of controlled fiery anger, the blue devil lost control under his usually carefully measured icy rage.

Two sides of the same coin, as you would say.

That day, it took a lot of time before they started getting annoyed by Nero constantly tapping his feet on the ground at the shop.

Dante was lazily thrown at his desk, sitting on his big chair and trying to enjoy some random magazine from years prior that he never seemed to fully end reading. Vergil was immobile, a little too stiff on the couch, having one of his many obscure poetry books in one hand while the other lightly rested over Yamato – always at arm’s length. Nero sat on the very same couch, with enough distance between him and his father, slouching while looking at different points in the shop and tapping his feet on the ground as if he was the drummer of a metal band.

Incessantly.

That had been going for hours. At first, it wasn’t annoying – both twins thought the kid would eventually calm down and stop. But after a while, Nero didn’t stop… And it only seemed to get worse.

Of course, neither Dante nor Vergil would notice both of them lightly frowning at the same time when the tapping noise started to get on their nerves. Still absorbed by their reads, the Spardas didn’t move their signature blue eyes from the pages, but the annoyed expression was the very same.

Indeed, twins. Even if they would die before admitting they were more similar than they realized.

A good half hour passed before they started getting really annoyed – probably around the same time Nero started using his hands to lightly tap on his thighs, using the same rhythm of his feet.

That exasperation started to bubble inside their chests, like a volcano that would soon explode in harsh feelings – and Dante was the first one to actually do something about it.

“Hey, kid.” He moved his sky-blue eyes towards Nero, making his nephew immediately look back at him. Without halting the tapping. “Everything alright? You’re gonna start a one-man band soon enough.”

“Yeah, yeah. I have restless leg syndrome, ya know?” Nero answered in his nonchalant tone as always – the very same punk Dante met at Fortuna. Years could go by, but that big-mouthed angry kid he met in that stuck-up cult city would never change in his eyes.

Something Dante was very fond of, if he had to be honest.

Not a single second passed before the sheath of the Yamato lightly – but sternly – hit Nero’s thighs; with enough pressure to hold them down, almost with no effort from the man wielding it.

“Enough.” Vergil’s words were crowned by the side look from his frozen silver eyes, moving just the muscles he needed to make his son stop that madness.

“C’mon…” Nero let out a huff, rolling his eyes and throwing his head back at the same time, finally stopping the tapping. It was enough to make Vergil put the Yamato back on its place and go back to his reading. “Am I supposed to just stay here waitin’ with ya the whole day?”

“They’re gonna be alright, kid.” Dante closed his magazine, tossing it on the desk and moving his feet down to the floor. Leaning towards the couch, he rested one of his elbows on his knee. “Y/n is one hell of a hunter and your lil’ angel is more than great at helpin’. They’ll be back in no time.”

“Yeah, but what if somethin’ goes wrong? What if Kyrie gets hurt?” Nero got up and started using his accumulated energy to walk around the shop while tapping on his thighs. He had to move.

“Don’t you trust your own training…?” Vergil once again raised his silvery eyes from the book, staring at his son fumbling around and not knowing what to do with himself – the very opposite of his immovable force.

Nero stared back at his own father, aquamarine eyes burning with anger. Dante had to smile and stifle a laugh: he knew his brother quite well to know Vergil wasn’t saying that just to be insufferable, he was actually playfully teasing his own son. Just like he used to do with Dante whenever their never-ending bantering started.

It was good to see Vergil was finally getting comfortable with his own kid to allow himself that kind of behavior. Dante saw that as a good sign.

“Well, last time Kyrie got caught up in the middle of somethin’, crazy-ass Sanctus and Nico’s dad kidnapped her to be slurped into a huge semi-organic-marble statue of world’s greatest grandpa Sparda while your ass was crumblin’ in Hell.” Now Nero was as red as a bell pepper, making Dante raise his eyebrows and side-eye his twin brother. Sometimes, Vergil deserved the burn. “Had to use Yamato to beat that old creep to pieces to get my girl back, so excuse me if I’m worried about lettin’ her go on a mission without me on Halloween of all days!”

Feeling Dante’s not-at-all discreet stare, Vergil’s eyes turned back to his brother right after.

“Kid’s got a point.” That’s all the red devil would say, crowned by a shrug. He loved to see Vergil being more comfortable around his son to allow more of his personality to show through – but he also had to admit Vergil needed a scolding from time to time after all the things he had done.

And his list of sins was actually huge, so there would be a lot of scolding.

“Kyrie is a very competent healer.” Vergil sighed and decided it was time to close his book and rest it on his legs – it was not like he would be able to go back to read anyway. “And y/n is a remarkable hunter. You taught Kyrie how to handle guns and swords. Even if things turn out not like they are expecting, demons would require a remarkable force to subdue them.” His silvery eyes had nothing but calculated calm, making Nero finally stop on his tracks and actually listen. “When you think about things logically, you realize the chance of them coming back safely is greater than whatever worry stirring in your heart.”

Nero rested his hands on his hips, his mouth pursed in a slit while his aquamarine eyes narrowed in their mission of glaring his father. He didn’t want to admit, but that was one hell of an advice. Vergil’s strength relied on his mind seeing things logically and counting all odds without his heart interfering in the matter – which probably was the reason why he survived so long in Hell.

Nero hated when Vergil was right – and specially when his advices were so sound. It reminded him of the father he never had, of the advices he never got to receive to help his life be a little bit less miserable – and it reminded him that even if he was mad Vergil was never there for him, it was because his father was locked in Hell as a puppet in Mundus’ hands, not even knowing he had a son, suffering innumerous tortures until Dante rid him of all that by killing his own brother… Only to survive somehow and drag himself out of all that shit.

It would be easier for Nero to hate Vergil if he only had left in pursue of power and never cared if he had a child. It would be a lot easier for Nero to deal with his feelings if that was the case.

“Verge’s right, kid. I’m not one to respond logically to things…” Dante raised his hands as if he was being held at gunpoint as soon as those fuming aquamarine eyes stared at him. “But hey, you gotta have some sense sometimes. They’re good at what they do. It wasn’t such a difficult job and your lil’ angel has an opportunity to take care of the people who were injured. It’s gonna be fine.”

Differently from Vergil, Dante wasn’t being held hostage while Nero had to learn to survive on his own – at least not like his twin brother in Hell. Even if Nero wanted to say Dante could have done something, could have been a blood bond he so desperately needed, the man in front of him could hide under so many masks but couldn’t stop his sky-blue eyes of showing all the sadness he carried inside.

Vergil could have been locked down in Hell, but Dante was being held hostage in his own mind. Carrying the grief of being the only survivor on that fateful night, and then the heart-wrenching sorrow of killing his own twin brother in order to rid him of the suffering he had been forced to endure during all that time in Hell. The guilt Dante carried in his soul weighted in his eyes and showed in how much he didn’t care about himself. He didn’t even know Nero existed until he saw him for the first time.

How could any of them care for Nero when all of them were lost in the first place?

“Kyrie’s gonna be so happy being able to help other people…” Nero finally sighed and murmured to himself, closing his eyes as if to remind himself why you both left for a job on your own in the first place. “She can handle herself. Y/n can protect them if they need it. I don’t need to stalk ‘em like a vulture all the time.”

“That’s the spirit, kid.” Dante smiled, resting his heavy boots on his desk once again. “They’ll be back soon and we’ll even have time for a lil’ Halloween party.”

“Hmmm. I refuse to wear those ridiculous clothes.” Vergil left his book on the couch, getting up to warm some water. The day was coming to an end and they could use some tea – specially Nero.

“Ooooh, c’mon, Verge! It’s the twins from The Shining! We have to make that happen someday!” Dante looked so offended Nero couldn’t help himself but to smile – even if a little bit. “It’s perfect!”

“You would never find a dress that fits you.” Vergil’s answer was but a murmur, but all of them could hear it very well.

“Ya know…” Nero sighed, finally giving in his family antics. They would never be much normal… And it made no sense for Nero to cry over the suffering Mundus had doomed all his family to just because his grandfather decided to stand by the side of the ones that needed him. In the end, Sparda did the right thing and his blood was paying for it – could Nero really be mad at him about it…? “Vergil would make a great Wednesday Addams.”

Both men stared at him: Vergil with only frozen death in his silvery eyes, dark aura already starting to loom around him, while Dante had the brightest stars in his sky-blue stare, mouth slightly open.

“You’re a genius, kid.”

Chaos would’ve ensued if Trish and Lady hadn’t opened the doors of the Devil May Cry at that very same moment.

“Hey, what’s up, babes? Nero’s got the best idea for Halloween this year…!”

“Well, those ideas will have to wait. We got a bit of a… Problem.” And something was wrong in Trish’s voice: she usually carried that nonchalant, devilish honey tone in every word she said, always with a ghost of a smile on her perfectly crafted reddish lips – but not this time. Her lilac blue eyes were fidgeting, a tinge of distraught in her voice. Dante immediately furrowed his brows and took his feet of the desk.

“Y/n and Kyrie need our help.” Lady announced with a nervous tremble in her tone, closing the heavy door behind her.

The Devil May Cry fell in silence – the eyes of the blood of Sparda locked on Lady and Trish. They had now their undivided attention.

“I’m really impressed we’re not finding any of them stalking us at the corner of our eyes every now and then.” You had your arms crossed, leaning to a building while Kyrie stabilized a man who was caught by a demon earlier – his family waiting anxiously around you, ready to run to safety while you both only promised to go deeper and deeper into the root of all the problem. “I thought they’d be looming around us like vultures.”

“Oh, Nero is probably worried sick.” Kyrie answered in a giggle, carefully wrapping the man’s arm with a clean set of bandages she packed before leaving with you. “But I think they trust us enough to do our job.”

“Hmmm. Nevertheless, I lost the bet.” You smiled in return, slightly sighing. “Guess you got me for an entire day to help you at the orphanage when we’re back.”

“Any help is always welcome.” She was quickly done, smiling at you while the family approached to carry the man to safety. “Go straight to a hospital. We’ll keep on working on this.”

“Thank you! May the gods bless you!”

As the family ran out of the building with the injured man, Kyrie couldn’t help but smile. For years she had unwavering faith in the Order of the Sword, and she thought after all that happened in Fortuna – specially regarding Credo – she would turn bitter towards all religion. But it had the opposite effect: it only made her happier when people blessed her with their faith, knowing it was one of the best things they could offer as a thankful gesture.

Her church might have been destroyed, her beliefs turned to dust – but her faith in something good would never be broken.

“Ok, my dear Cleric, onwards we go.” You got your sword back in your hands, pointing the way so Kyrie could get ready. “It’s quite impressive that a few demons were able to make such a mess in so little time actually. If they hadn’t evacuated the factory as soon as the first bodies appeared, we would probably be here with the whole crew.”

“Hmmm… It’s very interesting really…” Kyrie furrowed her brows, reloading the Blue Rose. Nero wanted her to use it on that hunt – as if having a piece of him with her could ward away any evil. He was always very bitter and rebellious towards any faith, but Kyrie always smiled whenever she saw the little superstitions Nero carried with him. “You said we’re dealing with three demons, right?”

“Could be more.”

“Oh, I believe it’s three. If I’m a Cleric, then you’re a Ranger. And a very good one.” Kyrie let out a quiet laugh alongside yours. “Three demons attacking a factory in town at random, causing so many deaths and such mayhem in less than an hour… It’s really… Hmmm…”

“Weird…?” You tried and she agreed, even if both of you didn’t really agree that was the right word to describe it. Since you first stepped inside that old building, it seemed something wasn’t right – but neither of you could quite point out what it was. “Yeah, I have to agree with you… If it was just a bunch of bloodthirsty demons, they would be spreading out to the city already and there would be so much more than just three.”

“And if there were more, the body count would be higher.” Her answer was somber: Kyrie never enjoyed thinking about human casualties, and that’s why her job was always to heal and help the injured. “So…”

“What gives?” You complimented her phrase, making Kyrie agree with her head – slowly, still thinking about it. “Also, we have many hunters in our party. Dante is one hell of a tracker as well, even if he tries to pretend he’s always winging it.”

“Oh, but Dante would definitely be a hunter Bard.” She laughed in response, making you snort right after. You could see that. Dante was a depressed Bard, hunting demons and going into fire fueled demon rage, but a Bard nonetheless. “And Vergil would be our very own Necromancer.”

“Scaring everyone who came in contact with us, be with his eyes or the spirit of the dead.” You answered as if you were narrating an advertisement of Necromancers on the TV – Kyrie giggled more than she thought she would. “It’s very fitting though. And Nero…”

You both exchanged looks, as if you could read each other’s minds – already laughing upon knowing what the answer would be.

“Rebel Paladin.” As you said in unison, your laughs echoed slightly through the factory. Imagining what each one of you would be in a Dungeons and Dragons game was something you and Kyrie would discuss quite often since you found out she was interested in it, but never really had the chance to play it. You wanted to start a campaign together, but whenever she had time, you were out on a hunt, and whenever you had time, she was busy with the orphanage.

Suddenly, you raised your hand so your laughs would come to a halt. Kyrie paid attention to your surroundings, only to hear what it seemed to be distorted voices coming from the patio outside the factory. Taking one of your fingers to your lips, you signaled her to be silent as you slowly walked towards the noise.

Reaching one of the big windows inside the building, you had a good view of the patio. Three humanoid demons – but still a lot taller than normal people, with leathery skin, distorted proportions, horned heads and sharp teeth – licked the blood from their fingers, tossing dismembered human bodies in the distance. You and Kyrie remained silent, crouching by the window, only the very top of your heads visible: enough so you could see what was going on.

“Master will probably have to wait for another Samhain.” One of them scoffed the words, voice drenching in disdain.

“We have our orders. They will show up.” The tallest demon, a little different and more menacing, had only anger in his tone. That discussion probably had been going for some time. “And when they do, our job is over.”

“Perhaps we didn’t kill enough…” The third demon had a wide smile on its hundred rows of sharp teeth. “Perhaps if we spill more blood, they will be here quicker.”

“You fool.” The leader of the group almost growled in response. “Humans aren’t summoned by spells and blood like us. They are weak little creatures that take forever to do at least one thing.”

“Then why Master needs them so much?! Two even!” The first demon rolled its eerily white eyes, clearly bored with the waiting stage of their mission. “They are meek things, the only thing they are good for is food.”

“Because those are different.” The leader now let a roar tear trough its words. “And they are exactly what Master needs for the ritual. No more, no less.”

“If Mundus wasn’t so stupid, he would have succeeded in it.” The second demon scoffed once again, shaking its head. You and Kyrie exchanged quick looks. “But he always wanted to bite more than he could chew.”

“He thought he could bend the rules.” The leader crossed its deformed arms, spiky skin scratching against each other. “No one can. Not even the strongest of us. He ignored the rituals that could’ve made him stronger before trying to subdue all into his rule.”

“He underestimated the blood of Sparda. That was the reason for his demise.” You walked into the patio, silver sword bright in your hand. You had heard enough – and maybe Dante or probably Vergil would know what kind of Samhain ritual they were talking about. It was time to send them back to Hell; Kyrie could watch it safely from inside the factory.

“Oh… A hunter.” The leader smiled devilishly, receiving an approving look from the other two. That already made your heart a little suspicious: it wasn’t a normal reaction. “And a Sparda defender, nonetheless.”

“I defend the ones who carry his legacy. Your power could never get even close to what they carry.” You raised your head with pride, a ghost of a smile coloring your lips. “And neither did Mundus.”

“My, my, so you know the blood of Sparda…?” The third demon approached with its hundred rows of sharp fangs dripping blood, ready to attack. You tried not to react to its phrase, even if you wanted to furrow your brows in confusion. Why did that matter…? “It’s true, then? That they fell for human whores like that filthy traitor before them?”

“You know, I wouldn’t mind you talking about me like that…” You sighed, crossing your arms, trying to retain a little control over the conversation – even if something inside you screamed the odds were not in your favor. “But no one refers to my Cleric with such dirty words.”

She didn’t want to, but Kyrie had to muffle a little giggle. She would always be impressed how all of you hunters – including Lady and Trish, not only Nero’s family and you – could banter and give demons smart answers, seemingly fearlessly.

“You have someone else with you, then…? A non-hunter…?” The first demon approached slowly, spreading its claws in the same rhythm as its steps.

That was almost like a red light appearing inside your mind. They didn’t know. They saw you – and only you – but they didn’t know about Kyrie. And now, it seemed like they were even more interested on the fact you were there together.

Two humans for their Master. They could have taken anyone in that factory, but they were waiting. At first, you and Kyrie thought they were waiting for anyone in the crew outside Trish, but now… You had your doubts. Many doubts.

Without words, you plunged in a surprise attack that managed to cut the side of the third demon’s mouth, making it even wider while it screeched in pain. That was enough to put an end to that conversation – and, as soon as you could, you would turn around to Kyrie and signal her to run.

As she watched you from inside the building, Kyrie tried to think what to do. She knew you were more than capable of killing those three demons in a moderately quick fight, but that conversation was enough to spark restlessness in her heart.

And before she could do anything and you could tell her to go, Kyrie felt a leathery clawed hand tightly covering her mouth, squeezing her soft skin until it hurt.

“Don’t even try to run, or we will gut you and your friend right here, right now.”

Her hazelnut eyes turned to the patio in despair, trying to find yours while you viciously fought to slay all those demons.

As soon as you saw her being carried towards the patio by another menacing demon, you immediately did what they commanded you to do: stop resisting and drop your weapons or else they would drop Kyrie’s blood.

She closed her eyes in regret as she heard the metallic sound of your silver sword hitting the floor.

“When the people in town told us they were there, we figured to drop by and say hello.” Lady had her hands resting on her waist, standing in front of the shop’s desk while the Spardas surrounded her and Trish. “Our job was fast and easy, and it would be nice seeing how Kyrie was holding up… But when we got to the factory, we knew something was wrong.”

“What happened?! Just say it already!” And if Nero was a pile of nerves before, now he was beyond any logic.

“I got up on the roofs, Lady crossed the factory inside. There was nothing.” Trish took over, crossing her arms and having her slim eyebrows furrowed in worry. “I got to the patio where I was hearing some voices. There were four demons: one was a leader of three lesser demons, but they weren’t doing anything. I saw Lady hiding inside the factory and watching things from the windows, but everything was… Weirdly calm.”

“Kyrie and y/n were being held hostages. Kyrie tried to fight and let go, but y/n… Nothing.” Lady noticed how Dante and Vergil immediately frowned upon hearing that. It wasn’t like you to be allowed to be taken by demons without a fight. “Their weapons were on the floor. One of them said if y/n even tried to move, they would cut Kyrie’s throat.”

“Fuck…! I knew I should’ve gone with them!” Nero almost threw his arms up in exasperation, starting to roam around the room once again. This was killing him. He wanted to give Kyrie all the space she needed, but after Fortuna… He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. “What about y/n?!”

“That’s why they didn’t move.” Trish’s cold lilac blue eyes immediately turned to Nero. “Head held high as always, but not a single move.”

“And then? Did ya try to do somethin’?” Dante was on the brink on understanding Nero on a soul level – he himself was almost getting up from his big chair to prance around the room and blow off some steam.

“We tried…” Lady’s voice carried a regret he only heard when they were teens and met for the first time, so many years ago. Back then, she had a lot more bitterness rather than pure rage. “We tried to signal some things and plan something, but…”

“Hell Generals.” Trish cut Lady’s words, making Vergil immediately stiffen up, frozen eyes staring her with a sharp edge. “Two Hell Generals. I don’t know how, but they managed to get to the human world. One of them was their ‘master’ while the other must have had some sort of deal with the first.

“Which Generals…?”

“You think you know them?” Lady had to admit she was a little shocked. Trish was usually the encyclopedia of famous demons in Hell, given the fact she was literally born there. She knew the Generals, but not all of them.

“I spent enough time in Hell to know most of its worst.” And to say his eyes could cut was an understatement. “Everyone wanted the chance to torture the son of the 'filthy traitor Sparda'.”

The Devil May Cry fell in silence for a couple of seconds. Everyone knew Vergil hadn’t had it easy during his time in Hell, but he rarely talked about it – and when he did, it was usually followed by chills down their spines.

“Erlach and Orcus.” Trish finally raised her voice among that silence, making Vergil close his eyes. “Erlach was the lesser demons’ master, Orcus was the one who had an arrangement with him.”

“Indeed… Two of the worst.” Vergil opened his eyes once more, carrying even more rage than before.

“And what did they want?” Dante shook his head, sighing quickly. He thought they would be able to have a peaceful Halloween. “They were holdin’ them, so they must’ve wanted somethin’.”

“Yes, they talked about a ritual. The ‘Samhain ritual’ as far as I could hear, but I have no idea what that is.” Lady turned her bicolored eyes to Trish – after all, she must’ve known what they meant by that.

“The Samhain ritual is written in books in Hell but no one knows if it really is true. No demon ever tried it, apart from the ones of legend.” The demon rested her hands on her waist, sighing right after. “It’s a ritual to gain power, said to elevate a demon’s status. If it was made by a General, they would easily rise to Mundus’ status.”

“Ok, so not good at all, that’s what you mean.” Nero placed his hands on Dante’s desk, leaning on it and finally stopping his roaming around. “Why do they need Kyrie and y/n? Their blood? Their souls? Why didn’t you interrupt them?!”

“Well, when I heard what they said before completely disappearing I took some time to make sure I wasn’t hearing things, kid!” Lady now looked as furious as Nero, trying to get him to respect her again as he always did. “I thought I heard it wrong and then they were gone! It happened too fast!”

“What did they say?!” The three Spardas talked at the very same time; different voice tones, but indeed, a family.

“To get the wedding ready.”

Trish’s words fell among them like a ton of bricks. Nero had disgust and confusion written all over his face, seemingly trying to make sense of it – just like Lady when she heard it for the first time, making sure they didn’t get it wrong. Dante had his eyebrows furrowed and mouth slightly open, but eyes filled with rage and shock. Vergil looked like he had swallowed an entire book and it was now stuck in his throat, unable to go up or down, while his face tried to maintain some dignity.

Until the three managed to blurt out the exact same phrase.

“What the fuck?!”

That was going to be one hell of a Halloween.

To Be Continued....

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halsteadlover · 1 year

Text

𝐍𝐨 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐖𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞

*Gif not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Adam Ruzek x Fem!Reader.

• Requested by @rsquared31: She and Adam are either still in the stages of flirting or early on in a new relationship together. Something happens to her and Adam rushes to get to her, but then internally struggles between going after the attacker or running directly to her - not wanting the asshole to get away, wanting to tackle him and make him pay for daring to hurt her, but also wanting to see if she was ok and be the one to help her. She’s taken to the hospital, where the injury was bad enough for her to be out/unconscious for a while? Adam stays with her and refuses to leave. He makes some admissions when she wakes up.

• Warnings: mention of blood, injury, drug, throwing up, tiny bit of swearing.

• Word count: 4456.

• A/N: this is the first time writing for someone who isn’t Jay and I’m so nervous 😭 it’s ugly as fuck but are we even surprised? I hope you like it anyway. please let me know what do you think and feel free to give me any advice or send me ideas for new stories! Likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated ❤️ thank you so much for the amazing support you showed me and for encouraging me to challenge myself and write for other characters, I love you all xx

“Good morning darling,” a voice caught your attention.

You were in the break room pouring some coffee – which you already knew would be awful – into your cup. Before you even turned around a smile appeared on your lips, having recognized who that voice belonged to. You would’ve recognized it among another million people.

You turned your face to a smiling and impossibly handsome Adam who didn't even try to hide the cheeky way his eyes studied every inch of your body.

“Good morning to you handsome,” you returned his greeting trying not to stammer and blush in front of his intense and provocative gaze. But you couldn't hide the way your heart whirled in your chest, almost skipping a beat, or the way every cell in your body woke up from the excitement.

Excitement of what? He hadn't done anything but look at you and you were already a complete mess.

The power this man had over you.

“Indeed it's a really good morning,” he replied, hands in his pockets as his eyes looked you up and down your body without shame and restraint, stopping on your ass. His tongue wet his lips as he tried to suppress the ever-growing urge to get his hands anywhere on your body.

He confidently walked over you, your cheeks burning as he leaned against the edge of the kitchen right next to you. The way he looked at you, his head tilted slightly to the side, a winky smile on his lips, his light-brown eyes looking up at you so intently they seemed to want to read into you. God, you'd drop everything and get down on your knees.

“You know Adam, I'm not just a piece of meat,” you pretended to be offended, as if it really didn’t flatter you to know he was attracted to you, as if you didn’t crave his eyes on you every minute, every second of the day. You took a sip of your coffee, trying to mask your disgust.

Adam chuckled. “It's not my fault, I can't help it if you're so beautiful,” he replied flirtatiously exploding every ounce of self-control you possessed, “This is for me isn't it?” he pointed the coffee.

He smiled as he noticed the blush on your cheeks and the way you tried to hide it. God, that was one of the things he most loved about you. How could you be so beautiful? So hot and sexy but so cute at the same time?

Adam stopped trying to explain to himself what he felt about you long time ago, the way you drove him crazy, the way he was always thinking about you, continuously, always, constantly.

“Oh yeah it's all yours,” you said, handing him the cup of coffee without hesitation. His fingers brushed yours as you did so and a shiver ran down your spine, giving you goosebumps. You tried to stop yourself from giggling like a little schoolgirl, not wanting to show him the effect he had on you.

But he knew it all right, because that was exactly what happened to him.

“And by the way, you're not so bad either, Ruzek,” you looked him up and down and this simple sentence was enough for Adam to lose his head and feel his dick twitch in his pants.

Adam took a deep breath, looking at the ceiling for a moment as if trying to regain control of himself. “Y/N, Y/N…” he murmured your name like a prayer before returning his eyes to you. “What am I going to do with you?”.

“What are you talking about? What did I do?”, you asked in a dumb tone. He didn't answer you, but kept looking at you, studying every millimeter of your beautiful face, feeling his hands tingle from trying to repress the desire to touch you. The sexual tension between you two was so high it could fuel the entire city of Chicago, the air so tense anyone within miles would notice the way you looked at each other, how you were drawn to each other like magnets.

He set the cup of now-cold coffee in the sink before caressing your face, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You stopped breathing for a second as your subconscious kept hoping he'd kiss you until he took your breath away.

“Make me lose my goddamn mind.”

Oh God.

“I'm not doing anything,” you whispered, your eyes always fixed on his so lively and brilliant eyes. They were so bright, so full of life and joy that just looking at them was able to calm you when everything seemed to fall apart.

His eyes kept alternating between your eyes and lips. His mind raced as he tried to think of all the reasons why he shouldn't press his lips to yours, but right now he could only think of a thousand reasons why he should do it instead.

“We shouldn't be that close,” you muttered, your voice so low, not convinced by your own words. “I know, we shouldn't,” he whispered back but remaining in that position. His thumb caressed your cheeks softly, his touch so light and delicate that made you forget everything around you, “But I can't help it.”

A sudden noise immediately pulled you away from each other and you prayed with every fiber of your being it wasn't Voight.

“Finished playing lovebirds?” Kevin's amused voice broke that magical moment between you and Adam.

“Oh… Uhm… H-he was pulling an eyelash out of my eye,” you blurted out the first excuse that crossed your mind, ignoring Kevin's gaze. Adam was trying to suppress the smile that threatened to come across his lips as you stuttered embarrassedly. He had to resist the urge to pull you to him and hug you.

“Sure like you weren’t about to tear your clothes off,” Kevin laughed back.

“I… I have to go to the bathroom…” you stammered and then started walking away from the break room to finally be able to breathe.

“Not so fast honey, we have a new case, I came here to call you guys.”

Adam tried to suppress the annoyance that just hearing Kevin call you 'honey' gave him.

Fuck's sake get a grip.

How had he gotten to the point he even felt jealous of his friend calling you ‘honey’?

You and Adam had always had this kind of relationship, ever since you started working in the Intelligence. From the first moment there had been a feeling between you, a feeling you had few times in your life and that brought you closer to the point every occasion was good for you two to flirt and tease each other.

But over time, your relationship deepened and soon what was a simple flirting became something more, from both of you. Neither of you came forward with the fear of rejection from the other and that's how you ended up in this state of limbo, in which you both desired each other from afar, in which every time you found yourself close the tension skyrocketed.

You didn’t say anything, exited the break room at light speed while Adam obviously followed you with his gaze, watching you carefully. When you were out of sight of him, he glanced at Kevin who laughed at the sudden change of his facial expression. He had gone from a beaten and hopelessly in love puppy to a furious hyena.

“Thank you so much Kev,” he nudged him lightly.

“Hey! What did I do? I just came to call you, we happen to be at work in case you forgot. I know you are so madly in love with each other and bla bla bla but I want to remind you we are in the district, in our unit, with Voight.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “I'm not in love and… Fuck’s sake just mind your business.”

Now that was a good lie, he was very much in love with you, and a lot too.

“So you don't mind if I ask her out do you?” Kevin asked with mock seriousness just to test his friend’s patience and from the way he looked at him as if he was ready to knock him down, he knew he had managed to do it.

“Say it one more time and I'll punch you in the fucking face,” Adam said and for some strange reason Kevin figured he was serious.

He laughed and threw his hands up in surrender. “I was just joking man, I would never do it.”

The case concerned a large exchange of drugs that would’ve been made that same day and which an Antonio’s informant had told him about. With the whole team, you opted for a silent flash attack, in order to surprise the traffickers in the middle of the exchange and arrest them all.

You were all armed with shotguns and bulletproof vests and once you arrived at the place where the drug trade was about to take place, you split up as agreed: Kim went with Antonio and Voight, Jay with Hailey and finally you with Adam.

“Hey, be careful okay?” Adam had whispered in your ear just before entering. You turned to him and smiled. “Be careful too,” you replied.

The building where the drug trade would take place was abandoned and from the dust and the amount of junk it had been in disuse for many years. It was the perfect place for a drug trade, it was spacious, disused, isolated, no one would ever suspect the illegal activities that took place there.

After the team split up, you and Adam headed into the back entrance of the massive building, stepping in silently and fingers close to the trigger ready to fire whenever necessary. The traffickers worked on kilos of drugs and judging by the quantity present, it must’ve been worth a lot of money.

Your heart was pounding, so hard you could almost hear it in your ears. It didn't matter how many missions like these you had done, how many drug exchange attempts you had thwarted, the anxiety in those moments of suspense would always be present.

That was the perfect time to intervene, those men never expected the police to be there. You waited for Voight's signal from the headset transceiver connected to your ear, at which point you all exclaimed.

“Chicago PD! Everyone down and hands up!”

At that point chaos ensued.

The men wasted no time and immediately started to shoot, beginning a firefight that forced all of you to hide. You and Adam hid behind a wrecked car, firing your rifles. The sound of gunfire echoed in that establishment, bullet shells flew here and there on the dirty and dusty floor, and those traffickers had no intention of giving up. You hated to admit it, but they were giving you a hard time.

After unloading a full loader, you sat down to protect yourself and put a new one into the rifle. Adam glanced at you with the corner of his eyes before returning his gaze in front of him and firing a few shots and then bending down to shelter from the shots.

“Holy shit,” he cursed and you couldn't help but agree with him. It was a horrible situation.

You peeked out with your head and shot a trafficker who was about to shoot in your direction at the same time, whose body fell lifeless to the ground.

As you were about to take cover at that very moment your gaze fell causally next to Adam and with horror you noticed a weapon aimed at him, a man ready to shoot him.

“Adam! Get down!” you screamed and instinct prevailed. Before he could even figure out what was happening, you lunged at him, pushing him to the ground and shooting the man at the same time but not before he too fired a few shots as he fell to the ground.

Time stopped for an instant and everything went in slow motion. You didn't immediately understand what happened only when a throbbing pain went through your abdomen. You didn't immediately realize you'd been hit by a bullet.

Adam lifted himself off the ground only then realizing you were lying on the floor.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed in horror feeling his heart nearly stop in his chest. He knelt down next to you. “It's okay, it's okay baby, you’re gonna be okay.”

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed the criminal you shoot get up and run away.

“Fuck,” you hissed in pain “Adam he is running away…”

“Like hell I'm leaving you alone,” he urged, pulling off your bulletproof vest and heaving a sigh of relief when he saw the bullet had been stopped by the vest. You pushed his hand away, trying to breathe deeply. “Adam go! I am fine just go!” you exclaimed aloud, making your pain increase.

Adam found himself conflicted, for the first time in his life unable to decide what to do. He didn't want to leave you alone, not when you were suffering like that and unable to defend yourself, but at the same time he wanted to take that son of a bitch, not because he was a criminal, but for daring to hurt you.

“Baby, it’s okay, I'm fine I promise,” you continued, patting his hand encouragingly noting his hesitation. “Go.”

Adam reluctantly got up and started chasing after the criminal – who wounded, didn't run very far – not before alerting your teammates you had been hit and were on the ground unprotected while he was doing the chase.

“Chicago PD! Stop!” yelled Adam as he ran after the man. He tried to increase his pace but the bullet that had hit him had weakened him a lot since, unlike you, there was no bulletproof vest to protect him.

It wasn't long before Adam caught up with the criminal. He threw himself on him causing him to crash to the ground and before he could even defend himself, Adam had punched him in the face.

Then another one.

And one more time.

He was blinded by rage, the image of you lying on the ground in pain as you struggled to breathe etched perfectly into his memory with every punch he landed.

“Son of a bitch!” he yelled in his face as another punch collided with the smuggler's face.

“Adam! Stop for fuck's sake or you'll kill him!” Jay exclaimed, running towards him and pushing Adam away from the man lying on the ground almost unconscious.

“Let me go!” Adam tried to escape from Jay's grip as he pushed him away from the man before breaking free and running to you, showing no remorse for beating the criminal.

He found you in the same spot, this time leaning against the car while Hailey was next to you. During the firefight almost all of the traffickers were killed, while some were handcuffed and arrested.

“It's okay, help is on the way,” she tried to reassure you even though the only person you needed was Adam. “Take small breaths, everything will be fine.”

“Y/N! Hey, hey, I'm here,” you breathed a sigh of relief if it wasn't so painful. She immediately knelt beside you, cupping her face in her hands, her heart in a vise as she saw you in so much pain.

“You'll be fine okay? Everything will be fine. How are you feeling?”.

“It hurts like hell,” you cursed. Damn it, you almost forgot how much it hurt a bullet hit.

Hailey at that moment said she’d walk away to help the others, leaving you and Adam alone.

“I know, I know it hurts, baby I'm so sorry” he stroked your face “Can I take a look?”.

You nodded and, trying to be as delicate as possible, he lifted your shirt, almost blanching when he saw the extent of the damage and the huge bruise caused by the bullet.

“It's that bad huh?”.

Adam had to swallow the lump in his throat, the guilt wearing him down because he knew that bullet was meant for him. God, he would’ve taken ten bullets rather than see you suffer even one second of your life. He hated seeing you like that, he hated not protecting you, he hated you took that bullet instead of him.

“I'm so sorry sweetheart…”

“Is this a way of saying 'thank you for saving my life'?” you tried to joke but the serious and destroyed expression on Adam's face suggested he wasn't in mood for jokes.

“It was meant for me, it should’ve been me,” he sighed and you took his hand with yours, stroking the back of it.

“It’s not your fault, I’d do it again thousand times.”

At that moment the paramedics arrived and after many oppositions you had yourself examined, under the inquiring gaze of Adam who never left your side.

Once you arrived at Med's it was Will who visited you. “How much does it hurt from one to ten?”.

“Four,” you answered but flinced when he gently patted your abdomen.

“Y/N.” he admonished you.

“Fine, shit,” you hissed in pain “Eleven.”

“Why are you cops so stubborn? I swear, you're all the same, always thinking you're superheroes.”

“I just want to go home Will, please give me a couple of painkillers and let me go,” you begged.

You began to feel dizzy and a wave of nausea washed over you as the pain gradually became more and more intense and unbearable.

“You're not going anywhere miss,” Will stated “Judging by the abdominal distension I'd say there's internal bleeding but I'll do an ultrasound just to make sure.”

“Will...” you muttered feeling the need to vomit “I have to... I have to throw-...” you couldn't finish the sentence you lifted up slightly and started throwing up, but the nurse present was quick enough to take a basin nearby and place it in front of you.

“It's definitely internal bleeding,” Will said after doing the abdominal ultrasound.

Your vision started to get blurry and your heart pounding so fast, you felt like it was about to stop.

“I can't... I can't breathe...”

Adam – who meanwhile was in the waiting room – had almost dug a trail in the floor due to his continuous back and forth, feeling anxious like never before.

He hated waiting, having to sit there with folded hands and not being able to do anything to help you while you were in the operating room and Rhodes was operating on you to contain the internal bleeding. The guilt was wearing him down even though rationally he knew it wasn't his fault.

He felt guilty because he had always promised himself he’d protect you from everything and everyone, he’d kill rather than risk someone hurting you, he felt guilty because he was the one who was supposed to be on the operating table.

The moment you threw yourself at him to protect him kept playing in his mind over and over again, like a videotape playing over and over again. Why had you risked your life like that to protect him?

He couldn't blame you, God he would’ve done the exact same thing, but he couldn't help but be mad at you for doing such a stupid thing. Why did you do it?

The surgery lasted about an hour and when you woke up the first thing – or rather person – your eyes rested on was Adam, whose arm was around your waist, his head resting on your belly as he embraced you, his eyes closed.

He wasn't really sleeping, in fact as he felt your fingers in his hair, he jerked up, his eyes widening when he saw you were finally awake.

“Y/N, baby, oh my god thank god you're awake,” he gushed, leaning down and hugging you. “I missed you so much, thank God you're okay.”

You smiled, returning that hug with all the strength you had in your body. “I missed you too.”

“How are you? Are you okay now? Does it hurt?” he peppered you with questions once you broke away from the hug. He sat back on the chair again, but entwined his fingers with yours, never letting go. Your heart almost exploded as he brought your hand to his lips leaving a small kiss on the back.

“I feel a little numb but overall I'm fine,” you replied. “Were you always here?”.

“Of course, I’d never leave you alone baby.”

It must’ve been the stun caused by the surgery but only then you noticed the scratches and small lesions on Adam's knuckles.

“My god Adam, what happened to your hands?”.

“Oh baby you realized it a little too late,” Adam chuckled.

“Adam.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “I may have landed a few punches.”

“Adam!” you exclaimed raising your voice, a painful expression appeared on your face.

“Hey, hey, take it easy,” he spoke concerned “Y/N…” he sighed, “That son of a bitch hurt you, I… I completely lost control.

“Adam, you could get yourself into serious trouble.”

“Honestly? I don't give a fuck. If anything happened to you he wouldn't have to worry about just some punches.”

“Always acting like a macho huh?” You tried not to smile even though his protective side was one of the things you loved most about him.

“Don't even joke Y/N. When it comes to you I lose my mind,” he softly spoke “When I saw you lying on the ground, I feared for a second I lost you and I don’t want to feel like that ever again.”

You let go of his hand only to rest it on his cheek, gently stroking his cheeks and beard. “If something happened to you I would never have forgiven myself. Really Adam… When I saw that guy pointing the gun at you… I didn't understand anything anymore, I didn't want something to happen to you.”

“What you did is very stupid,” he scolded, his eyes watering as he leaned against your touch and you chuckled.

“You would’ve done the same.”

“Absolutely”

“So why shouldn't I?”.

“Because I need you Y/N, I can't think of being without you.”

This little confession cut the breath out of your lungs and the way he looked at you, God, it was so intense you could hardly maintain eye contact but something had bewitched you. There were so many things you wanted to tell him though, so many things you wanted to confess but your brain had shut down and not a single coherent, rational thought crossed your mind.

“Baby…” Adam whispered and that simple word sent a flock of butterflies into your stomach. “I can’t take this anymore…”

“W-what?”.

“Now I’m looking at you and… And you're so fucking beautiful even though you're on a goddamn bed and wearing a hospital gown and you… You’re looking at me like that… You make me lose my mind,” he blathered, not even knowing if whether or not what he was saying made sense but god he couldn't even think straight anymore, he felt so out of control and that was the effect you had on him. It didn't matter how or why, but you were capable of sending every single neuron of his brain into a tailspin, you were capable of giving him tachycardia when you even just looked at him, you were capable of making him forget the whole world.

“How am I looking at you?” you whispered.

“And when you play dumb like that, like you don't even know the effect you have on me, how you drive me crazy,” he went on “How you made me fall so madly in love with you.”

You widened your eyes and your mouth in shock, hardly believing what you had just heard.

You were speechless.

Completely speechless, and it was a rather rare occurrence.

You had dreamed of that moment for so long, you almost couldn't believe it. For a moment you even thought you were still under the influence of anesthesia and everything was happening was just a figment of your imagination.

“I'm sorry to say it like that, I know it must’ve been unexpected for you but after what happened today… I didn't want to waste any more time, life is so short and… Fuck… I know I probably screwed it all…-” he began talking again noticing your silence but you stopped him by placing your index finger on his lips.

“Kiss Me.”

Adam nearly had a heart attack, for a moment fearing he needed a hospital bed. Did he hear it right? Or was it just a hallucination?

You were about to speak again when he leaned towards you, pressing his lips against yours in a longed-for and much-desired kiss.

His hands cupped your face as he completely took your breath away. His lips were warm and soft against yours, just as you had imagined so many times. Your fingers were in his hair and it didn't take long because everything else disappeared, making you forget you were in a hospital room.

You bit his lip and he almost moaned at that sensation, this gesture further increasing the visceral need and desire he felt for you.

“Fuck don't do that again,” he murmured against your lips, finding it hard to control and stop himself. You didn't answer instead you kissed him again. You were so bewitched by Adam and as his scent flooded your nostrils, a thousand butterflies danced in your stomach.

All the pain you felt went in the background, only he existed at that moment, only his lips that continued to devour you in an intense kiss. Your head was spinning, your heart was pounding, your hands tingling, shivers ran down your spine.

“Stop, stop, Jesus Christ, we have to stop or I won’t control myself,” he whispered, pulling away from the kiss for a moment as both of your chests rose and fell as you caught your breath. “You drive me so damn crazy baby, I don't know what to do with you.”

Your eyes were fixed on his even if they alternated on his little swollen lips, red from the kiss. You were overwhelmed by the feeling you had for that man and you knew in that precise moment that a new chapter in your life had just opened, a chapter you couldn't wait to live. Your nose continued to slightly touch his, your lips brushing his, your thumbs stroking his cheeks.

“I'm so madly in love with you too Adam Ruzek,” were the first words you said after the kiss and just for the way he looked at you, you’d take hundred of those bullet and relieve the pain all over again, to see the expression of pure joy and the smile on his beautiful face.

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freddieslater · 5 months

Note

I’m not sure if this counts as rarepair rowboat but what about a drabble of Klayley with three daughters? (maybe Hayley’s pregnant again and this time it’ll be a boy) I just love the little family of Hayley, Klaus, and Hope and I think it would be so nice if they choose to have more kids.

As an apology for how dreadfully long this has taken me to answer, I have done my absolute best to write something worthy of this beautiful concept. Klayley with more kids, building a family, is just my bread and butter, so thank you for gracing me with such an idea <3

The sound of feet moving so swiftly, almost silently, around his home would usually unnerve Klaus. It used to, in the past. It meant danger. Trespassers, people who were stepping where they did not belong, trying to catch him unawares.

Especially when he can hear the quick beats of their hearts. Growing closer to him. Sneaking up on him, his back turned to them. It would be very reasonable for him to act on instinct.

He closes his eyes. A smile curves his lips as the wolves pounce.

"Got you!" two voices scream at the top of their lungs as tiny arms wrap around his neck and legs, entangling him in a trap of limbs. They break out into laughter as they use all their might to wrestle him to the ground.

Once he's on the floor, growling, defeated, the two little wolves celebrate their victory whilst sitting on top of him. It's then that he breaks character and laughs along with them.

"Daddy!" Rikki scolds him, giving him a kick in the ribs. "You're not supposed to laugh! We've taken you prisoner, remember?"

He quickly tries to rearrange his features into something more sullen and angry as he nods swiftly, clearing his throat. "You're right, love, I'm sorry. I'm a prisoner."

At that, Astrid groans loudly and flops to the floor. "Dad!"

"What? What did I do?" he asks, eyes darting between the two of them.

"You know, prisoners don't usually call their captors 'love,'" another voice chimes in, almost sing-song-like in her smugness. He cranes his neck back and looks at her upside down as she walks towards them, arms folded and a smile on her face. "But then, you never were very good at playing prisoner, were you?"

He grins up at Hayley. "Just not my nature, love, you know that."

"Well, you have to be the prisoner," Rikki says stubbornly, still sitting on his chest. "It's the only way we can play the game, and you and Mom said we're not allowed to do any magic unless Hope's here, so there's nothing else we can play."

"Aside from the millions of toys you have upstairs in your rooms," he says, raising his eyebrows at her.

She glowers back at him. It's a familiar expression, strikingly like the one occasionally worn on her mother. Right now, though, Hayley can't do anything but laugh at the situation he's gotten himself into.

To his luck, Astrid has already grown tired of the game and his lack of cooperation, unlike her big sister. She gets off the floor and climbs into Hayley's arms, her attention turned, as usual, to the constantly growing bump. As the youngest, she's fascinated by the soon-to-be baby, though has taken to scolding it when it causes her mother any kind of discomfort.

"Does it feel weird?" she asks, moving her foot along it and looking up at Hayley with big brown eyes. "Like, a worm wriggling around in your stomach?"

Hayley smiles and tucks a piece of her auburn hair behind her ear with a nod. "A bit like that, yeah. But it's good. It means he's healthy."

Rikki and Klaus' heads both snap up. Klaus sits up, wrapping an arm wound Rikki as he rearranges to sit her in his lap as he stares up at Hayley.

"He?" Rikki repeats, taking the word right out of his mouth. "It's a boy? So, we're gonna have a little brother?"

Hayley glances from her to Klaus, her eyes lingering on his as her smile grows to bursting point. He can feel it in his chest, ready to explode, until, finally, she nods once more.

"A boy," he breathes out. Then he hugs Rikki, pressing a kiss to her head as a grin splits his face in half. "Hear that, sweetheart? A little brother for you and your sister. How does that sound?"

It isn't only Hayley's features he sees in his daughter, as her smile creeps into his heart much like his dear little sister's did when they only had each other. Her dark blonde hair only makes it more striking.

"I like that," she says.

Astrid, however, makes a face and prods Hayley's stomach lightly with a toe like it suddenly contains a flesh-eating beast. "Will he be weird and gross like the boys at my school?"

The three of them laugh, and Hayley strokes her cheek. "No, sweetheart, he'll be kind and sweet, and he'll adore his big sisters."

"Like Uncle Kol," Klaus chimes in.

That lights Astrid up like a Christmas tree. It's a little annoying how Kol has managed to worm his way in as the favourite despite living halfway across the world, but Klaus supposes he cannot begrudge him the love one niece as Rebekah firmly remains Rikki's favourite.

"Oh, come on, don't lie to her." They look across the room to find Hope standing by the door, back slung over her shoulder and a smile on her face. "He's part of this family. It would be impossible for him not to be a total freak like the rest of us."

The kids are uproarious with joy. Rikki is gone in a blur, colliding with Hope and nearly sending her crashing, and Astrid has never looked more like a tiny wolf as she loses her footing halfway out of Hayley's arms in her haste to join her sisters.

Hope laughs as she crouches down to hug them both. "Oh, my god, can you two stop growing? You're going to be taller than me soon."

"Wouldn't be hard, love," Klaus says, getting to his feet. She tilts her head, her mouth falling open to gape at him, and he grins. "Sorry, sweetheart, but you're a short-arse. I truly don't know whose side of the family you got that from, maybe Rebekah."

"Wow, Dad, thanks a lot," Hope says through laughter as Hayley swats him lightly for swearing in front of the kids. She walks over to them and into their open arms, hugging them both tightly. Muffled, she quietly says, "I missed you."

Klaus plants a kiss on top of her head and Hayley strokes her hair, softly saying, "We missed you, too, sweetheart. But, hey, you're here now and you can tell us all about school. Anything exciting happen?"

Pulling back, Hope makes a face. "You could say that."

"Caroline might have mentioned something about, what was it... a dragon?" Klaus says uncertainly, as if he doesn't already know every dangerous detail his daughter seems to have miraculously forgotten to mention recently. "And, I swear, there was something about a boy. What was his name again...?"

She laughs nervously now, realizing just that. To her great fortune, Rikki and Astrid hear the word "dragon" and take control of the conversation with a bombardment of questions. Hayley catches Klaus' arms and motions to the side. They step away from the girls as Hope is dragged to the couch.

"Let her settle in, at least, before we start grilling her about a possible boyfriend, alright?" she says quietly.

Klaus sighs. "Fine. But if that's Landon she mentioned last year, I will not be held responsible for what happens to him."

"You are terrible," she tells him, smiling. "Can you please just try to be happy that our daughter is living her life?"

Deep down, the words hit him with an almighty force. His eyes dart back over to where their three little girls sit together, laughing away. The truth is, he couldn't be happier. Seeing them all. Seeing Hope so grown up. God, she's changed so much since he saw her last, it actually almost breaks him, how quickly time seems to be moving. But it's also a feeling of relief, one that forces him to take a deep breathe as he realizes that Hope is no longer that tiny, helpless little creature in constant danger. Perhaps the last part hasn't changed, but the rest has.

And it's a good thing. How strong, how independent she has become. She looks up and catches his eyes, and she sticks her tongue out at him just like Astrid does. A glimpse of his little girl in this new, wonderful form.

Hayley touches his chest and his eyes are drawn back to her. "Alright," he says softly, "I suppose I can... live with that."

"And not kill her boyfriend."

"And not... kill her boyfriend," he repeats through gritted teeth.

Hayley rolls her eyes at him, but she still kisses him like he's deserving of it. Like she somehow loves him all the more for it, the stubbornness, the wolf inside of him despite its sometimes animalistic nature. It makes him ache in some way, wanting to be able to do more, do better by her somehow. All he can do is kiss her with everything he has and hope it's enough. Somehow, impossibly, it always seems to be.

She pulls back with a smile, caressing his face gently. In turn, his hands and gaze fall between them, both softening upon her stomach.

"So, we're having a boy," he says again.

"Mhm. Poor kid's going to be severely outnumbered, but I suppose it was about time to start evening the numbers out a little." She turns stern as he lifts his gaze back to her. "But I swear, Klaus Mikaelson, if you even dare try to suggest we name him after you, I will kill you."

He laughs at that but tries to look offended. "Well, frankly, I think it would only be fair considering our oldest daughter is named after you."

"Oh, it's her middle name and you chose it," Hayley retorts, poking a finger into his chest. "You're not getting away with that. No way."

"Then what do you suggest?" he asks, knowing that he was never actually going to burden the poor little thing with his own atrocious name.

Hayley looks away. "Well, actually, I was thinking... Henrik."

His heart seems to stop as the last of the air in his lungs escapes in a quiet gasp of shock. She looks up at him, a smile as gentle as her fingers flitting across her lips as she raises a shoulder.

"Henrik?" he repeats faintly. It makes him dizzy just to utter the name, his heart and mind bombarded by everything attached to it, and yet also oddly soothed by letting it be heard. Just, he imagines, as Hayley might have felt when he revealed the piece of her own self forever tied with Hope in the form of her middle name.

"It just feels... I don't know, right, I guess?" she says, shaking her head. "But if that's too much for you, then we can..."

"No," he interrupts. He presses his lips together, composing himself. "That's... No. It's perfect."

He stares at her, sighing softly, and he pulls her close, a hand on the back of her head as he presses his lips to her temple. "Thank you, Little Wolf." He pulls back, cradling her face between his hands lovingly, and looking deep into her eyes as he makes up his mind. "Our son's name will be Henrik. But, if I may, I want to give him his middle name."

Hayley nods. "Yeah. That's fine."

"Then our son will be called Henrik Jackson Mikaelson."

For the two names open messy, unhealed wounds in both their hearts, and Klaus knows that Hayley feels that same burst of emotion, followed by the odd relief at hearing the names said aloud. Never to be forgotten, even though they never could be for they live on in their heads.

Eyes glassy, Hayley takes a shuddering breath and nods. "It's perfect," she agrees.

"Just as he will be absolutely perfect," he says. "Just like his big sisters, and their strong, beautiful, amazing mother." He shifts her hair out of her face with a finger as she leans into his hand against her cheek. "You, Little Wolf, are the best thing to have ever walked into my life. Thank you"

"For what?" she breathes out, and jokingly says, "For getting just drunk enough not to ask myself if it was a bad idea to sleep with you?"

He swallows thickly. "For everything. For this." He glances back at the girls, then returns his gaze to her with full sincerity. "This family. Our family. For allowing me to be a part of it. Thank you, Little Wolf, for giving me a reason to never run again. You are my home."

#oh look a wild anonymoose #ask away earthlings!#klayley #klaus mikaelson #hayley marshall #klaus x hayley #hayley x klaus #otp: nothing true #king and queen of new orleans

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winniethewife · 4 months

Text

It's undeniably real (Layla El-Faouly x The Moonknight system x Reader)

Chapter 10: Sometimes I'm in a room where I don't belong

Last Chapter ~ Next Chapter

Words:992

I never knew how it would affect me. It seemed simple, or maybe just necessary. I loved them, I should be able to do what they do. I just had no idea how good I was going to be, or how that would change my life. Sometimes I swear that in the silence I can hear everything come crashing down. I can see them, their loving deep brown eyes looking at me, they know I didn’t mean to, I can’t control this. Our life hangs in the balance, I just have to tip the scales… I wasn’t the same after that day, I wasn’t meant to be the same after…But will they ever look at me the same after this? Will they still love me the same? Knowing who I really am. Knowing the monster I could become? I feel like there’s a bomb in my chest, any minute I will explode and hurt everyone I care about. Their bodies, against mine, the warmth of their love. It’s like a Band-Aid on my bleeding heart. I can’t keep up, I can’t keep doing this. It’s eating at the corners of my mind. Sounds are so much louder, the lights so much brighter, everything is intense. Constantly looking over my shoulder, waiting for something that will never come.

I need to tell them. I have to tell them. Now, not later. It can’t wait any longer

I look out the window as I stand with my back to the room, my heart is racing. I have to tell them. I know they’re starting to get more worried, I’ve lost count how many times I’ve told them that everything is fine with a fake smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. I don’t think I can avoid their questions any more. I take a deep breath and close my eyes in an attempt to bring my anxiety down, I feel a familiar arm wrap around me, and I turn to see Marc, his eyebrows furrowed.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks softly, worried. His dark eyes looking into mine. I leans into his embrace, he puts another arm around me.

“I need to talk to you, and Layla. There’s…there’s something we need to talk about.” I say softly into his chest. I feel his body stiffen and his breath hitch in his chest.

“Did we do something?” he asks with obvious pain in his voice, already blaming himself for my odd behavior.

“No, Marc, This…It’s me, all me okay?” I reassure him, my hand over his beating heart.

I sit across from them as they both look at me with astonishment on their face. After telling them that I had started to remember what had happened, and that I had been training to be a part of an underground syndicate of extremely deadly fighters hired out to do the dirty work of the villainous people and organizations of the world. When I told them the fact that the academy’s solution to the system being dismantled was to brainwash the students into forgetting it happened, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Marc so angry, the way his dark eyes are filled with fire, his expression stone cold. Layla on the other hand the moment I stop speaking rushes to my side and held me close.

“If I had any idea…We’re going to figure this out, and they will pay for this.” She says softly to me.

“I don’t know if there’s anyone to make pay at this point. If the system, whatever it was, is now dismantled and gone, is there any justice to be found at this point?” I sigh and I feel Layla’s arms tighten around me.

“We have some contacts who might know something. Jake has been working in the underground world for so long, someone has to know something.” Marc says darkly his face still as cold as ice with passion burning in his eyes. Its obvious they want to do something. I just don’t know what to do. Do I even want to look into this dark part of my past? Layla and Marc start talking about possible routes as I feel the numbness creeping over my senses again, I can barely feel Layla’s touch anymore.

“So you’ve been dissociating then?” Steven asked softly as I sat halfway in his lap on the couch. His arms around me as he looks at me with a caring nature.

“I guess that would be the term yes. I don’t know, I’ll just be doing something and everything will go numb, like I’m not really here? I don’t know. It started when Jake took me to the shooting range and we started to realise…what happened.” I answered, my voice is wavering more than I expected. Steven Hummed softly in understanding. He seemed to be thinking about everything we had been talking about. The dissociation, the nightmares, and the distance I put between myself and them. It was hard. Steven seemed to be deep in thought as I rested my head on his chest, listening to his breathing, his heartbeat, it was calming, helping me stay in the present.

“Well, Jake’s contact in New York checks out. And they found someone who might be able to help us make sense of all this.” Layla said as she walks into the living room, pocketing her phone. “It also seems that some of the Leadership of The cult of the Jackal has been seen in Manhattan, they’re trying to drum up some support, maybe get some new members.” Layla says as she sits down on the couch next to me putting her hand on my hip as she smiles at me. “We’re going to figure it out okay?”

“Alright. So New York it is.” I smile at her. Steven chuckles.

“Always wanted to see the big apple. Why is it we never go anywhere nice when the world isn’t in great peril?” We all laugh.

Masterlist

Taglist: @redeyerhaenyra @summonthesoups

#moon knight #marc spector #x reader #jake lockley #layla el faouly x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #moonknight x reader #steven grant x reader #polyamory #poly representation #moon knight system #moon boys #layla el faouly #Spotify #steven grant #angst #hurt comfort

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i4ksm · 1 year

Text

[03:17]

afab!reader, no pronouns used, minors dni

recently sleep hasn’t been your best friend.. you can never fall asleep and if you do staying asleep is impossible. this specific night you were having a nightmare, you quietly whimpered in your sleep and stirred causing hyungjun to wake from his slumber. “y/n are you okay?” he shook you, he kept doing that until he got you to wake up. you jumped, eyes wide open until you realized where you were and who was in front of you. “im sorry” you teared up, you said that everytime this happened, you couldnt help but feel bad you felt like you ruined hyungjun’s sleep schedule and he was the one who actually needed sleep. “dont be sorry sweetie come here” he pulled you closer caressing your face. “i don’t know what to do anymore, i just cant sleep”.

an idea popped into his head, it may not work who wouldnt wanna try. “here lay on my pillow love, just relax” he whispered, climbing above you, waiting for you to get comfortable. he threw the blanket over his head and started trailing down, making himself comfortable between your legs. his fingers hooked the band of your underwear, sliding them down to your knees. “han hyungjun what are you doing?” you giggled. “i just want you to relax, for me please?” you smiled, and laid your head down on his pillow, staring up at the ceiling.

his thumb carefully ran over your clit, causing you to jump. of course you would be sensitive at a time like this, meaning it was about to be good. he ran that same thumb through your folds, collecting your juices and spreading it around. you let out a low moan, with the reminder in the back of your head that you have to stay quiet. he leaned foreward, softly kissing your clit, before latching his lips around it and pulling softly. your legs jerked at his movements, and you want him to do more. “junnie, will you go faster please, i need more” you whined. “whatever my love asks, of course” he smiled, he loved the use of that nickname, but only from your lips.

his tounge explored every inch of your pussy, frequently going back to your clit, to pay extra attention to it. he noticed you constantly clenching around air, so he inserted two fingers, sliding them slowly into your entrance. one of your hands flew over your mouth to muffle a high pitched moan that scratched the back of your throat. two fingers might not seem like alot, but two of jungsu’s were, they were so long and he was so skilled, he had you falling apart in minutes. “cum for me sweetie, there you go” he spoke, your back arched, causing your but to lift from the bed. “oh mu god junnie im gonna-“ before your sentence was finished, you were. your core exploded with warmth, which spread throughout your whole body. after putting your underwear back on, hyungjun climbed back up to meet you.

he laid back in his spot, letting you lay on his chest. you were still coming down from that high, he kissed your forehead “you did so good for me love, do you wanna try sleeping again?” he yawned, causing you to yawn as well. you nodded “thank you junnie” you puckered your lips, he leaned down and met them with his. “anything for you.”

#i4ksm #xdinary heroes smut #hanjun smut #hyungjun smut

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armpirate · 10 months

Text

UNDER HIS SKIN || JJK || Ch. 22

Pairings: tattoist!jk x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, friends to lovers, tattoo au, virgin reader.

Summary: They say there are two versions for every story, and it's important to hear both of them. Everybody is hearing your side of the story, but it's just fair to get to know his.

After breaking up with his girlfriend, the only thing he wanted was to have fun with no attachment. You wanted to get rid of your virginity, and he wanted to tick you off his list. What he didn't expect was getting so emotionally attached to you that he would regret the deal

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

I open my eyes fast, sitting up on the bed, when I feel my heart about to explode in my chest when my sleep is interrupted by a scream and the constant movement on the right side of the bed. Y/n's body shakes, while agony is tinted on those wrinkles forming around her eyes.

—Let me go —she whines, shaking her head.

I try to stop all of her movements, holding her arms softly, but I keep being pushed away by her small hands. Confused, and unsure of what to do, I just hold her tight, wrapping my arms around her shaky body. She fights against me constantly, her palm making my skin burn every time she slaps my naked torso, until a sudden move gets my attention. Her body suddenly jerks, and all those whimpers and frenetic moves stop. Now I can only hear the sound of her shaky breath, as she tries to recompose from whatever she had going on in her dreams.

She seems so vulnerable, so scared, that I'm only able to hold her tighter, wrapping my arms tighter around her shoulders while my fingers dig in her sweaty locks.

—It was just a nightmare —I assure her, trying to keep my voice as low and calm as possible—. I'm here. You're safe.

The pumping of her heart is rough and fast, as if it were fighting against her skin to make me aware of its existence when I lay my hand on her stomach. I don't know what kind of dream she's had, but the way her whole body is trembling right now only tells me it must've been horrible.

She rolls under my embrace, turning her body to face me. Her concerned expression is the first thing I see when I open my eyes.

—Sorry. I always wake you up.

That guilt on her tone seems to be the last straw for me, because I pull her closer to my body, trying to vanish those thoughts away. The last thing I need is Y/n feeling guilty because she woke me up in the middle of the night, for something that she isn't able to control. It's not her fault.

—Don't be dumb, cocktease —I move my nose on her forehead, attempting to give her a tiny peck to calm her down—. Just try to sleep again.

I wrap my arms around her tighter -something that could seem impossible, but that I end up making because I can't stand the sensation of having any air between us -especially when she's feeling bad or sad. My heart feels full when she responds to that hug, embracing my waist with one of her arms before she tries to fall asleep again.

✸ ✸ ✸

I wake up first, something that seems to be a ritual between us. It might have a lot to do with the fact that I work early in the morning, while she doesn't have to get to work until later in the day -or how she doesn't have to work at all today, since it's her day off.

And just like I always do, I think it'd be a good idea to prepare breakfast instead of staying beside her, enjoying her warmth and her calmness -or how close she is right now. Or how tempted I am to call in sick today.

I take my clothes for the day outside, hopeful of not waking her up since it seems she's finally getting some good deserved sleep, and I put myself to work with the breakfast. Coffee, juice, toast, fruits... Everything that could be of her liking, and that doesn't take a lot of work from me -and that doesn't require the stoves to be put to use.

When I peek through the door, I find her sitting in the middle of the bed, her body still covered with the sheets, while her face just seems confused at her own thoughts.

—You're awake —I bring her back to reality—. As much as I like how you look in my bed, breakfast's ready.

Her hair sways in the air when her head shakes, and she looks up to me. She stays a few seconds in silence, but I know it won't last long when she throws a small smile.

—You could've brought it to bed —she jokes, dragging her body out of bed.

—Who the fuck actually does that? —I frown, resting my weight on my shoulder against the door frame— Eating in bed is gross. Imagine you spill your juice. Worse: there are toast crumbs all over the sheets.

I've never understood how anyone would find that romantic... at all. It's gross. Simple.

—That's why people usually use plates for that.

—Note it up here —I point to her forehead when she's standing in front of me—: do not ever bring me breakfast to bed.

—Not that I would —she pushes my hand away—. What did you prepare for breakfast? —she walks outside— Reconstruction of toasts?

I smile. But I'm not sure if it's because of her joke, the memory of those awful omelets I tried to make, or the possibility of having her so attached to me that she'd bring me breakfast to bed at some point.

Shut up.

Y/n smiles, while her lips are slightly parted as she looks at all the details over the table with caution.

—What do you want? —she challenges me, sitting on the chair in front of me.

The funny tone of her voice makes me chuckle, knowing perfectly fine she's just messing with me right now.

—Do I have to want something to be nice? —I join her at the table.

—You do all of this only when you want to be nice? —she gasps— Let me doubt it.

—Stop being so bitchy and eat —I giggle, before I pick the first slice of bread.

Listening to what I say, she starts eating. She starts talking about her plans today, which include doing nothing besides sitting at home and watching a good movie. All that conversation leads to me talking about that one customer I have today and that damned wolf design Mark dodged as if his life depended on it.

Her overused optimism forces me to show her the design of the tattoo, just so she can admit it'll be one hell of a day for me. Instead, she looks at the design surprised, eyes wide open while her lips form a perfect circle.

—You drew this? —she asks, surprised.

Pressing my lips tight, holding back the smile that's about to form in my face, I give her a simple nod.

—Not only is the design difficult, he wants it on his forearm and hand.

Conversation back to my job. Good.

—Take it easy —she hands me the phone back—. You'll do great. The design is yours?

—Yeah —I nod again—. Took me two days to finish it.

—It looks really cool —she assures me—. Yeah, you'll do great —that confirmation falls upon me as if she were the only person I needed to hear it from—. If what you do on ink is similar to those designs, you're amazing at it. I wouldn't mind getting something if you're the one working on it.

Despite being friends for a few months, and meeting up at the tattoo studio several times, this is the first time I've heard her showing any interest in tattoos.

—What would you get?

—I don't know —she takes a sip on her juice—. I never thought of getting one.

—A skull would look amazing here —I point to her arm, although the way she pushes my hand away makes me giggle—. Now seriously —I try to bring back some seriousness into the conversation—, if you ever think of getting a tattoo, I'd love to be the one working on it.

I really hope I'm the first person she thinks of if she ever plans on getting one.

—I heard that it's better if tattoos have a meaning.

—Sometimes —I shrug and stretch my arm, showing off my full sleeve tattoo—. Some of mine have meanings, and some others don't.

Actually, most of them don't. Sometimes I'd just draw something out of boredom, and I'd come up with a drawing or a design I liked.

—I like this one.

Goosebumps run through my spine, and I can feel all of my hairs rising, when she softly caresses my skin, pointing at the snake tattoo closer to my wrist.

—Are you cold? —she teases me, dragging her fingers further over some of my other tattoos on my forearm.

—You just surprised me —I move my hand away.

—I'll pretend I believe you.

Since when does she have this much power on me?

We keep eating breakfast after a few more teases and jokes, and I'm surprised by the way she eats -as if she had been planning her escape for days. She actually thinks I'd let her sneak away from me. Well, not when I want to spend time with her.

I trap her before she's able to walk past my chair, holding her wrist carefully to pull her to my body and make her sit on my lap.

—Where are you going?

Her pupils shake on mine. Not because she's planning to lie, or because she's making up an excuse, but because being this close makes her nervous. It's always like this until she gains confidence.

—Getting changed? —she answers confused— To go back home maybe?

—Why? —I reassure my grip on her waist, wrapping my arm around it, while my other hand rests on her knee.

—What do you mean why?

—You could stay here —as if I were attracted to them, I move my fingers to hers, just so I can start playing with them—. I'll only be away for a few hours, Mark said he'll look after the studio when I'm done. So I'll be off, and you aren't working today either, right? —she shakes her head, showing a glimpse of a tiny smile—. You have canvas if you want to draw, that big ass TV —I point to it—, I have the PS4 as well, delicious food...

—So —my breath turns heavier when she wraps her arms around my neck—, is this some kind of plan to fool me into staying here, and then cut me into pieces and eat me?

She's one big tease. I need to chill with my lessons.

—Baby, I want to eat you —I move higher on her thigh—, and I'd be eating you out right now if it weren't because I have to leave. But it's not because of that —I intertwine the fingers of my two hands on her waist—, I just want to see you here when I come back today.

It's stupid how I'm unable to hold back what I'm thinking or what I feel whenever I'm around her. Every time I think I've learned to hold it all back, it only takes one look from her to be sure I haven't learned shit. Too scared of saying too much, but also too scared of letting her run away for not saying enough.

—Why? —she looks into my eyes.

Why? That's a good question. I could just let her go home, or take her home myself, and plan something later with her. But, for some reason, it feels different if I know that she's here. It might be the idea of coming back home and seeing her first when I open the door. Or being sure that the rest of the day will be totally saved for me, and me only. No surprise plans, no improvised dates... Just me.

But, obviously, I don't say all of this. I give her a shorter version.

—I like being with you —I pinch her side—, and I want to make up for the past week —I rub her lips on mine, looking at her while I hope she's convinced finally.

She makes the space between us disappear as she leans in and links our mouths with a sweet and calm kiss. I don't fight to take the lead, I'm not even interested on being in command. I just want to keep tasting her lips on mine. I move with her rhythm, following my pace, tasting the moment. The tip of her tongue hits against my upper lip, and that makes me smile and silently giggle before I open my mouth to let her in.

The tip of her tongue meets mine as she dives into his mouth. Fuck, I definitely need to cool down with her lessons, because she's learning to use them against me, and that's dangerous.

I move my head back, when she's about to curl her tongue on mine, breaking the kiss when she was in the middle of sucking my lower lip.

—If we keep doing this, there's no way I'm going to work —I joke, but the growing bulge isn't—. Save all this energy for later.

—You're sure I'm staying.

—You're not?

That nervous smile is all the answer I need right now. And it's all I can think about on my way to the tattoo studio, making me have that stupid smile on my face until I cross the door and find Soo standing there. At first, I think she's here to visit Mark, but when her index points in my direction, I know I'm fucked up.

I have no need to keep a conversation I don't want to have right now. But Soo shuts all my hopes to avoid the conversation when she follows me to my room and shuts the door.

—Do I know the girl you're seeing? —she questions, barely giving me time to process the trap.

—No —I shake my head.

—So you're into Y/n?

I can feel my blood stop running through my veins when she pronounces her name with that raised eyebrow, and that cocky sided smile.

—What do you mean?

—What do I mean? Seriously? —her arms cross over her chest— You seem to forget I've seen how you get every time you're into someone. And I highly doubt you go to her bar several days a week just because you like the beer there.

—How do you k...? —I frown.

—Tammy told me she's seen you there, alone, a few times already —she tilts her head—. And the day you met with Leslie, instead of going back home, you went to the bar. And don't start your bullshit, saying you were looking for me —she warns me—. And come on, you never go to the trainings, but as soon as I told you Y/n was there, you came and went straight to her without even bothering to greet us.

How do I get out of here? Shit. It's not like I have any escape, and Soo's eyes keep insisting on getting an answer from me.

—She's the girl, but not the way you think —I try to explain.

—Okay?

—It's complicated to explain —I start—. We aren't dating or anything, we're friends —I shrug.

—Yeah, right.

—Let me finish —I interrupt her—. We're friends, but I might be liking her a bit too much.

Soo covers her mouth excited, following that move with several jumps in the place where she was standing.

—Why didn't you tell me? —she smacks my arm annoyed— I thought we told each other everything.

—It's not serious, and nothing is going on —I rub my palm on the place she slapped—. I don't even know if she feels the same way.

—Do you want me to dig about it? —she squints her eyes at me— I can ask her about that random guy she talked about, and... Oh —she smacks my arm again.

—What was that for? —I whine.

—You're the asshole —she accuses me—. Why the fuck did you ignore her for a week?

—It's complicated —I rub my arm again—. And none of your business, we already solved it all.

Soo throws a distrustful look, scanning my body up and down, before she looks up to me again when I start speaking.

—Fine —she shrugs—. But don't dare to hurt her —she warns me—. She's a good person, and she hasn't had it easy, the last thing she needs is you being an asshole every now and then. You're my brother, but I'll fuck you up if she ever cries because of you.

—Fuck me up? —I mock her— You aren't even tall enough...

My words get cut by her punch hitting my stomach. It's not even a rough punch, but it makes my whole body lean ninety grades.

—She isn't a toy, Jungkook —she continues—. Unless you're sure of what you feel, don't start the bullshit you do with the other girls. She deserves way more than having your attention for one night, just so you disappear and ghost her the next morning.

—Got it —I assure her, with a drowned voice.

Not like I was ever planning to do something like that.

—I'm so happy though.

Her mood change scares me. Just one second ago, she took her mafia role so seriously I almost bought it, and now she's back to her own gossipy and annoying self.

—Soo, not a single word to anyone —I warn her—. You can't tell Mark, Tam or Mel... and even less Y/n.

Especially when she wants to keep all of this a secret. She'd kill me if she ever learned Soo knows about -almost- everything we have going on.

She moves her index and thumb together over her lips, as if she were zipping her mouth to keep it shut.

The rest of the morning goes by quite fast once Soo leaves, and once the customer gets here to get his tattoo done. Every little detail makes me more anxious and more nervous, and I wonder if he'll like the result of it, because the fur of the wolf isn't ending up how I expected it to be.

With a silent sigh, I finally finish cleaning up the tattoo, under the excited look of the big man sitting in front of me. He's so proud of it, he even allows me to take a pic of it -although he probably thinks I'll use it as a reference, when in reality I'm just sending it to Y/n after the conversation we had this morning. There's no fucking way I would encourage others to get this same tattoo. Not if I'm the one who has to do it.

Confused at her lack of response, I keep checking our chat. She isn't even online, so I guess she might be busy doing something at home -honestly, I gave her too many ideas before I left for work.

I press my lips together, getting ready to leave, when I see Tae waiting in the middle of the hall, chatting with Mark comfortably.

—Oh, here he is —he says ironically—. I know it's so hard for you to answer a text, but thanks for honoring me with your presence.

Mark just laughs at that, shaking his head while he heads to his room of work.

—You sent me a text?

—Yup —he nods, showing me our chat.

I sigh, annoyed at myself. After all the texts Leslie had sent me these days and how I've just made up with Y/n, I didn't even bother to check my phone -except for sending that pic to her, and even then I didn't pay attention to anything else. I must have several unanswered texts right now.

I want to say I don't want to go. I was planning to have lunch with Y/n now that I'm done, but I can't leave Tae here when he's bothered to come all the way from his house just to see me.

—You will only eat that? —Tae asks, confused, when I order one small sandwich, while he orders a whole ass steak.

—I'm not hungry —I lie.

Truth is, if I eat this only, I'll be able to save some space for the real lunch. At least, I hope so.

We keep chatting about the old days, and how we're still the same menace we used to be, even if we're all grown up now. And it's true. Tae's friendship must be the one I cherish the most. Sometimes I feel bad, because I make myself believe we're just friends still because of what I did, but moments like this remind me that it's because of him actually. It's because of the person he actually is. We would be friends either way.

But even if I enjoy his company, and I'm having a good time, I keep checking the phone waiting for her reply. I'm sure she would've told me if she had gone back to her place.

—You're looking like you'd wish to be somewhere else —Tae moves his eyebrows quickly, throwing that squared smile at me.

I know exactly what he's doing. He's not even saying that because he's pissed, but because he knows I'm checking out on that mysterious girl I told Jimin and him about. I'm sure he's just trying to push my buttons so I finally admit what I originally wanted to do before he showed up.

Am I that obvious?

—Hmm? —I ask, leaving my phone on the table, before I fix my eyes back on him.

—You've heard me —he kicks me under the table—. You're always on your phone, and the reason must have a beautiful name.

I throw my head back, tired of hearing the same thing every time we meet, and knowing damn well where this conversation is heading to. Tae shakes the table, drawing my eyes back to him. I have no way out.

—I told you Leslie has been... —but a sound from his mouth interrupts my lie before I'm even able to finish it.

—Leslie is an ugly name —he shakes his head—. You know who I'm talking about. It's that girl, is it? —he interrogates with a playful smile—. Come on, dude. You keep checking your phone like crazy. And you should see the way your eyes light up every time you get a notif.

Yeah, I haven't been the best at pretending.

—You like her? —he keeps insisting.

Instead of denying it, I just scoff and shake my head, avoiding any type of eye contact, because I know he'll be able to guess with a quick look. Bold of me to think that'd be enough to avoid the question.

—You like her —he confirms.

A nervous knot forms in my throat, after those three words left his lips in a confident and solid tone. I do like her, but the same way I liked Leslie when we started dating? Or am I just infatuated by this close connection after such a long time?

—I'm not sure —I finally speak.

—You're sure, but you're scared as fuck —he laughs—. I know you don't want to fall in deep after what happened with your past relationships —he starts—. Areum was a bad person, and Leslie was a bitch, but it doesn't mean every girl will be like them.

The mention of Areum makes me move uncomfortably on my seat, slightly twisting my lips in disgust.

—If it doesn't work out, then it doesn't work out —he shrugs—. But it's better to go through a failed something than seeing her walking away because you weren't honest. You're losing nothing.

I press my lips together, finishing my sandwich, just like he finishes his plate, before it's time to say goodbye. I hug him tight, pulling him into my arms just to be able to show him how much I appreciate him. I wish I was as good of a friend as he is.

#fanfic #ff #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkookxreader #jk #bts #wattpad #kookie #smut #jungkook smut #tattoistjk #tattooau #jungkook pov #Under His Skin #armpirate

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nicklloydnow · 1 year

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“Every so often a film comes along with the capacity to break a friendship in half. Those of us who saw Prometheus in 2012 may understand what I mean. The exploding head, the inexplicable pale giant, the unresolved mysteries of humanity’s origins—it all left me enraged. Where is the Xenomorph?! Listening to a friend outside the theater insist that Prometheus is an excellent film, that it’s an intelligent film, one that I might just not necessarily understand, well, it drove me up a wall. And it made me want to blast my phone, and our friendship, into the vacuum of space. I thought he was full of shit.

(…)

For over a decade now, people have complained that Prometheus doesn’t make sense, that Scott never tells us why our creators despise us, and that, because this goes apparently unresolved, the movie just doesn’t have a cohesive message. They say it can’t live up to such bulletproof classics as the first three Alien films, since those combine satisfying horror action with very simple motivations–in those films, the Aliens are among us, and we have to kill them before they kill us. That’s it.

Although it’s a pretty lousy way to enjoy the vast and colorful world of film—always requiring directors to answer all the questions they ask—if you are looking for conclusions, they’re all there in Prometheus. You might just not have given the film enough of a chance to notice them. The humans in Prometheus, except for perhaps Dr. Shaw, are prideful creatures of ignorance, vanity, and, of course, bottomless greed. One of the central criticisms of Prometheus is that the scientists aboard the Prometheus are too dumb to be believable, that they operate with such arrogance that it’s almost impossible to sympathize with them. But have you ever considered that Scott might have characterized them that way for a reason?

(…)

You don’t need to look far beyond the borders of Prometheus to see why, after more than 30 years since Scott made the relatively optimistic Alien (hey, at least Ripley survives with the cat), the director may have become a bit more nihilistic about humans. The way in which we’ve torn this planet to shreds, how we’ve turned the natural world into our own personal toilet, how tax-skipping billionaires rocket off into space instead of trying to solve real, dire issues such as poverty or world hunger. The misery, the violence, the subjugation constantly frothing around the corners of our every waking day–hey, maybe he’s trying to tell us something here?

(…)

Since Scott will likely never get a chance to tie off the prequel trilogy he all-but-promised us, this film, with all its philosophy and promises of grandeur, will never feel fully satisfying. It'll always appear a bit smaller than it needs to be. But remember, as David says, "Big things have small beginnings."”

“10 years ago, Prometheus hit theaters and people freaked out. If you’re looking for a movie scarier than Alien, Prometheus fails. It’s got some terrifying moments, but none that top the messy originality of its source material. If you’re looking for a movie with a more cohesive aesthetic, Prometheus again fails to top Alien. It merely borrows from its predecessor’s basic design, resulting in technology that looks way slicker even though the movie is a prequel.

But Alien is a horror movie that happens to be set in space. You could move the action to a drilling station or a submarine. You could even swap the chest-bursting xenomorph for a demon or a genetic experiment gone haywire. It wouldn’t be the same movie, but it would have the same spirit.

Even King Kong has ties to Alien insofar as the idea of capturing and then using a beast is a trope that exists across different genres. The basic story of Alien — while an aesthetic triumph of minimalism — is not reliant on science fiction to actually work.

Once you hold this very specific criterion in your brain, it’s easy to see why Prometheus is a more interesting science fiction story than its more famous horror progenitor. The premise of the film concerns the notion of panspermia, the theory that human beings were seeded on Earth by aliens. And, although Prometheus presents this theory to be essentially true, the unfolding implications impact all the characters in profound ways.

(…)

In Alien, none of these questions exist. It’s only about survival. In Prometheus, the art of speculative fiction, the idea that the audience and the characters are actually contemplating big ideas through a sci-fi lens, doesn’t just drive the story, it is the story. You can’t take the science fiction out of Prometheus and make it work. That may not excuse its flaws, but for people who truly love the genre, it should encourage you to cut the movie a break.

Ridley Scott made an Alien prequel that no one wanted about huge philosophical subjects that are hard to discuss. He crammed all of that into an action-horror that used a similar plot structure to a more famous film he already directed. For most moviegoers, this audacious experiment failed. In fact, the more by-the-numbers approach in the troubled sequel, Alien: Covenant, proves how much Scott retreated from some of his bigger ideas in Prometheus.

But none of that changes this film’s thoughtfulness. In a sea of sci-fi movies trying to play the hits, Ridley Scott’s Prometheus tried to get weird. And for that, it remains one of the better sci-fi movies of the 21st century.”

“Alien is an excellent haunted house horror movie. Seriously, it’s great. Aliens is a constantly entertaining war movie. But Prometheus manages to combine spooks (that creepy first act), action (that flame-filled second act) while adding the element that makes it transcend for me – philosophy. Yep, Ridley Scott was brave enough to shove a philosophical exploration of the very nature of human existence into his summer blockbusting Alien movie sequel/prequel/reimaginequal. And for that he should be applauded.

When some people look to the sky, they see God. Others just see stars. That dichotomy is at the root of Prometheus ’ big question: If there’s no God, where did we come from? And it goes further: can God exist in a scientific world? Prometheus is Scott’s attempt to splice the wide-minded wonder of Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey with the DNA of the summer-movie template.

I’ll concede that it’s an experiment that didn’t work for everyone, but just because you didn’t get it doesn’t mean it’s not a good film. There’s so much to love in Prometheus , whether it’s the subtle theme of creators rejecting their creations, the jaw-slackingly beautiful visuals (as pretty as anything in Scott’s back catalogue), or the mindbending implications of that key conceit.”

#prometheus #alien #xenomorph #ridley scott #h r giger #iris scott

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